#they fuel my desire to go into the ocean and also my fear of going into the ocean.

[zarithial]

sorry there’s sleeper agent part of my brain that activates whenever i hear the words The Ocean

its alright, i understand. Unfortunately i am going to curse you with a song in-turn. Go listen to Drowned Waltz, boy (gn).

[y-rhywbeth2]

I can't help but feel there's a chunk of lore missing from stuff about the Bhaalists. Most of the other evil gods you can generally work out why these gods are revered; the Gods of Fury are forces of nature (the ocean is terrifying but many are enamoured with it, storms will kill you and yet storm chasing is a thing, etc), Bane represents an idea of order and strength rooted in fear that fuels real world dictatorships, etc etc

Lay worship of Bhaal makes sense - either you're praying to be spared from death or if you're going to be deliberately killing somebody (revenge, self-defence, assassination, etc) you'll pray for success/give a fucked up form of grace.

And it's not necessarily so strange that they happily call themselves evil - Realms morality is not supposed to operate like the real world, evil is a recognised cosmological force and it's accepted as being holy, whether the average person likes it or not these gods are viewed as necessary parts of the universe; they won't blaspheme against it.

But Deathbringers aren't just in this for serial killing: "every murder committed strengthened holy Bhaal", their kills are "a pastime", but they are also "a duty". Death is holy, murder is holy, Bhaal being stronger is a desirable thing, and you love and revere your Lord of Murder for more than the power and wealth his domain brings you: there is a purpose here but what the fuck is it? You want Death Itself to be a revered and powerful presence in people's lives that they should be beholden to, but why? What's the reasoning?

The plot we're given makes little sense (conquering the world for Bhaal and creating a society in his image, sure. But Bhaal is notably very, very resistant to dying - killing the world will kill him, he's not going to do that), I do like this fucked up "the material world is a prison, everything should perish and be freed of it" philosophy for them (although it's also a touch too Sharran), but the actual apocalypse plan doesn't work out. I can also see how we ended up with it because how the hell do you fill these blanks if your "justification" isn't euthanising the world?

Bhaalists usually target criminals, so there could be a vigilante element to the faith, but Bhaal doesn't actually care who gets murdered and there's nothing about that in the doctrine - and that's Hoar's deal as god of vengeance anyway (although he and Bhaal are allies).

Bhaalist doctrine appeals to the natural world - all creatures destroy life on a daily basis, it's a necessary part of the turning of the world (although we're getting a little too close to Malar, god of predation here). There could be something about some kind of duty to a balancing act between the kingdoms of the dead (Myrkul) and the living (Bane) to keep either from becoming too powerful, although that's never come up. (That one actually has in-world scriptures with the Dead Three receiving their portfolios and announcing their plans, so for lack of a sensible answer I think I'll lean on that one for my personal Realms.)

Hmmmm.

(This is what happens when you split your death gods up: we could've just had a god of death and a god of the dead in one being and we wouldn't have this issue, Jergal.)

[princess-ibri]

Darkside Disney Princesses: Ariel

Ariel’s fall begins after the destruction of her grotto, when in this timeline, Sebastian decides actually go and tell Triton she’s about to head off to seek a deal with Ursula

Still reeling from the discovery of all of Ariel’s human objects, and pushed even further in his paranoia and fear for his daughter’s safety, Triton’s anger explodes again at this reckless act and he has Ariel locked in a tower room in the palace until she finally ‘comes to her senses’

He also takes the step of making sure Ursula never tries to meddle with any of his daughters ever again. The Nautilus necklace protects her from the magic of the Trident just enough that she survives, but is forced to flee far beyond Atlantica’s borders (per the backstory rules I’ve set for my DisneyVerse)

This act only makes Ariel’s anger towards her father that began with the destruction of her treasures grow, and without the wonder of gaining human form and her prince’s love, and the isolation of her punishment, that anger turns into deep burning resentment.

Never one to take things lying down, Ariel attempts again and again to escape her confinement, each time she’s caught stoking Triton’s ire and her own resentment. Both of their hot tempers get the better of them, driving wedges between Ariel and her friends who fail to help her, and Triton and his people, as he takes his frustration out on them.

But something has begun to stir within Ariel, fueled by the darkness and despair growing within her heart. All the royal line has some aptitude for magic, as evidenced by their ability to wield the great Trident without being overcome by it. But in most of them it stays small and unfocused, unneeded in daily life.

But now Ariel has both focus and need. Her singing voice has always been special, even among her sisters lovely voices. There’s always been something about it that people feel drawn towards, and now, now she begins to feel it’s power growing within her, feeding off her anger, her despair, her desires. And she hones it as best she can from a gift into a weapon.

And finally, one night, a guard finds himself succumbing to the beautiful song that begs him to unlock the door, and then sleep so that he does not see the princess escape…. Ariel does not stay long enough to discover that he never wakes again.

The moment she’s free, Ariel takes off into open water, determined to place as much distance between herself and her now hated father—and to find the Prince she saved, three long years ago. The memories of him have been her only real companions, and isolation has fanned what could have become True Love given the chance into an obsession, fueled by her growing Magic, a magic she does not truly know how to control.

She begins stalking the ships that cross the ocean waves, singing out to the sailors who work them, seeking her lost love, calling him to her. She does not mean to cause men to leap overboard for want of her, lured in by her song. But neither can she save all of them. Sometimes she doesn't even notice they’ve lept into the waves, too focused on seeking for the face of her prince to notice that of any other man.

The sailors who survive spread the tale of the siren that haunts the waters around the kingdom, a fiend hair as red as blood and a voice that draws men to their deaths, the ships begin to travel with supplies of cotton to cover their ears, and harpoons to put an end to any mermaid they might see.

Ariel does not care, she barely feels the nicks of the spears as the graze her, thrown by men made too clumsy to kill by her song, powerful enough now to seep in past the cotton. She is seeking Her Prince, and she will not stop until she finds him.

Meanwhile, the prince who is now a King, who was forced two years ago to give up his dreamer’s quest for the girl with the beautiful voice who saved him, and marry a suitable royal bride for the prosperity of his kingdom, now finds that kingdom threatened by the presence of a monster from the deep.

When enough men to man three ships have been lost to the deep trying to subdue it, he decides it’s time he protects his kingdom himself.

He bids farewell to his wife, who he is fond of, even if he does not love her, and their young child, who he does, and sails off into the sea to strike down this foe.

He never returns.

And the Siren who haunts their shores remains, still searching, still singing for the Prince she lost, who in her madness she did not even recognize when he lept into the waves, pulled like all others by her song. The gash on her side from his spear is the closest to a kiss they will ever share in this life…

[cavalierious-whim]

Scattered (NeuWrioLette)

Part of 'by the strange pull'.

Still new to this, Wriothesely can't shake the feeling that this'll be like the other times; ending with one alpha bolting off.

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--

Wriothesley feels like it’s a dream.

He’s fucked plenty of others before but it’s always been a fight with bites that break flesh, and the threat of broken bones and torn flesh. He reaps what he sows with his preference for alphas—that’s what he’s always told himself. And it isn’t like he hasn’t fucked an omega or two either, or betas; whomever it was has always been a means to an end. 

Neuvillette is different. He plagued his thoughts and fueled the sorts of fantasies that had to be driven away by Wriothesley's hands. Wriothesley has desired him for long enough that he still isn’t quite sure this is real, that Neuvillette is really underneath him in his rough-worn sheets in a too-small bed. 

Arousal chokes the air. Neuvillette moans, back arching as he begs for more. He catches Wriothesley's gaze through half-lidded eyes and tilts his face until his neck is on display. A sign. A call. There is no sour smell of rank alpha, only the addicting scent of arousal as he begs to be bitten. Wriothesley can’t stop looking. The pale stretch of the column of Neuvillette’s throat is tempting, and Neuvillette knows it. 

“Go on,” he murmurs, his voice low and heady. “Do as you wish.”

Neuvillette understands. He’s an alpha too and carries the same instincts and desires, and he knows that Wriothesley itches to latch onto his neck, sinking his teeth into that damned gland. To hold him there and fuck him deeply until he’s lost all his words, thoughts full of only the press of Wriothesley's cock. 

He would let him. Neuvillette. He’d let Wriothesley indulge however he wishes, and Neuvillette would love it in return, relishing it in the same way that he begs to be filled. 

Truly a dream—how Wriothesley's sheets are stained with Neuvillette’s ocean-salt scent; the way that he keens underneath him and wriggles his hips for more; those moments when he rolls them over and rides Wriothesley instead because instincts be damned and this is what they want. 

Wriothesley does not trust many but he trusts Neuvillette, and for Neuvillette to not just give himself freely, but to ask for it, to itch for it… Wriothesley's alpha is caught between roaring in satisfaction and shrinking back in fear of eventual denial. 

No alpha can handle this for long. No alpha actually enjoys being taken.

But Neuvillette is unlike any other alpha. And Wriothesley isn’t the standard either, and that is why the two of them fit together like puzzle pieces, notches lining up perfectly. Made for each other. Aren’t there stories about that? Fairytales of fated pairings and destined mates? 

He’s thinking about this too much, but can’t help it. Anxiety pricks at Wriothesley’s spine and lingers in the back of his skull, white-hot in the same way his pleasure is. 

No, no, Neuvillette. It’s too early to think of something so permanent as mate, but it’s hard to ignore the instinctual pull that tugs at Wriothesley's being. He leans over him, nuzzling Neuvillette’s sweaty nape. Tilts his hips up and thighs back for a better angle, and Neuvillette goes so easily, letting Wriothesley manhandle him without a second thought. 

“So good for me,” he mutters, trying to forget his worries, “and so pliant. You love this and my cock.”

The more he says it the easier it is to believe. Even with Neuvillette gasping underneath him, yes, yes, Wriothesley's alpha still wonders when it’ll all come crashing down. But it doesn’t, it never does, and he takes the moment to just fuck Neuvillette earnestly. 

Neuvillette does not lay there prettily like an omega, taking it as expected. Though he wants this, there is an aggressiveness to his need as his claws rake down Wriothesley's back, and in how they tussle in the sheets. Neuvillette nips at his mouth, at his throat, at the line of his shoulder, goading Wriothesley on, daring him to go harder and rougher. 

Wriothesley bites him back, teeth sinking into soft flesh. Neuvillette’s ass tightens around his cock, squeezing it in a vice grip. He moans, meeting every thrust, begging Wriothesley for more, clinging to him possessively. 

He could fall in love like this; probably already has. Wriothesley is so woefully gone for this man that he’s willing to roll over and take him too. That’s trust—a level of trust that he allows almost no one. He—

He’s thinking too much again. 

Neuvillette cups his cheeks and pulls him in for a stinging kiss. Teeth scrape against Wriothesley's lips. That too-long tongue explores every corner of his mouth. Wriothesley thrusts into Neuvillette hard, his cock sliding through his insides like a hot brand. 

Perfect, he thinks. To perfect to be real, too perfect for me, too—

Wriothesley comes suddenly, tipping over the edge whilst lost in his thoughts. Neuvillette doesn’t snarl as his seed fills him; no, he pulls Wriothesley closer, desperate to keep every last drop. Wriothesley doesn’t think of breeding others, but he thinks of how his come will drip from Neuvillette’s hole when he pulls out, and what a waste it’ll be.

Neuvillette’s hand drops to his cock. He strokes himself and Wriothesley watches, his gaze tilted down as he gasps and moans, pulling himself to the end. “Full,” he moans. “Wriothesley, Wriothesley—” He comes then, spilling across his stomach in thick ropes. 

And again, Wriothesley cannot help but stare when Neuvillette goes limp underneath him, chest heaving, a soft groan fluttering from his lips. Divine. What a vision. Wriothesley will never tire of it, or the tight, yielding heat of Neuvillette’s body. 

This is where the mortification and dread settles in; when Wriothesley is spent, desperate to cuddle and soak up these hazy moments, all the while wondering when Neuvillette’s alpha will decide it’s too much and bolt. It hasn’t happened yet, but—

Warm hands cup Wriothesley's face again and tug him down. When he looks, Neuvillette’s gaze is glassy but clear—and he watches him curiously. Cautiously. Neuvillette drags a thumb over the rise of Wriothesley's cheek, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

Wriothesley swallows. “Yeah,” he replies, but it’s flimsy.

Neuvillette’s mouth tightens. “Wriothesley,” he says, quietly, softly. And then he repeats, “Are you alright?”

“I…” Wriothesley doesn’t want to say no. He is alright—for now. But anxiety clings to him like a second skin. Alphas do not act like this, they do not wallow in self-pity, they do not feel sorry for themselves.  

Neuvillette smells it, the acrid tang of his panic. His jaw tenses and nostrils flare. But Neuvillette is also patient, petting Wriothesley's face sweetly as he waits for him to speak.

The answer does not come easily. It has to be coaxed from Wriothesley, pulled from him like a bad tooth with those soft touches. “Everyone else never wants to… this is when they leave. And we’re having fun. We enjoy this, but always, eventually, it’s incompatible. We’re both alphas, we—”

“Oh,” breathes Neuvillette. He pulls Wriothesley's face down until their foreheads rest together. “I see.”

“Neuvillette—”

“Come here.” Neuvillette’s tone is crisp but kind. Wriothesley shifts, his softened cock slipping free as Neuvillette guides him to lay across his chest. Sweat and sticky. Neuvillette smells like salt water and the damp, humid air at low tide. 

“I’m sorry,” whispers Wriothesley against his collarbone. 

“Don’t be. It’s easy to forget that I am not like the others.”

Right. Right, right, right. It’s Neuvillette’s mantra, the reminder that he’s ancient and has learned to rear back those instincts. And though he struggles—any alpha would—he still holds a sort of calm restraint that Wriothesley would kill another for. 

This is what drew Wriothesley to him; Neuvillette’s otherworldliness, carrying the scent of an alpha but holding himself higher than those base instincts. Now Wriothesley is wiser. He understands that it is one part facade and mostly practice, but it must be rubbing off on him because Wriothesley's alpha heels as Neuvillette pets his hair.

The come down from their coupling this time is quieter than usual. Neuvillette’s chest rumbles softly as he breathes, and Wriothesley basks in that soft purr, his anxiety slowly leeching away. The mess is forgotten, crusting between them. Claws scrape against his scalp in an easy, metered motion. Neuvillette hums, letting Wriothesley take his time to wind down, to parse out his thoughts, to say what he wants. 

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave. I want you to stay over. I want to sleep at your place. I want—”

“There is no need to explain.”

“I feel safe. With you. Which I don’t. I never do. That’s why I don’t want to lose this.”

Neuvillette’s hand stills against the crown of Wriothesley's head. “Beloved,” he calls him—and oh, that does things. Wriothesley has never been called something so sweet. He wants to hear it time and time again, to drown in the way Neuvillette’s slight accent curls around the word. “Of course, I will stay. You just have to ask.”

Wriothesley is terrible at asking for things, particularly when it's for himself. Always others before him. He’s the last concern. He doesn’t need anything. But he needs Neuvillette. He needs him like a man dying of thirst. And here Neuvillette tells him that he can take his fill, that he’s allowed that cup. 

Wriothesley tilts his face and kisses the line of Neuvillette’s collarbone. He never knew water could taste so sweet.

[krakair]

ACT 1 CATFISH DIALOGUE

"I envy your ability to swim so well, Catfish, Swimming involves the whole skin, every tiny part of it, and all at once.(1)“ said Jack.

"And I envy your ability to walk on land," replied Catfish. "But sometimes, I feel trapped in the water. It gets lonely down here."

Jack nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel the same way on land. I wish I could explore more, but I'm limited by my surroundings."

They both sighed, realizing that even though they had different abilities, they were both facing similar struggles.

And moreover we’re going to say that it is a nature that pervades them all; for each one of them is different from the rest not through its own nature, but rather through its sharing in this other form, difference. (2)

Following the Vistula River upstream, they can reach the Palace Field in a fifteen minute walk.(3)

My palace is ready for you, my waters Will do you honour.(4)

ACT 2 PALACE

The public are shocked by the state of society, but as for you, you're a breath of purity. (5)

Now his object in saying this was to set them at their ease and induce them to enter the garden.(6)

At either end is a square garden filled with flowers which bloom throughout the year, these gardens are adorned by two fountains, one of these streams waters the garden, the other passes through the palace and is then taken to a lofty tower in the town to provide drinking water for its citizens. (7)

Equally, if the water in the future fountain is limpid and bright, and neither moss nor rushes grow where it emerges, nor is the place tainted by any source of pollution but instead preserves a pure appearance, on the basis of these signs it is given the nod as being light and of the highest healthfulness. (8)

But nothing like that can be formed close to the stars and sun, because in that region there is fine aether. (9)

They seek not to obtain pleasure where it is not to be found: guided by sentiment alone, they are never deceived in their choice; their desires are always proportioned to their power of gratification; they feel as much as they enjoy, and seek not to vary or anticipate them.

Hence the choice of neat attire, and not neat attire in itself, is a good; since the good is not in the thing selected, but in the quality of the selection.(11)

Peppermint is a plant with a stem and leaves like those of the nettle, only smaller ; and which, when bruised, emit a powerful smell.(12)

As regards things that touch it, when a pungent thing such as musk or sulphur or some other powerful odour touches it it instantly permeates it; also if a luminous body be placed within it the whole of the surrounding air will be lit up.(13)

Now, and clearly, what I thought then and almost tried to conceal from myself, walking over the grounds, sometimes breaking into a run so that I might attribute to the motion of my body the sudden pounding of my heart, or stopping to admire the work of the villeins, deluding myself that I was being distracted by such contemplation, breathing the cold air deeply into my lungs, as a man drinks wine to forget fear or sorrow.(14)

It is difficult not to indulge in meditation at this point.(15)

ACT 3 METAMORPHOSIS

Jack nestles in the holes of walls, climbs up trees, choose the best peppermints (fruits) and devour them as they begin to ripen.(16)

O admirable purification of the soul!—a theurgy in which the violence of an impure envy has more influence than the entreaty of purity and holiness.(17)

Teach me rather what purity is, and how great a good we have in it, and whether it is situated in the body or in the soul.(18)

The fuller he crammed his insatiable maw, his hunger grew stronger, just as the ocean absorbs the streams that flow from a whole land, yet still unsatisfied drains the waters of far off rivers; or just as a raging fire will never refuse any fuel but burns an infinite number of logs (the more it is fed, the more it requires, abundance merely augmenting its greed), so a feast had only to touch Jack’s (Erysichthon’s) impious lips, and he asked for more.(19)

When he saw that nothing was settled, he breathed freely once more; but he could not have told whether what he felt was pain or pleasure.(20)

He has been fashioned, moreover, as if through a kind of metamorphosis, so that when injustice had been abolished its place would be taken by innocence, and when the uncleanness of human appetites had been removed its place would be taken by the holiness of evangelical truth.(21)

Jack has mutated into a peppermint plant

ACT 4 REST

My memory is of a place of peace and harmony, where I could roam free, and breathe the air of my ancestors.(22)

And I, in like manner, was created on the land and the land is my abiding place; but, an I went down into the sea, the water would enter my belly and choke me and I should die.(23)

That they may be brought into harmony, air has been placed between fire and water, water between earth and air.(24)

Eventually the soul passes beyond the ether and reaches God, the source of the light emanating through the universe.(25)

And afterward Jack (Moses and Aaron) went in, and told Pharaoh, Thus saith the LORD God of Krakow (Israel), Let my people go, that they may hold a feast unto me in the wilderness.(26)

He turned their waters into blood, and slew their fish.(27)

Jack has mutated into a peppermint tea

ACT 5 CATFISH MONOLOGUE

What air is this I breathe?(28)

I become weightless and, instead of a simple centrifuge, the movements seem to me to come from both my friend’s strength and mine, from our special relationship: (s)he pulls me, throws me, catches me, intercepts me; I leave him (her), find him (her) again, fragile and dishevelled, hardly corporeal; I fly if (s)he wants me to, (s)he flies if I want him (her) to, we fly at will, effortless, eye to eye, toe to toe, weightless, our interconnection alone creates our ecstasy, we alone are responsible for our existence, the rest has disappeared.I become weightless and, instead of a simple centrifuge, the movements seem to me to come from both my friend’s strength and mine, from our special relationship: (s)he pulls me, throws me, catches me, intercepts me; I leave him (her), find him (her) again, fragile and dishevelled, hardly corporeal; I fly if (s)he wants me to, (s)he flies if I want him (her) to, we fly at will, effortless, eye to eye, toe to toe, weightless, our interconnection alone creates our ecstasy, we alone are responsible for our existence, the rest has disappeared.(29)

(1) Serres, The Five Senses

(2) Plato, Sophist

(3) Asimov, Complete Robot Anthology

(4) Ovid, The Erotic Poems

(5) Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects

(6) The Book of the Thousand and One Nights

(7) Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

(8) Vitruvius, Ten Books on Architecture

(9) Seneca, Natural Questions

(10) Buffon, Natural History Vol 5

(11) Seneca, Complete Works 

(12) Pliny, Natural History Volume 5

(13) da Vinci, The Notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci

(14) Eco, The Name of the Rose

(15) Hugo, Les Miserables

(16) Buffon, Natural History Vol 6

(17) Augustine, The City of God

(18) Seneca, Complete Works

(19) Ovid, Metamorphoses

(20) Hugo, Les Miserables

(21) Erasmus, Paraphrases on the Epistles to the Corinthians Ephesians Philippans Colossians and Thessalonians

(22) Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City

(23) The Book of the Thousand and One Nights

(24) Foucault, The Order of Things

(25) Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy

(26) King, James Bible

(27) King, James Bible

(28) Seneca, Complete Works

(29) Serres, The five senses

[crispycrimebrulee]

HI! Can i request chrollo with prompt 12? Thanksssss <3

Prompt #12: "I Miss You" "Don't Lie, I Know She's With You." [Angst!] [TW: Cheating] [Also Available on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/31658609 ]

Absence Makes The Heart Grow...Fickle.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Indeed, a statement that every relationship comes to meet, a milestone, a test of faith across miles of land and oceans, for if your love can withstand distance, surely it can withstand time, turmoil, and anything else.

And yet…

You find yourself, staring out of a raindrop riddled window, the soft hush of rainfall on adding fuel to your thoughts, watching your worries become realities as a pattern emerged from his constant actions…

Or lack thereof.

Could you blame him, though? Chrollo Lucilfer, feared among thieves and civilians alike, ruthlessness without bounds when he’s set on getting what he wants, going to any distance, metaphorical or physical to obtain what he wants most. You couldn’t really fault him for his distance; his distance in miles, being thousands of miles away gallivanting with his spiders on yet another quest, continuously building his legacy. You couldn’t blame him for his emotional distance either. He was an intense man to reach, to truly reach and understand and get close to. It would take ages of hard work and commitment to get him to share even a fraction of a clue of his own troubles to you. Not to mention, he always had something on his mind, a new quest, a new artifact, a new theory from his books, a new gang to silence, debts to collect...oh was he a busy man. You couldn’t blame him for being so far away, so distant…

And yet…

In the past he’d always made time for you, always called and made sure you were safe and taken care of while he was away. You’d been his top priority, his ultimate treasure, all quests and roads lead back to you at the end of a day or the end of a month, it was always your heart he returned home to and you welcomed him time and time again, how could you not? Everything about him was captivating, you’d be a fool to not let him in and have all that you are, albeit slowly and carefully, weary of what he was capable of.

Not weary enough, it seems.

You’d let him in, opened your doors to him and allowed him to gaze at what you thought was everything he wanted. Sure, it was everything he wanted, more than that by far. But as thieves go, they take without bounds and leave the door ajar, only a little so that they may slip in and steal whatever is left whenever they please, and you can do nothing to stop them seeing as only a fool lets a thief in their home.

He’d taken valuables beyond obtainable prices.

Love, time, faith, gentle smiles and gentler words, secrets of hopes and dreams and fears, all of it. He’d taken all of it without remorse on the basis of ‘your love could never be replaced’ promising he would only and always come back to you…

And.

Yet.

You already knew his heart and his eyes had wandered, from missed calls to missed dates to missed events to ‘forgetting to tell you he’d returned home’, to hearing whispers from shop owners mentioning they’d seen him with Her, his hand resting on the slope of Her hip, his eyes resting on Her hands as She held gifts from places he’d been, places he knows you could only dream of visiting, gifts that were seldom for you. He’d already tested the waters with another, already given in to a special kind of temptation, a one sided selfish temptation. What had you meant to him? Were you only someone to play with, something to fill a gap in his desires, desire for a sense of stability? Had he only spent years with you to play house with a docile routine only to put you on the shelf when the gap had closed, a new one opening where you did not fit? Were you another object he had to have, something to join a collection of used dolls, a worn out plaything, a gemstone now frosted and without luster, something to be given away with lesser value?

Of course, you little fool. What else would he want with you?

Only souls with stars in their eyes and hope in their hearts think ruthlessness with no bounds have bounds in regards to another, and that they’ll be the special one, the one that gets spared and cherished. Do thieves cherish? Do thieves find things special beyond monetary value? What monetary value did you hold?

Not enough, not enough, not enough.

You could only think about what She’d done to coax him away, or what She hadn’t done at all. You thought about it as you would walk to the store, the park, the bank, and glimpses of Her would cross your eyes clear as day, the scent of Her perfume, the clatter of Her bracelets, the sound of Her shoes on the pavement going to wherever Chrollo was, wherever he wasn’t with you, the place he said he would always return to. And at first, it was merely suspicion, something you talked yourself out of on nights where he was home but away from you, nights where he failed to call, night where you’d caught glimpses of them out late at night as though you wouldn’t notice.

Ruthlessness without bounds.

Suspicion only lead to confirmation by others and by your own eyes, accidentally of course, when he would come home and find Her earrings in his pocket, love letters in his jacket no longer addressed to you, Her perfume lingering on his shirt and pressed to his skin, catching the notes of sandalwood and citrus as he dared to sleep beside you on nights he could not sleep beside Her.

You could blame him.

And you did.

Your caring, your desperation and sorrow and attempts to reach out to him while he was wrapped up in satin sheets with Her only added fuel to his ill willed fire. You simply stepped back, two can play at that game.

You stopped wearing the foreign gifts, stopped reading the dull love letters, stopped sending calls and messages to someone who clearly did not care to receive them or not. To lose power, leverage, the damage it does to know what the ruthlessness of an old lover can do.

Being so easily let go, like the treasures he sells, was too much for him it seemed.

So much so, that your phone rang, his name lighting up the screen. You looked at it, letting the ringing pass through you as you considered if you should leave him wondering and falling apart.

Wondering too long, the call fell, the abrupt end to the rings bringing you out of your thoughts as you went back to watching the rain fall.

No more than 5 minutes, it seemed, before the phone rang again, Chrollo seemingly desperate to reach you now, more so than he ever had.

Once, twice, three times your phone rang before you picked it up slowly, a somber hello drawn out from you.

“Y/N… I haven’t heard you in some time-”

“I know.” you cut him off, your voice soft but stern and unamused.

He was silent for a moment, the sound of rain on both ends prodding at your thoughts again.

“You’ve been well, I hope? I’ve sent some things over to you from my recent trip.”

“Mmm… I never got them.” you lied, of course, knowing the small packages remind untouched, sitting outside on your balcony getting soaked by the rain.

“I’m sure I sent them, y/n, a few things I know you’d enjoy.” he hummed as he seemed to be lacing his words with sweetness, too much for his own sake, really.

“I’ll look out for them.”

Although you knew you wouldn’t.

He sighed, a rare sign from him, the sound of him sitting down from wherever he is, making the audio crackle.

“I’ve been gone a while, y/n.”

“I know. I know more than anyone.”

“I haven’t called as much as you’d like me to, it’s my fault my love.”

“It is your fault, Chrollo.”

Silence.

“Y/n…”

“Chrollo.”

“I miss you.”

You tilted your head to the side, watching the raindrops race down the window as Chrollo lied his finest lie.

“Don’t lie, I know She’s with you.”

Although you couldn’t see him, you could sense the shift in the atmosphere, was the shift from losing his chance to reconcile? Losing his chance to explain? Or from being caught like a rat in a cage of his own making?

“Y/n there's-”

“Tell me, Chrollo...do you miss me when you run your fingers through Her hair?”

“...”

“Or when you kiss Her hand and walk Her home?”

Deathly silence from someone so brazen...

“Do you miss me when your lips brush against Her skin, do you think of me then?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you ended the call, knowing the damage on both ends had been done. You wouldn’t answer his calls, late or early, for the next few days as you planned to find a new place to stay, somewhere he wouldn’t find for a little while. His gifts provided ample financial help when traded in pawn shops, allowing you to gather yourself quickly and vanish in the same fashion that he did.

Your doors were closed, now, less of a fool for a thief with no bounds.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it leaves the rest of you lonely.

[systematicmasspoisoning]

Who is Sam's prison for?

If you're not up to date in DreamSMP lore, Awesamdude, resident Redstone expert, was paid stacks of diamonds by Dream to make an inescapable prison. It is located in the ocean next to Bad and Skeppy's mansion and is VERY large. Supposedly it will be using Elder Guardians to keep a prisoner from mining out due to Mining Fatigue. Even if the prisoner dies of hunger, they will respawn inside. This brings up the question of how

1. they force the prisoner to click a bed inside the prison

2. how they keep the prisoner from breaking the bed.

Regardless of the mechanics of the second one, I think the first is a clue as to who Dream will trap inside the prison. Consider the 3 canon deaths lore. He has used the threat of permanently killing Tommy to get the boy to comply and click on a bed in Logstedshire. So a 'permanent death if you don't comply' is definitely an effective tactic but ONLY for people with one life left.

The main two options are Tommy and Tubbo (or Philza). Or, Dream is planning on knocking another one of his potential opponents, such as Quackity, Fundy or Techno, down to one life in the time it takes to build the actual prison.

Quackity and Fundy aren't big enough threats yet, although Quackity certainly has the potential to be a threat, in this season of the SMP, El Rapids isn't big enough of a threat yet.

Most people would assume Dream's biggest enemies on the server are Tommy and Techno. Techno's role in the grand scheme of things is, as of now, undetermined. However, as Techno is one of the authors of this SMP season, he likely has something up his sleeve. He is currently 'retired' alongside Phil in their Antarctic Empire skins in a snowy biome, but he has made appearances in Tommy's streams to mock the boy for getting exiled (just like Techno predicted with the Theseus analogy.) An alliance between the sleepbois is possibly in the works, but right now, both Tommy and Techno have made it clear there is still a lot of animosity between them. So I don't see Techno, and by extension, Phil becoming much of a problem for Dream (for now.)

Tommy, on the other hand, has been visited by Dream almost every stream while Tommy is exiled; Tommy has been manipulated by him, gaslighted and threatened. Despite making the very real threat of giving Tommy his final death, Dream has stopped Tommy from any, um, self-harming actions. Dream told him "I need you alive." Narratively, that means that Dream has plans for Tommy (they are, after all, each other's main antagonist). But Dream has also said that Tommy will remain on exile for a long time and he told Bad and Sam as they were building the prison that he doesn't intend on using the prison on Tommy (unless he begins to act up was implied.)

Because Bad and Sam (and Eret) are working with Dream, I would assume imprisoning anyone from the Badlands is out of the question. But I think it's interesting how Sam is the primary leader of the building project.

Dream said that Sam is the only one who will totally know the ins and outs of the prison. So that possibly means Sam is the only one who would know how to escape the inescapable prison. The interesting thing about Sam being included in this storyline is his connections. He and Tubbo are very close, and Sam is also friends with Tommy. Its not long of a stretch to assume that Sam's storyline might eventually lead to HIM breaking out whoever Dream imprisons. Tommy, for now, is out of the equation, so who does that leave?

Tubbo. Someone who many people are now considering Dream's puppet. Dream has been laying on the manipulation lately, playing chess with him, complimenting him and trying to increase the wedge between Tubbo and Tommy. You would think Tubbo is safe, so long as he remains pacifistic and continues to make decisions that are to Dream's benefit. But there are things going beyond the scenes that we, the audience, need to consider. The script.

Symbolism and chekov's guns have been sprinkled into the story line for a long time, and it feels as though the roleplayers have upped the ante. It's hard to think about Ghostbur' compasses without crying, but I literally can't stop thinking about what they mean. When it comes to the duo, despite their estrangement, Tommy still considers Tubbo one of the most important things in his life. He placed the "Your Tubbo" compass right beside his discs in his enderchest. Meanwhile, Tubbo held his "Your Tommy" compass in his offhand nearly all stream today. They still care for each other, obviously, but think about one of the reasons Tubbo exiled Tommy in the first place.

He felt like Tommy was choosing the discs over everything else. He felt as though the discs were the only thing Tommy cared about. There has to be a resolution to this. It's been shown by the story that the discs and Tommy's other obligations (L'manberg, his friendships) cannot coexist together for long without it driving a wedge between them.

Tubbo has been streaming more Among Us lobbies and modded Minecraft lately. When he comes onto the server, he nearly has nothing to do. He loves big project and building houses, but as of now, Tubbo has so little materials to even bother making a home and his largest project, the ocean monument, has been placed on the backburner while Sam builds the prison. Its almost....its almost like Tubbo is preparing his audience and for a period of time where he has no reason to be on the SMP. If he's imprisoned, that's not very good content to watch, is it? I also noticed that Dream pointedly did NOT tell Tubbo about the prison today, instead referred to it merely as a 'project.'

My biggest theory is that the prison is for Tubbo. Tubbo is complacent to Dream now, sure, but Tubbo is very, very smart, and- most importantly to Dream - he still has one of Tommy's discs. And Dream wants it.

When talking sweet to Tubbo no longer works, I think the prison will be the next best option. Its possible Dream will frame Tubbo for some crime (foreshadowed by how Quackity and George tried to frame Eret for Karl's murder), or someone will threaten to overthrow Tubbo and Dream will bring him to a 'secure location' to protect him. Tubbo is very nervous about losing his one life, as exhibited by the safe room under the L'mamberg podium, and other comments about his fear of becoming the next Ghostbur. Dream said that he would protect Tubbo if someone tried to overthrow him. The only threats to Tubbo's current presidency is El Rapids. Ranboo is willing to wait until the next election to become president, but Quackity has shown a strong willingness to do terrible things in order to get power. In Quackity's war against Eret and Dream, Dream made many, many references to Tubbo being a better leader, possibly sowing jealousy in Quackity's mind. Sapnap, George and Karl, as apart of El Rapids also have a bone to pick with L'manberg and may also play a part in further separating Quackity from L'manberg and fueling his desire to be the most powerful nation on the server. Absorbing New L'manberg could be the next step.

Dream could pretend to protect Tubbo by bringing him to a 'safe location', the prison, and getting Tubbo to willingly set his spawn inside. Once it comes to light that it's a prison, with Dream his captor, Tubbo will have to make a decision. Give Dream the disc in his enderchest, or stay imprisoned. Freedom, or the disc, a compromise that has been made time and time again on this server.

I think that Tubbo will hold out and allow himself to be imprisoned, while Tommy returns from exile to make a prison break, with the help of Sam. I doubt that will end well, knowing Dream.

I also think at some point, one of the boys will need to bend. Either Tubbo choses to give up his disc to Dream for freedom, or he decides to take the disc with him to his grave. Its basically the Exile decision all over again. Life/freedom, or the discs/war. Selfishness vs. selflessness.

The two boys are learning throughout this current arc to be more like the other. Throughout his Exile, Tommy will learn to be self sufficient and has had to make big sacrifices consistently as Dream blows up the progress he's made. He's learning to chose his own life over property. Meanwhile, Tubbo (although he's only streamed on the SMP once so far this week) has already shown regret for exiling Tommy, and inherently by choosing to launch a war campaign against Techno, he is learning to chose war and bravery over peace and cowardice. He will gain an appreciation for the disks and/or recognize with greater understanding what they mean to Tommy. Maybe he will learn to care deeply for his compass and learns how willing he is to wage war if the compass gets stolen. It's about the symbolism - its what the object means that is worth protecting.

I think Tubbo will die protecting the discs. Or, Tommy will tell Tubbo to give it up. This is a better ending, in which Tommy will learn that the discs represent is his friendships. And, according to Ranboo, they also represent power, according to Ranboo. But on the server, according to Wilbur (when he asks Tubbo to spy for him) people have always represented power.

To Tommy, in this arc, I hope he will learn that keeping the discs is not worth losing his best friend.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them. 

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher​​ for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​

[night-filled-mountain]

Captivity and Escape in Critical Role

So this post has been sitting in my drafts for about half a year. It’s about a persistent theme I noticed throughout campaign 2, which I’m sure others have noticed and written about before, but parallels and recurring themes have always been my Thing, and I couldn’t let it go. And with last week’s episode, and the campaign finale airing tonight, and the dominance of this theme being more glaringly obvious than ever, I thought I’d just give myself a treat and finish up a giant meta post. For old times’ sake.

So, just for the heck of it, here’s an exhaustive exploration of a single through-line of campaign 2 since the very beginning: captivity, and escaping or being freed from it.

Let’s start by taking a quick look at everyone’s backstories, the things that happened to them before the campaign even started, and how they were ultimately resolved. 

FJORD: Entered unknowingly and unwillingly into a pact with Uk’otoa, which bound him to perform services he never agreed to in exchange for powers he never asked for. Fjord did not know how he got into this pact or how to get out of it. He makes his escape when he pitches his sword into a lava river and pledges himself to the Wildmother.

JESTER: Spent the majority of her life “locked in her room” (or at least hidden from sight) until the consequences of one of her pranks forcibly liberated her into the wider world. While Jester loves her mother dearly and thinks of her long “captivity” as being for her own protection, its negative effects on her--loneliness, insecurity, a lack of worldly experience and social awareness--were still apparent, and she spends much of the campaign working through them.

BEAU: Her parents had her kidnapped by monks. It could be argued that even before the kidnapping, she was a prisoner to her father’s “over-protective” tendencies and her parents’ expectations when it came to her career, behavior, gender role, etc. But most significantly, she was very much kidnapped by monks, and made her escape from the Cobalt Soul shortly before we met her.

CALEB: Where to start? First he suffered coercion and abuse at the hands of Trent (a form of captivity); then he was made to torture and execute prisoners; then he spent eleven years literally imprisoned in an asylum, and had to kill and steal in order to escape; and four and a half years later, he met Nott when they were both thrown in jail (and had to engineer their own escape once again). Caleb’s ordeals ultimately made him a prisoner of his own guilt and fear, and escaping that prison has been the heart of his storyline.

VETH/NOTT: Besides the aforementioned stint in jail, the catalyst for her entire adventuring career was being captured by goblins along with her family--and then, after engineering the escape of her husband and son, being imprisoned in the wrong body (and subsequently enslaved!). The desire to escape from this second imprisonment was her driving motivation through much of the campaign. With Caleb’s help (and Essek’s, and Jester’s), she ultimately succeeds.

MOLLY: His first memory was of clawing his way out of a grave, which is just about as extreme a form of captivity and escape as you can get. More subtly, he was also a prisoner to the expectations placed on his body--to the life that body once lived, which he could not remember and refused to claim. Arguably (and tragically), his escape from this particular prison is his own death...until Cree resurrects Lucien, Mollymauk fragment and all. Then he presumably becomes a prisoner much like Yasha was, subsumed body and soul by a mind and a will that are not his own. Until last week.

... (incoherent sobbing)

Until last week.

YASHA: She was a prisoner to her clan’s laws and expectations. Her brief attempt to escape this prison through a forbidden marriage ended tragically, and then she was forced to make a second, literal escape (fleeing into the desert)--only to be (presumably) possessed by Obann, imprisoned inside her own mind, and forced to do his bidding until the Storm Lord liberated her once again.

CADUCEUS: When the gang first meet him, he’s literally a prisoner of his own fear (and/or inertia)--though his whole family has left the Blooming Grove, he’s been too afraid or hesitant to brave the corruption of the Savalirwood without companionship, and spent years isolated in the family temple as a result. The Mighty Nein (or rather, Caleb, Nott, Beau, Keg, and Nila) initiate his escape.

***

And that’s just the backstories! Now let’s take a look at each of the places the Mighty Nein have visited since they came together, and the story arcs therein.

***

TROSTENWALD - CARNIVAL ARC: This arc’s entire goal is to free the (future) Mighty Nein and the other carnies from jail or house arrest. (Much later, the M9 come back to pay Gustav’s debt and liberate him as well.) And remember that Beau is especially sympathetic to Toya’s predicament because she, too, was once a young girl held somewhere against her will.

ALFIELD - GNOLL ARC: This arc’s entire goal is to free the citizens of Alfield who have been kidnapped by gnolls to feed to their manticore leader (and to kill off the gnolls and manticore to keep it from happening again).

ZADASH: The Mighty Nein’s first undertaking in Zadash is to kill off the giant spiders in the sewer. In the process, they free a halfling imprisoned in a spiderweb, which leads them to the Gentleman and all his future quests.

Aside from that, their biggest job in Zadash this time around is the High Richter heist--which, yes, is a mercenary/political job that goes terribly wrong, but why does it go terribly wrong? Because Ulog, the M9′s NPC ally at the time, is so furious over his wife being wrongfully imprisoned by the High Richter that he impulsively blows up both her and himself. And arguably the most poignant moment in the heist’s aftermath is Caleb speaking to the next High Richter, Dolan, and ensuring that Ulog’s wife will be freed.

Also, let’s not forget the drow the M9 meet in the sewer. The one they capture, interrogate, and ultimately...let go. Yes, he’s killed shortly afterward and his beacon falls into their hands, but I think it’s very important to remember that the decision they make, when holding a captive terrorist from an “enemy” nation, is to return his stolen artifact to him and let him walk away free.

LABENDA SWAMP/BERLEBEN: The most memorable events during this interlude are: (1.) The M9 literally freeing Kiri from the swamp, where she is stuck in the mud and at the mercy of crocodiles, and (2.) Bowlgate, a.k.a. Caleb and Beau’s tense confrontation over what to do with Calianna, which is once again fueled on Beau’s side by her sympathy for a young woman held against her will. (Caleb proposes that Cali spend the night with the M9, which she did not intend, so they can use spells to determine her truthfulness the next day.)

HUPPERDOOK: This one’s obvious: The M9 fight a deadly automaton to free two gnomes from prison and reunite them with their children (largely to prevent said children from being taken to an orphanage against their will).

GLORY RUN ROAD/SHADYCREEK RUN - IRON SHEPHERDS ARC: ...Even more obvious. The sole goal of the remaining M9 members (and Nila) throughout this arc is to free their friends from slavery. They end up slaughtering all the slavers and freeing several other captives as well.

LUSIDIAN OCEAN - PIRATE ARC: Here’s where things get really interesting. Because this whole arc is also about captivity and freedom, isn’t it?

It’s about whether or not to free a little old captive named Uk’otoa!

I haven’t given nearly enough thought to how this arc fits in with all the others thematically, considering its central lesson is that freeing this particular captive would be a very bad thing. I do think it’s significant that:

(1.) The beginning of this arc, which leaves the whole party feeling so bad and icky, involves them quite inadvertently taking a captive of their own--and one whom they don’t treat very well. (And still don’t, for that matter...poor Marius.)

(2.) Soon after that incident, the M9 are themselves effectively taken captive by Avantika and her crew. This situation doesn’t last nearly as long as many audience members (and quite possibly Matt, and quite possibly the players themselves!) thought it would, because they panic on Darktow, go all Wall of Fire, and free themselves in a huge, climactic, desperate battle. The Mighty Nein do not take well to captivity.

Anyhow, they follow all this up with...

FELDERWIN/XHORHAS - YEZA ARC: ...another very straightforward quest to free a captive. Not only is this arc all about rescuing Yeza from a Xhorhasian dungeon, but after Caleb returns the beacon, after the Bright Queen of Xhorhas offers the Mighty Nein anything they want...all they ask her for is to let them go.

BAZZOXAN & BEYOND - OBANN ARC: ...By now, you know where I’m going with this, right? The entire arc is about freeing Yasha from Obann, who has her imprisoned inside her own body, inside her own mind. There’s a reason That Moment in the cathedral hit so hard, right? “And as you close your eyes, you see yourself breaking the shackles. You see the influence no longer holding any sway over your soul. There's nothing but the storm, vengeance, and hope.”

(Bonus: In the middle of the above arc, we get the HAPPY FUN BALL - RESCUING YUSSA ARC, which, once again, is devoted to freeing a captive.)

KAMORDAH/CYRIOS MOUNTAINS - ISHARNAI ARC: Aimed entirely at freeing Nott from the body in which she was imprisoned. Beau also has a bit of a freedom arc here: confronting the parents who imprisoned her figuratively and literally, turning her back on them (possibly for good), and then confronting a major source of the expectations and superstitions they shackled her with: Isharnai, who is neutralized by Jester’s cupcake.

THE MENAGERIE - CLAY ARC: Aimed entirely at freeing Caduceus’s family, who are imprisoned in perhaps the most literal way possible, being turned to stone. (The M9 also manage to liberate the Stone family while they’re at it.)

RUMBLECUSP - TRAVELER CON: Two great liberations take place here. First, all the residents of the Village of Vo are freed from Vokodo’s influence, their memories restored, their blind devotion dispelled, able once again to choose the course of their own lives. Second, the followers of the Traveler are freed from the deception he’s imposed on them, the cult he’s roped them into. Thanks to the Moonweaver’s interference, they, too, are free to make informed decisions. And I think we can also safely say that Artagan is freed from them, from the false “god” role he managed to box himself into, and he’s happier for it.

EISELCROSS - SOMNOVEM ARC: ...And this is it, folks. This is why I decided to finish this post today. Because I was openly not feeling the Eiselcross arc as an endgame. The hard slog through the elements just wasn’t doing it for me, or the frequent combat, or the increasingly complex lore, or the traditionally heroic quest to save the world from being swallowed by a monstrous city.

...Until last week. Until Lucien’s defeat. And Molly’s oh-so-improbable resurrection.

When I heard all the voices of the Somnovem whispering “Thank you” as their individual souls were freed from the Lovecraftian hivemind...when I heard Jester sobbing that at least Molly’s soul wasn’t “trapped” inside a monstrous Lucien anymore...when Cad’s Divine Intervention succeeded, and Mollymauk Tealeaf opened his eyes--his two plain old natural eyes--unburdened by Lucien and his Somnovem eyes and all of his dark baggage for the first time--I was finally able to embrace this as the ending.

Because it’s not about saving the world. That’s just a bonus. It’s about saving a friend. Freeing a friend. Freeing captives, wherever they find them. Whether from Crown’s Guard, gnolls, and giant spiders, or from royal dungeons; whether from ruthless enemies or from their own families; whether from eldritch abominations or from the forces that chain their own minds.

In the end, the Mighty Nein--and the people whose lives they touch--belong to no one and nothing that they do not choose to belong to. They belong to themselves, to the people they most sincerely love, to the gods and causes they have chosen freely. And that has always, always been my favorite kind of story.

And I can’t wait for tonight.

[aurabird]

Tainted Blood

Joel doesn’t believe in the demon, going as far as to ignore him entirely. But the Mezalean King’s defiance isn’t what draws Xornoth to him...but something dark and violent, a thirst for blood that cannot be quenched.

What use could a desire so strong be when mixed with corruption?

Tw: I think just blood/violence and corruption for this one.

Also on Ao3

-------------------

Joel struggled against the chains binding him with a frustrated growl. It was obvious that he was in a dungeon of some sort as a prisoner given the way he was being restrained; arms above his head and his legs to the floor. Who would possibly have the audacity to capture him like this?

“Very funny guys. I’m not laughing, you can come out now and free me.” he shouted to no one in particular.

That is when he heard footsteps, his attention being drawn to the sound in time to see Sausage enter the room. The Mythland king wore attire in various grey shades, a black cape fastened around his shoulders by a ruby trailed behind him as he walked with calculated strides.

The outfit change wasn’t the only new thing Joel noticed about the king, black veins webbed across the man’s visible flesh in vine-like patterns, a faint crimson glow pulsating from them. Sausage turned to look at him, piercing red eyes only made more sinister by the same black veins on his face.

“Joel, good to see you’ve finally awoken!” he said with a grin that was far too sharp and a tone of voice that was only slightly off in normalcy.

“Sausage, what is this? I don’t have time for your silly games right now!”

“Games? Joel you wound me. If anyone has been playing games it has been you taunting Lord Xornoth.”

“That’s what this is about? As far as I am concerned the demon doesn’t exist, just some big elaborate prank someone is playing on all of us that we are falling for.”

Suddenly, Sausage was directly in front of him, the sharp grin still crossing their face “Ah, that’s right, he mentioned how you have been ignoring and irritating him.” the Mythland king took a few steps back before continuing, “But that’s why you’re here, he’s going to make sure you can’t ignore him anymore.”

Joel felt a shiver go down his spine at how calm and deathly serious those words were said. “He doesn’t scare me, Sausage, and neither do you.”

“We’ll see about that, King Joel. Yes we will.” came a distorted voice from everywhere in the room at once, the speaker soon materializing before the Mezalean king in a puff of smoke. Their skin was ebony in color, veins very similar to those on Sausage’s own skin covered every inch of their body and the sinister horns growing from their head were constantly pulsating purple and crimson underneath the shadows that slithered around them. A wicked grin stretched across their face, mouth not moving despite saying words.

“Leave us, Champion.” the entity that was definitely not a demon in any way ordered, dismissing the Mythland king with a wave of a clawed hand.

“Of course my lord.” he replied with a bow before taking his leave, the sound of stone grinding against stone was heard as a door closed behind him, leaving Joel alone with the entity.

“So, Xornoth right? Sausage claims you’re going to keep me from ignoring you.” Joel began with a bored, condescending tone in his voice.

“While that is true, your defiance isn’t what perked my interest in you, there is something else...something dark inside your soul that I am quite curious about. I believe you call it bloodlust?”

“What about it?”

“I find it something worth studying further.”

The chains binding Joel unlocked with unspoken command, causing him to slump to the ground where crimson tendrils were quick to coil around his limbs, preventing any struggle or movement as they held him against the cold floor.

The sound of a sword being dragged across stone drew his attention, Xornoth holding the blade in his hand, “What triggers it I wonder? Is it the sight of blood or the lack thereof?” Joel didn’t get to reply as the demon cut into his left arm, allowing crimson to poor freely from the wound.

  He ran through the forest, the wolves at his heels howling as they bayed for the blood of their prey, Joel giving a wicked grin as the desire to kill urged him forwards. He could hear them in the distance, the King and his Hand fleeing for their lives.

“THE RED KING DIES TONIGHT FELLAS!” he cackled with sadistic glee, a look of madness in his red eyes as they entered the war-torn remains of a desert.

  The scene faded as quickly as it began, Joel’s body shaking like a leaf in fear at what he’d just seen. He’d witnessed that moment countless times over in his nightmares, but never whilst awake.

Xornoth’s smile grew at the sight of the man’s fear, “Guess you aren’t as fearless as you like to believe.” he said.

Joel snarled, “Sh-Shut up. You know nothing about me!”

“I know you deny my existence and infuriate me with your defiance. I know of your bond with the Ocean Queen and the Codfather...”

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on either of them!”

His threat was ignored as the demon chuckled “Oh, I won’t. But you will.”

Agony coursed through Joel’s body at those words, a cry tearing from his throat as his skin burned where the crimson tendrils made contact with it.

  His foot nicked the fiery liquid pouring from above, an ember quickly setting his pants ablaze and causing him to panic. He scrambled as fast as he could to get over the stone brick wall and into the swamp water he knew lay beyond it.

In his act of desperation he got caught up in a lava stream which trapped his legs in sheer agony as it wasted no time incinerating flesh, his vision going black from the pain, a mercy from one of the most painful deaths.

Green eyes bore into his brown ones as the girl glared at him with a satisfied grin, the flames licking the walls of his house out of revenge casting a shadow on her decaying body and torn clothes.

The flames danced around him as he panicked to try and put them out, but to no avail, once more his body was consumed by an inferno.

  Joel’s eyes snapped open as he was brought back to reality, his gaze quickly locking onto the black webs slowly creeping up his arms from where they came in contact with the crimson tendrils.

Everything burned as the corruption spread through him, taking control of his motor functions and causing him to cease his struggling.

The demon's maniac laughter echoed throughout the room almost taunting him. Anger flared in his chest and the sight of blood staining stone from where he’d been sliced with a sword fueled a desire to kill.

His vision turned red as a haze began to wrap around his mind, but Joel didn’t fight it, the bloodlust was familiar and welcoming to him...but why there was also something different about it this time?

He had no time to question it as soon, Joel’s thoughts were no longer his own and the pain faded. The Mezalean King’s now-red eyes burned brightly as he looked up to meet those of his master, a twisted smile curving on his lips before he spoke.

“What do you wish me to do to them, Lord Xornoth?”

[ktlsyrtis]

This is not so much a WIP, but an outtake from the 'five times' fic that @batnbreakfast and I are working on, which was cut because it was deemed "too sweet and fluffy" by my partner in crime. Also, it's Bernie/Alex, so, who even knows!

Pushing aside the flap of the surgical tent, Bernie pulls her scrub cap from her head, balling the sweaty fabric up in her fist as she makes her way across the camp.

They were in surgery long enough that the sun’s almost set, the dry desert air quickly cooling, raising goosebumps on her overheated skin. Lieutenant Murray would keep his leg, but her nerves were still jangling from the close call. Some of the omnipresent noise of the camp fades away as she approaches the perimeter fence, circling around the supply tent to an unpopulated corner of the camp, where a series of large time-worn boulders jutted up from the sand.

She found the outcropping of rocks early in her deployment, while taking a morning run. Far enough from the camp to feel alone, but not far enough to delay if she were needed, it became the place she went to be alone, to decompress when it all got to be too much. Some of the junior doctors have taken to calling the spot ‘Wolfe Point’ when they think she can’t hear them. It’s said with enough affection that she doesn’t take them to task for it, recalls the myriad inside jokes about her superior officers over the years. The important thing is that they all respect her enough to leave her in peace.

Settling on the rock she groans softly, the lingering heat from the sun sinking into her bones like a hot water bottle. She can’t deny the tours have been getting harder. No matter how fit she stays, the aches linger more than they used to, and each morning it’s just a hair more difficult to roll out of her bunk. A tiny, fearful part of her mind wonders if this will be her last deployment, if she’ll finally have to give in to Marcus’s desire to have her home.

To be fair, it’s an argument they’ve had less and less as the years have gone by. Where she used to feel guilty about the hole she left in her family’s life, now it just feels like they’ve filled in the space she used to be, leaving no place for her when she’s home. She knows that the kids are adults now, that this is the natural outcome of her career. That doesn’t stop her heart from aching each time she checks her email and finds nothing from Cam and Charlotte, only a line or two from Marcus.

Bernie still craves being alone. The moment her plane touches down in the UK she’s already thinking about the next deployment, the next adventure, how quickly she can leave the life that she’s never fit into, a life that tightens more around her each passing year, like a vine strangling a tree.

She’s been running all her life, yet somehow she never expected escape to be so lonely.

“Tough day?”

Jerked from her maudlin thoughts, Bernie looks up sharply, then immediately relaxes. There’s only one person who would bother her here.

“Not as tough as some,” she replies, taking the proffered flask from Alex’s hand. The first sip burns like tank fuel, and she grimaces a bit as Alex settles beside her, before taking another and handing it back.

“I heard that Murray’s going to make it,” Alex says, bumping her shoulder lightly against Bernie’s. “Another miracle from Major Wolfe, eh?” Bernie just hums, always feels awkward receiving accolades from her colleagues.

They slip into a comfortable silence, passing the flask of barely potable moonshine back and forth as the last rays of the sun sink beneath the horizon, the sky filled with a blanket of stars. Bernie finds herself glancing at Alex as she drinks, takes in the slender line of her throat, the way the starlight turns her pale eyes almost silver. She doesn’t usually make friends on tour. Prides herself on maintaining a certain detachment, especially with her subordinates.

But there’s something about Alex.

Alex, with her easy laugh and warm smile, snuck past Bernie’s defenses before she even realized what was happening. Being with Alex is effortless in a way no other friendship in Bernie’s life has been, a way that’s as exhilarating as it is terrifying. She finds herself thinking about Alex all the time, craving her company, seeking her out almost without thinking. Doesn’t let herself dwell on why that is, on the intensity of the things she feels.

Alex’s friendship eases some of the ever present loneliness in Bernie’s heart. That’s enough.

“You okay, Bern?”

Bernie startles a bit as she realizes she’s been staring, hides the sudden flush heating her face behind another swig of rotgut.

“Of course I’m okay,” she says with a weak attempt at a smile. “I’m always okay.”

The quirk of Alex’s eyebrow is all Bernie needs to know what she thinks of that statement, and she sighs, too tired to fight against the question in those piercing eyes.

“I haven’t heard from my kids in months,” she says quietly, eyes trained on a particularly bright star. “Not since I came here. Even Marcus hasn’t sent more than a few words.”

Something flits across Alex’s face at that, a kind of careful neutrality shuttering her normally open expression.

“Ah. Missing the family, then?”

“No.” Bernie barks out a bitter laugh, tucking her hands beneath her thighs, against the smooth surface of the rock. “That’s the worst part. I don’t miss them. I don’t miss England, I don’t miss my home.” A note of pain creeps into her words, throat thick. “What kind of mother does that make me, that I don’t even miss my children?”

“Sounds to me like it makes you a human being.” Alex shifts closer, her thigh pressing warmly against Bernie’s hip. “You’re so much more than a mother, Bern. You’re a brilliant surgeon, a brave soldier, a wonderful friend.” She hesitates. “A beautiful woman.”

It’s only when Alex’s tongue swipes nervously across them that Bernie realizes she’s been watching her lips as she speaks. She meets Alex’s eyes, frozen by the intensity she finds there, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. Hardly breathes as Alex’s gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth, leaning forward almost in slow motion.

The first touch of Alex’s lips to her own breaks something open in Bernie, sends a shockwave through her very self. It’s as if a bomb goes off, scattering all the pieces of her life, rearranging them in a new order.

With that order comes a startling clarity. This. This is what’s been missing her whole life. The thing she’s been running from. The feeling she’s tried so hard to paper over, to hide, to pretend it isn’t there.

There’s no pretending now. With Alex’s soft lips pressed so sweetly to her own and an ocean of stars overhead, Bernie feels absolutely certain for the first time in her life.

A lifetime passes, a perfect moment gone in a heartbeat. Somewhere along the way Bernie’s eyes slip shut, and she can’t hold back a faint whimper as Alex pulls away. Blinking slowly, she finds Alex staring back - lips glistening faintly, her face caught somewhere between hope and horror.

“Bern,” she stammers hoarsely, her breath coming quick and uneven. “I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

Apologies are the last thing Bernie wants. Faster than she can talk herself out of it, Bernie slides a hand behind Alex’s neck, pulling her in and all but crashing their mouths together. She swallows Alex’s sigh of relief, moans as a tongue teases past her lips, strong arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling their bodies flush.

Thoughts of home, of real life, can’t touch them here, and Bernie’s heart soars as she finally finds herself beneath a sea of stars.

[obaewankenobis]

solace — obi-wan kenobi

summary  :  after the death of satine kryze, obi-wan kenobi returns from mandalore to the jedi temple.

warning(s)  :  character death, it's pretty fluffy with some angst.

pairing(s)  :  obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader, mentions of obi-wan kenobi x satine kryze

notes   :  this is my first fic on tumblr like,, ever. i hope you enjoy lmao 🧍🏻‍♀️. oh also it’s written in all lowercase intentionally!

       though you didn’t know much about their relationship, you knew from a very young age that obi-wan kenobi loved satine kryze. the jedi and the duchess were destined to live their lives apart, honor bound to serve the people before themselves, whether it be the citizens of mandalore or the jedi order. you had seen them interact firsthand, the endless bickering and shrewd glances at one another making up a feeble attempt to cover up how they truly felt. you hated the way your stomach twisted and your heartbeat quickened when you saw how he looked at her, overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions a jedi were barred from feeling. he drowned in her touch, however subtle that might be, her hand on his face leaving him with burn marks, his fingers on fire as he grasped her wrist.        you stood idly by, hopeless in the shadows, because that was what the force had destined for you. you, like obi-wan, had duties as a jedi, duties that you would put over your own well being and selfish desires, even if that meant spending hours watching obi-wan languish in the realization that life would never allow him to be happy. he’d lost his master at an age where, although he was not terribly young, he was still vulnerable to the world and its brutalities.

       life had not been kind to obi-wan kenobi. he was old when he started training, feeling the need to work twice as hard as his fellow initiates, just for him to be remembered and not cast aside. he was constantly battling his darkest fear, that he was never good enough for his master and he would one day be considered unmemorable or unworthy.        life was still cruel to obi-wan kenobi. he felt the cold, bony fingers of satine kryze cradle his face, leaning into her touch before she fell back limply, dark blood staining her abdomen. around him, maul laughed, as vengeance had finally been served. all those years the scarlet skinned zabrak had spent wasting away, he only had one thought: kenobi. it was a mantra that kept him going, a fire that fueled him, that drove him so far to the point of madness that the only thought echoing in his mind was exacting his revenge on the man who had caused him so much misery, obi-wan kenobi.        with some much needed help, obi-wan had escaped his jail cell on mandalore, but maul had won, for now he was trapped eternally in a prison of his own mind. if he closed his eyes, he could still see satine in all her beauty. the soft, pale buttercup locks of hair were strewn messily across satine’s face, framing her pointed features that highlighted her regality. her eyes, normally a stunning, brilliant blue, were now overshadowed with heavy purple circles underneath, fluttering once, before lying still. obi-wan could still feel the ice of her touch on his auburn beard, could still hear the hoarse whispers of her final, dying breath in his ears. worst of all, he could still sense through the force as her life signature died out, like a warm sun casting its final rays before leaving a planet in darkness.        he had loved her, and she had loved him.        though light years away, separated by many planets and suns and stars, you could sense his anguish. it was overpowering, tainted by the dark side; this was the closest obi-wan had been tempted to stray away from the light. still, he clung on to the light, clung on to the idea that there was still good in the world, despite every curve thrown in his way.        the night ahead of you, should obi-wan not return before then, would be sleepless, as worry for the man ate at your insides, and you were helpless to resist as it consumed you. you were, for lack of a better word, attached to him, and he you, and that was the most dangerous thing a jedi could be. the very idea of caring for one being over another was discouraged, but no one prepared you for how hard it would be to follow a code you lived by.        at last, you sensed his presence here in the temple. throwing on a beige cloak, you quietly shut the door of your sleeping quarters to greet him. it was late enough in the evening for the temple hallways to be barren, but not too absurdly late for you to be awake, as the bright yellow hues of the coruscanti sunset dimmed and made their final goodbye through the transparisteel.        “obi-wan,” the breath caught in your throat as your eyes met his. he resembled a shell of who he once was, clad in red mandalorian armor that oddly suited him. his russet hair was disheveled, dirtied by dust and sweat, shoulders sagging as his arms lay limply at his side. his ocean eyes were swimming with sorrow and grief, mourning the loss of someone — it didn’t take much to put the pieces together. satine kryze. he had gone to rescue her, and returned alone.        “y/n,” his voice is like a melody in your ears, though his tone is solemn and tired. they stood close enough for it to be amicable, but far enough for it to be agonizingly respectable. neither of you made any movement to get closer, knowing the probability of someone stumbling upon them was far too likely.        “what happened?” you bit your lip, studying his face. his eyes didn’t quite meet yours, his fair skin littered with dirt and battered with cuts and bruises.        “maul,” came the short response. “he… i must report to the council.” waves of alarm began radiating off of him, as if he had just remembered something important.        “master yoda and master windu are both away,” you sucked in your breath. “you should speak to them tomorrow.” all he could muster was a nod of his head, and you knew then that he would only talk about it in time. silently, mannerisms mirroring one another, you began walking, your pace slow and your shoulders brushing just slightly every few steps. there wasn’t much to be said; obi-wan was silent for most of the short trek back to the jedi sleeping quarters.        “will you be alright?” you stopped in your tracks, pausing in front of his quarters.        a faint smile crept onto his face, his lips twitching upwards but his eyes remaining dull. he nodded quickly before turning to enter his quarters. “thank you, darling.”        however persuasive the famed jedi negotiator was in his prime, there was something about the way his voice sounded so tired that made you doubt the truth of his words.        obi-wan’s name was on the tip of your tongue before he disappeared behind the door of his quarters, not allowing you to call after him; he could lie to you once, to save you from needless worry, but he could not do so twice.        without much resistance, you retreated to your own space, the walls and floors scarcely decorated, what little furniture you did possess simple and modest. after a moment, you retired to your sleep couch and allowed your sore muscles a bit of relaxation. sleep did not come to greet you, not even as you spent hours tossing and turning, the normally soft mattress underneath you now lumpy and hard.        with a sigh, you threw the covers over you aside, wincing as you were greeted with the coldness of the floor as your feet touched the ground. you made your way to the hallway, pitch black and coated with a blanket of silence, a dim light seeping through the cracks of the door opposite of yours. obi-wan was still awake. raising your hand to knock on the door, you were surprised as your knuckles were met nothingness, as the door slid open automatically.        obi-wan had not moved since the night began, sitting in his own turmoil. the mandalorian armor had been stripped off of him and was now cluttered in a corner of the room, and it looked as if he had used the refresher — droplets of water still clung to his hair, and his sleeping clothes looked fresh and clean.        “can’t sleep?” you spoke up with a rueful smile, careful to keep your pitch low enough so only he could hear them. the door closed behind you, and then it was just the two of them. he looked up; dark circles of grief and exhaust making him appear older, more fragile. in a hasty, unsure movement, you had crossed the length of the room and settled yourself next to him, the sleep couch dipping slightly under your added weight.        there were so many questions you longed to ask him, like the details of his journey to mandalore, and why he couldn’t even bring himself to say more than a few words at a time. but patience was a jedi’s greatest tool, and you forced yourself to simply sit in silence, the feeling of obi-wan’s grief hanging heavy in the air.        “i lost her.” his voice is hollow, monotone. there is no need to say her name, but it enters your mind anyways. satine.        “i know,” you let out a weary sigh. “i’m so sorry.” without more words, you felt his body shift, feeling the heat coming from his body as he drew closer to you. “you need to rest, love.”        there was no reason for him to protest, but you knew why he had stayed awake for so long. nightmares. they would haunt him for the rest of his life, chasing him mercilessly for as long as he remained asleep. no matter how awful life treated him, obi-wan kenobi never cried, at least not in front of anyone — instead, he allowed himself to rot away, internalizing everything for fear of burdening another being with all of his agony.        tonight would be no different, you suspected, as you felt a weight on your shoulder, as a head full of strawberry blonde hair, still dewy with shower water, rested against your side. it was hesitant at first, as he barely allowed himself to lean on you, but after a moment of his cheek on your shoulder, he collapsed, the full weight of his body and all his worries heavy against your frame. as your arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him closer to you, your breath was light and tense. this was the closest you’d ever been to him, to anyone, really, the feeling of his skin against her own a foreign concept she’d never dared to explore.        it was the way he smiled. it reminded you of warm summer days, of lazy mornings on naboo surrounded by nothing but fields of flowers soaked in sunlight. he was like the sun, bright and hopeful; steady and dependable.        it was the way he laughed. it reminded you of cozy winter nights, of waking up to a ground littered with snow, the frigid air of the outside making evenings surrounded by a crackling fire intimate and welcoming.        it was the way he looked at you. his gaze reminded you of a chilly autumn breeze, of carefree days and brisk weather that made your skin tingle, your heart feeling light and free, singing to the fallen leaves of the sky.        it was the way he touched you. it reminded you of spring, of new flowers blooming in soft sunlight, of plants budding with new, green life and animals of all shapes and sizes fluttering around with their young. it was the start of something new.        you loved him.        it went against everything you stood for, but you loved him.        and maybe somewhere, buried deep within his soul, he loved you too.        in another lifetime, perhaps you were the right person at the wrong time, or the right person at the right time. but in this timeline, where the jedi code was carved into your bones, where the light side ran through your veins, where your duty came above your being, it was the wrong circumstance.        you had been so deep in thought, woefully wishing a for love from a man who could not do so, that you hadn’t noticed how obi-wan’s breathing slowed, how his eyes, which had once fought to stay open, were now blissfully shut. the man who had been through so much, who had endured so much heartbreak and loss, had finally sought solace in your arms.        your own eyes fought to stay awake, knowing how much trouble you’d be in if anyone caught you both in such a… compromising position. however innocent the intention may be, the council would not see it that way. your last conscious thought was that of i must wake up before sunrise, before you lapsed into a peaceful sleep.

[littlefreya]

Heart of Darkness

Synopsis: Slight sequel to Overprotected. Walter’s longing wife comes to visit him at his office.

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC

Word count: 3.9K

Warnings: Explicit, graphic smutty sex, rough oral sex, choking, role play, pleasure denial, rough sex. MaleDom / FemSub. Slight fluff though. 

A/N: A special thanks for @agniavateira or helping me proof my work. I don’t own Night Hunter / Nomins or Marshall!

Title: Heart of Darkness

The heating is broken at the station. It’s either that, or Walter came up with some new methods of torture to interrogate his suspects. I’ve never seen him in action, I’m not sure if it’s the shame of this very darkness that lives within him, or his desperate attempt to keep me safe from the horrors of the night. His colleagues filled me in a while ago, mentioning he tends to go rough, violent, even brutal at times. 

They know very little for I bask in Walter’s darkness. I’m the first to witness the terror that consumes him and shadows his soul. I drink from his desire, joining him in this violent lovemaking. It’s the only thing that helps him cleanse his demons.

It brings us closer. 

And yet, he doesn’t want me here. He fights to keep me secluded as if I was some porcelain doll. 

As if I don’t see my share of blood and death every day. 

I walk through the chilled halls of the station, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. Even though I’m wearing a large, thick winter coat, it feels like it’s four degrees here. I shouldn’t have worn a skirt beneath all this, but how could I have known? I left five text messages which remained unanswered. It’s not unusual. He is busy, and sometimes he forgets. 

It doesn’t mean this doesn’t piss me off.

I find him in his office, with a phone pressed to his ear. His bulky body faces the window while he talks down some crime lab trainee for messing up the evidence. He turns to see who dares to barge his office uninvited, his blue eyes pale as glaciers. They immediately melt as he realizes it’s me. 

“I don’t care how. Get a new sample or I’ll make sure you’ll never hear the end of this!” He ends the call without a goodbye and drops the device on his desk. His arms grab the edges of the chair tightly while he stares down, letting his soft dark curls fall on top of his forehead.

“What are you doing here, pet? You know I don’t like you coming here.” 

I take off my long coat, hanging it next to the door. His office is only slightly warmer. It’s smaller, and Walter emits enough warmth on his own. Everyone is walking around in their coats and jackets but he's in a black wool sweater per usual, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his wide forearms.

“I missed you” I answer, pretending not to tremble but the fumes that come out of my mouth give me away. 

I take a small, slow twirl in the secluded space, inspecting the room. There's so little light in here. On the shelf, he has some books about the history of crime and criminology, with his diploma and badges of honour laid next to it. Not out of pride, but out of compliance. Walter is not an arrogant man, he’s actually the opposite. He doesn’t have time for chasing glory, all he does is out of pure heroism, some would even say out of altruism.   

The morbid photos next to his desk catch my eyes. Images of victims. They hang on a board latched to the wall, along with a map, and a thick, red string that trails the locations where the bodies were found. These are young women, mutilated, their lives were stolen from them by selfish monsters. 

I get to see my share of blood every day, sometimes even death. But, this is not something anyone should see. 

And this is what he sees all the time, probably also in his dreams. The ghosts of the girls he couldn’t save haunt him; it’s not his fault, but he’d never see it that way. For him, every girl who died on his watch is a girl he has failed.  

My fingers press against the ring on my finger, twisting it anxiously. I can feel my heart shrinking to the size of a walnut. I wish I could suck the pain out of him as you do with poison.

“I told you…” he speaks with a deep frown on his face, as if he is angry with me for entering his cave of horrors. He was in a foul mood before I got here, and I defied his request. I am the one teasing the tinders with more wind and fuel. 

All I wanted was to bring my light into his world, at least for a little while.

“You visit me at work all the time,” I answer, inching closer toward his desk. I try to ignore the sourness in my throat as the horrifying images on the wall stare right at us.  

He gives me a small smile, almost invisible amongst the wrinkles of grumpiness on his forehead. 

“It’s a part of my job to come to the hospital, and it’s the only one in the county.”

That’s how we met. 

I was in my first year of residency. The tall, burly man with the most caring blue eyes appeared in the hospital. I have seen Walter once before that, spending an evening at the local Irish bar with his friends. The toughness on his face was the only thing I remembered then. I thought he was hot, obviously, though I didn’t bother approaching him. 

I didn’t fall in love with him until I saw the ocean of benevolence he kept under that hard shell. 

He came to visit a victim and stayed the night to make sure the aggressor won’t return, and that the girl is taken care of. I felt his eyes on me every now and then, silently observing me when I was checking up on other patients. He tried to strike a small conversation, about the girl first, and then about my job at the hospital. I believed the British giant was just being polite and passed the long, boring night by chit-chat. I should have known I was being interrogated to see if I’m single or not. 

Suddenly, he appeared at the hospital every other day, to check up on “the girl”. The first night, he brought me some coffee because “I work crazy hours,” and he thought I’d like some to drink. Then, it was coffee and a sweet pastry to eat. For a week and a half, I had a constant visitor who took care of my caffeine and sugar intake. My colleagues teased me for suddenly wearing perfume to work, and how I’d blush whenever “Sir Big Dick” arrived.

On the last evening, he came to my department and found me signing some charts. I’ve told him the girl was released during the morning, but of course, he knew that. He smiled at me and offered me a single red rose instead, asking if I’d like to accompany him for a real dinner this time.

Four years since then, he comes to visit even when there are no victims. Sometimes, I’m worried he does that out of fear that something will happen to me, and not just out of a romantic gesture to see his wife. 

“Is it part of your job to stalk your wife?”

He slouches on his chair heavily, making it squeak beneath his weight. His eyes rise to gaze at my face. There is a weariness in them, the kind that even sleep can’t cure anymore. I fear the day when my husband will stray too far from the light, when the heart of darkness will clutch its ugly thorns in his tender flesh. 

“It is my job to make sure the citizens of this county are safe.” 

I roll my eyes at him, walking to stand behind his chair. My hands reach to clutch his broad shoulders as I begin to knead the tense muscles with mild force. He stiffens for a moment and then emits a soft groan, flexing and trying to relax beneath my touch.

“Do you bring red roses to all the citizens in our county?” I speak with a sultry voice, moving my hands to his collarbone. Walter closes his eyes and throws his head back, a deep groan vibrates from the pit of his throat. 

“Only the hot ones,” he answers as his hand finds my leg and snakes up my bare skin, running all the way up beneath my skirt to find the curve of my ass. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s freezing in here.” I answer, leaning into the warmth of his palm as he strokes up and down my thigh to keep me warm.  

“Why are you dressed like that, then?” he guides me toward him to sit in his lap. His hands run up and down my legs, exposing more of my skin while a soft smile spreads across his rugged face. “If I wouldn’t know better, I’d say you came here to seduce a police detective.”

I bite my lower lip, wrapping my hands around his neck while my ass sinks against his groin. I feel so safe in his touch, with his coarse hands that burn hot on my flesh. 

“Why? Is that a crime?”

“Actually, yes.”

I pull away from him, standing against the edge of the desk with a teasing smirk across my face. His hand reaches out to my knees, not wanting to break contact. He has been deprived of it all day long, abandoned in the cold. 

Now here I am, the only warmth he knows.

“Show me then.”

He licks his lips, still smiling as he is caught up with my little flirtatious act. “Show you what, pet?”

“What interrogation methods would you use? How would you squeeze a dirty little secret out a seductress like me?” I place the heel of my boot between his straddled thighs, preventing him from moving and asserting my dominance to provoke him.  

His eyes narrow at me while he considers the idea. I see how the ethical balance begins to tip, the ball falling from one scale to the other. His better judgment becomes lost in a thick cloud of lust. 

“You keep secrets from me?” he asks as he plays along.

“Maybe…” I stretch the word, giving him a wicked flirtatious smile. 

Somewhere deep inside this good man, there is a big black dog, hungry to rip this willing victim to shreds. 

He peers at my leg and then up into my eyes while his fingers reach to gently tickle beneath my knee. I hum in delight, throwing my head back, my leg losing its strength, my assertiveness leaning on the edge along with my ankle. 

“I’d begin by putting you in a position where you don’t have any power whatsoever,” he speaks in a voice that’s gruff and low, his fingers now pressing hard and I’m forced to straighten my leg and lower it to the floor.

The smile on his face becomes cold and his eyes darken as he moves to stand in front of me. His leans against me, his torso pressed against my chest, his chin against my forehead as he lowers his head.

“Down on your knees.” 

These words take my breath away, making my skin prickle with nervousness. I follow his orders with the obedience of a good wife. My knees lay pressed against the cold floor, I try not to tremble too much. I’m not sure if it’s just the temperature of the room, or the dark glare on Walter’s face.

His groin is at the level of my face, the outline of his cock showing through the fabric of his trousers as it begins to harden.

He reaches out his hands to cradle my face. Stroking my hair back, examining my face as if he is learning my features for the first time. The smile diminished from his face the moment I went down on my knees. Now he stares at me with the severity of his bad detective attitude.   

“You’re very pretty,” he compliments me, but it sounds more of a fact than anything sweet. His fingers caress my cheeks and then at the corners of my lips, forcing me to part my lips. “Pretty little mouth too, does it talk?”

“I ain’t telling you nothing, Detective” I play along, if I’ve known we’re actually doing THAT, I would have prepared a script. 

His hands run to stroke the hair away from my face, beginning in a tender affectionate touch, he collects every strand lovingly until my hair is bundled between his strong palms. I can feel the softness of his touch draining away. 

“Undo my belt.” He commands. 

“I don’t…”

“You don’t want me to ask again.”

My hands tremble with fear and excitement as my fingers fumble with the metal clasp of his belt. Walter’s eyes look at me carefully, completely devoted to this role. I wonder how much of his job is pretence and how much is actually him.

“What do you say if I’ll fuck your mouth until you cry?” 

He asks while reaching one hand to unzip his trousers, freeing his beautiful large cock and stroking it in front of me for display. I can’t help but lick my lips, like a hungry kitten presented with creamy delight. The little drop of pre-cum that trickles down his shaft is too inviting. 

“I’d say you still won’t hear a word from me,” I provoke. 

Walter gives a short smile, tugging my hair back painfully until I’m forced to part my lips open into a breathless gasp of pain.

 “Take me in your mouth.” 

Usually, when I please him, I’d begin with a soft teasing, licking my way up and down his hardness until I finally take him in and begin working him sensually.

I am not granted any of that courtesy right now.

Walter forces himself into the wet heat of my mouth with the delicacy of a grunt. A deep, throaty groan echoes in the room as he is surrounded by my hot saliva and is pressed against the softness of my tongue. 

I choke out a mewl as he completely fills my mouth, feeling the head of his cock nearing the back of my throat. My cheeks betray me, sucking by instinct to savour his girth. Every inch of my body knows Walter all too well, it succumbs to the man that owns it, physically and emotionally.  

I look up to him with helpless glossy eyes. Victory showers his face, golden and bleak at the same time. He lets his callous long fingers clasp around the hollow of my cheeks to force me to keep my mouth open wide just to please him.

I gasp for air as he pulls back slowly. Just a cruel act to make me think we’re done, but we are far from that.

“Loosen your mouth pet, I am going deeper.”  

He warns and shoves himself in again, this time deeper as promised, relishing on my muffled whimpers he puts one hand on the back of my head and begins to buck his hips. Fucking my mouth in the rhythm that fulfils his lust.

My heart pounds on my chest, my knees begin to hurt as I try to move with him. But I’m his good girl, breathing through my nose, letting my tongue lap around his lavished cock lovingly while he uses me as the wet hole he unloads into. 

His eyes are glistening, ecstasy drawing near. I look up to stare at him, admiring how glorious he is. My large man, so confident and dominating. His beautiful dark curls frame his square face, bringing out his high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. And damn, that voice, those low melodic hums of pleasure making my entire body shake.   

I choke onto his swollen cock. Tears stained dark grey thanks to my eyeliner and mascara, run down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry beautiful,” he speaks with cynical sweetness, his thumb wiping the tears away from one cheek as he carefully withdraws from my mouth, allowing me to breathe once again. “All you need to do is tell me what you’re hiding and this will end.”

I gasp for air, my chest slightly heaving while his fingers run under my eyes to clean the black mess that is smeared on my face. He remains silent, the wrinkles between his brows are deep and severe while he is still pulling his bad cop act. Yet the way his hands run over my face with care gives him away so easily.

“Is this the worst you can do? Some detective you are!”

I provoke him, laughing patronizingly with my voice still husky, the edge of my throat slightly sore from having to endure his size in its depth. Walter chuckles momentarily before grabbing my shoulders and pulling me up to sit on his desk. 

“Spread ‘em” he nearly barks, but it’s not really an order since his hands press my knees apart widely, exposing the dampness on my underwear. He smoothes both hands up my thighs roughly, his thumbs reaching out until reaching to my core. 

I let my head back, feeling how his thumb massages me, pressing against my covered clit and drawing circles against it.

“You like that, little slut?”

“Yes…” I throw my head back and moan, my hands holding hard at the edges of the desk while I spread myself to him as much as possible and grinding my hips to steal more friction.

“You want more?” he teases while his fingers slowly slip my underwear to one side, exposing me to the cold air in the room. I’m so drenched for him right now, held open, anticipating like sliced fruit. He reaches out for his cock and begins to stroke himself in front of me, a wicked grin adorning his face.

I’m very much aware he can finish himself just like this while leaving me here to beg out of thirst. Well, I can do that too. I lift my hand to touch myself, nearly losing balance but he shoves his thighs between my legs right away and holds my wrist away.

“Ah, ah” he forbids. “You’re not touching yourself, you’re still under investigation.”

“If you don’t finish me off…” I threaten him but my intimidation breaks into a pathetic cry as I feel the head of his cock rubbing against my clit. 

“You’ll what?” he asks, running the tip between my throbbing lips and up to my clit. Back and forth he tortures me, increasing the pace and then slowing down. His groans convince me he may be enjoying this more than actually fucking me, seeing me so helpless and weak, willing to cry and beg for him to just put himself inside me. “I’m still waiting to hear what you’re hiding.” 

I close my eyes, head thrown back in agony and pleasure at once, so close yet so far away as Walter pushes just an inch inside, and then pulls out and strokes me again. 

I am still not willing to break completely, what’s the fun in that? I know my man, and I’m aware of his darkest desires and capabilities.

Let him unleash his worst. 

“Not a word from me, Detective, you’ll just have to try harder.”

His nostrils flares. 

“Fine, then I’ll just have to punish fuck you, drill you like a whore.” He pushes all the way in, making me whimper with bliss as I am finally whole again. 

I’ve led him just to where I wanted. His body conquering mine, filling me with the pleasure that’s not just physical.

Somehow both his hands find their way to my neck, holding me constrained while he allows my body to stretch for him. He makes me stare directly into his eyes, holding my face close to him, his hot mouth hovers onto mine, our breath mingling.  

I wrap myself completely around him, my boots pressing onto his ass to keep him buried deep inside. My hands hang onto his shoulders as if hanging to lift itself. 

He begins to finally move, grunting against my ear, his beard tickling at my neck while he thrusts me fast and hard. I grind onto him, our bodies making the erotic sounds of wet bodies as they slam together. 

This isn’t romantic lovemaking, he’s not tender and caring. His force is controlling, consumed by his demons once again. He fucks into me as if he wants to rip me apart, his hands depriving me of air, tight, perhaps too tight. Yet it’s still love, he would have not been able to have this with any other person and I would have not given it to him if I have not loved him as much.

The desk moves as he pounds me, he stretches his arms somewhat to lean me back, so he can look at me as I squirm beneath him, choked, fucked, and beautiful in his arms. We have both long forgotten our stupid game. We were too lost in the act of seeking out pleasure in one another’s bodies. 

I look back at the man I love, feeling the tremor that dances between my legs. My entire body quivers. My muscles embrace him deep inside as I come hard around his cock, snapping my eyes open, gasping at his sight.

He has his fingers engulfed roughly around my throat, leaving blue bruises. If he’d want me to stop breathing at this moment, he could so easily just push slightly tighter. I’d die happy in his arms, but I know he’d kill himself before ever really hurt me. His hands finally snap from my throat and reach instead to hold my face, crashing his lips against mine into a deep hungry kiss before breaking away and letting out one final gasp as true bliss sweeps him away. 

For more than a few moments, Walter is lost, buried deep inside me, surrounded by light.   

That’s when I break, entangling my fingers in his big soft curls, I inch my lips toward his ear to whisper, 

“I’m pregnant.”

Walter backs his face away to look at me, first with disbelief, his eyebrows rising, unable to even form a word. I’ve never seen so many emotions at once. Then a smile appears, so wide I think his cheeks may hurt. His beautiful teeth show and he lets out a chuckle of joy, sounding almost half-believing. 

“Really?” 

I melt as I see the twinkle in his eyes. The man who is always so grumpy and gruff looks now like the sweetest, most caring person in the world. 

“Yes, we're going to have a baby.” 

He kisses me lovingly, his arms wrapping around my back and holding me tightly. 

“Detective Walter do you ha… SHIT!” A young cadet barges in, finding me with my legs spread around Walter while he is still panting heavily with his curls sticky at his forehead.

It’s as bad as it looks.

The frown immediately returns to Walter’s face. Looking at the cadet as if he is ready to murder him at the spot.

“GET OUT!” he yells, throwing whatever’s within his reach to force the cadet out faster.

I can’t help but chuckle, wrapping my arms around my mountain of a man, there is so much of him to hug, it always makes me feel so protected. He leans his cheek against my forehead and then lets out a deep sigh. 

That’s when I know the darkness is returning, and now he has a brand new fear in him. 

[fadedtemporarytattoos]

Divinity: A Savior Among Sinners

Warning: This oneshot contains obsessive behavior as well as mentions of physical, mental, and sexual abuse. There is also an instance with self harm. Viewer discretion is advised. 

Word count: 3.5k 

     She never expected that her only form of salvation would be in a spider-like stripper, but sometimes blessings come in the strangest of ways. She learned that he went by the name of Angeldust. He was impurity in its purest form, lust if it amalgamated itself into a humanoid shape. He was wild with desire, a creature with an insatiable appetite and insatiable habits. Well, at least, that’s what she thought at first.

     She saw him for the first time right before going on stage, he was twirling around the pole like his life depended on it, which probably wasn’t far off from the truth. A wicked smile adorned his face, but there was something off about his eyes. They held a certain amount of emptiness, a lack of hope that she recognized within herself. He was the epitome of sex appeal, and the sinners before him squirmed in their seats as he held eye contact. He ran his hands up and down his body, ghosting his fingertips across his inner thighs and trailing them up over the slope of his chest. All the while, his vacant eyes leered at her.  

      Shortly after, he gave her one last look before strutting off stage, directly past her. His heels clicked as he walked, and his footsteps resonated in her ears even after they were gone. She didn’t have much time to reflect before heading onstage herself. She gave one last over her shoulder before taking a deep breath and marching towards the pole in the center of the stage. 

     They got to know each other in dressing rooms and quiet restaurants. Their friendship blossomed within cups of questionable substances and the tying of corset strings. From complimentary smalltalk between strangers to something much realer, something more tangible. They sat together for late night conversations, sharing fears, hopes, and dreams. Secrets fell from soft lips like petals off a flower at the coming of autumn. All fronts were dropped when they were with one another. Hesitant words dripped from lips like honey out of a hive of understanding. They lived within shared glances, capturing moments and holding them hostage in the confines of their irises. They both experienced the wrath of Valentino firsthand, but the love they held for each other was much greater than their fear of him. 

      She found Angeldust after a particularly rough night. Apparently the show had not gone as great as Valentino wanted, and disciplinary action had to be taken. Y/n had agreed to hang out with Angeldust previously that week and was waiting at his apartment for him to arrive after his last show. He stumbled in three hours late with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a cigarette in the other. This, of course, sparked worry within Y/n. She immediately rushed forward and ripped the bottle out of his hand. He laughed at her, blinking owlishly while taking another drag. 

     “What did he do to you,” she asked quietly. 

     “Nothing that he hasn’t done before, Sugar,” he replied hollowly. 

      He then laughed a mighty laugh, one twinged with a soft contempt simmering beneath the surface. Y/n stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, placating him like a mother to a petulant child. He shrugged her off harshly. 

     “C’mon, darling,” he sneered. “Do we really need to do this? Do we really need to go around in circles? We both know what happened. We both know what he does to people like us. We both know his hands and their tendency to wander. His selective hearing. The way he blocks out the words, “No,” and, “Stop,” from his vocabulary at the most convenient times. He wouldn’t stop, Y/n, he never stops.” 

     He started mumbling harshly under his breath, sucking in air between his teeth before letting the words lingering on his tongue dwindle into nothingness. He ran a hand down his face, and he was no longer the same Angeldust she once knew. He was a young child, afraid of everything and nothing all at the same time. He suddenly looked microscopic in the finite vastness of his living room. He curled in on himself. The red hot anger that fueled him moments prior had dissipated as soon as it had appeared. Now, he was only left with flashbacks of fingertips ghosting over his collarbones and arms twisting around his torso like tree limbs. 

     He collapsed onto the floor, sobs ricocheting off of the paper doll walls. His body shuddered as he tried to gulp fresh air into his polluted lungs. Y/n rushed forward, cradling his head within her hands. 

     “Let it out,” she murmured, “let it all out.” 

     His sobs got increasingly louder, and she held him tightly, pulling him closer than before. She stroked the back of his head softly, making soft shushing noises. 

     “He’s never going to stop,” he muttered, “he’s gonna keep hurting me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. I don’t want this; I never wanted this. I can’t get him out of my head. He’s always there, even when I close my eyes. I can still feel his hands crawling all over me. I can still taste his breath on my lips. He wouldn’t let go. I told him to let go. I told him to stop. I said no. This isn’t okay. Nothing will ever be okay again.” 

     He grew quiet after that. The room swelled with the sound of their breathing and all of the words he left out in the open, all of the words he never had the guts to say before, the words he didn’t want to utter out loud. He feared that speaking them would make them much realer and, in a way, he was right. Now they were out in the open, and he had no way of taking them back. He could only sit and wait for the silence around him to swallow him up. Y/n shifted slightly, turning to look up at him. 

     “Things will be okay someday, even if that day is nowhere near,” she murmured. “Everything is temporary.”

     “That doesn’t change how I feel right now.” 

      “I know.” 

     They sat on the floor for hours, holding each other and listening to each other’s heartbeat. Y/n slowly shifted and began to stand up, dragging Angeldust with her. Neither of them spoke, they simply shuffled toward his bedroom door. Y/n softly turned the doorknob before ushering Angel into bed. The bright red numbers on his alarm clock read 3:00am. Angel sat on his bed, staring into space. He slowly fell back into the ocean of sheets, and felt himself drown once more. Y/n approached him cautiously, as if coming to the aid of an untamed animal. She gently grabbed his blanket and laid it out over his body. She kissed him softly on the forehead and smiled a delicate smile. 

     “I love you, Angel,” she said tenderly, “you are my best friend.” 

     She paused for a moment, as if she were unsure of how to continue. Her lips twitched before parting slightly. 

     “You’re scared, I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way he makes you flinch when he enters the room. You’re stronger than you think, I know you are. You are more than what he calls you. Don’t let him define you, you are so much more than anything he could ever dream to be. You are beautiful, Angel, and you are loved. You are so loved. Cry if you need to, and don’t feel bad about it. Never feel bad for feeling. Cry all you want, just know that I will always be here to pick up the pieces and put you back together. You will never be alone when I’m here. No matter what, we’re in this together. I will love you even when you can’t love yourself” 

     He looked up at her to see tears welled up in her eyes. She gave him a watery smile filled with so much affection and kindness, that it almost made him break down again. She turned to face the door and began taking small steps towards it, as they agreed that she’d sleep on the couch previously. She placed her dainty fingers on the doorknob and began twisting it when she heard a soft voice echoing behind her. 

     “Stay,” his voice cracked. “Please, just stay.” 

     “Of course I’ll stay,” she whispered, “I’ll stay as long as you need.” 

     She crawled into bed beside him, curling into him. He visibly relaxed and contorted closer to her. She grabbed his hand and pulled it up to her face. She kissed his knuckles before bringing his hand close and gripping it like a teddy bear. It wasn’t long before Angel’s breathing evened out and his body was still. Y/n fell asleep hours later after listening to the lullaby of his breath and feeling the blanketing warmth of his body. 

     They woke up with intertwined legs and morning breath. He woke up a few minutes before her, and really took in how beautiful she was. Her lips were pastel pink and her eyelashes tickled her rosy red cheeks. A small, faded bruise decorated her jawline but not even that could diminish her beauty. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her kind eyes. They sat for a while just basking in each other's presence. Y/n sat up abruptly and darted her eyes towards the alarm clock. 

    “I’m late,” she screeched. 

      She flung herself out of bed before rushing to the bedroom door and slamming it open. She sprinted around the apartment, grabbing her stuff as she saw it. Angeldust groggily sat up and watched her spring around like a jackrabbit. Once she had grabbed all of her belongings, she plopped down on the floor to put on her platform boots. Angel made his way towards her before sitting across from her. 

     “Can you come over tonight?” He said this softly, desperately. 

      “Of course I will, Angel,” she replied. 

      “Promise?” 

     “Promise.” 

     She left after that, briskly walking through the halls of his apartment building before sprinting down the bustling city streets. By the time she got to the club, her feet were sore and she was out of breath. 

     “Where were you?” Valentino said it conversationally, but she heard the sinister undertones that lurked under the surface. 

     “I was busy with something,” she said smoothly, “it won’t happen again.” 

     “That didn’t answer my question.” 

     He strode towards her before grabbing her jaw tightly and pulling her face close to his own. 

     “You know how I feel about you lying to me,” he hissed. 

     “I didn’t lie to you,” she spat. 

     “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll give you one more chance,” he sneered. “Where were you?”

     “I was just at Angel’s house,” she admitted. “We were just hanging out, and I lost track of time.” 

     “Oh,” he muttered, “I see.” 

     His eyes narrowed behind his pink sunglasses. He began cackling softly before shoving her backwards by the jaw. She stumbled back into the wall behind her. 

     “You’re spending time with the likes of him now,” he commented, “you must be pretty desperate.” 

     “There’s nothing wrong with hanging out around Angel,” she muttered angrily. 

     “Now, that’s where you’re wrong sweetheart,” he growled, “everything about that is wrong.” 

     He loomed over her form. She was so small compared to him, or rather, he made her feel small. He trained his eyes on her, waiting to see if she’d move. 

     “He’s my friend,” she argued. 

     “I don’t care,” he responded, “I don’t want you to be around him anymore. I expect you to cut him off today.” 

     “No,” she spluttered, “I won’t, and you can’t make me.”

     “You’d be surprised at what I can make you do,” he snarled. “Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I have been very lenient with you. Do not get on my bad side.” 

     “I’m not gonna cut him off or get rid of him,” she announced. “ I love him, he’s my best friend. You will not get your way this time because, no matter what you do, my love for him is stronger than my fear of you.” 

     “You’re gonna regret that,” he screeched. 

     He lunged towards her, hands outstretched like broken tree branches. She quickly cowered down, throwing her hands up to protect herself. He pushed her against the wall harshly, and her head collided with the drywall. A loud thump echoed throughout the room and it felt as if all of the air in her lungs had been sucked out. He reached forward and took a fistfull of hair from the base of her head. He began dragging her by her hair out of the room. She began to kick and cry, begging him to stop. He ignored her and yanked harder, causing her cries to crescendo. At that moment, everything heightened. It was almost as if she could feel each individual strand of hair as they were ripped from her scalp. 

     She could feel the carpet drag against her face and back. The carpet burn forming across her body felt so infinitesimal compared to the agony bubbling across the surface of her head. She tried her best to move forward with him in hopes of easing the pain. Whenever she managed to get into a standing position, he’d kick her back down into submission. It was almost as if he thought her standing was a feeble attempt at insubordination. Eventually she gave up and let him drag her through the winding, cherry-red halls. 

     It took them about ten minutes to get to the brass door. Ten minutes of pure agony, but ten minutes nonetheless. He flung the door open with a loud bang and shoved her inside. The floor was cold, and she wondered what it was made out of. It was dark in the room and all she could hear was a distant clanging from whatever Valentino was doing. 

     It wasn’t long before he grabbed her by the arm tightly and dragged her through the dark room. He thrusted her forward after reaching a certain point. She stumbled before catching herself on something frigid. She jolted backwards in fear and all she heard was the sound of Valentino laughing. 

     The lights in the room suddenly turned on, flooding the space with light. She took a look around her before feeling her heart sink.  

     “It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” he asked. “I didn’t think I’d have to use it this soon, but it’s oddly fitting for this occasion.” 

     She was trapped in a large birdcage. It was a silver color. The front of it mimicked a regular birdcage with prison-like bars, but the back of it looked like a perfect recreation of the garden of Eden with the forbidden tree smack dab in the middle. The tree was adorned with golden apples, the only part of the cage that was a different color than the rest. The metal around her was cold, and she knew that it would only get worse if she sat down or leaned against it. 

     “It was expensive,” he cut through her train of thought, “but nothing is too expensive for my angel.” 

     “Let me out,” she roared. 

     “Tsk tsk tsk, that behavior simply won’t do,” he muttered. “No no no, this won’t do at all. In order to get out you have to show improvement. You have to learn from your mistakes.” 

     She began banging on the wall of the cage. 

     “Let me out, you psychopath!”

     “Well, I definitely won’t do that when you have that attitude,” he snickered. “I’m gonna give you time to reflect on your actions. Hopefully you’ll figure out where your loyalties lie.”

     “You can’t do this to me,” she howled. 

     “Watch me,” he stated calmly, opening the brass door behind him. 

     “No!” 

     He flicked the switch and closed the door behind him, plunging her into darkness once more. Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, punching the metal around her until her knuckles bleed and her arms ached. She collapsed onto the floor, sobbing and shivering. She swore that she heard Valentino’s laughter from behind the door, but this just made her weep louder. 

     Meanwhile, Angeldust had been sitting in his living room for an hour, listening to water drip down from the leak in his ceiling. She was supposed to be here an hour ago. Where was she? Time passed quickly, and one hour turned into a day and a day turned into a week. He didn’t know where she was or what happened. She hadn’t responded to any of his calls or read any of his texts. He decided that calling again wouldn’t hurt, and he dialed her number. 

     “Hello?” Valentino’s voice bursted through his phone speaker. 

     “Is Y/n there,” Angel asked softly. 

     “Yes,” Valentino responded, “but she doesn’t want to talk to you.” 

     “Why do you have her phone?” 

     “She knew you’d call again, and she didn’t want to deal with it,” Valentino stated simply. 

     “Don’t lie to me,” Angel spat, “What did you do to her?” 

     “Why do you assume it was something I did and not what you did?” 

     “I didn’t do anything,” Angel whispered. 

     “She doesn’t want all of your emotional baggage,” Valentino barked, “You were too weak, and now she never wants to see you again.” 

     “That’s not true, it can’t be true,” he murmured, “You’re lying to me.” 

     “I guess you’ll just have to hear it from her directly,” he sighed. 

     Angel heard a soft crackling through the speaker as the phone was passed to someone else. 

     “Leave me alone, Angel.” 

     Her voice was soft, much like the night before, but it didn’t hold the same warmth. It was tense now, and held a coldness that he’s never heard before. 

     “Y/n, what are you talking about?” He said this calmly, but she heard the pain in every syllable. 

     “I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Angel,” she replied harshly. 

     “I don’t understand, last week you told me-” 

     “I lied.” 

     “That’s not true, did he do something to you?” His voice shook. 

     “He didn’t do anything to me, I just don’t want to talk to you,” she replied. 

     “I’m not going to give up on you, Y/n, you didn’t give up on me.” 

     “There isn’t anything to give up on, there was never anything between us,” she said thickly. 

     “You said you loved me,” Angel croaked out. 

     “Don’t be ridiculous,” she growled, “why would I ever love someone like you” 

     “Y/n,” his voice cracked. 

     “Don’t call me again, and don’t come near me.” 

     “Why are you doing this,” he pleaded, “what changed?” 

     “Nothing changed,” she said numbly, “you just weren’t strong enough.” 

     She hung up abruptly and left him alone with his thoughts. He slid down the wall behind him and screamed. He screamed so loud that the knick knacks on his shelfs shook and fell, showing his anguish in a much more tangible way. He fell apart, throwing empty alcohol bottles at the walls around him and punching holes in the wall. He wept for what was and what would never be again. For the friend he lost and the savior that never was.  

     She began wailing as soon as she hung up. In exchange for her freedom, she had to cut ties with the one person who gave a damn about her. A sob erupted from her throat. She raked her nails over her arms and across her face, leaving angry red lines across her body. She dug deeper and deeper until blood bubbled to the surface, red ink that spelled out the story of her betrayal. 

     “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” 

      Her legs gave out from under her, and she fell to the floor in a heap. She began to screech and scream. She screamed for what could have been and would never be. The tears in her eyes blinded her as she grappled around on the floor, looking for a lifeline. She was never his savior, he was hers. And now, all of her mistakes had been made painstakingly clear. She dragged herself up off of the floor and made her way to her dressing room mirror. She looked in and saw gaunt features and purple bruises, but, above all, she saw a monster cloaked in devine skin. 

     “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You aren’t weak, Angel, you never were. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m so sorry I left. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t strong enough.” 

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ'ꜱ ᴛᴡᴏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇꜱ | ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴏɴ ᴊᴏᴇꜱᴛᴀʀ x ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | Yakuza!AU [𝕁𝕁𝔹𝔸] One-Shot

Here’s the next one~ one more left~! I’m so sorry it took so long for this to come out! ;; I’ve been a touch distracted and busy with work... but here’s the Medic’s perspective and first meeting with Jonathon~! I hope you guys enjoy this and thank you all so much for the support for this AU! ;;

**WARNING: There is going to be a lot of mention of torture and bodily harm within these stories in this AU so please, if you are uncomfortable with the subject or have a weak stomach DO NOT READ.

TW;

» » Admin Ko

»»————-　♔　————-««

“P-Please!”

A pained and anguished filled cry encompassed the room as the splatter of blood stained the usually pristine white walls of the medic bay. The looming figure overhead merely gave the trembling and adrenaline filled individual a look of disinterest as a gloved hand expertly dove forth into the warm innards of the breathing victim. 

Cold icy blue eyes bore deeply into pained and frightened ones as a slow tug of the small intestine began to unravel before the strapped down victim.

“If you hadn’t been incompetent this wouldn’t have even happened in the first place. What I gave you was simple, yet you choose to become greedy. You dragged more of my men down with you than I would’ve liked...and for that, I applaud you on your persuasive efforts. Let me further give to your pit of selfish and disgusting desire. I hope my presence is enough to suffice.”

There was no reply, rather the sound of retching and other coughs being the response given as the living traitor was shown his innards. The unforgiving blue hue of Jonathon Joestar merely watched in faint amusement as the man tried to beg for his pathetic life before he finally set the mess of entrails on top of the cut open male.

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll soon understand why you’ve been blessed with my presence.” 

»»————-　♔　————-««

She supposed her parents would be highly disappointed in her. Despite having dropped out of medical school halfway, she found that her skills and knowledge had not completely gone to waste. Trekking through the bright fluorescent hallways, she couldn’t help but wonder how she had found herself employed under the Joestar syndicate-- that was if it was even considered employment to her. 

It had happened on a whim, that much she was sure of; unless they had been watching her, then she wasn’t too sure. But one thing she knew for a fact was that the meeting of Jonathon Joestar had most definitely been premeditated. 

It was supposed to be a normal day for her. One where she searched desperately for a job willing to hire her with the skill set she acquired from years of medical school. Seated at a quaint cafe, she had assumed it would be another one of those days she was accustomed to. 

She should’ve paid attention to the stillness of the shop and the lack of customers that usually populated the area, but it had already been too late. Having been absorbed deeply into the clutches of her laptop, she failed to see the large male that seated himself across from her. Piercing oceanic eyes analyzing every inch of her being while she searched.

It was only when he made a noise that she brought her attention up to him. Bewildered (e/c) quickly getting engulfed in the sea of blue as a polite and gentle smile graced his features.

“(y/n). (Y/n), (l/n)...correct?”

A jolt of terror ran through her spine at his words. Despite the kindred smile he gave, the tone of his voice told her otherwise as she felt fear seize her. A feeling of adrenaline quickly washing over as she stiffly pressed her back against the once seemingly comfortable cafe chair. 

“Ah! Apologies, I hadn’t meant to frighten you... I just...hm, I was told you’re in need of employment?”

“...I...am..why? And how did you know what I looked like?”

“Minor details Ms. (l/n). What I’m here to do is to offer you a job. One that will not only use the skills you’ve so painstakingly acquired, but also will provide you a good standing in my line of work. Of course we can provide you housing and protection as well-- though of course we’ll go into detail about those if you choose to accept.”

The blatant disregard to her questions only further fueled the unease that quelled within her stomach as she shifted to gently close her laptop. A desire to flee so imminent that she almost missed the knowing look on the other’s face. 

Steeling herself, she went to delicately pack her laptop away before directing her attention back to the mysterious male, her bag now lain against her leg as she mentally prepared herself to bolt if she absolutely had to.

“Look Mr....”

“Jonathon. Jonathon Joestar, but if it helps to calm you I also go by JoJo.”

“Mr. Jonathon...I appreciate the offer, but it’s...very odd don’t you think? The suddenness of this all and the impeccable timing to what I need? I would prefer the whole truth than to give you my trust so...willingly.”

“Of course, I completely understand. Ever the observant one Ms. (L/N). I’ll cut straight to the point. I’d like for you to be a part of the Joestar medical team. We’re not a completely...clean business, but we are a business nonetheless. Your job is simple, you’ll tend to those injured-- granted you may see things that are...morally questionable, but if you were to join us and pledge loyalty, then I assure you: no harm comes to those who have directly been recruited by me.”

A fear unparalleled to any other she’s felt shot straight through her mind as the color drained from her face. The first instinct was to vehemently will the thoughts that plagued her mind, but with the calm and unwavering gaze Jonathon held she couldn’t help but feel that every assumption coming from his statement was ultimately true.

The morning’s breakfast hurriedly returning up her esophagus as she frantically searched about, and was immensely grateful for the trashcan that was given to her, albeit from the person she wished hadn’t said the very words that triggered her gag reflex. 

“I apologize, it must be a lot to take in, but please consider it. I won’t make you do anything morally wrong to you. All I ask is for your assistance in helping my family and men.”

“...w...why me? I’m just a drop out student. A student.”

“Because, Ms. (l/n). Students can become the professor in due time. Students who have the creativity and questions that have yet to be answered rather than a professional.”

“I...I don’t understand completely...”

“Let’s put it this way. I want to help shape you into a skilled and feared doctor. One who will test and learn any techniques to her heart desires to help the needy. Of course...I’ll give you time to digest everything, but please don’t think you’ll be able to escape my sights. After all...like it or not we do have some similar goals.”

With that, the male stood, a flash of another supposedly gentle smile directed at her before he made his way to the door. A predatory grace to his step as he let out a cheery little hum.

The student, sat dumbfounded in her chair as the adrenaline not only ran high throughout her body, but the words he had spoken were thrown about in her head. Questions clanging against one another as she felt her focus become weary.

Yet with all the questions bouncing about, there was one that stood prominently to her.

“What goals do I have that line up with his?”

[wtfzodiacsigns]

Tarotscopes

Cancer: Take some advice from sensation Marie Kondo as you go along your week Cancer! Find the things that “spark joy” and keep them close. As for the things that don’t? Thank them and move on! You’re taking this week to be grateful. Thank your home for being sheltering you, your job for being stable, your laptop for working even though it’s a thousand years old. Look deep within and find the things that have been holding you back from true happiness - if it’s your job, figure out why. List things that make you grateful for having your job (and not just money!) while you search for another one. If it’s school that’s got you down, focus on a vision board for what you would like life to be like AFTER you get your degree. Give thanks for the present and future Cancer, both are just as important.

Leo: You’re surrounded in the color of yellow and orange - but most of it has to do with a neglected or abused sacral chakra. You’re going through heartbreak, through disappointment: it’s making you really question your beliefs, your practices, and causing you to put distance between yourself and your higher self, as well as the divine force you believe in. Well Leo, the pity party is over! You can’t heal unless you put forth the effort to do so! You want to reap the rewards of any and all kinds of wealth but you aren’t putting yourself through the process it takes to get there. Stop saying that “January was a trial month, my real news years starts in February…no, March.  . . Okay, April!”  The new year has started and it’s time for you to make the most of it. Get in touch with those sacred energies you have within. Get in touch with your GENUINE emotions, with your real truth. Then, and only then, will you reap your rewards.

Aries: This week Aries, you’re learning all about temptation and purification. As a sign who is always full steam ahead, you forget to look back into your life from time to time and figure out what’s no longer serving you or what unhealthy habit you’ve picked up. This week you’ll be facing some of your greatest temptations yet - with the gift of really reviewing it and being ready for a change. Your temptation could come in the form of anything (depending on you) - maybe you’ve been offered a job you feel uncomfortable with, sex before you’re ready, unhealthy eating habits, gossiping, putting off studying, overspending, working out to extremes, overthinking, and so on. The truth is, your temptations and unhealthy tendency/thinking is what is holding you back from achieving that which you desire. You are at a very powerful point in your life right now where you can open your hands and expect to receive… but first you have to get rid of that bad habit of yours. As a fire sign, purification THROUGH fire seems to be the best for you… burn a paper with your nasty habit or thought on it, burn a cleansing candle.

Virgo: Time is heavy on your mind for the opening of the years second month. It might have something to do with  Valentine’s day being just around the corner… But you’re really overthinking your life, subconsciously seeking all the wisdom you’ve collected from your visits and lives on Earth. You have some fear within your this week, thinking of how time is running out to make a name for yourself, to make loved ones proud, to catch up to your classmates, to find love, leaving a job, legal situation, etc… Don’t fear it Virgo, accept it! Time is what makes life so special. You already have the wisdom within you to achieve everything you’d like, you have a great amount of success and prosperity coming your way… A “cornucopia” if you will. But first, you must face an ending to usher in this new, prosperous beginning. Your blessings are here for you, stop worrying. Let go and flow with the winds of change.

Taurus: Recently, you’ve dealt with some form of hostility (purposely done to you or not) and it’s really put a damper on your spirits. Never fear! Now is the time for you be brave and stand up for yourself, putting your best foot forward and guess what? Keeping your mouth shut! As a creature of habit, it can be hard for you, Taurus, to break the normal and “be brave”, moving out of your comfort zone. This week it’s best for you to start (or work even harder) on your goals in SILENCE. The hostilities are over, even if their impact is long lasting, because you are being guided to create. To release your power, your energy, your inner thoughts - and prosper from them! Find things that help you achieve your inner creative … crystals, sigils, alchemy studies, etc. and stick to it. You are being guided a time of creation and silence. Trust in your goal and yourself.

Gemini: February starts off with you feeling much like a “Duchess” and possibly receiving signs from your spiritual team via the form of “a Duchess.” You’re taking a look at your life and have come to one conclusion:  that you’re tied up. You feel stuck, bored, and even suppressed - which is a dangerous thing for an intellectual, constantly moving air sign such as yourself. Gemini, it’s time to admit that the largest reason you’ve been stuck is because you haven’t been honest with yourself. . and others around you haven’t been given you full disclosures either. Expect some real heart to heart this week - from others to you, as well as yourself to you.

Libra: Libra, February starts for you … with the closing of a door and a few windows. But don’t worry, there’s about to be a huge, marvelous hole in the wall that reveals your true goal in sight! Many of you are working on something that can’t be done alone and because of this, your harmonious nature is being put to the test! Beliefs, styles and even energies are clashing between you and a partner and it’s driving you absolutely mad… Trust this: your inner Venus will not only find a way to achieve peace - but she’ll be head over heels for the final result! A manifested new beginning is here, even if it at first it seems impossible. When you’re feeling disheartened by it, try this simple exercise: take the word “impossible” and think of it as though yourself are the problem. Now, keeping that mindset…   break the word “impossible” into two words. “I’m Possible!”

Scorpio: Despite your best efforts, despite following the script exactly the way it was written and always meant to be - you feel as though you’ve been tossed into chaos. Obsessing over where you went wrong, where you lost yourself, and if you’ll ever have a chance to redeem yourself. Yes Scorpio, you will! Your outer calm has proven to be your best survival trait during a long standing problem and the time has finally coming for it to finally have it’s resolution put into forward motion. Know that it’s okay to seek yourself during this time, that none of your loved ones will be hurt because they are all protected. You are protected and eternally loved and have a right to healing. Possibilities you’ve never expected are coming to you and you can expect a miracle to set it’s course to you this week!

Pisces: You’d benefit greatly from some healing energy presented to you by the ocean itself. If you’re lucky enough to have the resources to dig your feet into the sand - go do it! If you’re not… Then take a bath with salt water, listen to the sounds of the sea, holding a seashell or wear a necklace you got down by the shore. You’re especially sensitive to the planetary energies this week Pisces, especially after you receive some important but not focused guidance and advice. Your throat chakra is aligned and ready! Voice what matters to you - no matter how global the scale because for you, this is the most healing activity you can be a part of. Trust that you’re ready to get rid of people with dangerous and conflicting beliefs as well as that you’re ready to clear your space and take care of Mother Earth!

Capricorn: The energy surrounding you this week can mean only one thing - you’re about to rock it! Things have finally settled in and you’re exactly where you’re meant to be at the moment: opening the doors to your dreams! Your golden age is beginning now and you’re in for a treat. A surge of energy, a surge of creativity, peace on the home front followed with the possibility of meeting somebody significant… At this time life is going to truly be what you make of it Capricorn - so for once, follow your luck and happiness without worry of the consequences!

Aquarius: The past stands beside you, using all of it’s might to get your attention. Habits, people, and memories of the past seem to be working their hardest to drown your Aquarius! Know this: you are the water bearer, you can scoop it up into a vase and pour right back into the river that is life. You are protected and the past can no longer control you. Neither can your feelings. Accept that being vulnerable is part of you - but it doesn’t define you. Cry for your past and then cry tears of joy for your future. Look at all you have accomplished, all you have become, look at the fact that you are still standing here today. You did that! It’s time to say goodbye to the past in order to see the full beauty of the rising sun - are you ready Aquarius?

Sagittarius: For some reason Sag, it feels like this week you just can’t get Mercury off your back… or perhaps that’s the influence of some inner Aries (or external Aries people). You’re starting to act out - and you’re angry! The fire within has been fueled and you’ve been working nonstop, demanding your blessings and expecting them. .  rightfully so. But, are you ready for them? Deal with your feelings of insecurity, of fear, but also those negative beliefs you’ve inherited during youth. Sag, it feels like you are personally leading “grind culture” and it’s exhausting.  Put the bow and arrow down for a night or two. . Take a nap then go and do something you love to do! Treat yourself this week! Self love is one of the best forms to set Law of Attraction in motion. Neglecting yourself isnt in the recipe for success.

Source: taurustarot