#they will not be entering a stable house

[what-inthe-goddamn]

Imagine looking at your new baby in your arms, staring into its big bright eyes, and naming it Craig.

[svtskneecaps]

ayo shoutout to revali for being the champion whose ability i have used the least since obtaining

[cattotasticsmirk]

Hi Spyke truthers I promise I'm one of yall I'm just figuring him in my style since I barely started drawing splatoon. I hope a sea urchin from my designs helps. His name is Val and he's just a skateboard/rollers performer

[demimachia]

more and more lately for some reason ive been considering getting a job w the national parks service or at some kind of state park like a forest ranger

[thoughtportal]

This is a developing news story and may be updated as more information is obtained. If you value such information, please support this Substack.

On Dec. 1, a woman immolated herself with a Palestinian flag outside the Israeli consulate in Atlanta.

Now, according to the Atlanta Fire Rescue Department, the woman — referred to in their report as “Jane Doe” — is alive and “in stable condition” at Grady Memorial Hospital, where she has been since the immolation.

After repeated requests for her name, the department stated to this reporter in an email that it “does not disclose the identities of victims”. Repeated inquiries to Grady, which is a public hospital, went unanswered. The hospital houses the Walter L. Ingram Burn Center.

“Jane Doe” is 27.

When asked if they had made any comment to tell the public that she was still alive this entire time, the official at Atlanta Fire Rescue Department said they “shared the last updated with local media via email on 12/21/23. The release stated: ‘The victim remains hospitalized in critical condition. The security guard, who attempted to assist the burn victim, has been released from the hospital.’” Several internet searches on that quote produce no results. This would also indicate that "Jane Doe" went from critical to stable condition without public notice. 

Aaron Bushnell immolated himself at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. on Sunday, explaining “I will no longer be complicit in genocide” and shouting “Free Palestine!” repeatedly as he burned alive. So, his case — unlike many other self-immolations including Gregory Levey, Raymond Moules, Timothy T. Brown, Malachi Ritscher and others — has received some attention. Thus, “Jane Doe” being ignored fits with the usual pattern. Bushnell is the exception — probably because he livestreamed it. See “Ignoring Immolators Lulls the Society to Sleep.”

As Bushnell was burning himself alive, an officer pointed a gun at him, barking orders as if he constituted a threat. A security guard, Michael Harris, sustained injuries working to rescue “Jane Doe” — but there were similarities, where she was actually viewed as a potential threat.

At one point, the police report for “Jane Doe” refers to it as being a case of “arson”.

Much of the media coverage and general discussion of her self-immolation in December focused on if she had done damage. The Atlanta Police Chief said: “We believe this building remains safe, and we do not see any threat here.” The Israeli government released a statement: “It is tragic to see the hate and incitement toward Israel expressed in such a horrific way.”

Police records indicate that they obtained a search warrant and entered an apartment they believed to be associated with “Jane Doe” — initially using a drone:

The drone was able to relay information as to the layout and the belongings inside. After it was deemed "safe" entry was made with bomb technicians. While clearing the apartment no improvised explosive devices were located.

The police report also noted:

During the search a Quran was found in the bedroom along with a [sic] Arabic dictionary and a Hebrew dictionary. The bedroom bookshelf contained books related to fiction and fantasy. A "Drug use for grown ups" book was on the bookshelf as well. Two journals were seized from the bedroom. A thumbdrive was seized from the bedroom as well. A laptop computer was seized from the kitchen counter. A copy of the search warrant was left in the living room of the apartment. The front door [of] the apartment was secured before law enforcement left the premises.

When pressed for more information in compliance with an Open Records Request under Georgia law, Atlanta Fire Rescue Department claimed: “There is an ongoing and active investigation for the incident in question, which is why the only releasable information has been shared via the incident report. Investigative documentation is not available for release until the investigation is closed.”

[littlestpersimmon]

direct help for two Palestinians in Gaza who are in need of urgent medical attention

Hi all, I am posting on behalf of my beloved friend's acquaintance, who is doing a gofundme to help her two surviving sisters; Both of whom are gravely injured. This is a gofundme to help two women leave Gaza and enter Egypt to receive necessary medical attention.

I have a platform here on tumblr with a stable following, and it would be incredible if we could somehow get this page to trend, because rn, They need 30k euro to both leave Gaza and receive treatment in Egypt, and as of January 6, 2024 the donations have only amounted to 400 or so euro.

english text from the page:

During the war in Gaza, our family's house was subjected to bombing and destruction, resulting in the tragic loss of my father, brother, and his daughter. Additionally, my sisters, Duaa and Dina, sustained serious injuries. Unfortunately, the necessary medical treatment is not available in Gaza, so we need your assistance to transport them to Cairo for treatment.

The cost of leaving Gaza and securing the required medical treatment is approximately 30,000 euros. We all hope for your response and support to save their lives.

If you see this, PLEASE rb! I'm anxious that tumblr will hide this post, when the more people who see this post, the more help we can get! Thank you so much, everyone!!

[charliemwrites]

Hybrid AU with Ragdoll!Reader and Siberian-mix!Konig

Reader is a rescued cat hybrid that Laswell's sister in law has been taking care of for the last 3 months. When she meets this little ragdoll kitty, so bright and friendly and curious, she immediately thinks of the 141. Hybrids have a lot uses in the government. Sometimes combative, sometimes therapeutic. The 141 could use a companion animal, given the close call Soap recently had and the general trauma the whole squad has.

With the kitty's permission and cooperation, they assess her as a possible therapy placement. She tests so well and so high that Laswell (again, with consent) immediately starts paperwork to place her with the 141 before even bringing it up to Price.

He's a bit skeptical at first. Even without being a combat hybrid, their jobs are high stress, very dangerous, and not very stable. But Laswell convinces him to at least meet Ragdoll.

They do introductions at the sister-in-law's house, where the kitty will be most comfortable. Ragdoll takes one sniff of him and starts purring like a little engine. He's visibly surprised, and Laswell can barely hold back her grin as the kitty climbs into his lap. They spend the rest of the afternoon discussing arrangements while his new hybrid naps because obviously he can't say no now.

Price becomes her primary handler. They move her to his barrack and give her a week to settle in, but she's not a skittish thing by any means. Wants to follow him everywhere, curls up in his bed, meows sadly at the door when he leaves her alone. It becomes clear very quickly that the usual introduction manuals are too slow for her.

Kitty meets Kyle next. Again, instant purrs. She presses her cheek into his palms, then wriggles her way closer to brush up against his cheek. Lets out a little "mrrp!" when he stutters out a pleasantly surprised, "hello there." She nibbles at the brim of his hat and grins when he gently redirects her, chirping at this fun new friend.

Two for two, Price and Kyle decide to introduce her to Simon and Johnny. They let her explore the common room first, get comfortable, and then call the other two in. Kitty watches from behind Price as Simon and Johnny enter.

Johnny is a dog hybrid with Simon as his primary handler. Price has faith that his sergeant will behave well with the new kitty, but he's not sure of what her reaction will be. Johnny's obviously, visibly excited, tail wagging, but Simon gets him to sit and wait while she makes the first move.

It takes absolutely no time at all for her to pad out from behind Price and approach. Simon goes first, offering a hand. But she barely even sniffs him before cuddling up to him, pawing curiously at his mask. He lets her, clicking his tongue when she dislodges it a bit, but then he gently nudges her towards Johnny.

His ears are perked forwards, tail still swishing. Kitty's ears are twitching, eyes big and curious. But her tail is up and curved curiously, not even a little fluffed. She gets in real close to his face, sniffs, then bumps her forehead against his chin. Which is when he loses patience and licks a big stripe up her cheek. She mews indignantly, ears going airplane mode, but thankfully doesn't swat at him.

It literally couldn't go better. She's a perfect fit.

Over the next few months she settles in with them happily, an absolute dream of a hybrid. Not very verbal, at least through human speech, but perfectly communicative and incredibly friendly.

She chirps whenever one of the 141 enters a room, has a different tone for each of them. Purrs if one of them so much as looks at her, all slow blinks and little smiles. Chitters when she sees them running outside through the windows.

Even grooming is relatively easy. She lets them brush out her floofy tail without much fuss, only trying to retreat if they catch a tangle. Readily gives up her hands to trim her claws. Even opens her mouth for them to brush off her fangs after raw meals.

She curls up with Simon on bad days, warm and purring, breathing little puffs of air against his collarbone. Lounges with Kyle after hard missions, nuzzling against him while he pets her soft ears. She spends hours upon hours in Price's office, curled up on his lap while he does paperwork or talks over the phone, kneading biscuits into his stomach.

Her friendship with Johnny is maybe the most surprising. They play wrestle just about every night, rolling around on the rough carpets in the common room and nipping at each others ears. She'll pounce on him, little teeth flashing, but almost always get bodied by his larger stature. The others will let them play until one of them - usually Johnny - gets too excited and makes the other yelp. At that point, Price or Simon will usually scoop one of the hybrids up and tsk at them for getting rough.

She's the 141's precious kitty, sweet and friendly and outgoing. The whole base knows her, though she's never far from one of her boys. And they know what it means if Ragdoll doesn't like someone.

It's rare, which is why it raises neon red flags. The first time is a new recruit that reaches to pet her without introducing himself first. She twists around on him, but usually even that would be recoverable. Except when he keeps trying to touch her, she gets a whiff of him and hisses, scrambling away.

The guy doesn't last long.

It happens again a few weeks later with a nurse meant to be giving her checkup. She gets low to the table, tail poofing up, and growls low in her throat. When the nurse rolls her eyes and tells Price to just hold his hybrid still so they can get things over with, he knows instantly that his little ragdoll was right to react that way.

With that in mind, it's no surprise that no one trusts Philip Graves when he visits their base and she takes an instant dislike to him. He introduces himself correctly, but she still hard reverses away from him, nose scrunched up. Ears back, tail fluffing up, she slips behind Price and glares from around his arm.

Problem is, Graves is used to dog hybrids. He's great with them. Kitties... not so much, even with a manual. Ends his week at the base with a couple of proper bite marks and an itchy scratch on his hand.

Given her reaction, Simon and Johnny aren't too shocked when he betrays them in Las Almas.

When a team from KorTac is scheduled for a joint assignment, the 141 is bracing for a similar reaction. Especially because they have their own cat hybrid - some big mixed breed.

Kyle even suggests keeping Ragdoll inside for initial introductions on the tarmac, but they all know that's not actually viable. Their kitty wouldn't talk to them for the rest of the day if they left her out like that.

So Price double checks that her little bell-collar is on and brings her out to meet the KorTac team.

Their cat hybrid is even bigger than expected - no wonder he's a combat placement despite being a domestic breed. He keeps his face hidden behind a big black hood with cutouts for his ears, fluffy tail slightly tangled-looking.

Price hasn't even finished introductions with the KorTac team when she makes a rolling little chur noise, bright and curious. The bigger hybrid zeros in on her instantly, ears flicking. She pads out from behind the captain and slips away before he can catch her. Any calls for her to come back are fully ignored.

She trots right up to the Austrian and mrrps again, pausing mid-step, waiting for a response. The other hybrid doesn't respond - at least he doesn't seem to.

"Sorry, kitten, but he doesn't really do the cat noises," Declan tries to tell her. But he's also ignored, and no sooner has he spoken than she's getting into the other cat's space, continuously making little "brr" noises.

And then to everyone's shock, he's bending down to greet her in return, nuzzling her cheek and forehead through the hood. She starts to purr, pressing up close, tail swishing lazily. A noise erupts from him, deep and rough, rattling in his chest. Johnny jumps and snatches at her shirt, dragging her back to the safety of their team.

She mewls sadly, arms extended to reach for him.

"He's growling, Doll," Johnny corrects, arms curling around her middle. For the first time ever she starts to wriggle. "He's too big for you to mess with."

"I... wasn't growling," the Austrian pipes up. "I apologizes if I caused alarm."

Johnny shoots him an incredulous look.

"Then what was that?" Kyle asks, confused.

"I don't... often purr."

Price takes one look at their still-wiggly kitty and the Austrian leaning towards her, as if wanting to follow, and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Shit."

[applejarjar]

Ah, my apartment is livable again

[littledozerdraws]

fic to accompany the art by the amazing @drawsaurus

He had already killed for the Emperors; but this was no debut at some preening Senator’s bawdy-house. When it was already past dusk, Hanno was led out in chains from the Colosseum stables, through a dank alleyway buried in the backstreets of the slums; down, down, into the labyrinthine bowels of the city, endless stone tunnels rank and musty with disuse. The skeleton of a rat crunched under his heel like an autumn leaf. He half assumed that he trudged to his death, and found it did not much bother him. 

But when, at last, the floor underfoot sloped upwards and turned to stairs, Hanno found that he had emerged not into a slaughterhouse, but into the soft, warm candlelight and velvet drapery of the imperial palace. Viggo handed him off to an elegant but harried house slave, no word, but a sneer of knowing disdain. 

Hanno gave him nothing back. He knew that he would kill that man one day. He could be patient.

The slave had the high, soft voice and smooth hands of a eunuch. “I should have liked a day to school you in the proper etiquette,” he said, unhappy, as they moved quickly through more corridors, more twists and turns. Hanno felt like he had no sense at all of where he was in the City; he could have been miles outside it were it not for the two-headed crest of the Emperors that adorned the walls. “But there is little time. I shall tell you the basics. You must look neither Caesar in the eye, nor address them unbidden. Your little trick at Senator Thraex’s has the court all a-gossip, but you must keep your station henceforth. I know you understand Latin,” he said curtly, when Hanno made no response. “You will do as you are commanded, no more or less.”

Still Hanno said nothing. 

Perhaps the eunuch wanted to shock some kind of reaction out of him. “Emperor Geta will direct the proceedings,” he said, cold. “Emperor Caracalla likes to be fucked as a woman. You will be expected to perform.”

“...Macrinus sends me here to fight.”

The eunuch looked him over. “I see they did not bathe you at the stables,” he sniffed. “Your musk is not unpleasant, at least.”

“You have me mistaken.”

They stopped abruptly, before a fresco that Hanno could not make out in the low light. He could tell, at least, it was ostentatious. A door was cut through the wall that gave gently when pushed. The house slave gave him a shallow bow, almost a mockery, and indicated that he should enter. “Do not misunderstand,” he said, quieter even than before. His superiority dropped away from a moment; this felt like a freely given warning. “This may seem a private audience, but the Praetorian Guard have many ears and quick swords. Perform your duty well, and you will leave here a man entire. Do not make poor decisions, Poet.”

The Emperors had called him that.

Before the night was out, they would name him so again, and again, and again.

[seafarersdream]

Heck yeah Freddie Fox!!!!what if reader plays Gwayne and Alicent sister, but their chemistry is sooooo good that the creators had to cut their scenes together because "they're Hightowers, not Targaryens"🤣🤣🤣and the cast are having the time of their lives with that

Me and the Devil (Freddie Fox x Y/N)

Y/N L/N, who stars as Lady Eleanor Hightower, has an absolutely electric chemistry with her on-screen brother, Freddie Fox, who plays Ser Gwayne Hightower, much to the amusement and exasperation of the HOTD cast and crew.

TW // Strong language and profanities, incestuous undertones, sexual tension and innuendos.

The sun was rising behind the walls of the Red Keep, casting long, creeping shadows over the Outer Courtyard. Lady Eleanor Hightower, clad in the deep, grieving olive of her house, stood with an air of weary grace beside her sister, Dowager Queen Alicent. Her face was a picture of calm, though her eyes were heavy with the sorrow of loss and the weight of recent weeks.

“Do you think he’ll bring that dreadful horse again?” Eleanor asked, her voice soft but dripping with that sharp edge she never quite lost, even in mourning.

Alicent’s lips twitched, but she held her composure. "If he does, I’ll have it stabled outside the walls. I’m not having that beast piss all over the courtyard again."

The rumble of hooves on cobblestones drew their attention. The gates opened, and a column of knights in shining armor, bearing the sigil of House Hightower, entered the courtyard. At their head was Ser Gwayne Hightower, his helm tucked under one arm, revealing the tousled auburn hair and devil-may-care grin that Eleanor had grown so used to seeing—when he wasn’t hiding it behind an arrogant smirk.

“Well, well, look who it is. The fairest blooms of Oldtown,” Gwayne drawled, striding over like he owned all Seven Kingdoms. “Alicent, you’re still holding up the realm with that iron fist of yours. And Eleanor…” His eyes trailed over her, lingering just a fraction too long, “Looking every bit the grieving widow. Tell me, how does it feel to be free of that hideous arsehole, late Lord Hastwyck? May the Seven forgive him.”

Eleanor shot him a withering look, but there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. “About as good as it feels to watch you strut around like you haven’t been fucked in months.”

“Oh, fuck off, Ellie,” Freddie retorted, still in character, his grin widening. “Thought all that mourning might’ve taken the edge off your bite, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Eleanor arched an eyebrow, a smirk that could rival his playing on her lips. “And you, brother, seem as full of yourself as ever. Did the trip here inflate your ego even further?”

Gwayne grinned wider, flashing teeth. “Careful, little sister, or I’ll think you missed me.”

Alicent, tired of their verbal sparring, interjected. “Gwayne, you’ve arrived at an important time. Ser Criston Cole has replaced our father as Hand, and there is much work to be done.”

Gwayne’s grin faded into a sneer. “Ser Criston Cole? That jumped-up cunt of a knight? What, are we that desperate, we’re pulling nobodies out of the arse-end of the Kingsguard now?”

The crew, who had been trying to keep it together, finally lost it. Laughter rang out across the courtyard, cameramen shaking their heads as they tried to stay steady.

“Cut! Fucking hell, cut!” Geeta Patel called out, struggling to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She stepped forward, waving her hands as she approached the trio. “Alright, Freddie, Y/N, that was... Jesus Christ, that was incredible. But you’re not Jaime and Cersei Lannister, alright? You’re Hightowers. That kind of sibling chemistry doesn’t fly in this family. Tone down the ‘let’s fuck each other senseless’ vibes, okay?”

Freddie turned to Y/N, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Hear that, darling? We’re too bloody hot for Westeros.”

Geeta rolled her eyes, but she was smiling despite herself. “I swear, you two are going to give me aneurysm. Just... try to remember you’re siblings. No more of that smoldering shit. The Hightowers don’t do what the Targaryens do, alright?”

Freddie put on a mock-serious face, hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear to be the picture of brotherly love. No more dirty looks, no more—“

“Smoldering looks, you tosser,” Y/N corrected, elbowing him in the ribs. “And good luck with that.”

The crew was still giggling, a few members openly impressed. “Honestly, we haven’t seen chemistry like this since Game of Thrones,” one of the grips muttered, shaking his head. “It’s fucking unreal.”

As Geeta returned to her chair, giving notes to the crew, Freddie leaned in closer to Y/N. “Honestly, how are we supposed to act like siblings when you keep giving me those eyes?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance. “You mean the same eyes you’re giving me right now? Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Freddie chuckled, his voice low enough that only Y/N could hear. “Well then how about we really give them something to talk about?”

Y/N swatted at him playfully. “Behave yourself, Fox. Or I’ll tell Geeta.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Before Freddie could fire back, Geeta’s voice rang out again. “Alright, enough banter, you two. Places! And for fuck’s sake, remember—you’re Hightowers, not Targaryens or Lannisters!”

Freddie straightened up, slipping back into his role as Ser Gwayne, but not before giving Y/N one last, devilish wink. “For now,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

Y/N fought to keep her expression neutral, but the corners of her mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. She shot him a look that promised retribution later.

As the cameras rolled once more, they slipped effortlessly back into character, their banter sizzling with that same crackling chemistry that had the entire crew both laughing and marveling at just how damn good these two were together—siblings or not.

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On a different day, Geeta Patel was giving final instructions to Olivia Cooke and to Fabien Frankel. “Alright, Olivia, Fabien,” Geeta began, her tone calm. “This scene is all about the farewell. Criston, you’re asking for Alicent’s favor before you leave for war. This is a significant moment between you two. We need it to be subtle, yet powerful. Got it?”

Fabien nodded, his expression serious. “Got it, Geeta.”

Olivia smiled. “Ready when you are.”

Geeta gave them a satisfied nod and turned to the crew. “Okay, everyone, positions! Let’s make this one count.”

As the cameras rolled, Criston Cole approached Alicent with a grave expression, his armor gleaming in the dying light. He bowed low, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Your Grace,” he began, his tone respectful, yet carrying an undercurrent of something deeper.

Alicent looked at him with those sharp, knowing eyes, giving him a slight nod. “May the Seven guide you, good knight,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “And lead you not to shadow and death.”

Criston bowed his head even lower, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I thank Your Grace for her prayers,” he replied, his voice filled with reverence.

Alicent turned as if to leave, her gown sweeping the stones with a soft rustle. But before she could take more than a step, Criston’s voice called her back. “And I would request,” he said, his words halting her in her tracks, “that Her Grace grant me her favor. That her Lord Commander may go into battle with her blessings… in his heart.”

The scene hung heavy in the air, the tension thick between them as Criston’s plea echoed through the courtyard. Alicent hesitated, her hand brushing against the delicate fabric of her sleeve as she turned back to him, her eyes locking onto his. There was a moment of silence, a breath suspended in time, as everyone waited to see what she would do.

She finally reached into her sleeve, pulling out the small, delicate handkerchief embroidered with her initials. The camera zoomed in, capturing the intricate details, the way her fingers trembled just slightly as she held it out to him. “Take this,” she murmured, her voice carrying a subtle tremor, “as a token of my favor. Return victorious, Ser Criston. And know that you carry my thoughts with you.”

Criston bowed his head, taking the handkerchief. “Your Grace,” he replied, his voice rough, “I shall return with your favor in my heart and the victory of your cause in my hands.”

The scene was supposed to be the focal point of the episode—an understated farewell between the Dowager Queen and her paramour.

Or at least, that was the plan.

In the background, Eleanor and Gwayne were supposed to be having a far simpler exchange—just a quick farewell between siblings, nothing more.

The moment the camera panned to them, what was meant to be a brief, subdued farewell exploded into something far more dramatic.

“Eleanor, my sweet sister,” Gwayne declared, sweeping her up in an exaggerated embrace, his voice loud enough to carry across the courtyard. “How will I ever endure the horrors of war without your smile to guide me through the darkness?”

Y/N played right into it. She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with fake tears. “Gwayne, you reckless fool, you’d better come back to me—or I swear I’ll hunt you down myself.”

The crew exchanged glances, trying desperately to keep their laughter in check as the two continued to ad-lib their way through what was supposed to be a simple goodbye.

Gwayne placed a hand on Eleanor’s cheek, his expression one of melodramatic intensity. “If I do not return, tell the world I died with your name on my lips.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone from the crew muttered, barely audible over the sound of snickering.

Geeta Patel, perched in her director’s chair, pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Cut! CUT!” she finally called out, though her voice was tinged with reluctant amusement. “Freddie, Y/N, what the bloody hell was that? You’re supposed to be siblings, not star-crossed lovers.”

Freddie turned to Y/N with a grin that could only be described as wicked. “Sorry, Geeta, got a bit carried away there. Can you blame me? Look at her—who wouldn’t fall madly in love?”

Y/N smirked, not missing a beat. “Don’t flatter yourself, Fox. It’s called acting.”

Geeta threw up her hands in defeat. “I swear, you two are the bane of my existence. How am I supposed to get a serious scene out of you when you keep turning everything into a bloody pantomime?”

The crew was struggling to keep it together. Even Olivia, standing nearby as Alicent, was biting her lip, trying to stay in character despite the ridiculousness happening behind her.

Freddie chuckled. “Geeta, darling, I think what we’re doing here is revolutionary.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, though she was clearly enjoying herself. “What he’s trying to say, Geeta, is that we’re just too damn good together. Maybe it’s time to change the script.”

“Or maybe,” Geeta retorted, her tone playful despite her frustration, “you two could try actually sticking to the script for once. I’m pretty sure HBO isn’t paying you to improvise a Lannister-style farewell.”

Freddie turned to Y/N, pretending to consider it. “What do you think, Eleanor? Should we behave ourselves this time?”

Y/N gave a mock sigh, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off her costume. “I suppose we could try.”

Geeta couldn’t help but shake her head as she gestured for the crew to reset. “Alright, let’s take it from the top. And this time, keep it in your pants, Hightower freaks.”

Cameras rolled once more, the scene resumed, with Criston and Alicent taking center stage as intended from the start.

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The camera opens on a sleek, modern studio set, the familiar logo of Max glowing softly in the background. Y/N and Freddie are seated side by side, relaxed and comfortable, both dressed casually but stylishly—Y/N in a chic blouse and jeans, Freddie in his usual mix of sharp yet slightly rumpled attire.

The interviewer, a young woman with a cheerful demeanor, smiled warmly at them. “Thank you both for joining us today. Why don’t we start with some introductions?”

“Hello, everyone! I’m Y/N L/N, and I play Lady Eleanor Hightower on House of the Dragon,” Y/N says, her voice smooth and confident as she introduces herself.

Freddie chimes in right after. “And I’m Freddie Fox, and I play Ser Gwayne Hightower, Eleanor’s incredibly charming, dashingly handsome older brother.”

Y/N snorts, nudging him with her elbow. “You forgot modest, Freddie. Always so modest.”

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying their banter. “It’s great to have you both here. So, as you know, House of the Dragon has a massive fandom, and one of the things they love to do is theorize and create ships outside of the canon. They really get invested in the chemistry between characters—and, let’s be honest, between the actors as well.”

Freddie and Y/N exchange a look, both trying to suppress knowing smiles.

The interviewer continues with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, naturally, people are starting to wonder—could we be seeing the next Kit Harington and Rose Leslie? You know, screen partners turning into real-life partners?”

Freddie, never one to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, suddenly turned in his seat, getting down on one knee in front of Y/N. With an exaggeratedly serious expression, he took her hand. “Y/N, dearest Lady Eleanor, would you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife? I promise to annoy you, to steal your snacks, and to outshine you in every single scene we ever do together.”

Y/N bursts out laughing, placing a hand over her heart as if genuinely touched. “Oh, Freddie, how could I ever say no to such a heartfelt proposal? But I must warn you—I take up all the covers at night, and I’m not above hiding the remote if you try to switch to football during one of our movie nights.”

The interviewer is cracking up now, along with the crew behind the cameras. “I didn’t expect this, but I’m loving it! You two are absolutely priceless.”

Freddie stood up, still holding Y/N’s hand, and they both gave a bow to the camera. “Well, you know," he says, turning back to the interviewer, “it’s all about keeping the fans on their toes. Can’t make it too easy for them to figure out what’s going on, right?”

Y/N grins. “Exactly. We like to keep things... interesting.”

The interviewer, still grinning, leans in. “So, should we start planning the wedding, or...?”

Freddie looked thoughtfully at Y/N, tapping his chin. “Well, we’re thinking of something small. Just us, a couple of dragons, and maybe a White Walker to officiate. Keep it intimate, you know?”

Y/N nodded sagely. “Very exclusive. Only the crème de la crème of Westeros.”

The interviewer shakes her head, thoroughly entertained. “Okay, okay, I think we’ve just given the fandom even more fuel for their theories! On a serious note, though, it’s clear you two have incredible chemistry. What’s it like working together on set?”

Y/N smiled warmly at Freddie before answering. “Honestly, it’s a blast. Freddie and I just click, and I think that shows on screen. We’ve got a great rapport, and it’s always fun bringing these characters to life together.”

Freddie nodded, adding, “Yeah, we give each other a lot of shit, but that’s part of what makes it work. We trust each other, and that allows us to really push the boundaries in our scenes—sometimes a bit too much, according to Geeta,” he added with a wink.

The interviewer wraps it up, still chuckling. “Well, it’s been an absolute blast talking with you both. Can’t wait to see what chaos you bring to House of the Dragon next season.”

As the camera pulls back and the lights dim, Freddie and Y/N share a quick, conspiratorial glance, knowing they’d just given the fandom more than enough to talk about—and probably a few new fanfics to write as well.

When the interview dropped on the internet, the fandom absolutely exploded. Social media was flooded with clips of Freddie’s mock proposal, and the internet lost its collective mind.

Fans were dissecting every moment of the interview, from the playful banter to the way Freddie had gazed up at Y/N during his over-the-top proposal. The comments sections were filled with fans declaring that they were “shipping” the two even harder now, some even demanding that someone should cast them both in a romcom.

Amid the chaos, Y/N decided to fan the flames a bit more. She posted a cheeky selfie on Instagram, looking effortlessly stunning as always, with a caption that read, “The coolest of the Hightower siblings.”

It didn’t take long for Freddie to jump in on the fun. He reposted her selfie to his own Instagram story, adding the caption, “THE future Mrs. Fox.”

The internet went into overdrive. Fans were tagging each other, sharing screenshots, and even their House of the Dragon co-stars started chiming in with their own comments, playing along with the joke. The whole thing had taken on a life of its own, and it was clear that Y/N and Freddie had become the fandom’s favorite new obsession.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

During a press event, when Rhys Ifans, the man behind Otto Hightower, was asked about his thoughts on Freddie and Y/N’s antics, his face split into a wide, unabashed grin.

“Well, as Otto,” he began, dropping into character with a serious tone, “I have to say, it’s a major fucking ick. Completely inappropriate! Gwayne and Eleanor getting all... cozy? That would make Otto want to strangle someone. He’d be straight to the quill, penning some strongly worded letters to sort that shit out.”

The crowd erupted in laughter, knowing exactly how Otto Hightower would react to such scandal.

“But as Rhys?” he continued, his tone shifting to one of genuine enthusiasm, “I’m all in! I mean, have you seen those two together? The chemistry is off the bloody charts! If they don’t end up getting married after all this, I’ll be sorely disappointed. They’re perfect for each other—on and off the screen.”

His lighthearted comment sent the room into a ripple of laughter, with everyone loving the idea of Rhys being a secret shipper of Freddie and Y/N.

Within hours, his quote—“Ick as Otto, but fuck yes as Rhys!”—became the battle cry of the fandom, plastered across memes, gifs, and fan art that flooded every corner of the internet. It wasn't just spreading; it was detonating.

The whole situation exploded into a full-blown phenomenon, with fans practically canonizing Rhys as the unofficial president of the Freddie and Y/N ship. People started tagging him in everything, from wild fan theories to NSFW fanfiction, with captions like “Rhys would approve” or “Otto hates it, but Rhys lives for it.”

It was unhinged, chaotic, and utterly glorious. Rhys’s endorsement didn’t just add fuel to the fire; it threw in a grenade, making the whole thing go nuclear.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

Yandere farm x farmhand reader 🌾

A/n: this contains few nsfw mentions, mdni please! They're not all that yandere, just a bunch of dumb silly hybrids trying to catch their favorite humans attention. This is their intro

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙

★yandere farm x farmhand reader. I know this isn't original, but I always love the concept. Just minding your business, sweaty and hot from the sun, when suddenly a certain German Shepard hybrid starts sniffing you up and down, lapping up your sweaty skin and grinning when you swat him away. How did you end up here?

★maybe you came here for a summer job, maybe some relatives owned the farm, maybe you were always working here. Either way, it doesn't take long for the hybrids to notice you once you arrive.

★the bulls and cows watching curiously from the fields, the centaurs trying to peek from their stables, the merfolk living in the lake just down the property poke their little heads out. The dogs barking from their Little homes, and the cats watching from the windows. You couldn't help but gawk at the variety of hybrids, there were so many! Merfolk, avians, cattle, cats, dogs.

★your first week there was nice, the other farmhands were nice, and the owners were so sweet! Always speaking fondly of their pets, the old couple would watch them run in the field or play by the lake. You yourself found them a little annoying. Always sniffing, grabbing, nipping at your clothes. You've had to fight your overall bottoms free from one of the pooches one too many times. The cats were no better.

★your second week you meet the cattle and centaurs. And unlike the house cats and guard dogs, they're less handsy. Simply observing from afar. Occasionally sniffing you before nodding their heads and pulling away. Letting you do your job of combing, cleaning and fixing up them and their stables. The cattle would happily let you milk them, applying the breast pumps to the females and a cock pump to the males. You ignored how they looked at you strangely during milkings

★the third week you meet the avians. Odd little bunch, hopping around and puffing up their chests. They watched you enter their enclosure curiously, you were busy picking up their molten feathers because you thought they were pretty. So bright and colorful! Walking around bent over a little when you finally notice the peacock male standing right Infront of you. He gave you a pointed look before his tail feathers expanded. Looking prideful, tilting his chin up as if in an arrogant way. Swaying side to side and closer to you, while you just held the feathers in your hands, a little confused. He got closer until he let out an incredibly loud squawk. Turning around abruptly to glare at the cuckoo who bent down to poke his butt. The cuckoo gave you a grin before climbing back up the tree, using this time as distraction, you quickly escaped.

★on the fourth week, you meet the merfolk. Having been here a month, they were eager to meet you. Watching you walk on the dock with fish feed, eagerly Perking up and swimming closer. You shook out a good handful and chucked it out for the koi fish to eat. They swarmed the area until all the food was gone, simply staring up at you. One poked her head out, tilting it a bit and making a 'click' sound with her tongue. You mimicked her, doing the same. She seemed elated, making various whistles and clicks, splashing up and down the lake. The lake was manmade and filled with koi fish when it was finished, but then again there may be more fish not even the owners know about since it was so deep. How'd they get in there? You're not sure, but you just know it.

★on the fifth week your owners told you about how they had bought multiple sheep, and goats. One male for each group. Watching the loading truck approach the little barn they were finished building. So that's why it was there, they started construction when you arrived the first week. You helped the other farmhands get them situated, at first they were rowdy and a little aggressive but for some reason calmed down when you approached them. Your colleagues now called you the sheep whisperer. You quickly learned how to shave their wool and milk the goats properly. Sometimes braiding their long hair, you just wish the ram would stop headbutting the nearest male colleague for your attention.

★On your sixth week, you went for a walk in the forest when suddenly a little body of fluffy fur tackled you, growling with it's teeth barred. You looked up to see a Pomeranian hybrid, trying it's best to look intimidating. Their fluffy tail gave them away, it was wagging 100mph. They visibly deflated when you reached up a hand to pet them, letting you for A couple minutes before getting off. Walking back into the woods towards three wolves. Dissapearing with them. Not soon after you found a friendly garden naga. Just lounging on a rock and enjoying the sun. You asked to join and they let you, laying there for a good while until you had to go back to the farm. Noticing they had wrapped their tail around you, oh boy. It'll take a good while to get out. Welp, might as well make yourself comfortable and wait for the dogs to come find you

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

HYBRIDS AND THEIR NAMES:

Week one, cats and dogs;

Brutus, dog hybrid, 18, German Shepard, he/him

Dolly, dog hybrid, 26, doberman, she/her

bladviba, dog hybrid, 25, black Russian terrier, he/him

Molly, dog hybrid, 17, chow chow, she/her

Sweet pea, dog hybrid, 17, samoyed, they/them amab

bubba, dog hybrid, 37, borzoi, he/him

Princess, cat hybrid, 18, ragdoll, she/her

Prince, cat hybrid, 19, Norwegian forest cat, he/him

King, cat hybrid, 27, Khao manee, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Second week, cattle and centaurs;

Miss bené, cow hybrid, 49, white park cattle, she/her

Miss blackberry, cow hybrid, 22, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss Polly, cow hybrid, 26, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss frufru, cow hybrid, 28, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Miss Vivian, cow hybrid, 35, Aberdeen Angus, she/her

Big daddy, bull hybrid, 52, Aberdeen Angus, he/him

Johnny, bull hybrid, 18, Aberdeen Angus/white park cattle, he/him

Jacqueline, centaur, 19, shire horse, she/her

Timothy, centaur, 21, galineers cob, he/him

maya, centaur, 17, fjord horse, they/them

Casper, centaur, 23, ardennais, he/him

miguel, centaur, 18, Andalusian horse, he/him

harmony, centaur, 25, Breton horse, they/them

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

third week, avians;

Sydney, avian, 22, cockatoo, they/he

Evangeline, avian, 19, peacock, she/her

Gabriel, avian, 20, peacock, he/him

fajarah, avian, 24, indian ring necked parakeet, she/her

Foolish, avian, 26, owl finch, he/him

simon, avian, 28, tyto alba, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Fourth week, merfok;

tancho, koi fish merfolk, 19, tancho koi, he/him

kiko, koi fish merfolk, 19, kikokuryu koi, she/her

hime, koi fish merfolk, 19, hirenaga koi, she/her

Tsu, koi fish merfolk, 19, doitsu koi, they/them

koromo, koi fish merfolk, 19, koromo koi, he/him

Mason, lake 'monster' (crocodile), 20, freshwater crocodile, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Fifth week, goats and sheep;

Sally, goat, 25, angora goat, she/her

Opal, goat, 24, Tennessee fainting goat, she/her

Sasha, goat, 26, australian cashmere goat, she/her

kim, ram, 23, dutch landrace goat, he/him

Poka, sheep, 19, Valais black nose, they/them

Juniper, sheep, Valais black nose, she/her

violet, sheep, 18, harri, she/her

azucar, sheep, 17, Columbia sheep, she/her

Wehrner, ram, 21, American black belly, he/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

Sixth week, the forest creatures:

roxy, wolf hybrid, 19, grey wolf, she/her

Silas, wolf hybrid, 21, grey wolf, he/him

Milo, wolf hybrid, 20, albino Grey wolf, they/them

Kiki, dog hybrid, 18, Pomeranian, they/them

Coachella, naga, 27, garden snake, they/him

•°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆ •°. *࿐ ⋆

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader

CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!

series masterlist. read on ao3.

Life was hard. That was a fact.

Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.

Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.

And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.

No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;

Getting Murdered

Getting Attacked

Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?

…Yeah. Something like that.

The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.

You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.

This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.

With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.

The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?

Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.

The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.

You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.

There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.

The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.

It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.

You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.

Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.

…Jesus christ.

“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.

You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.

The woman snaps her gum.

You stand there.

She blows it again.

You continue to stand there.

Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”

Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?

“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”

You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.

Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.

Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 

“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”

You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.

A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 

Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.

Charlie: get milk otw home used it all

No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.

When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.

“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.

It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.

“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.

“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”

You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.

“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”

That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.

As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 

It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.

It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.

“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”

You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.

“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”

You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.

“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”

You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”

She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”

Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.

Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.

Fucking christ.

Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.

“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 

She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.

You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”

With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.

It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 

…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.

Ambers. High-risk.

With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 

You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.

Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.

Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 

Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 

Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.

The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.

If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.

You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.

There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.

He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.

“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.

He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.

Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”

The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.

…Huh. Alright.

You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.

His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 

“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.

He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”

Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.

“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”

His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”

You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”

He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.

Small victories.

“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”

You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.

“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.

Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”

You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.

“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”

There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”

Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.

“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.

“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”

Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”

That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 

“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.

His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”

Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 

You swallow around a dry mouth.

“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.

His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.

It remains as he answers.

“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”

a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah

taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA # 35

Who will he be tonight? that’s the question.

Imagine dis…

It's been a while since I last posted here and even though I am late on the trend the song would not leave my head ( due to my gremlin of siblings) and you are now here to suffer with me.

MWAHAHAHAHA

…

Bruce was stressed, not because of his nightly duties nor his exhausting job as the CEO of Wayne enterprise. He got his license to foster children by the skin of his teeth through legal channels, he was so close as to use his privileges as the richest man in Gotham to get his license also to be able to foster Richard “Dick” Grayson.

Apparently despite his playboy persona aka “Brucie Wayne” just entering its social debut almost made him almost impossible to foster Dick as the social worker that had been assigned to him is also one of the few social workers in Gotham that takes their job seriously.

Bruce knew that his budding playboy persona, the carefree “BRUCIE Wayne” should be buried, he could replace this mask of his with his philanthropist self but he couldn’t just immediately change it would and will raise whispers on why, but what could be the reason?

Just as he continued scheming a knock broke his train of thoughts and entered Danny Nightgale, the calm and efficient secretary who had worked before with Lucius Fox ever since he had been hired. Danny, from Bruce’s file on him, son of two leading ecto-biologists in the world, a quiet kid who grew up in a city from nowhere, had a bad accident that left him with a slow heartbeat, discovered that one of the last two purple back gorilla is female and thus avoiding total extinction. Doesn’t have much media presence due to their hometown being the home of the former ghost hero Phantom who had vanished the moment that the anti-ecto acts had been re-appealed…

…

Bruce approached Danny with a pitch and handed him a nicely drafted contract. The agreement was straightforward: pretend to be Bruce's adoring partner in public. It was the only way to change the public's opinion, to show the world a stable, dependable, responsible Bruce Wayne who was ready to be a foster and maybe a father.

…

As years went by this arrangement had been beneficial to both parties.

Danny now saves more money, and despite having one of the highest salaries being paid all went to his rent to the nicer parts of Gotham. It had so many insurances as well security measures to ensure the tenants are safe, but the downside having most of his paycheck going to the rent itself. Now he has a permanent house that is large and free food that is made by the greatest cook that ever existed.

Bruce is less embarrassed about putting on a show for the public, he seems to take on the air-head mask whenever his supposed “lover” is around and near him, turning him into a bumbling mess whenever the “love of his life” is around him. He also secretly took great pleasure whenever those annoying journalists asked nonsense questions which he answered in his most obnoxious voice spiel away how world peace is attainable if all just gave their own Danny’s.

…

Each generation of Batkids saw how Bruce had a crush on Danny yet kept fumbling himself and reminding himself that all of this was just part of the contract. Sure each kid knew of said contract that was made for Dick’s sake but said the reason for said contract wanted to rip that thing ages ago and into pieces the moment he wanted to call Danny Dad.

Though each child that resides in that manor noticed some inconsistency within Danny’s schedules, not only that they have just recently discovered that while Danny loves to chat there are still personal things that he hadn't delved into aside from the information that was already in his files. Of course, there is also his weird avoidance of the vigilante group of Gotham, especially Batman, despite being proven to the public both in and out of Gotham that Batman is trustworthy, Danny still held wariness to said vigilante.

You’d think that after years of exposure around the Wayne’s Danny would have already discovered the cave all on his own. But it seems that every time are inches away discovering their secret an emergency or urgent priority was flaring from the Wayne enterprise that only he was needed to solve the said problem.

After weeks of Tim’s continuous intake of a very worrying amount of pure caffeine, espresso shots, and 10 different brands of energy drinks they have finally connected the dots.

Danny is a secret FBI agent planted in Gotham to catch Batman and his group in the act of breaking the law and to disband the whole spiel about being a hero and vigilante. Sure the JL and the sudden rise of heroes and vigilantes that popped up around the world that are not government affiliated made those who sat at those red velvet chairs nervous as they don’t have any active say or word as to what crimes to focus on and so on. There are reasons why Amanda Waller is still in power and still allowed to roam free with funds after funds to continue her work despite being continuously caught by the JL.

Now it is up to them to change Danny’s mind and abandon his mission so that they can finally stop seeing Bruce act like that “Brucie” persona, that they thanked the gods had been immediately vetoed, towards Danny.

…

Alfred sits down in one of the manor’s libraries with a cup of tea in one hand a book in another with another small pile on the side with a teapot ready to refill himself another cup.

He sighs at the drama that seems to unfold to his eyes only.

Ever since Master Danny had been integrated into this household he had found more free time than he could ever imagine. The young man would always find ways to outpace Alfred when it comes to housework to the point it had become their little game to this day. As much as he supports his ward/son, Master Bruce needs to gather all emotional intelligence he has left and confess to Master Danny.

But that wasn’t the live soap opera that it seemed to unravel.

His grandkids are set and believe that Master Danny is a secret agent who is here due to a mission related to the vigilante group stationed in Gotham.

Alfred adores all of them, he did but sometimes he wonders if the title World’s Greatest Detective is to be added to his arsenal of titles.

Alfred knew that Master Danny wasn’t just an ordinary secretary but he was also the Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, how did he know of this?

He simply walked in on Danny changing from his human self to that otherworldly creature that looked too regal to be a normal being, and so clues that were the littlest of things that he had always chalked up to the angle of the light seemed to begin clicking in place.

Alfred was a bit miffed when he learned that Master Danny might have been cheating when it came to their little bouts of cleaning the manor but he now stayed quiet as Master Danny still didn’t know of the quote “furry brigade” unquote are the Wayne’s, and based on Master Danny’s past rants he will have his little laugh when the truth comes out, but until then he will drink his tea in peace as the drama in Wayne manor seems to unfold.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[punkshort]

Love at First Sight

A drabble from A Deeper Purpose/A Deeper Meaning universe, takes place between the two.

A/N: Dedicated to @brigcally - wishing you a flawless delivery ❤️

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel helps you through your delivery.

Warnings: child birth, descriptions of pain/fear, anxiety, blood (only a little), language, fluff, allusion to prior smut but nothing explicit, breastfeeding

WC: 2.6K

It was a beautiful day.

The morning was crisp, the afternoon warm, but not stifling. For once, Joel didn't finish his patrol shift feeling like he had to bathe for an hour after to scrub off the layers of sweat and grime.

He was feeling good. His back didn't hurt so much that day and he was in a remarkable mood. It probably had something to do with the night before. The last trimester of your pregnancy had made you absolutely insatiable for him and he was more than happy to oblige. That even included nights like the previous night when you woke him up with your hand already snaked down his pants and your lips leaving feverish kisses all over his bare chest.

It was a shock he wasn't more tired.

But it turned out that was a bigger blessing than he originally thought because he was about to have one of the longest days of his life.

The moment he entered the gates and slid down from his horse, reins in hand as he began to lead his mare into the stable, Tommy came racing up to him from down the street with a frantic look in his eye.

Joel's heart plummeted and he dropped the reins, horse long forgotten.

"Is she okay?" he asked, pulling his gloves off and tossing them on the ground before breaking out into a sprint towards his house.

Tommy skid to a stop so he could change directions, jogging after him.

"Yeah, she's fine," Tommy called, causing Joel to slow down, but only just a little. "She's at the clinic, doc says she's in labor-"

"Tommy, what the fuck?" Joel yelled as he resumed his running.

"She's fine!" Tommy yelled after him with a dry laugh. "She's hours away from anythin', only a little dilated, slow the hell down!"

But of course, he didn't. You needed him.

He ran the entire way to the clinic, bursting through the door, gasping for air with his head swiveling this way and that, looking for any sign of you. One of the nurses looked up from her desk and stood.

"Joel, she's fine," she began to say calmly, but Joel just shook his head, chest heaving and shaky finger pointing to the back room.

"Where?"

The nurse led him to the room where you were laying in bed with a book, as if nothing were happening whatsoever.

"W-what's goin' on?" Joel stammered, looking around the room as if he were missing something. You looked up from your book and smiled.

"You're back early."

Joel huffed and shrugged his coat off. "Tommy said you're in labor. The hell's goin' on? Where's the doc?"

"I'm only three centimeters," you said, picking your book back up and flipping the page. "It's gonna be a while."

Joel just stood there, heart still thundering in his chest as he struggled to shift out of panic mode. He had expected to come into the room where you were screaming and crying in pain, scared and wondering where he was, but everything seemed perfectly... normal.

Slowly, he sunk down into the chair next to your bed and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Scared the shit outta me," he muttered. "Do you need anythin'?"

You shook your head, still focused on your book. "Nope. I'm all good."

He sat there, completely bewildered and desperate for something to do to help.

"Water?"

You held up the bottle you had tucked at your side and shook your head.

"Pillows?"

You grinned. "Three's plenty."

He couldn't just sit there. He had to make himself useful and burn off some of that nervous energy. So he began to pace around the room, squinting at the tiny printer next to your bed that tracked the baby's heart rate and your contractions, as if he understood what he was reading. Then he peered out into the hallway, looking for any sign from the medical staff.

"Where's the doc?" he asked again after about twenty fitful minutes. "Shouldn't he be checkin' on you? I'll go find him."

"Joel!" you exclaimed with a laugh. He turned around, expression so worried that it melted your heart on the spot. "Joel, come sit down. I don't need the doctor right now."

His fingers fidgeted at his side when he glanced between you and the open door as if he were deciding which way to go, then eventually caved and went back to your side.

"I gotta do somethin'," he explained, sitting back down and taking your outstretched hand.

"I think you did enough," you joked, pointing at your rounded belly. He gave you an obligatory laugh but his nerves wouldn't settle for the life of him. "We're going to be here for a long time. There's no use getting worked up about it, okay?" you said softly, thumb stroking his rough knuckles.

He glanced down at the floor for a moment, then took a deep breath before replying. "With Sarah, it happened so fast," he told you. You remained perfectly quiet while he spoke. He didn't like to talk about Sarah much and you never pressured him, but whenever he brought her up, you always hung on his every word. "Her mom - her water broke in the middle of the night and by mornin', I was holdin' Sarah in my arms. I guess I just thought..." he trailed off and sniffed a bit, gaze still pinned to the floor.

"Everyone's experience is different," you told him gently when it became apparent he was done talking. "Sometimes it happens fast, sometimes it takes days."

"Days?" he repeated, looking up at you with surprise.

"Yeah, let's hope that's not going to happen to me because you'll really have your work cut out for you, Miller."

He laughed, and that time you could tell it was his real laugh. He was finally beginning to relax.

"How are you so calm 'bout this, darlin'?" he asked, sitting back in his chair to look at you with admiration in his eyes.

"Because I'm so happy, Joel," you told him simply with a little shrug. "And I know no matter what, as long as I have you and our baby, it'll all work out."

His eyes grew misty and he quickly slid his gaze elsewhere, but you caught it and smiled.

"Well," he finally said, clearing his throat. "You need anythin' at all, you just gotta ask, alright?"

You nodded, pleased that he was finally settling down, then went to pick up your book. When you reached forward, you hissed and grabbed your stomach, a sudden searing pain ripping across your lower belly and spreading down your spine.

"Fuck!" you seethed. Joel was on his feet in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Contraction," you gritted out, grabbing onto his hand to hold on to something while you rode out the pain. Joel's face instantly filled with worry again.

"Lemme get the doc, maybe he can give you somethin'."

"No!" you shouted, then took a deep, shuddering breath before relaxing back into your pillows. "No," you whispered as your grip on his hand loosened. "Oh, wow," you breathed, exhaling slowly as the pain faded away. "That was a lot more intense than the other ones."

"Alright, there's stuff the doc can give you -"

"What do you think he's got, Joel?" you asked him. "It's the end of the damn world, there's no pain management he can give me that won't hurt the baby."

Joel propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight anxiously as he tried to think of a solution.

"What 'bout a hot water bottle?"

You considered it for a moment before nodding.

"I'll ask the doctor if I can use it on my stomach but at the very least it'll help my goddamn tailbone."

Joel clapped his hands together once and quickly ran out of the room, thrilled to finally have something he could do to help. He was gone fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. When he stepped back into your room, rubber water bottle sloshing under his arm, you were in the midst of another contraction, and this time the doctor was at your side studying the monitor next to your bed while you cried and writhed around in pain.

"Shit! Baby, I'm sorry," Joel said, rushing to your side to grab your hand. You held onto him like a lifeline, forehead and neck slick with sweat and cheeks stained with tears as you tried to fight through the worst part of the contraction.

Joel had had enough of seeing you in pain.

"Can't you do somethin'?" he barked at the doctor, an elderly man who, to his credit, was rather unshakable. He just sighed and peered at Joel over his glasses.

"Only thing that'll help is gettin' that baby out," he said gruffly. When your contraction finally subsided and your muscles relaxed into the mattress, your sheets already looking soaked with sweat, the doctor tapped your knees and kneeled at the foot of the bed. Joel watched, slightly horrified, as the man shoved two gloved fingers inside you. Your jaw clenched and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe through it, but Joel could tell you were in more pain than you were letting on.

"Comin' along nicely," he remarked when he finally removed his fingers. He snapped the gloves off and tossed them into the ever growing pile of garbage in the basket next to the door. "You might just have a baby before end of the day. You're at six centimeters."

"Six!?" Joel exclaimed. "An hour ago you were three!"

"And she might stay at six for hours til there's any more movement," the doctor said. When he saw the look on your face at the thought of being in that much pain for that long, he quickly followed up with, "Or you'll continue to dilate quickly and in a few hours you'll have a beautiful baby."

Tears filled your eyes once the doctor left and you buried your face in your hands.

"C'mon, baby, don't cry, it's alright," Joel soothed. Then he remembered the water bottle, so he slipped a pillow case around it and pressed it up against your back.

"Oh," you breathed, head lifting up and eyes fluttering open. "Oh, that feels good."

"Yeah?" Joel asked, mindlessly rubbing your upper back. He watched you take a few deep breaths, then your tears slowed and you leaned back with a deep sigh.

"Thank you," you whispered, "this feels so much better."

"You're welcome," he replied just as softly. "I won't leave your side again."

The remainder of the afternoon was more of the same. Contractions came quicker and grew more intense with each hour, but thankfully every time the doctor checked, you were steadily progressing. Joel kept your water bottle warm and would massage your back and shoulders whenever you grew too tense. And even though the pain was getting worse, you were doing just fine because you knew each jolt of pain was bringing you closer and closer to meeting your baby.

It was around nine in the evening when the doctor announced you were ten centimeters.

"You ready to push?" he asked, giving you a comforting wink. You nodded and looked up at Joel, your fingers laced together anxiously. His expression was a mix of fear and excitement while he murmured praise and comfort in your ear. One of the nurses elevated your bed and padded the sides and another was laying out all sorts of sterilized instruments on a small table at the foot of the bed. Joel caught you eyeballing at a particularly scary looking scalpel and he leaned down.

"You don't look down there, you look right at me," he told you firmly. You nodded and squeezed his hand before taking a deep breath.

"I can do this."

Joel grinned and gave you a quick kiss.

"Fuck yeah, you can."

And you did. You really fucking did.

It took less than an hour but it felt like a whole lifetime, and just as you promised, you didn't look away from Joel once. With every push, he stared you right in the eye and clutched your hand and told you how strong you were, how he hoped your baby would be just like you and how he couldn't wait to meet them.

And finally, with one last push that took every ounce of energy you had, you felt it: relief. The pressure in your lower stomach was gone, the pain in your back and tailbone disappeared and for one ridiculous moment you thought you had somehow transcended what it was to feel pain until you heard a sharp wail pierce the air.

Tears flooded your eyes and your heart was racing so fast, the monitor next to your bed started beeping angrily. Then the doctor held up your baby from above the drop cloth that separated your lower half and for the first time in your life, you knew what it was to truly love someone. You loved Joel and your friends, but this was entirely different. This was a unique, pure kind of love that existed exclusively between a mother and her child, a kind of love that settled deep in your chest without any convincing at all.

"She's beautiful," you sobbed, reaching out for your baby.

"How'd you -" Joel began, but the doctor ushered him over to cut the umbilical cord so they could clean her up.

"She's right, it's a girl," he told Joel once he sliced the pinkish grey cord. Blood and clear fluid splashed onto the floor and it felt like marking the beginning of something. Somehow with that simple motion, Joel felt that feeling he never thought he would feel again. That unwavering urge to love and protect and provide flared like heat inside of him to the point where he had to hold himself back from letting the nurses whisk his daughter away.

"We did it," you whimpered, collapsing weakly into bed with tears streaming from your eyes while the doctor got to work cleaning and sewing you back up.

"You did it," Joel corrected before pressing a kiss against your forehead, then another to your lips, lingering for just one second longer before pulling back and swiping away tears of his own.

The two of you stayed like that, enjoying your little bubble for five minutes longer, knowing full well when the nurses brought your baby back into the room, it would no longer be just the two of you ever again.

And when they did, oh, when they did bring her back in, all red faced and angry with the world already, you couldn't have been happier. But when she latched onto your breast, even though that first time was clumsy and awkward, she finally quieted down and looked up at you. She had deep brown eyes just like Joel and she gave you a look that said, I know you. You just laughed and carefully stroked her perfect little cheek while Joel leaned over the bed, smile permanently plastered across his face as he watched his girls officially meet for the first time.

"She's so perfect," you whispered, watching as milk trickled from the corner of her mouth.

"You did so good, mama," Joel murmured in your ear before kissing the side of your head. "What should we name her?"

You couldn't look away from her, and she couldn't get enough of the two of you. Her eyes darted back and forth, probably wondering what the hell was going on and why her mom and dad wouldn't stop staring at her. And before you even had a chance to think it over, you answered.

"Emma," you said, grinning when her eyes found yours again. "Her name's Emma."

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[elysiansparadise]

A powerful individual with an unbreakable aura whose gaze reflects the most sensitive of hearts and the most resilient of souls.

Aries Rising: The Survivor

Many of these natives have a clear vision of life: "Things don't happen magically. Do them yourself." They are people with a confident appearance, often considered attractive or sexy thanks to Mars ruling over there. Mars energy not only influences your breath-taking appearance, but also your attitude, independent, authentic and will never take bad treatment from others. They have created a strong appearance to face life, projecting themselves as self-sufficient people who recognize their value and will not be afraid to fight if necessary or if they are threatened. Wary, observant and with an initiative and desire to get what they want and achieve many things. Tension in their early environment is likely, so they grew up learning to navigate the chaos or at least not to easily falter over what they consider to be just the tip of the iceberg. There is nothing they do not defend with more passion than themselves and their dignity. They will constantly seek to know themselves more, give themselves the satisfaction of being able to grow more and more, and do what they consider correct or necessary to preserve their well-being. Once they trust and feel comfortable with someone, they can be fun, outgoing, and more communicative. They will not be afraid to enter new environments, meet new people or appear confident, but entering their hearts and close circles can be a complicated task.

When Taurus falls in the 2nd house, natives highly value security in every sense, clearly including financial security. Many of them may have the belief that they have to work on their own to achieve this security, making them highly independent. These people place a great value on comfort and pleasure, they will not hesitate to stay away from places or people that are another headache in their lives. They are very selective people with what they want to keep in their lives. Their self-esteem is usually linked to what they have, and not only in material terms, but also skills, achievements, people. They know how to give themselves their place and will not think twice about moving away from environments or people who do not appreciate them as they are. They constantly work on ways to improve their self-esteem, whether it's taking care of their body, pampering themselves, or doing activities that make them feel better. One of the values ​​for which they stand out is their devotion and perseverance. When they focus their minds on something they want, they do not rest until they achieve it. Many of them tend to use this tough and strong exterior to face life, because they feel better after knowing that they have been able to handle whatever life has thrown at them. Their value system is strong and stable, so they will rarely act against them. This means that although they understand that people may be different from them, they will not allow someone to try to tell them what is right or wrong, or if their values ​​are correct. They have clear priorities and adhere firmly to their principles. Many of them may feel a strong need to be self-sufficient and not financially dependent on others. They are very careful when it comes to managing their money or what their possessions are concerned, they are not careless with what they value or what they have a hard time getting. Possessive tendencies may exist, especially if the ruler is making tense aspects with Sun, Moon, Neptune or Pluto.

One of the best overlays of this rising is Gemini in the 3rd house, as it makes them eloquent, versatile and adaptable people in their way of expressing themselves. They can be good speakers, writers or have talent for any activity that requires effective, clear and, why not, entertaining communication. These individuals are constantly seeking new information and knowledge, although it should be added that they may quickly become interested in topics only to later drop them if they have already learned everything that was available or if they lose passion or interest. They love to learn and share what they know with others, and as a result of their interests they can form important bonds. These natives usually have a wide range of interests and can be multitasking due to their energy level or demand. These natives like to learn about many different topics and may prefer to learn on their own. They process information quickly and have a natural ability to connect ideas and concepts, and even find patterns where it might go unnoticed. Their multitasking skills allow them to be very efficient and productive in their daily lives. Their mind is always active and looking for new intellectual challenges. They may prefer short trips and need a change of scenery from time to time, as monotony can overwhelm and bore them. This need for movement can manifest itself in your daily life, with frequent trips and changes in routine.

With Cancer in the 4th house, these natives have a need for security since childhood. They give a lot of importance to the issue of protection, whether due to lack of care and/or attention in childhood or exaggeration of it. They are emotionally deep people who hide their emotions perfectly, because they know that it is something that is not given to just anyone. They prefer to deal with their emotions independently, especially those they perceive as vulnerable or tense. In childhood they could be very emotional, and from that stage of their life they experienced situations that forced them not to leave anyone in, to reserve their thoughts and emotions. Despite being strong people, emotional security is crucial for them, and they can seek environments where they feel protected and understood. They have a strong instinct to care for others, especially those to whom they themselves provide the family title. They may take on caregiver roles and seek to ensure the emotional well-being of their loved ones. They can find home and security with what seems familiar, comfort food, movies or things that remind them of happy memories from the past. Memories and experiences from childhood home can have a lasting impact on their adult life, this is due to their great memory to remember their experiences in detail, good or bad. They like their space to reflect warmth and security, and may have a penchant for homey decor and the details that make a house truly be and feel like a home. Many of them built a strong armor not only that others decide not to mess with, but that the most vulnerable can count on. Behind this strong, unwavering appearance that has experienced all kinds of situations, there is a gentle, warm heart that longs for that tenderness, comfort and softness.

Leo in the 5th house usually grants strong self-esteem and confidence. They are proud of their abilities and very aware of them. They are usually charismatic and magnetic, attracting the romantic interest of others with ease. They stand out for their sensuality and that authentic way of projecting themselves, they do not like to wear masks and pretend to be what they are not and they have the idea that if someone is going to love them, they must know and accept their real selves. Intrigue, joy and excitement are crucial in their love relationships and they enjoy courtship and seduction, both being the one who initiates it and being the target of it. Pleasure and fun are important aspects for these natives and they will never feign interest in things in which they genuinely have no interest. They like to enjoy life to the fullest, seeking experiences that bring them joy and satisfaction. They may have occasional bursts of energy and hyperactivity where they want to do many things at the same time. They enjoy activities that allow them to express themselves freely and entertain themselves. They are people who enjoy expressing themselves artistically and creatively, whether through art, music, acting, or any other form of self-expression. They like to excel at whatever they do and, whether they are aware of it or not, they may have perfectionist inclinations. They easily stand out from the crowd and can easily gain recognition, both in close circles and on a large scale.  They can be loving, protective parents who enjoy spending time with their children and encouraging their creativity and self-expression. They tend to be a source of inspiration and leadership for children, encouraging them to be themselves and follow their passions. They can be seen as role models and guides who help children develop their confidence and self-esteem. Extroverted, independent children with strong self-confidence.

Many of them are dedicated and reliable workers thanks to the presence of Virgo in the 6th house. They have a strong sense of duty and are very responsible in their approach towards daily tasks or what they consider to be their duty. Although they appear confident and have a high opinion of themselves and their abilities, they can be perfectionists, always seeking to improve and perfect everything they do. It is likely that just because they are aware of what they are capable of, they easily feel that they can do a better job even if they have already done it, since they may judge themselves very harshly, especially if they have made a mistake that they consider very serious. obvious. They can be conscious of their diet, exercise, and daily habits, always looking for ways to keep their body and mind in optimal condition. They are likely to feel hyperactive at times, and the fact that Mercury rules this house can make them tend to overthink things or be very nervous. They are very disciplined when it comes to work or carrying out tasks that they consider very important to them, and many of these individuals can have a strong sense of self-discipline, managing to finish things before deadlines.  They set very high standards and many of them are likely to push themselves to work or be productive even when they are feeling bad emotionally. They have an analytical mind and are excellent at solving problems of any kind. Many people tend to rely on them precisely for this reason, because they advise objectively and their blunt way of being can make others put their feet on the ground. For them there is nothing more rewarding than seeing the results of their hard work. In fact, it is very likely that after finishing a job they feel relief instead of pride. Actions and tangibles are what are important to them.

The presence of Libra in the 7th house makes these natives very focused on creating healthy relationships that bring them happiness. They, in turn, are capable of giving a lot in a relationship in a selfless and selfish way. It is crucial for them that both they and their partner feel comfortable, satisfied and loved, for them neither has to dominate or control the other, being a couple they seek that balance, that they both help each other to cover those points in which they They may find difficulty, someone with whom they form a strong, loving and lasting team, a person to support unconditionally and who will help them in return. Despite this independent and strong personality they have, they are loving people, dedicated to their relationships and very emotional. They put a lot of emphasis on building lasting relationships in which there is not only love or affection, but common goals and intellectual connection. These people have learned to be independent since they were young, but in them lies the fear of falling to extremes in relation to others, that is, they fear feeling overwhelmed by loneliness while they fear showing their most vulnerable sides due to the possibility of being hurt or being hurt. take advantage of them, that is where Libra energy aims to guide them to balance these ideas, finding the middle point in which they gradually open their heart. These natives have the lesson of allowing themselves to be loved and understanding that they do not have to be different to be loved, just as they are they deserve love. Their future spouse may be a loving person they can rely on, someone calmer and grounded. They will have both beautiful physical attractiveness and heart. It is a great indicator of a loving marriage in which both feel trust and affection for each other.

One of the things that is not talked about in such detail about this rising is how secretive they can be, their secretive nature is usually one of the least talked about aspects of them, and we attribute that to Scorpio in the 8th house. This overlay that demonstrates this tendency that they have to keep to themselves aspects that they consider important in their life, also activates the focus of others on the intense nature of the natives. They are people who do things in a dedicated manner, putting in all their energy and motivation, and they not only show this intensity when carrying out their plans, defending their individuality or standing up for themselves. They are lovers who keep you on the edge of your seat, who intoxicate you with sensations that at first surprise you, but at the same time you find yourself wanting more and more. For them, sex is a way to unite with their partner, to become oneself and completely immerse themselves in them and their feelings. They make sex an unforgettable experience for others, because despite that fiery approach that devours you inside and out, they take care of really connecting with you through sex, they make it seem like an art in which they are especially good. They look for emotional and sexual connections that are not superficial, but that touch the deepest part of their being. However, in addition to being those lovers who will have you thinking about them and who know exactly what they are doing, they contain someone who has gone through a lot in their lives, from tough situations, betrayals or in general, a set of events that has built those walls between others and themselves. Many of them may fear being very intimate with someone, because they know perfectly well that they are capable of loving someone madly and totally, and they fear placing all that love and affection on the wrong person, on someone who is like the rest. They are resilient and brave people who are not afraid to stand up for themselves no matter what problem awaits. They have faced life, many times on their own, which has made them very aware of the strength of will and spirit they have. Although they are not the biggest fans of change, they know how to adapt to it very well. These people often go through crises that force them to reinvent themselves and transform. They often emerge from these crises stronger and wiser, with a greater understanding of themselves and life.

When Sagittarius is in the 9th house, natives have an innate desire to learn and explore the world. They are motivated by a relentless pursuit of truth and knowledge in their highest forms, whether through formal education, philosophy, or self-study. Many of them are in constant search for truth and seek to understand the deeper meaning of existence. They may be attracted to foreign cultures, and it is common for them to develop a deep interest in the languages, customs, and traditions of other countries. They stand out for the wisdom they acquire thanks to their experiences in life; they can eventually become sources of wisdom for others, offering teachings that come from their own experience and understanding of the world. This placement also tells us about someone who is very likely to be influential or a source of inspiration for others. They live in a constant search to discover who they are and it is very likely that from a young age they feel interest in ways to get to know themselves better. They need to feel like they have the space to explore, learn and grow at their own pace and in their own way. They hate restrictions that limit their pursuit of knowledge or their ability to explore and be themselves. With Jupiter ruling this house, natives can have beautiful, memorable and enlightening experiences on trips, feeling “renewed” when traveling. Likewise, university time can bring many opportunities for growth for these natives.

With Capricorn in the 10th house we find a combination of ambition and discipline. These people are willing to work hard to achieve their goals and build a solid reputation. Although they may face challenges related to self-criticism and fear of failure, their perseverance and ability to overcome adversity often leads to success, especially in adulthood. Reputation is very important for these people and not only from a superficial perspective, but many of them like to be seen just as they consciously want to project themselves: independent, strong and capable of achieving everything they set their minds to. They dislike being seen as weak, as someone who others can take advantage of or even think about playing tricks on. They take themselves seriously and hate not being taken seriously by others. They can become very successful after a while and patience and perseverance can take them to the tops of those mountains they seek to conquer. They have the ability to make difficult decisions and handle important responsibilities, and it is very likely that from a very young age they have had to take on responsibilities that people their age did not have or should have. Many of them project this aura of power, people can see them as unattainable and, depending on the aspects of Saturn, even unreachable or demanding. Likewise, these natives give the impression of being very clear people with what they think, skilled in everything related to their profession or hobbies, and people can feel that they are reliable, righteous and honest. They have excellent ability to manage resources, time and people. Their ability to organize and plan is one of their greatest advantages in the professional world, all of which makes them very suitable for leadership roles in their work or even for starting businesses/being their own bosses.

With Aquarius in the 11th house, they highly value freedom within their friendships, as they prefer relationships that are not possessive and allow for a lot of personal space and freedom of expression. Their friends tend to be independent, original, and often people they consider unique. This can be an indicator of a wide network of contacts and social connections. They enjoy interacting with people from diverse backgrounds and, although they may have many acquaintances, the title friend is not given to many. People with this placement tend to be very very focused on the future, which may lead to anxiety or stressing too much over what’s going to happen. They are interested in innovative ideas and may be in social or political movements that seek change and improvement of society. They have a strong desire to contribute to social change and improve people's lives. These natives are likely motivated by a sense of social justice and a desire to make the world a better place. They find it difficult to conform to what is conventional or what is socially expected, and there is nothing that bothers them more than people placing expectations on them. They prefer to follow their own path and associate with people who share this mentality. While they can be excellent friends, they don't mind being on their own or having hobbies that only they participate in. Many of them give this vibe of being relaxed and rational to their friends and this does not mean that they are not affectionate, but rather that they prefer to maintain an objective perspective and avoid emotional dramas. They value equality and justice in their relationships, preferring connections where everyone is treated with the same respect and consideration.

You look up and stare in that mirror... What do you see, Pisces in the 12th house? Why do you look away? Because it seems that only you see the pain of your gaze? Or those wounds deep inside you that you don't let anyone else see. You know you isolate yourself, you learned to deal with everything yourself. You thought it was the right thing to do, to not be a burden, to not be perceived as weak or dependent, but even the strongest can break at times. You find peace in solitude, but at the same time you can feel drowned in it. A kind of relationship with her where it seems like you just got used to it while you understand that it is necessary. Nothing in excess is good, neither depending too much on others, nor carrying everything on your own. You fear returning to tense emotions, those of fear and uncertainty that forced you to face life on your own, believe me, that already makes you strong. Within you lies an emotional person, intuitive and perceptive of what is happening around them. Someone with a strong sense of empathy, someone who is the support of others that they would like to have, although they do not know how to verbalize it. Even when you look for that time of retreat in which to be immersed, to search for the truth within you, to find inspiration and reconnect with what allows you to feel better after hits of reality. You may be very hard on yourself, hating the idea of ​​victimizing yourself or not taking responsibility for your own affairs... but you no longer need to take responsibility for others either. Free yourself from those burdens that do not belong to you and that others have placed on you, free yourself from guilt for situations in which you did not have control. Within you there is a beautiful world that deserves to be not only explored, but cherished and appreciated, an honest and empathic soul with the capacity to love unconditionally, to create great things from dust, to inspire others to dream. A spark of curiosity in an immense universe full of things to understand, one more star in the cosmos that shines in a singular and unique way. Your mind is a palace full of ideas, questions and occurrences that could captivate anyone. Your heart, guarded by walls that protect it from getting hurt, being fooled, or allowing others to walk all over you, is full of warmth and kindness.