#what God has to say is better than what the world has to offer

[smallgodseries]

*We offer this small god for all of you currently baking in the heat of the ever-worsening climate crisis.

Some people say that she shouldn’t be a god at all.

Some people say that she’s a demigod at best, and much more probably a muse of some sort, divine, yes, but not worthy of the admirations of godhood.

Aestha knows better.  She inspires nothing.  Her gifts are more prosaic ones.  Her faithful are by nature polytheistic: they go to other gods for inspiration, dally with demigods, marry muses.  They find their creations in other hands, and then they come to her with heads full of images and hands full of needing, and no idea how to put the two together.

She is a historian, of sorts, for in her name, sculptors call forth deities, pin them down in substance so that they may be seen and understood and yes, remembered.  Her hand guides the brush of our faithful illuminator, allowing him to set the images of her fellows—and even herself—down in line and color.  She stands with sculptors, shapes the clay of potters, even guides the needles in the hands of felt artists.  As long as the end result is an image of one of her kin and kind, her hand is there, and her need for worship is appeased.

Among all the gods of the arts, she is one of the least known, and the least appreciated.  The artist provides the talent and skill: neither of them come from her.  The gods themselves provide the inspiration: that is not her doing.  What she brings is the motivation to combine the two in the correct order, the ability to stand the completed work before the world and say “look, see?  This is my creation, behold.”

We are reasonably sure that our illuminator is her most loyal follower remaining in the modern world, outside of the eight dozen people doing illustrated retellings of Hades of Persephone.  But those are large gods, and large gods have less need of loyalty than the smaller kind.

The gods love her.  Her faithful loves her.  And for her, focused as she is upon the next statue for her garden, that has always been enough.

Medusa does not love her.

But that is a story for another scripture.

[governmentmandatedryujinstan420]

I FORGOT TO THROW OUT AFTER THE EPISODE RELEASED NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[ultimategenshintournament]

Ultimate Genshin Tournament: Round 4

Propaganda below cut

Venti:

He straight up calls the Traveler "his warrior" in his teapot lines, plus he's like our long-time friend??? He basically asked us out for drinks during the alchemy event???? You can choose to bring him up during the fight with Signora????? He's the best idc idc

He. Is. Amazing. So many layers, so interesting... So much trauma and potential... Not to mention look how AWESOME he is generally!!! He's kind and caring towards everybody, and also carefree and mischievous!!! How can you not love him?? VOTE FOR THE GREEN BARD

Please I can’t he’s TOO GOOD for this world- he’s just a little guy!! Like he cares for his nation and the people of Mondstadt SO MUCH it hurts when people say he doesn’t. Like, my poor trauma-driven little mega-uber-powerful war god who’s actually just a tiny little wind spirit honoring his dead friend!!!! I love him so much ALSO it was just his birthday soooo

he hasn’t had a major in game appearance since the poetry event w Hu Tao but his lore means he gets brought up almost literally every patch. he convinced a bunch of the most lethal women in Teyvat to have tea in his lands instead of screwing him up. he would always always always rather take the path of least resistance. he’s the three time best bard in Mond. he never seeks glory, only wishes to offer it to others. he was a better father to Diona than her real one five minutes into meeting her at the potion making event. he gives the blind girl glory whispers of what the world looks like so she can navigate. when a nun of his own church denied his identity he decided to run a heist to steal back an item that is only holy because it is his. he keeps his misery and loneliness trapped within, and does his best to bring joy to every Mondstadter and every person he meets. how can you not love him? 

Kaveh:

This poor sopping wet man has captivated me. Look at his stupid mullet. I swore I would become a Kaveh main when his drip marketing came out and I have let him down. He's broke. He's in a relationship(?) with Alhaitham. He can't stop helping others. Hoyo trapped him in the basement again cuz where is his rerun??? Where is it? Where is my boy?

He's the sweetest little man and look at his stupid little face. He looks like a soggy pathetic kitten sitting in a soggy cardboard box on a street corner. AND he has a husband. So. 

[malk1ns]

Yesterday I came across the 5 on 3 video and since then I have been thinking about baby sid being infatuated by baby geno. Maybe one of them having a crush on the other and just being so not normal when around their crush.

so i had a little bit of a conversation with @plethoriall along these lines earlier today that is helping inform this; i hope you don't mind third party POV!

Mario has rarely regretted offering to have Sid stay with him.

Sid's rookie year he'd been a breeze; compared to most 18-year-old hockey players Mario's known, rear-ending the nanny's car was small potatoes. Sid was respectful of their home, didn't mind when the kids demanded his time and attention, and never put Mario in the awkward position of having to talk to him about not bringing hookups back. He'd expected much of the same when Sid called to let him know when he'd be returning for camp before his sophomore year.

That was before Malkin arrived.

Mario's memories of being a lovesick teenager are pretty dim at this point. He'd had his fair share of ill-advised crushes, more than one person he'd hooked up with that he probably shouldn't have, and Nathalie had forgiven more indiscretions than she should ever have tolerated, but being a 19-year-old with a world-ending crush is foreign to him.

He's doing his best to be empathetic, really he is. But there are really only so many stories one man can be expected to sit through while still pretending that his prodigy isn't head-over-heels for a teammate.

(He'd tried to broach that topic once, when Sid had come home from a night out inconsolable about Geno taking a girl back to the hotel room he still had rented in his name even though he'd essentially moved in with Sarge. Sid had locked himself in his room for three days, only coming out for practice. Austin had been devastated.)

"—and then Geno said the funniest thing," Sid is saying, and all Mario can do is grunt and listen, because Sid had followed him down to the gym and Mario figured he could put him to use as a spotter. He should have known better. "He said that Ovi's last name was...well, I don't remember exactly, but he basically called Ovi a sheep. Isn't that funny?"

"Hilarious," Mario gasps, and luckily Sid notices and grabs the bar before Mario drops it onto his chest. "Okay, I think that's enough for today."

Sid frowns, looking at the clock on the wall. "You've only been down here for twenty minutes, though."

"I have a phone call, just wanted to get a quick set in," Mario says, clapping Sid on the shoulder and making for the stairs. "Thanks, kid."

He manages to lock himself into his office before Sid can come find him with another story about Malkin, dialing Sarge's number and pouring a glass of whiskey as the phone rings.

"What," Sarge snaps as he picks up, and Mario laughs.

"Long day?" he asks, taking a sip.

Sarge's sigh is noisy over the line. "Jesus, Lem, you'd think nobody in the world has ever had a crush before," he complains. "I swear to god, If I have to listen to Sidney this or Sidney that one more time, I'm kicking him back to that hotel. It's ridiculous."

"Not much better over here," Mario murmurs, flicking through his daybook. The younger players have a PR event at Dicks tomorrow; maybe if he makes a few calls he can get Sid and Geno paired up. The cameras can't be on them the whole time. "He almost let me drop the barbell on myself just now."

Sarge snorts. "And somehow they both think the other one couldn't possibly feel the same way, even though they spend half their time making cow eyes at each other. I swear I was never this stupid."

Mario thinks back to the 90-91 season and winces. "I'm sure I came close a few times," he allows.

He has to pull the phone away when Sarge guffaws loudly in his ear. "Oh, I've heard stories," he says, and Mario wrinkles his nose. "But I don't think anything either you or I have ever done could hold a candle to this. And Zhenya won't hear a word from me about it, he acts like the world is ending whenever I try to bring it up."

"Sid's still pretending that he's just a big fan of Malkin's hockey," Mario sighs. "I'm thinking of telling comms to put them together for that event tomorrow and distract the cameras for an hour."

"We could lock them in the equipment room?" Sarge suggests. "Not for too long, of course, but..."

Mario thinks back to dinner the night before, when Sid had chattered on and on about Malkin for so long that even Nathalie's patient smile had started to fray. "I think you're on to something," he says. "Sid always stays late to talk to people—when is Malkin due for a trainer appointment? I'm sure Dana will help us out."

[gaysindistress]

Cigars, Crossbows, and the Helion’s heart

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Credits to @trashpostingforthesoulisold for the amazing fanart that inspired this all

pairings: Karlach x f!reader

Summary: based on this little blurb

Warnings: cussing, mild violence, cannon level talk of blood, death, and gore, character death

Word count: 2k

A/n: a whopping total of one person asked for a full fic and who am I to deny them? so here it is my love @dungeonsdragonsandlawyers 💕

Baldur’s Gate; a city of mischief and mayhem. A city where the law is just as corrupt as the criminals who run the streets. A city where there is no difference between good and evil because it all blends together. A city where the poor pray to a ghost, a myth, a legend, an old forgotten god some might say, to help them survive this rotting devils’ hole. A city where there is only one that can save it. Every lawman worth their salt has come to track down the Helion of the Gate but with nothing to show for it save for a few broken bones and shattered dignities. The current leader, the high and mighty lord Enver Gortash, has offered thousands in reward for the capture of the Helion. His ever increasing desperation to find this ghost has made him sloppy and a bit stupid if I’m honest. He paces back and forth in the small waiting area of my work apartment, nearly burning holes in the expensive rugs under his feet. For the better half of an hour, he’s been doing this, mumbling to himself, and completely ignoring me as if I’m a statue rather than a person. Every time I try to speak up, he shots me a deadly look and continues on with his nervous behaviors. I glance over at the clock and let out a deep sigh through my nose before pushing off of the small chaise lounge I'd been sitting on. Walking over to the little bar cart, I pour myself yet another bitter tasting drink and swallow it in one gulp. As I go to pour another, the pacing feet come to a halt and I feel his heavy eyes on my back. Enver finally speaks, “She’s visited you, hasn’t she? She’s been here, hasn’t she?” I take a moment to brace myself and take a deep breath before turning to face him. There is a wild look in his eye, too similar to that of a wolf backed into a corner for my comfort. “How would that even be possible, Enver? You have me guarded better than you do yourself I imagine. There is no earthly way that she or anyone else for that matter could get in without your knowledge.” My words don’t have the easing effect that I had hoped they would and that look has intensified to a truly terrifying level. He narrows his eyes at me before taking a deep breath of his own and looking over my shoulder through a window that overlooks the city. “When was the last time you saw her?” “That night.” “The night she tried to kill me?” While he is not looking directly at me, I know that he sees me nod my head. It’s almost more terrifying that he’s not looking at me, that he’s refusing to humanize me as he questions and accuses me. There have been few times where I have faced his wrath but now is most certainly not a time I wish to experience it. Enver is not a violent man but he is a calculated and cunning man who has no fear of consequences. He’s willing to lie, manipulate, and assassinate whoever he needs to to get what he wants. I may be in his favor for the moment but I am not so disillusioned to believe that I will stay there for long. At any moment he can decide that I am more trouble than I am worth and have me killed or do it himself. “What did she say to you that night?” “N..nothing.” My hesitation is my downfall.

“Why have you come?” I whisper while my cheek rests on her warm stomach, staring up at her. Cigar smoke floats around us, creating a veil between us and the world that wishes for her death. The smell of sweat and sex fills the pockets of space where the cigar smoke does not. Smoke spills out of her mouth as she speaks, “I wanted to see my sweet one.” She takes another drag off her cigar as she tucks her free hand behind her head and gazes down at me. “That not a good enough reason?” I chuckle at her before pressing a chaste kiss just below her belly button and move so I can see her better. I take her cigar with one hand and with the other I trail my hands up and down her side. I feel her tail flick behind us and come to rest on the small of my back. “It’s a perfectly fine reason but I fear that you are lying to me,” I tell her while I pass the cigar back. “Lying to you? Now why would you think such a thing?” “He’s growing more scared and more desperate, K. He’s growing more reckless and it’s only a matter of time before he loses it altogether. What happens then, hm? What happens when he gets to you? What happens when he hurts you or worse kills you?” Her small smirk fades into a sad smile when my words sink in. She drops her cigar into an ashtray on my side table so she can hold my face. My eyes flutter closed as her warmth engulfs my cheeks and spreads through my body. “Nothing will happen to me I promise, sweet one. Nothing will happen to you either and I will do everything in my power to make sure you stay safe.”

Everything happened so quickly. Enver had sent word that I needed to pack a bag and be ready to leave as soon as he arrived. Karlach had told me that I needed to stay in my apartment until she came and got me. My heart had told me who to listen to and my body scrambled to follow its demands as I packed as little as I could and prepared myself for the bloodbath that was about to happen on my doorstep. The familiar sound of hooves on the cobblestone alerts me that my time has run short and I duck behind that stupid chaise lounge with a crossbow in hand. Heavy footsteps pound up the staircase and there’s a brief pause before the door is kicked in. “Where are you, y/n? Come out and face me,” Enver’s humiliated and angry voice calls out. He takes a few steps towards my room and I try to shuffle around the other side of the chaise lounge but I make too much noise. He finds me within moments and looms over me as his chest heaves and blood pours from a nasty gash on his forehead. “You lied to me. You led her straight to me. You played a part in all of this,” he seethes. That hungry and desperate look has returned tenfold and now there is nothing but blood on his mind. There is no point to reason with a feral and wounded animal so I don’t even attempt. All I can do is find a way to get to my feet and get out of this apartment before he can get to me. He starts to lean down to grab my ankle but I let off a warning arrow that skims past his arm and take his moment of surprise to get up. “You little…” he growls while stalking towards me. I refuse to turn my back on him and try to feel my way towards the door. Tears have begun to prick at the corners of my eyes and that causes him to laugh sadistically. “That’s sweet; you’re crying for a dead woman to come save you and think that your little crossbow could protect you. Tell me, y/n, are your tears making it hard to see? Are you seeing double?” His taunting words strike a chord of anger within me, “I’ve got two more arrows; one for each of you I see. If I don’t hit you the first time, then I certainly will the second time, wanna take those odds, Enver?” He takes one step forward and crumbles to the ground when an arrow becomes embedded in his knee. Letting out a wail of pain, he curses at me and tries to stand but his words are cut short by an arrow in his chest.

I find Karlach fading in and out of consciousness and bleeding out on the floor in her room at the Elfsong. Upon opening the door I freeze seeing her there with one hand on the door handle and the other on the door itself, while my brain swirls before I’m able to come to my senses and close the door. All the while Karlach is slouched against her bed, taking shallow ragged breaths as the blood runs down her face and hand from the cut on her abdomen. “Hey there, sweet one,” Karlach attempts to grit out but the pain in her side is too much and forces her words to be inaudible. I rush to grab a towel and warm water from the vanity before dropping to my knees beside her. I refuse to say a word as I begin to gently wash away the blood and patch her up. I’m too afraid to speak, scared that I will burst and completely lose my compuse. Karlach is usually the talkative one between us but now she is utterly silent as she closes her eyes and tries to remain still as I work. Her closed eyes don’t allow her to see the tears welling up in my eyes or the way my breath catches when I see her wince or the way I’m taking great care to not hurt her anymore. Karlach is broken from her trance of false peace when I move away to grab her pack and begin to rummage around for the needle and thread that she keeps in it. I murmur an apology and request for her to stay silent as I begin to stitch her bigger wounds up. She hisses and groans but otherwise does as I ask. When I’m finished, I move to clean the blood from her hands. She watches me as I dip the cloth into the water and bring it back to her knuckle, gently washing away the evidence of her near death and keeping her hand tightly in mine. I press light kisses to each knuckle when I’m done and place it on top of my wrist while I start to clean the other. The silent plea to stay doesn’t go unheard and she lightly squeezes my wrist to let me know that she will. Once I’ve finished cleaning both hands I take them in mine and bring them up to my lupus as warm tears fall down my face. Karlach cups my face and draws me closer to her so that we may rest our foreheads on each other. “Thank you,” she whispers and kisses away the tears that have fallen down my face, “thank you, sweet one.” “He’s dead,” I whisper back. “You do it?” “Yeah but I don’t want to talk about it. I want to rest with you.” Karlach barely nods in agreement and lets me gently help her up, pulling her towards me and circling my arm around her waist. We walk slowly to the bed where I help her sit down and get out of her filthy clothes. She attempts to swing herself into bed but Is quickly stopped by me climbing behind her and gently brushing out the knots and tangles in her hair. My beautiful soldier leans back into my touch and allows herself to feel safe as I work to make her feel as comfortable as she can. She nearly whines when I stop and my body moves but it's not long before I’m helping her to lay down on my chest. She lays on top of my heart as her body curls around me and her tail wraps around my thigh. Her breathing starts to level and her small noises of pain begin to fade. My hands drift to hold her shoulder and play with her hair as she finds peace and relaxation in my arms. “Tell me in the morning what happened?” she murmurs in her sleepy slurred voice. “Of course, in the morning my love.” I murmur back as we wrap ourselves up in each other, creating a bond that only death would be able to break.

[doves-by-the-sea]

What God has to say is better than what man has to offer.

Life is stressful. Very stressful. Everyone has their own situations that they find themselves in that fight for their attention and mind like wild dogs. We tend to be prone to overthinking and when we sit down and think about all of the stresses we encounter, trying to plan out every aspect of life and control every little thing it can become overwhelming. So yeah, life is stressful.

But it doesn’t have to be as stressful as we make it. Continuously the Lord is calling to us, asking that we lay our burdens at His feet and allow Him to take care of us. He will carry our burdens with ease, nothing is too great for the Lord.

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” -Matthew 11:28-30

We needn’t worry about trying to control everything when everything is in His hands. Surrendering our troubles to Him affords us much peace and, in a way, breathing room. Not only does the Lord ask that we give our burdens to Him, He has provided us with ways of comfort when we find ourselves in stormy water. I’m not saying that a cup of tea, a fluffy blanket and your favorite movie are not excellent methods of making yourself feel better, but what I am saying is…

When you find yourself in the midst of the storm, do not look towards the sinking sand of the shoreline. Look instead to the strong rock of salvation, who reaches His hand out to you and calls to you from within the waves, wind and rain.

Remember, Jesus calmed the storm when out at sea with His disciples. There is no doubt that He can find you in the midst of yours.

Before you go crawling into your fluffy blanket cocoon with a nice cup of tea to watch The Princess Bride or whatever movie your comfort movie is, first go to God. Pray, and tell Him of your burdens and feelings. He cares, and will listen for as long as you need, and is fully prepared to offer you all of the peace and comfort He has in store. Lay your burdens at His feet, and He will give you true peace and rest. Not only this, but spend time in the Lord’s word. Whenever I find myself in a low place, in need of comfort and peace, I try my best to always tell God what I am dealing with and then read His word, finding that it brings comfort. My go to personally is the Psalms, but everyone may have their own comforting area and that is up to you to discover, and for the Lord to guide you too. After all of this, grab your blanket, your tea and your movie and settle in. Rest.

But first, remember, take your issues and burdens to the Lord. Then, spend time in His word. Because while fluffy blankets and movies are nice, what God has to say is better than what man has to offer.

Sending you love, and may the Lord keep you in His hand and His perfect peace that surpasses all understanding.

Blessings,

XOXO

-J

(Header image is not mine, all credit goes to the original owner. If it’s your image feel free to message me for credit or removal <3)

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: NSFW, noncon, virgin reader, corruption kink, Sukuna in general

fem reader

Thinking about Demon King Sukuna and how he receives a virgin for his harem every new moon. Most are unfortunate townspeople who’ve come of age—but you’re something he can savor even more, something truly special.

The silk kimono you’d been dressed in is easily ripped from your body, leaving you bare. You’d been warned not to fight or run, that he’d only sooner kill and eat you—but you keep your faith and try and escape anyway. 

All your life, the temple has taught you of Ryomen Sukuna—that he’s a harbinger of carnage and death. You’d feel better offering your life to the Gods than allowing it to remain captive by the likes of evil.

He only grabs and manhandles you with nothing more but a sadistic laugh, catching your hair in a fist as he pulls you up until only the tips of your toes are left grazing the floors—and even then, he has to bow nearly half his length before he’s leveling your eyes with his.

“My patience is a fickle thing, turtledove. Run again, and I’ll treat it like a real hunt. Which would be a real shame… I so hate spilling holy blood before I’ve made it filthy with sin.”

You're thrown onto a large round bed next. It catches you with a bounce while he crawls after you, taking hold of both your ankles and swiftly pulling you beneath him. 

His chest is marked with demonic seals, and so is his face, where he looms above you with a deranged smile. Raking his claws up your legs and thighs, he spreads and pushes them flat against the bed while his other two hold your crying face, cupping your cheeks with both thumbs hooking into the wet of your mouth, playing with your tongue as you sob. When he shows you his and its black markings, you scream, feeling as though he’s pouring poison down your throat as he feeds you its length and knots it with yours.

You choke and sob while you share each other’s spit, feeling tarnished and forsaken by all that you held sacred—wondering why the heavens would allow this to happen as the weight of his manhood finds rest between your thighs, upon your mound and tummy, where it grows fat and warm.

His hands leave your face and switch places with the other two, freeing them for what he plans on doing next. Wrapping one around himself, he gives it languid tugs while soaking in the sight of your poor little cunt trembling in fear of something it only barely knows what is. His other hand pets it soothingly in mockery, tickling the slit, making you shake.

His stomach then splits open like a cut, baring teeth and a tongue that only earns your horrified expression—crying as it drools over you, jutting out to lick the tender place you so wished had remained untouched. You whine in shudders as he squeezes your throat and bares down over you, staring at you with keen bromine eyes, amused with your fall from grace as you come undone.

“You taste sweet,” he moans against your lips while his other mouth slurps at your core, also groaning.

You’re naïve for thinking it’s over where you blink away tears, but he doesn’t blame you. They never teach you the truth in temples, only childish lies that leave you ever vulnerable to the outside world and ever sweeter for him to ruin.

“I apologize for clipping your wings, angel. But I must say… depravity suits you better.”

Nothing. Not a prayer or plea leaves your lips as he tears through and fills you up. Only a choked gasp that dies midway. You bite into your lip, squeezing your eyes shut—ready to accept a death that never comes. Instead, there’s a living hell, and you can only scream as it consumes you.

Your whimpering is delicious, caught beneath him, panting every time his hips snap forth and storm your clingy insides, gushing for him like he knew you would be—sweetly surrendering all your worship to him and honoring him as your new god.

Perhaps he won’t feast on your flesh once he’s done as cute as you are. He wouldn’t mind keeping you around for a bit. Teach you how to serve him properly. Paint you with his seals. Make you his favorite pet.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[halemerry]

So there's a lot to unpack here but I want to start by talking about the ending and specifically about the Metatron and the calculating moves made at the end of episode 6.

Every single piece of what happened there was a manipulation technique being employed against Aziraphale to an almost brilliant degree and I'm honestly a little obsessed with what this says about the Metatron in particular.

Let's go in order.

First of all. We see him order coffee. In a human body. Something sweet and sugary. He talks to Nina and asks her about her shop name. Does anyone ever ask for death? And when she tells him no they don't his response is to say "so predictable". Our introduction to him here even when everything about him reads like a sweet old man is presented to show us someone who reads the world in terms of being predictable to him.

He then shows up in the middle of Aziraphale's existence being threatened. He immediately cuts down the threat's authority (using outdated language like Az himself would favor) and reemphasizes his own connection to Heaven. When Michael doesn't recognize him and he puts her down and then directly engages Crowley. Crowley who, to Aziraphale, has for centuries at a minimum been someone he thinks is smarter, better, more Good than these other archangels. The Metatron validates these beliefs. Crowley is more Heavenly than these archangels who couldn't even recognize the voice of God when he was standing right in front of them.

The Metatron draws attention to the fact he's in a human body. The kind of body Aziraphale has been in and loved for nearly 6000 years. He then banishes the archangels, implying their morality is in a gray space, and validates Muriel someone we have seen Aziraphale react positively to and someone outside the current power structure. Look at me, he's saying. I see and validate the little guy.

He then tries to talk to Aziraphale. Aziraphale says "I've made my position quite clear." And then the Metatron offers Aziraphale the coffee. This bartering chip, consuming sustenance, is a thing that Aziraphale and Crowley have used as their connective tissue for centuries. It's an olive branch for them. It's giving Aziraphale bodily pleasure and the Metatron implies that he himself has partaken also - a thing we know that Aziraphale has struggled historically with moralizing. He is seen by the closest thing he has left to his parent and he is having old fears validated as safe and old habits being played upon to make him feel secure

He then REMOVES Aziraphale from his home turf. Not only does he remove Crowley from the equation but he takes Aziraphale from the place that has stood as a place of sanctuary throughout the entirety of the season. The shop is Safe and Aziraphale is leaving it and he is leaving the one person who might be able to smell the bullshit coming from the Metatron. The music notably turns absolutely dire here.

The next time we see them the Metatron tells Aziraphale that he doesn't need to answer instantly. He can take his time, if he likes. All the time he needs. And then tells him to go tell Crowley. Once again bringing Crowley in as a valid part of this while manufacturing a scenario where he can't possibly be.

Az ends up in a place where he's overwhelmed and confused and he wants so badly to believe what he's being told. It's an appealing thing from his perspective! He feels off kilter like he's made a mistake in judging the Metatron. He can't even fully articulate what happened to Crowley at first and he's had absolutely no real time to actually think it through. He's running on sheer reactive energy.

The Metatron starts their conversation by asking Aziraphale's opinion. Who should rule Heaven? This is once again playing into making Az feel validated and like he's a part of this decision making process. The Metatron corrects him, complimenting Aziraphale and making him feel capable and in control. He reassures Aziraphale's bafflement. And draws attention to some traits that, while true of Aziraphale around Crowley, are not his defining traits in the eyes of Heaven. You don't just tell people what they want to hear I find particularly notable in this regard given Aziraphale spent most of his time on earth actively lying to Heaven and doing just that. But it fits into the narrative Aziraphale has built around himself, especially post Apocalypse. The Metatron then says I need you (a phrase Az will use much more painfully here in a minute).

And even after all this Aziraphale says no. He says flat out he doesn't want to go back to Heaven. He says this!!! And then the Metatron sweetens the pot. He swaps tactics. Not once has this come up until Aziraphale pushes back against the idea. If the Metatron could've gotten him without using it I have no doubt he wouldn't have bothered with it. Come to Heaven and we can save Crowley. Aziraphale loves Crowley. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is better than any of the angels he's interacted with. Crowley is Good and Nice and Kind and always saving him and now he's being presented with a way to return that. He can Forgive Crowley - a thing Crowley has always presented to Aziraphale as something he struggles with. All of these things Aziraphale has watched Crowley react to in a way that belittles himself or distances them from one another. Of course he wouldn't consider that maybe what he was actually saying is "I'm unforgivable and I don't want that forgiveness."

The Metatron offers Aziraphale a Dream Offer for the pre Armageddon Aziraphale. You can keep your Crowley. You can heal him like you have always thought he deserved. You can have power and control the people who for your whole existence has beaten you down. It can go back to how it was but BETTER.

When Aziraphale leaves he still hasn't answered. He goes and has the conversation they have. It's intense and emotional and the Metatron comes in after the Moment all casual and asks how it goes, knowing fully well the shitstorm he had just set up to get created. And then he turns around and says "always did want to go his own way" which is not only true of Crowley but framed as a bad thing despite the fact that he has just spent twenty minutes or so telling Aziraphale that he's done his own thing and that is Good. He is playing both sides of this perspective as it suits him. And then he cuts down Crowley asking questions, pressuring Aziraphale to avoid doing the same. He then proceeds to ask Aziraphale not if he's made up his mind but if he's ready to get started. He is one by one closing off exit routes to this thing as Aziraphale starts to look more and more panicked and indecisive. He makes sure the bookshop is in good hands and asks Aziraphale if there's anything he needs to take with him. Letting Aziraphale have the illusion of choice while cutting down "I don't want to" as an option altogether.

And Az, as soon as the Metatron is out of shot, tries to express this. And then he falls back right on old coping methods. The Metatron pats him on the head. Reassures that he's the right one for this. That he is Good. That his particular skillset is needed here.

It is a masterstroke of manipulation. A very dark twist on what we see Crowley do time and time again with Aziraphale throughout the millennia. Familiar in a way that makes Aziraphale feel safe. Except this time this is being used to put him back in line. It's brilliant and painful and it fucking hurt and I need a season 3 to see the Metatron get what's coming to him stat.

[the-song-of-avernus]

It's fascinating how even though you don't always hear about \ anyone other than Astarion, every origin companion in BG3 has an endgame/epilogue state that is either outright bad for them or at the very least "not as good as they deserve".

Obvious there have been books and 100,000 pages of fic and discourse written about Ascended Astarion. In the moments when he almost acts like his old self, even then it's merely humoring you with a whim.

Mother Superior DJ Shadowheart flat out admits to severe empathy for what Viconia went through, and has fully closed herself off from any sense of attachment or feeling other than Nocturne and Tav. Her continued need to find carve-outs and exceptions and loopholes parallels Viconia's own eventual disagreements with Shar. And as we know, Shar will eventually betray or abandon her if Shadowheart doesn't betray her first. It's the story of every devout Sharran we meet.

Gale, the God is a smug arrogant hubris-ridden asshole that's even mean to Tara in the epilogue. Nearly every single sentiment he expressed about why he wanted the Crown and to ascend is immediately inverted. Of course he's not going to interfere. He's a figure of aspiration. Once he received power himself he immediately forgot and forsook everyone and everything about why he wanted it in the first place. A romanced God Gale is SLIGHTLY more grounded but that's mostly just because you ground him. And if you ascend with him, that ends that.

Lae'zel's return to Vlaakith results in her ascension, which leads to her missing the party and being very dead. The things that Lae'zel claimed to value will never truly be as long as Vlaakith rules, and her not escaping and falling back into her people's death cult robs her of the ability to create a new Gith, a better Gith.

Karlach is dead, or almost as bad, a Mind Flayer. And while most of her initial personality remains, by six months in she's already grown emotionally distant and her personality is clearly and evidently being slowly overridden by the brains of the dying she consumes. She's forsaken the embrace of death for the guise of eternal continuation in her. And even surrounded by the ten people who should mean the most in the world to her, all she mostly thinks about is others' perceptions of her (ala the Emperor) and the fact that she's hungry. Mind Flayer Karlach even notes that she used to think becoming a Mind Flayer would be the worst thing ever, but now she likes it. Shades of the Emperor x1000 and a clear sign that the Karlach we know and love is rapidly becoming a memory.

and then there's Grand Duke Wyll. On the surface, it appears the happiest of the "bad" endings, but pay attention. Note how he discusses wheeling and dealing and making agreements with patriars. (How well has contracts and deals worked out for you in the past?) Oh, and in certain conditions including romance, Wyll will offer you the chance to become a Grand Duke as well - with the others being his father (Ravengard #3) and Florrick (Wyll/Ulder's longest lasting family friend). That's not a government of the people for the people. When the power is tied up by a husband, spouse, his father, and their most trusted advisor, that's the makings of a monarchy or oligarchy. Of the type of patriar power-claim to last for generations, something Wyll himself once mocked. Oh, and if you adopt a child, then you get into the worst part of it all: Wyll's been busy running a city, and oh hey, instead of y'all bringing YOUR FOUR MONTH OLD DAUGHTER with you, hey, she'll be cool being watched by the Ilmater temple for a night right? Sorry, Wyll, were you saying something a few months ago about distant parenting? Yikes.

[quillyfied]

There being two movies now in the Benoit Blanc world, and both movies sharing some recognizable tropes and archetypes to build its flavor, there’s a specific type of character that I’m struck by, particularly as a white woman, in both Knives Out and Glass Onion:

The Sympathetic White Woman.

In KO it’s Meg. In GO it’s Whiskey. They both bond with the (WOC, very important to emphasize) protagonist by being less crappy to her than the rest of the cast, and both signal to the audience that they’re trustworthy as far as the protagonist goes. They tell the protagonist that they’re on her side. They try to be supportive. They’re sympathetic to the audience.

Then comes the moment when the Sympathetic White Woman’s security is threatened.

(Brief added interruption to just say: please dig through the notes and replies on this baby for some additional excellent thoughts from other people, including the very important distinction that Marta is a white Latina and not a woman of color (my mistake thank you for the corrections), and more thoughts on Whiskey’s actual/additional betrayal moments!)

For Meg, it’s her mom telling her she has to drop out of school if they don’t get the inheritance money. For Whiskey, it’s Duke dying. In both cases, the protagonist reaches out—Marta tells Meg she won’t let that happen, she’ll support Meg with whatever money she needs; Helen tries to soothe a hysteric Whiskey by telling her she doesn’t need Duke and he deserved what he got (not realizing Duke is dead, of course). It’s a slightly different moment in each movie, but the basic framework is the same: the woman of color protagonist reaches back to the Sympathetic White Woman, and notably, reaches DOWN, offering the support the Sympathetic White Woman offered earlier.

Only…the Sympathetic White Woman was never intending to be the one the protagonist had to reach down to. So she snaps. Meg tells her family about Marta’s mother and they use it to threaten her. Whiskey latches onto the belief that Helen killed Duke and tries to kill her with a spear gun in what she thinks is self-defense. The Sympathetic White Woman Heel-Turn.

Meg and Whiskey both also sort of try to make amends after their Heel-Turn moments, but…the trust is already broken. The protagonist knows better now. The Sympathetic White Woman is not to be trusted.

Why this sticks out to me personally is the very obvious callout that feminists of color have been making about white feminists for literal decades: that white feminism lacks any true support or compassion for non-white people, that it’s empty promises of support and when the chips are down, white feminism upholds whiteness over feminism in an act to protect itself. And whiteness…is a damn difficult thing to even see when you’re white and raised in an overwhelmingly white community, let alone begin to pick apart and unlearn. It’s reactionary, how Meg and Whiskey turn on Marta and Helen to protect themselves.

It would make Meg incredibly vulnerable to support Marta fully, the way she promised to back when she thought she had the resources for it, but Marta is that vulnerable every day just existing as a Latina woman in America. Whiskey’s Heel-Turn moment is a little more immediate trauma based, but when looking for someone to blame, she doesn’t hesitate to blame Andi (Helen), scrapping together the few pieces of information she has—Andi hates all of the Disruptors, Andi got screwed over by them, Andi fought with Duke just minutes before he died, Andi was in their shared room tearing it apart when Whiskey came in distraught. She’s looking for an outlet. There’s Helen red-handed and in view. Boom. Whiskey grabs the spear gun instead of talking it out with the person she admitted just hours ago to feeling sympathy for.

Growing up white and steeped in whiteness causes defensive reactions when that whiteness is brought up, or, god forbid, challenged. It’s a knee-jerk thing for people who haven’t begun to deconstruct it for themselves; even for people who have, to see just how far and deep in American society that reaches is troubling. Humbling. Enraging. The Sympathetic White Woman archetype is, to me, a warning to not let whiteness overrule sense and morals. To be smart about it. And, crucially, to check myself for condescension, especially when interacting with non-white folks in any capacity.

(Also why the presence of Benoit Blanc is so important. He is also sympathetic, he also offers his own support, but crucially, he just uses his whiteness to clear a path for the WOC protagonist to take her place and do what she needs to do. He doesn’t speak over her, he doesn’t turn on her, he just listens, and presents the truth for her to do with it what she will. Or, in one case, hands her highly volatile crystal hydrogen for when she’s really ready to tear the Murderer’s crap down.)

[darlingdekarios]

the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

[helaelaemond]

Honey on my Tongue - Aemond x reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x betrothed reader

Summary: You’ve been betrothed to Aemond, and he has shown little interest in you during your engagement. It hurts so much, for your heart yearns for him. You can't hold it back any longer

Slightly possessive Aemond. Suggestive situations.

Rating: T

Word count: 1.9k

"Would my lady care to dance?"

You look at the hand held out to you, and glance up at Prince Aegon. He grins down at you, and you take his offer graciously. "Thank you, my prince."

Next to him, the princess watches you curiously, and opposite her, your betrothed, Prince Aemond, keeps his one eye fixed on his brother.

"I think we have an audience," you say quietly, smiling.

"Just as I like," Aegon jokes. His hands are sure against you as you begin the simple dance, stepping in time to the music. At every opportunity, he presses himself closer than is proper. It should bother you - but at least you're getting attention from one prince.

"I do wonder about you sometimes," you tell him when steps bring you closer.

Walking in the correct steps around you, Aegon flashes you another grin. "I am on your mind often, then?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "When you say things like that, a certain curiosity is sparked."

"And is that a curiosity you wish to be satisfied?"

The wine they serve in the Red Keep is stronger than you're used to, and with it brings a boldness that is also foreign. "Is curiosity the only thing you can satisfy?"

He laughs loudly. "Gods, I am sure you think about that often! Should your curiosity ever grow too great to bear, you come and find me."

"And what of your wife?"

Taking your hand, he glances over your shoulder at sweet Helaena, and shrugs. "What of her?"

"How often do you dishonour her?"

"Where there is no love, there is no dishonour. Perhaps you would do well to remember that."

You raise your eyebrow at his implication. There is mirth in his pretty eyes. "Do you think I am destined for an arrangement where love will not flourish?"

Again, Aegon holds you closer than is proper, and his lips are closer to your ear. "My brother is a warrior and a scholar, not a lover. How warm can steel be in a marriage bed?"

There is a tightness in your chest at his words. Perhaps he means only to be charming, to be suggestive, or perhaps he is deliberately cruel. But it is not the elder brother who gives you butterflies. You glance over at your betrothed, and the ice of his glare makes you shiver.

"My lady?" Aegon asks. You've stopped dancing.

"Ah. My apologies, my prince. I think the wine is stronger than I am used to."

"All the better," he answers quietly, and he winks at you. "Should you desire oblivion this night, come to my chambers."

Your face is close to his, and you smile up at him. "I think not, my prince. Perhaps your hand is more curious than I."

Why did you say that? What in the world made you say that? His jaw hangs open in shock at your boldness, and a blush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. You return to the table where Aemond and Helaena are sat, and where their mother and grandfather talk together quietly.

"Please excuse me, my queen, my Lord Hand. I think I might retire for the night."

Queen Alicent looks at you, and then at Aegon behind you, her eyes wide and searching. "Are you well, my dear?"

"Just a slightly sore head, Your Grace. Nothing a good sleep will not remedy."

Her smile is tight. "Do not hesitate to send for the maester should you need him. Sleep well, my dear."

You curtsey, and turn to do the same in Helaena and Aemond's direction. "My princess, my prince."

Helaena smiles at you, and Aemond's face is as cold as before. You sweep past Aegon on your way to the door, and ignore how he tries to reach for your hand as you pass him.

Out in the corridor, you lean against the cool stone wall, and try to hold back your tears. The soldiers either side of the hall doors keep their gazes forward. You clamp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stay silent. How much distaste looked at you with pierces you.

Since you met him, you have felt a draw to him. Sometimes, you have even managed to make him smile enough to laugh. Each time, the queen had looked so pleased. He doesn't seem to laugh often, but you bring that out in him. What a prize. And then, other times, he barely pays you any mind. He doesn't strike up conversations with you unless you speak first. He doesn't invite you to dance.

Those moments with him are precious to you. To him, they don't seem to matter in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Aegon throws himself at you like a whore. Perhaps, one day, you'll take him up on the offer - if for no other reason than to feel something. To close your eyes under his touch and imagine Aemond. Anything is better than this loneliness, surely.

You have to get out of here. As weak as your legs feel, you overcome the desire to crumple, and quickly, you begin walking down the corridor towards your rooms. Until you are married, your rooms are far from the royal quarters - quite a trek through the maze of the Red Keep. The doors to the hall where you have just had dinner with the royal family swing open and then closed, and footsteps join yours.

"Wait!" a command is barked. "My lady."

You ignore the order. Your betrothed is not yet your lord husband - he does not command you. Well, as a prince, he does. But the tears have begun to stream, hot and thick, from your eyes, and surely that will disgust him.

"My lady!"

Even Prince Aemond's harsh voice brings butterflies to your stomach. His gait is far longer than yours. You won't disgrace yourself by running like a child from him, and so he quickly catches up with you. As you walk quickly, he matches his steps to yours.

"You have no respect, do you, my lady?"

Furiously, you wipe your cheeks. "I have respect."

"Then stop when you are commanded."

"The command itself is not respectful. I wish to retire."

"And I wish to speak with you."

The wine. Blame the wine. "That is quite unusual."

He grabs your arm and pulls you into a shadowy alcove. "Do you deliberately wish to displease me?"

You try to wrench your arm from his hold but he's too strong. "There is nothing deliberate about it, but it seems it is the only feeling I can inspire in you."

He stares at you through the shadows, his purple eye searching, cold, and his jaw set. "And here I had thought you were intelligent."

"Do you often think of me?" Your voice is laced with accusation.

"More than you know."

"I know nothing."

"On that much, we agree."

You try to pull out of his hold again, but his slender hand is impossibly strong, a vice around your bicep. "What do you want from me, my prince?"

"Dignity."

"What, pray tell, have I done that you deem undignified?"

His lip curls slightly. He pulls you closer to him. "You danced with him."

"He is your brother - it would be shameful to decline his invitation."

"And what of his other invitations? Do you accept those?"

Your stomach drops, and your eyes widen. "I know not of what you speak," you lie.

"He is a lecherous beast, not worthy of my sister, not worthy of-"

"Of whom?" you challenge.

His lips pull back over his teeth for a moment. The dim light makes shadows sharp across his angular face. Gods, he is beautiful. Even in rage, he is beautiful. And you do not fear him. You only fear his indifference. "You are my betrothed. I expect you to act as such."

"And how ought you act as my betrothed?"

"As I see fit," Aemond says, each word slow and deliberate.

"What of my expectations?"

He glares down at you. Gods, he's tall. It makes you weak. "What expectations do you have?"

"That my betrothed at least pretends to like my company."

That makes his spine straighten. The hand on your arm loosens slightly, and to your surprise, it trails up your shoulder and lightly touches your throat. It's impossible to breathe under such sudden tenderness. You can feel the callouses on his palm. "Pretend?" he echoes.

You nod stiffly. "I do not need to pretend. You know I enjoy your company. Too much, I think."

"Too much?"

"Don't. Do not do that."

Aemond's eye watches as his finger touches the base of your throat in the soft spot between your collarbones. It's where he gently feels your pulse. It's so quick. "Do what?"

"Do not pretend that you are unaware of my feelings."

"There is no pretence. I know not."

You push his hand away, although the touch has made your skin rise in goosebumps from your thighs to your scalp. "Then you are as blind with one eye than with none."

He snorts humourlessly. "Elucidate for me."

The wine, the wine, the wine. You shove his chest and he stumbles back, caught unawares. "I like you a great deal. And it agonises me that you do not feel the same. It is a humiliation!"

Swallowing thickly, Aemond's expression softens. "Aegon makes you laugh. I do not."

"Aegon is a fool, and makes me laugh as such. But I do not... I do not care... like I do... for..."

"You care?"

You could hit him, you really could. "If you could not tell by now, then we shall never make one another happy."

When you turn away to walk off, he catches you again, and suddenly he pulls you tight against his tall frame, and his arms are around your back, and his face is close to yours. "You make me laugh, my lady."

"I make many people laugh. You could make me a royal fool."

"Do not say such things," he hisses, anger flashing again. "You're my betrothed. Mine."

"I do not want to belong to you like a book or sword."

"Yes, you do." He leans down and whispers against your ear. "You are mine, and mine alone. I am sorry that you did not know that until now."

"Do you say this out of pride or love?" you ask, more bravery in your voice than you truly feel.

"My love is proud. And so too is my betrothed."

"Pride does not drive me, my prince. Only love."

"Do you love me?" he murmurs. It is good he is too close to look at. If he faced you, you would not have the strength to answer.

"I do."

"Not Aegon?"

"No."

He kisses under your ear. You whimper. His voice is so silky. "You will not dance with him again."

"Will I dance with you?"

"Every night until we are wed."

As he winds his arms tighter around you, you press a hand into his hair. "And once we are married?"

"We shall have no time for dancing. I shall have no mind for anything but possessing you."

"You want to possess me?"

He kisses your skin. "Entirely. For already, I am yours."

[wonryllis]

after hours, i can be whatever you want me to be ⭑ ( lhs. )

⭑ FEATURING horrendously down down bad lee heeseung x kinda naive philophobic fem!reader. where heeseung has no intentions of escaping your cages, forever remaining under the spell of your love. ( ARCHIVE? )

⭑ GENRE & WARNINGS fluff, toxic situation, almost kissing, mildly suggestive WORDCOUNT 0.834k

she's crazy but i love her.

heeseung's steps are slow and calculated, eyes glued on your figure trying to make your way to his car. stumbling and wobbly in heels you (kind of) seem accustomed to, feet clicking against the pavement in a hasty stride. he's worried. you were out with friends past midnight on a weekday, called him all drunk to pick you up from the bar and now you are barely able to walk straight, ankle on the verge of twisting at any given moment but you wouldn't let him hold you. he's worried sick.

"angel please just hold onto me hm?" he pleads rushing over when you visibly slip on an uneven part, hands almost gripping around your waist as you manage to keep your balance, staggering back into his arms in a couple of steps.

"you! who are you!" your hands push against his chest as you turn around startled. there it goes, again! heeseung sighs knowing what's to come. it's the third time in the last fifteen minutes, going over this exact conversation word to word.

"it's heeseung, your cousin's friend and your friend," he makes sure to emphasize on 'your friend' trying to stop this before it gets further into the loop.

"where's my cousin?" you ask, looking around the rather empty parking lot.

"he working," heeseung's explanation is dry because he knows you'll cut him off before he can say anything more,"and why are you here?" just like that. he remembers the first time this happened, when you were actually sober and met him at your cousin brother: jay's workplace. you showed up out of nowhere, without any notice and jay was going bonkers at how he'll get you back home when he has the most important client waiting for him in the next room. heeseung hadn't thought much when he offered to drop you off, a favor for a friend that was all it was to him.

"because you called me, angel," but god was he wrong, for he swears the moment he laid his eyes on you he was a goner. you were too darn pretty to be just a favor. you were younger, a party girl always running out to frat and sorority gatherings, bars and clubs. often calling jay to pick you up to avoid letting your parents know of your shenanigans.

"why did i call you and not my cousin?" everytime he had wished it was him and not jay, even though ultimately he was the one who went. carrying your cute drunk ass to your mansion and getting you to your room as discreetly as possible. you are a rich girl, two worlds apart and heeseung has felt it in many ways than not.

"because i'm your cousin's friend and you know me well," heeseung never thought he'd ever be more than just your cousin's friend to you. at least he hopes he is more. you have done things with him that you'd definitely not do with just your cousin's friend. a space curtaining acquaintance and lover, he hangs dangerously cold and heedless.

"so where's my cousin?" between days left ghosted and nights you throw your arms around him he stands unsure of his place in your life. at times he feels you know he's the one who could treat you better than any of the guys you cry for. yet there are moments when there's this sturdy wall you build, holding him away for the sake of not losing him like others. afraid of love is what you refuse you are but heeseung knows your conceptions of it are a little too twisted, broken he dare say. and his love for you is so far and conflicted to the things you have experienced, he understands the lengths and the time it will take for you to recognize and accept him.

"you know what, i'm getting you in the car myself," in an instance his hands grip at the back of knees and the curve of your waist, hauling you up in his arms. he walks quick to his car parked at the far end, smiling through the constant pouty mumbles of yours. eyeing you every two seconds, not being able to resist that pretty face of yours.

it is absolutely not in him to ever resist that pretty face of yours, your pretty eyes and your pretty lips as they graze against his own in gentle brushes. arms looped around his neck and thighs resting on the soft matress of your bed, albeit on each side of his own, yet again. sitting on his lap, so close, bodies pressed. "heeseungie, please stay," your voice a sultry whisper of a whine, a naive vixen, if that's even a thing.

lee heeseung knows he will never have the power to refuse you, he will be whatever you want him to be for how ever long you will want him to be.

you make him crazy and he loves you for that.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun @enhacrumbsss @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @mxxnintheskyreblogs

[oncloudten]

if he's a serial killer, then what's the worst that could happen to a girl who's already hurt?

ethan landry x fem!reader. scream 6 spoilers. cw: choking, mentions of sex, murder, slight dirty talk.

read part ii. here

"get the fuck off me, you sick fuck!" you managed to get out, barely breathing.

he had you completely fooled. the boy with the puppy dog eyes and the sweetest smile. every horror film has a sweet little dorky cliche virgin, and he chose to embody that role perfectly. ethan landry.

though, the virgin part wouldn't be true. and you have yourself to thank for that.

who would have thought? well, maybe mindy. oh god. she'll kill you for this– if they don't first. if he doesn't.

all those nights you spent with ethan, all those days. everytime you'd tell tara and mindy about him and your massive crush on him, and then eventually the friends-with-benefits thing you had going on, she'd try to offer you her enthusiasm and be the supportive best-friend that she usually is to you, but it would always be followed by heartfelt speeches of her telling you to "be careful" and that she doesn't trust him. she never did like him from the start.

but you weren't worried about mindy right now, you couldn't. not when ethan had such a tight grip around your neck, and your friends were somewhere in this building being chased by his family.

"hmm? i thought you liked it when i did this, princess." ethan smirks, trailing his knife on your cheeks.

asshole. of course he'd say that. because why wouldn't he? he knew everything about you. you had given yourself to him completely– in every way. something so private being used against you– someone so... wicked knowing such intimate and delicate things about you, that no one else does. you can't process anything. "t-that means nothing."

he let go of your neck, but only slightly to stop choking you. he's towering over you, pushing you up against a wall. "didn't seem like that a few nights ago when you were begging for it, you dirty fucking slut."

"fuck you."

"oh, i'd love to. but i got my hands bloody full right now. oh and, been there, done that." he says, proudly. there is something so sinister about his smile. his killer smile. "come on, you sweet dumb thing. lighten up a bit, won't you? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"if you're going to kill me, just fucking do it. why the fuck bring me here? kill me and get it over with." there's no telling what he's going to do. he has you completely isolated from sam and tara. and chad is gone— you found ethan when you were forcibly seperated when ghostface showed up, and it immediately clicked.

"oh no no no no no, you sweet pretty thing. i love sticking things in you, but i would never stick a knife in you. never hurt you. well, i mean, kill you. it's your friends that we're after." he pauses for a bit. "well that wouldn't be right to say either. it is sam and tara that we want," he inches closer to you, "but it just feels so fucking good to kill. so fucking good baby."

"you're sick."

"and you love me. isn't that what you were telling mindy and quinn a few weeks ago? hmm?"

fuck. what are the fucking chances of that wicked witch being his literal fucking sister? "that was before i found out you are the one who is actively trying to kill my best fucking friends, you dimwitted fucking asshole!"

he lets out a low chuckle. "if it makes you feel any better. you're the closest thing i'll ever get to love in this world. i do love you. well, god, did i love fucking you. y'gave me the best sex of my life. but it was more than that."

"stop. just stop. let me go." you beg, "let me go please, ethan. i'll just go- just my friends, my- chad, please."

"i can't do that, angel. my job is to keep you away from them. protect you, even. see, my lovely sister thought it'd be funny to kill you. claims you're just baggage. that it would hurt sam and tara the most because you're practically the closest thing they have to family. but i can't let that happen. so this is the next best thing."

and then all you see is black.

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday pt. 2- pu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, jun's has one brief suggestive mention, fluffy ending, etc.

part 1

wc: 3232

a/n: tysm to everyone who read and enjoyed the whole series <33 it was rlly fun to write angst with a fluffy ending hehe

masterlist

jun -

against his better judgment, jun sat in silence for a while as he contemplated what to do. you were likely not only mad, but also disappointed at him ditching you like that. except he hadnt meant to! he truly had no idea he would sleep through the entirety of the morning. he had been so excited to spend his favorite day with his favorite person, but now he was left as a complete asshole while you believed him to have carelessly put you aside with no warning

after a few more minutes of self-pitying, he decided to get up. it was better to try and make amends and explain himself than to let even more time pass. he knew you'd be out by the time he arrived to your place, but at least that way he could fix something up for your arrival. he decided against calling you. it didnt feel personal enough, plus, the least he could do was surprise you.

without further thought, jun headed straight to your place, but not before inquiring his mom about a few recipes he knew you liked. his current plan was to make you a romantic dinner upon your return. in order to allow you to enjoy your day in whichever way you wished to, he continued to not contact you with his new plan. he knew it might've been dumb to not even answer the multiple messages you'd left him while he slept, but he wanted to apologize face to face with a romantic gesture.

preparing the meal had been easy enough. he followed it by creating a nice ambience with the lights and a few candles, along with some mellow music and incense. the next step in his plan was to offer you a massage and his wholehearted company for the rest of the night to do whatever you so wished.

luckily for him, your outing did not extend into the night, meaning his meal would become either a brunch or an early dinner. but that didn't matter to him the moment you stepped in and spotted him in suit and tie waiting for you in your apartment, eyes wide as saucers at the unexpected intrusion.

"jun?"

"wait! dont say anything. i rehearsed this, okay? let me say my thing first."

you were already used to his shenanigans, so you gestured at him to continue before voicing any questions.

"i'm so sorry. i know i promised to be here. and i was planning to be here on time! but i, uh, i fell asleep. i know how stupid that sounds, trust me! i didn't plan on this. i was so exhausted and i didnt realize that id sleep through all my alarms and your messages. my phone died last night too, so i didnt even realize you had called me. i'm just ... im sorry. i know im an idiot. please forgive me? i made you a romantic dinner to make up for it! i hope you like it, they're my mom's recipes," he paused for a second before continuing, "i love you! i wanted to spend the whole day with you, i swear. i know it didnt go as planned, but id you let me, id love to spend what remains of it doing whatever you want. im sorry i left you alone. i never meant to."

"junnie ..."

jun immediately noticed your lip begin to stick out in a pout, with watery eyes to match.

"oh, fuck. baby, i'm so sorry," he rushed you into his embrace, "i didnt mean to make you cry! i- how can i make it up to you? i'll do anything, just say the word."

you halted him before he could continue, remaining in his hold but disconnecting yourself enough to look into his eyes.

"no, junnie. it's just ... fuck, im sorry if my texts were harsh. i thought you had just ditched me for no reason. you must've been so exhausted, baby, im sorry. i understand why you weren't here, and ... god, thank you for the dinner. you're so sweet, junnie, im so so-"

"no! dont apologize. you're not allowed to apologize on your birthday. in a perfect world i wouldve made it home and fallen asleep in your arms instead. will you have dinner with me? then i can take you to bed," he interrupted himself upon realizing what he said, "oh, wait! not like that! but well, if you want too ... it's your day, anything you say goes. happy birthday, by the way," he pressed his nose to yours, "i love you."

you couldn't help but giggle at his panicked state, appreciating the sweet words nonetheless.

"thank you, junnie. i love you."

soonyoung -

soonyoung wasn't too sure where he was going.

it's not like be was blackout drunk, he was just drunk. period. he still had some sense of reason. he was almost 85% sure he was in minghao's car. but there was no way to be completely sure from the angle in which he was laying down. that's when his friend decided to inquire his name to check on him, thus confirming soonyoung's current whereabouts. that was also when soonyoung fell right back asleep.

next time he gained consciousness he was being dragged out of the car and being directed to follow minghao. he could recognize his new location anywhere. he was standing right outside your apartment. when you opened the door, he couldnt help but instantly let himself fall atop you, attacking you with a hug as you were forced a few steps back due to his body weight being dropped on you. you held him back, patting his back as you spoke to minghao about something. he wasn't too sure. the familiar scent at the crook of your neck had him too distracted to care.

finally minghao left, allowing you two some alone time. you left him on the couch and got him water, telling him he needed to sober up before you could talk, because apparently you had something to say to him. it was odd. you weren't cooing at him as you usually did. you also weren't stuck to his side, giving him his daily dose of physical affection like he'd always demand. he decided to shrug it off, allowing himself to fall into deep slumber on the uncomfortable space of your couch. he'd figure it out tomorrow.

when tomorrow came, soonyoung was hit with two things. one came after the other.

the first was his headache, which almost went away on its own at the mere aight of the aspirin you had left on the coffee table in front of him. he made a mental note to give you a thank you kiss the moment he saw you.

the next thing he was hit with was realization of how uneven this relationship seemingly was.

as he got up to seek you out, he stopped just before entering your bedroom, realizing you were on a phone call. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he was also really nosy by nature, so the math did itself.

"yeah. im sorry for cancelling on you yesterday ... no, i know ... it's not like that .... he just forgot .... yeah ..... he came home drunk .... i dont know. i think i'll just let him figure it out on his own .... i am hurt. we made plans and he just blew me off to drink with his friends, of course im hurt .... i'll just see you tomorrow, i gotta go take care of him .... yeah, i know im an idiot, but i love him .... okay, bye. love you too."

soonyoung could only hear your side of the conversation, but that had been enough for him to clue the pieces together. your birthday was yesterday. which was something he knew, but had completely left his mind at the mention of free drinks with the guys.

after that realization came many others.

you had shown him no type of anger upon his arrival, even making sure take care of him in his drunken state. you had changed him into his pjs as he slept, tucked him into your couch, given him medicine. even after he blew you off. on your birthday. fuck.

he gave himself no time to think before he barged into the room, immediately kneeling in front of you as he grabbed onto your hands. he paid no mind to your shocked state as he started babbling apologies to you.

"im so sorry, i- i dont know how i forgot. baby ... im so fucking sorry. i cant believe you took care of me even after i forgot. you shouldve punished me. you should punish me. i dont deserve you. im so so so sorry. i love you so much, i swear i never meant go forget. im just an idiot. that's not an excuse! you're just too good for me. I'll make it up to you! how can i? anything! please, i love you."

his rambling could only be blamed on his still buzzed state, as that had only been half of his apology. he kept going for ten minutes, allowing you no room to respond. he was surprised when by the end of it you'd instructed him to get up, almost tackling him in a hug as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he might've been an idiot, but he'd accept any affection from you he could get. always.

"soonie ..." you pulled away to look into his eyes, a sweet softness behind them. them you decided to slap his chest, making him wince at the unexpectedness of it, "you fucking idiot! i waited for you all day, and you ditch me for alcohol?"

"baby, i-"

"no! i cant sit through another ten minutes of apologies. im pretty sure you're a little drunk still. i forgive you. but you have a lot of making up to do, understand?"

he felt like a scolded puppy, but agreed regardless, telling you that he would swear off alcohol if that's what it took. he enjoyed your giggle as he suggested ridiculous ways to make it up to you, knowing he'd genuinely do anything to make up for ever making you upset.

minghao -

if he hadn't felt immediate regret the moment the words came out of his mouth, he sure felt it now, hearing you cry through the door to your shared bedroom.

he had no idea what had gotten into him. never had he ever even entertained the idea of disrespecting you like that, much less ever making you cry. he could take his job too seriously sometimes, making him a bit too irritable when his work ethic was questioned in any way. although this was true, he knew it was still just a cheap excuse for his behavior. no matter what had been going through his mind, he knew he had no right to speak to you in the way that he did, dismissing you so coldly on a day that was meant to celebrate you.

he was unsure what to do. he wanted to comfort you so badly, but he knew that he had been the sole cause for your pain. he felt himself get emotional at the mere thought, with your sobs making him weak at the knees in regret. he sat himself down on the other side of the door, knowing from the proximity of your cries that you must've been on the opposite side as well. he kept quiet, simply torturing himself as he heard the love of his life cry because of him. there was only so much he could take, however, before finally interrupting.

"my love ..?"

your cries seized a bit at his interruption, but your sniffles and heavy breath could still be heard, breaking his heart bit by bit.

"angel ... im so sorry ... i- i don't know what came over me. you're right. i should've called you. there is no world in which i wouldnt want to be with you to celebrate the birth of the love of my life. you're my everything. i want to shout it from the rooftops. i want everyone to know who my entire world is; who makes my heart beat," he took a pause to breathe, allowing himself to think of how to properly apologize to you, "i should never speak to you the way i just did, i ... im disgusted with myself. you're the most important thing in my life. being the source of your sadness makes me lose my mind. my one purpose in this life is to love you with all i have. im so sorry ... my love, please dont cry over me. no one deserves your tears."

by the end of his speech you had begun to cry harder, making his heart crumble even more.

"angel ... let me see you, please. i need to hold you, need to- need you in my arms. cant stand not taking away your pain, please, i-"

his words were interrupted by a sudden opening of the door. by the time he'd gotten up, you had already walked further into your room, sitting on the edge of the bed as you made yourself as small as possible, looking down while he approached. he knelt in front of you, grabbing your hands as he held them against his own, kissing at the back of your palms as he professed his love for you once more. he then got up and made it so you'd stand up with him, allowing him to cradle you in his arms.

"please forgive me ... i adore you more than anything."

you finally looked up at him, bloodshot eyes as he looked down at you with both worry and adoration.

"did you mean it? do you really not care to ditch me for your career? did you-"

"no! never. you're everything to me. there's nothing i hold more dear to my heart than your own. i'll never make you cry again. i'll grow old with you and give you nothing but happiness. please, please forgive me."

he knew his words could only get him so far, being fully aware that he had purposely hurt your feelings in the heat of the moment. he simply hoped that this would not cause a strain in your relationship; that you would somehow look past it and give him the forgiveness that he didn't deserve.

his thoughts were fortunately interrupted by a soft meeting of your lips, allowing him to melt into you before you pulled away.

"hao ... i forgive you. i- i never thought you'd just disregard me like that," he physically winced at the thought, "but you've shown me nothing but love and respect otherwise. i understand you were stressed, and i love you, so i forgive you."

"thank you, angel. i'll take tomorrow off, okay? let me keep you all to myself so i can show you how sorry i am; how badly i love you."

he then spent the rest of the night attached to you, waxing poetic at you as he told you of all the plans he had for the two of you tomorrow, even eventually progressing into talking about his night at the fashion show. your enthusiasm at his rambles made him realize how fortunate he was to have you all over again. he made a promise to himself and to you that he'd never lose his temper around you ever again.

chan -

"wait, what? ah! don't hit me!"

"you idiot! you're dating a literal angel and you forget their birthday?! what is wrong with you?"

"it's not today! it's, uh, wait. fuck. today?!"

checking his phone really quickly he realized that today's date was in fact your birthday. he hadn't bothered to write down a reminder for your birthday anywhere, knowing there was absolutely more way he could forget. except that the days had begun to blend together at some point, rendering him into a machine as he just went to his schedules without much thought. what he hadn't accounted for, however, was for your birthday to get lost in the mess also.

chan hadn't planned for his day to go like this. he 100% was not expecting to be berated by seungkwan the moment he stepped foot into the practice room, being scolded over being a careless boyfriend. even as annoyed as he was at his friend, he knew he was right. he hadn't meant to, but ultimately he had forgotten about you. it sucked to think about how he had bid you goodbye just this morning with not a single care in the world, now realizing that you were probably alone and feeling disregarded by him. i mean, for fuck's sakes, he had told you to take the day off a few weeks back. promising a fun afternoon together after he got off work. and now he had completely forgotten about it.

he needed to fix this, and quick.

like any lovesick guy (such as chan, who was immensely down bad for you), he ran to leave practice. he knew soonyoung would have his ass on a silver platter the moment he arrived and noticed chan's absence, but after weighing his options (hurting your feelings vs. being berated by yet another one of his older brothers), he decided you were the clear priority.

ran might've been an overstatement, but he did rush as much as he could. he wanted to account for the extra time he'd need to spend to stop by a flower shop on the way in order to beg for forgiveness in a more heartfelt way.

after picking a bouquet of your favorites, he instructed the driver to take him to your address, which led him to his current predicament as he stood outside your apartment door, breathless due to having ran up the stairs in very dramatic fashion. what could he say? he was just a boy in love.

the moment you opened the door to his knocks, he rushed in, rambling endless apologies to you as he handed you the flowers, professing his love to you while also whining (mostly at himself) that seungkwan of all people had been the one to remind him of the love of his life's special day. it was funny, really, how he didn't seem to run out of words when expressing his regret at his mistake.

you interrupted him halfway through his fourth apology, giggling at his widened eyes. okay, this was not exactly the reaction he was expecting.

"chan! jesus, breathe," you interrupted, "i'm not mad. i mean, i was. but you literally only left an hour ago, i cant believe you're back already."

"i headed back the moment kwan told me. baby. i'm sorry. i had planned to take the day off and surprise you, it just slipped my mind, i swe-"

"chan! it's fine! i'm not- i'm not mad, i promise. the fact that you came back running is so ... it's funny," you giggled again, "but its also very sweet. you have nothing to apologize for, okay? i'm just happy you're here."

he hugged you after that, disregarding the flowers in your hands as he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

"remind me to thank kwannie for reminding my bad, forgetful boyfriend about my birthday."

"yah! you're not allowed to hang out with him anymore, okay? he's a bad influence," he complained against you, enjoying the vibration of your laugh in return.

a/n: sorry some are way angstier than others ;-; i wanted to vary them a little. anyways tysm if u read the entirety of this mini series <3

[ash-says]

Being in touch with your sensuality:

On today's episode of ash-says we are going to talk about how to get in touch with your sensuality. Personally it's something I am very passionate about and kind of indulgent too.

Sensuality helps me in feeling alive and in tune with myself. I can't guarantee it for everyone but for me it works wonders. It's like the "Amrut" or "rejuvenating water" (for a lack of better terms) for me. Along with that it's the most healthy way for expressing my sexuality and keeping it in control to not let it affect my day to day functioning.

Here are some ways I incorporated in the last five years of my life to be in touch with my sensuality:

1) Exercise: No matter what I am going to vouch for this always. The way it helps me in expressing the surplus energy and controlling my desires is a chef's kiss. Plus helps in tackling the sluggish feeling.

2) Dance: Especially the slow sensual seductive dance. Not only it's a good outlet but above all that it validates the emotions and creates a space to delve in it to create a beautiful synchronisation with the body movements.

3) Art: Create! Create! Create! Nothing better than creating beautiful art or writing poems, stories,etc to voice your passion for the world and it's offerings.

4) Music: I have playlists on Spotify that specifically cater to my sensual mood. It has all the songs that can set a tone for the bedroom (iykyk). Singing to it or dancing works wonders. It's a magical experience.

5) Meditation: You can meditate on those feelings to internalize it and put all that energy in proper use for achieving a goal,etc. This is something I very rarely do because I am a very active person but putting it out here cause it works for some people.

6)Play Barbie: This is my personal favourite. After all I am just a girl. I put on some makeup, wear a bold sexy outfit or a cute dress (depending on the mood) then spend my time reading a romance novel and listening to sensual songs. It's my kind of therapy🦋🦋

7) Be a model: Being all dressed up but not clicking any photos you got to be kidding me!!! Come on girl! Pose and click! You are not going to be this young again. The best thing I do is this. It literally helps in skyrocketing my confidence. I don't click pictures daily but boy when I do, God forbid!!

8) Unlearn the shame: The basic one. You need to own your body first and appreciate it. I know saying is easy but hey you won't get there if you never start.

9) Imitate things that you find sexy: I will explain this with an example, so I find laying on the bed on my chest with my legs dangling in the air extremely sexy so when I am alone I will lie on the bed in that way as a way of expressing. Secondly, we all know sipping wine while reading a book is incredibly sexy while being dressed all slutty but I don't consume alcoholic beverages so as an alternative I drink pomegranate juice. Plus I find pomegranate as the sexiest fruit for obvious reasons.

10) Invest in things that make you feel sensual and seductive: It doesn't need to be costly. Find your sexy and invest!! For me it's aroma candles, jewellery, deep neck tops, skirts, ribbons, art honestly I have developed a knack to turn any ordinary thing into something seductive atp I feel. Everything works for me. So exploreeee!! If you are experimental enough and don't have parental risks you can try out sex toys too.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.