#where i cannot reach them. because i am 5’ even. and they were put there by my 6’3 dad. where i couldnt reach them.

[goblinbugthing]

PH FUCK I HAVENT EATEN SINCE THUS MORNING

[strangesthirdeye]

Late Night Potions ( Severus Snape x Wife! Reader)

Summary: There are times when they are safe but still remind them of bitter thing.

Warning: it's Severus Snape, he's always slay, soft Severus, love, fluff, sweet, Severus being a good husband, ooc Severus Snape? Cannot sleep.. Severus survived Battle of Hogwarts.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another stir clockwise and one more peppermint, The calming draughts Severus made finally turned brown meaning it was ready. He grabbed the glass vial that was placed not far from where he was brewing and opened the lid of the vial and slowly he scooped the potion with a spoon then put it in the vial.

The clock showed 3 in the morning and Severus was still in his potion room in his own house which was a bit late for brewing something at that time but it was Severus of course he had time to brew something. Well, the reality is that he can't catch a wink of sleep directly, making him stare at the ceiling of the bedroom he and you share. While you were soundlessly sleeping, Severus decided to get out of bed without keeping you awake and decided to make some light potions to make himself tired so he could easily fall asleep.

But still, after the 3 potions he made and all the process of putting the three potions into the vial, he still couldn't catch his sleepiness and that made him frustrated.

The eye bags under his eyes are visible while his face is definitely tired but the strange thing is that he can't sleep even though his body language clearly shows that he needs to sleep.

He sighed tiredly then closed the glass vial and placed the potions on the other potions shelf according to the label. He rubbed his face trying to remove the fog from his eyes which indicated that he needed to sleep. He then swished his wand to carefully pack the potions tools on the table. And standby for the 4th brewing potions.

Severus then swished his wand towards the ingredient cabinet for the potion he wanted to make, which was the Blood Replenishing potion. All ingredients are floated and gently placed on the table. Severus then cleaned the standby cauldron and placed it on the bunsen burner. He then opened the bunsen burner with a small flame and cast Aguamenti into the cauldron and miraculously the cauldron was filled with water according to the prescribed measure.

While he waited for the water to heat for 5 minutes, he started flipping through his potions book to idly even though he was skilled and memorized all the potions he made, he still needed the potions book to be sure. Sometimes he will add some useful notes to the book so that when he teaches, he can teach students more efficiently.

After 5 minutes, he then reached the dew and was ready to be placed in the cauldron but stopped when he felt a hand hugging his abdomen from behind. He was stunned but then relieved when he found out it was you.

You who had just woken up from sleep after discovered that Severus was not in the bed hugged Severus' back tightly in a still sleepy state. Severus knew that you couldn't sleep without him because he knew that you still imagined him disappearing and never coming back after the terrible Battle of Hogwarts that happened a few months ago. Although Severus survived Nagini's attack and was put in St's Mungos for two months to recover from snake venom, you are still afraid that he will be gone.

Severus stiffened shoulders dropped then he leaned against your touch. Savoring the warm temperature from your body. He sighed tiredly. His hands that holding the potions ingredients were placed on the table and his fingers rubbed the back of your hand that wrapped around his abdomen. The flame of the Bunsen burner was extinguished by him.

"It's 3 am and you're brewing potions" you mumbled behind his shoulder.

"Just want to make myself tired so that I can sleep well" Severus said lowly in his deep tone.

"Nightmare?" You parted away from his shoulder and leaned the side of your head behind him.

"Incredulity" Severus sighed.

"Incredulity with what?" You questioned with perplexity.

"That we both survive that battle" Severus muttered.

You raised your head and instantly faced him. Your face looked up at his face. His tired eyes that clearly make you concerned with his state. You and him still have a traumatic experience from the battle, which makes you both uneasy when the matter is mentioned. It's lucky you both survived even though Severus had to be admitted to the hospital and you suffered several injuries that left scars that made you think how lucky you both were to survive the battle. It also means that you two are very strong to survive the battle.

You softened your look and reached Severus' sharp cheek and stroked it gently. Severus closed his eyes and leaned against your warm palm.

"I also wonder how we can survive that battle but that's the story line. We both survive with the hope that we both can be together. All the things we went through together before and after that battle are the main pillars of our strength. We survive because we know that we are need this 'life'." You replied softly, caressing Severus' cheek.

Severus let out a heavy sigh. "the things we went through, what if one of us didn't survive the battle? What if the battle was just a dream? What if I lost you?"

"stop it, Sev. Ignore those negative thoughts. We are both safe and alive. Voldermort and the Death Eater are gone. You don't need to be a double agent to know the plans of both parties. You are who you are now. We are both safe and sound without any obstacles . We have each other." you firmly said.

Severus leaned his forehead against yours with his eyes closed.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Severus whispered in a husky and deep tone that always made your knees tremble hearing that even though the two of you had been together for almost 6 years.

"You didn't do anything. It's me who came to you and saved you and you accept me as I am" you whispered back.

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[dollfacefantasy]

hii i love your writing!! i am going FERAL over the turtleneck mod on Leon in RE4R<33 i was hoping you could write smth where the reader is out with Leon and they cannot stop gawking at him and his arms n chest because he wore that slutty black turtleneck, obvi he notices and fucks them stupid in the turtleneck when they get home<33 :3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, orgasm denial/control, praise/degradation

word count: 3.9k

a/n: hope this was what you were looking for <3 thanks for the request!

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

Your back leans against the smooth surface of your car as you pump your gas and glance at the little numbers on the screen increasing. Leon’s hand covers yours on the nozzle. He’s right next to you, side against the car, arm around your shoulders, kissing your head and playing with your hair. You lean your head on his chest while the car continues to fill up.

The sun was going down, and the sky had turned to a soft pink above you. A cool gust of wind sweeps through the gas station. You sink further into your boyfriend’s embrace, into the soft fabric of his sweater. You take a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent. Your eyes fall closed for a moment. His fingers play with the ends of your hair before gliding over the top of your head soothingly.

Your eyelids open again, and your gaze quickly becomes transfixed on his arm in front of you, the one holding the handle with you. The veins running down it, emerging from where his sleeve met skin. The sharp angles of his hands and fingers. God, even the hair on his forearm had you drooling right now. It just made you wanna absorb him completely right here at pump number 5.

You knew that was a bit of an overreaction just from looking at his arm, but you also knew the reason your mind was going haywire like that. The culprit was right against your cheek. That stupid black turtleneck had you feeling so horny for reasons you couldn’t even explain.

When he’d put it on in the morning to go out, you’d made fun of him. Asking him if he was trying to look like The Rock. Feigning a swoon and sighing ‘So sophisticated.’ You’d meant those things when you’d said them. But somewhere in the hours between your place and this gas station, something had changed.

Looking back, you wondered how you could have done anything but fallen to your knees? You really couldn’t pinpoint what it was about this sweater, but you could feel what that something did to you. Maybe it was the way the black contrasted against his pale skin. Maybe it was how the tight fit highlighted his toned form. Maybe it was just cause it was him, and you’d honestly drop your panties if he took you out wearing nothing but a trash bag. Who’s to say?

The vibrations of gas flowing into your car stop beneath your palm, ripping you away from your thoughts. Leon guides your chin up to look at him before leaning in and giving you a final kiss on the lips. You reciprocate the affection and put the nozzle back while he screws the gas cap on. You then round the car to the passenger side and slide in your seat. He gets in the driver’s seat and turns the car on. The engine rumbles to life, dashboard lighting up and then dimming again.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” he says and turns to smile at you. You return his smile with one of your own. He reaches forward to turn the volume of the music up before pulling out of the gas station and onto the main road.

He taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song. His eyes watch the road while your stare, just like at the gas station, scans his body wrapped in that ribbed fabric. You could see the flex of his muscles as he turned the steering wheel, his chest filling out the thick material perfectly.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Hm?” you hum, perking up a bit as his voice slices through your mental depravity, “No. No. I’m fine.”

His smug eyes flit over to you as a smirk plays on his lips. “Ok. Just checking. You seem like you have something on your mind.”

He’d caught you staring. Of course, he had. Even though he could be lovably oblivious when it came to reading feelings sometimes, he had a sixth sense for knowing when you were turned on.

Normally, this is the point of your desire where you’d be all over him, stretching across the front of the car to kiss his neck and palm him over his jeans, but you couldn’t just go back on what you’d said about the turtleneck. He would make fun of you until you were old and gray and probably wearing a turtleneck yourself. It was the principle of the whole thing that had you so frustrated right now.

You force yourself to focus on looking out the window instead of at him. Your leg bounces, foot tapping against the floor of the car as visions of him flood your mind. You internally groan. He was sitting right next to you. This was ridiculous and only making you more aware of how pent up you’d felt after hours of this lust festering.

He reaches over the center console and lays his hand on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. His fingertips rub the flesh in small stripes. You fight the urge to squirm and spread your legs. He glances at you while keeping his primary focus on the street.

“You sure you’re alright, baby?” he asks in a more concerned tone, “Seems like something’s bothering you.”

“I’m fine,” you say, your voice likening to a whine in your frustration.

He chuckles at the change in pitch and nods. “If you say so.”

His hand stays on your leg for the rest of the drive, stroking up and down. You bite your lip as you look out the passenger window to obscure your face from his and hide how obviously flustered it made you.

The trip home was pretty quick, fortunately for you. Once he parks the car and shuts it off, you click your seatbelt off and hop out of the car. You stretch for a moment and take a deep breath before heading inside. He’s right behind you. You both go through the front door and walk inside. You linger a bit, taking your shoes off and putting keys away, but it isn’t long before he’s back on you again.

You were putting your bag down, rummaging through it to get some gum, when his arms loop around your waist and his chest presses against your back. His breath fans over your neck as he kisses up your throat to your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut, and your head tilts back on him.

“What’s got you so tense, honey?” he breathes with a squeeze to your waist and some more pecks to the side of your head.

“I’m not tense,” you deny, trying to straighten up a little and ignore the heat between your legs.

“Yes, you are,” he says simply as he tightens his grip on you.

You shake your head defiantly and hear his low, throaty chuckle in response. His hand flattens out on your stomach and coasts downward before caressing upwards.

“C’mon. What’re you being such a brat for?” he teases.

“I’m not being a brat,” you whimper, “I just- I want you. There, happy?”

He looks at you with amusement. Sure, he knew when you were in the mood to act bratty, it often came with you getting huffy and whiny too, but this was different. Something was up.

“Sort of. That’s a start for sure. But tell me what’s got you so needy, baby,” he says. His hand slides up further to your chest, playing with the clasp at the front of your bra over the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re pretty?” you offer sheepishly.

“Nice try,” he says with a smirk. He then takes your wrist and leads you down the hall to your shared bedroom. On the way there, you get a view of how the sweater stretched across his back, how the raised neckline met the base of his hair. You shake your head, embarrassed of how your heart raced over this simple article of clothing.

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you into his lap. Getting you situated on his thigh, he brushes some hair out of your face and looks into your eyes. You look away, knowing this was a losing battle. He’s quick to grab your jaw and direct your eyes back to him.

“You gonna make me interrogate you for it?” he asks.

You nod.

He breaks into a smile and rolls his eyes. He pulls you closer into his chest, cradling your head against the soft black sweater. His fingers comb through your hair while his other arm wraps around you and starts rubbing your back. The things you loved being used against you.

“I know it’s something, babydoll. I saw the way you were staring the entire day, eyefucking me everywhere we went,” he says in the tone he knows drives you up the wall. You turn your face more into his shirt. “Just tell me. I only wanna know because I like making my baby happy. I like to know how to please you.”

Your head spins, considering if you should just confess. Maybe he wouldn’t even bat an eye, you’d probably just blown this whole thing out of proportion in your mind. But on the other hand, this is what he always did. Like a naive bunny bounding right into a wolf’s den, he’d lure you into a false sense of security before tearing you to shreds.

“It’s nothing. You just turn me on,” you whine and look up at him.

He sighs in mock disappointment and lifts you off his lap. For a split second, you internally panic and consider cracking. But you don’t have to because he stands too and then lightly pushes you back on the bed. He looks down at you on your back and shakes his head.

“Fine, baby. Keep it a secret. You’re breaking my heart though,” he says. He shakes his head and starts undoing your bottoms and peeling them off your legs. “Thought you knew you could trust me with anything. I guess I haven’t done as good a job at that as I thought.”

If you weren’t so worked up, your eyes would have rolled to the back of your head at his obvious attempts at getting you to break. He really tried to pull out all the stops. However, you are turned on beyond belief, so instead the words send heat rushing to your head and to your cunt.

You part your legs once your pants are gone, and he pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed. He drops to his knees and looks up at you. “Guess I’ll have to do some more convincing.”

He pulls your panties down and drops them to the floor. For a moment, he just stares at your pussy, taking in how it glistened and dripped. All for him. He notes that whatever had you so hot and bothered clearly had done a number on you.

His next move is curling his hands around your thighs, holding them open so he can get at your center. He leans in and starts with tender kisses. His lips flutter against your folds as his mouth heads up to reach your clit. He takes his time kissing the sensitive bud before softly flicking his tongue against it. Your breath hitches, and you purse your lips.

He’s encouraged by the slight reaction, only wanting more. He licks over the expanse of your cunt and laps at your slick. His tongue fucks into you while his lips caress your skin. You mewl and squirm, but his hands lock you where he wants you. Your back arches as he sucks on your bundle of nerves and pushes you into bliss.

“Not so quiet now, pretty baby,” he coos before returning his attention to the task at hand.

You whine, but you don’t have the will to retort. He keeps eating you out like it’s his one purpose in this life. Your hips jerk as the assault on your clit only grows more intense. You’re panting, pretty sure you’re reaching the high point. One of his hands leaves your thigh and ducks below, near his mouth. Your mind swims with so much ecstasy, you don’t even notice his fingers delving into you until he’s knuckle deep.

You gasp and claw at the sheets. He starts pumping them in and out of your rhythmically, hitting all your favorite spots and working you to that edge. Whimpers and moans seep from your mouth as you get closer. He can feel you contracting around his digits, clit pulsing with your imminent release. You’re right there. It’s about to wash over you. You’re writhing and bucking under his touch when suddenly it all stops. His fingers halt inside you, and he pulls back from your cunt.

Your head pops immediately. You look down at him, eyes hazy and blown out with pleasure, confused at why he stopped. His chin is coated in your arousal. He looks up at you with a self-satisfied grin.

“Tell me what it was,” he says.

Your lips part with disbelief. You sputter out some incoherent noises as you struggle to form any real words. Your head falls back on the bed. All you can get out is a whine. “Leon!”

“Tell me what it was, and don’t play dumb this time,” he commands, “Just tell me and you can cum, pretty girl.”

You exhale sharply and bring your hands up to cover your face as you decide. He teasingly drags his fingers out, and then slowly pushes them forward again.

“I mean, if you’re really so set on keeping it a secret, you can finish yourself off or something. I don’t know,” he says, playing nonchalant.

“Fine,” you whimper, not removing your hands from your face, “It’s the sweater.”

Silence.

Multiple seconds go by and still no response. Lifting your head again, you crack your eyes open and part your fingers to look down at him. He’s smiling up at you, laughing once the two of you make eye contact.

Your face gets hot immediately, and you try to squirm away from him. “It’s not funny, Leon!” you pout. He laughs some more and hooks his hands around your legs like they had been before, pulling you back to him. 

“Aw, yeah it is. It’s a little funny,” he teases, “You couldn’t say enough about it this morning. Now, I know what made you so quiet for the rest of the day.”

“Shut up,” you say, voice muffled from behind your palms.

He chuckles again but returns his fingers to your entrance and slides them inside. He maneuvers them slowly, getting you back on track to your high. Your hands gradually come off your face as the pleasure begins to replace the embarrassment.

“No, really. It’s cute, sweetheart. Like a girl with a crush who lashes out because she doesn’t wanna admit her feelings,” he mocks.

You gasp as he curls his fingers within you, pushing them against your sweet spot. A choked moan comes from you while your legs twitch.

“Poor baby,” he coos at you with a menacing grin still plastered on his face. He puts his mouth back on you and toys with your clit enough to have you seeing stars.

Release washes over you in waves. Your body seizes and relaxes as he works you through it, not stopping the motions of his mouth or fingers. You ride out the high on his tongue. When you finally start coming down, he pulls back. He stands up at the end of the bed and starts to undress. You watch him with bleary eyes, your mind still a little fuzzy from cumming. While waiting for him, you take the time to remove your own shirt and fumble with your bra before dropping them both off the side of the bed.

He drops his pants, and you can see the bulge that had formed beneath his boxers. Those go next, exposing his stiff cock to you. He languidly strokes it as he kneels over you on the bed. He starts to remove his shirt too, but then he laughs and stops.

“Probably should leave this on for you,” he jokes.

You hum in annoyance before reaching up to try and pull him down to you. He dodges your grabby hands with another laugh. Gripping your hips, he flips you over on to your stomach. Now, he leans down, hovering over your back and kissing your cheek.

“You’re so sensitive, princess. Can’t handle any teasing without throwing a fit,” he whispers, trying to rile you up, “I’m gonna have to do something about that attitude.”

He taps the hot length of his shaft against your ass, sliding it between your folds before actually entering you. When he does start pushing in, a strained moan flees your mouth. He stretches you so perfect, the snug fit making you feel an amplified version of what his fingers brought you. When he bottoms out inside you, hips flush against you, he leans forward more, covering your body with his. The black fabric of the turtleneck rubs against your back as he begins working his hips.

His thrusts start, long and slow, focusing on depth rather than speed. He savors the way your walls clench around him, completely enveloping him in their warmth. He grunts in your ear as the arm he isn’t using to hold himself up slides around your neck and rests under your chin. With that leverage, he starts rocking his hips with motivation. The sounds of his flesh meeting yours grows louder as he pounds against you harder and faster.

Your body jolts forward under him each time he slams against your ass. His chin digs into your shoulder as he plants wet, sloppy kisses on your neck. Your head slumps against his bicep. You can feel the muscle flexing beneath your head as his body ruts into yours. Whining, you clutch the material of the sweater between your fingers.

“I know, baby. Feels so good doesn't it? Sweet girl,” he murmurs against your neck.

You draw in ragged breaths as he swivels his hips, angling them to hit the spots to drive you to the finish line. Your body shudders beneath his as a second release bubbles inside you. You babble incoherently into the crook of his elbow. He could only make out every other word, but he got the idea.

“Mhm, I know, honey,” he coos as if he can understand you perfectly, “That’s right, babydoll. You’re doing soooo good taking my cock.”

More whimpers and mewls leave you when you hear that. Your head nuzzles into his arm more while your body squirms beneath him. The praise fills you with warmth and makes everything feel soft. He keeps going, thrusting hard as ever while his own noises fill the air. He groans deeply and tightens his arm around your neck.

Your head bobs with his rhythm, whining sharply every time the tip of his cock nudges your cervix. Your mind is cloudy, and your grip on his arm loosens. You feel like you’re sinking into the mattress, only being kept afloat by the arm under your head.

He drags his nose against your temple affectionately before his lips land against the skin. He can feel how dazed he has you. It’s further confirmed when he feels your saliva start to pool on the fabric of his sleeve. He backs off a little and pulls out. You whimper weakly, but barely even lift your head to complain. He rolls you onto your back and enters you again with ease.

“Hush, princess. Don’t want you drooling all over this shirt now that I know you like it so much,” he says as his hand cups your face and squishes your cheeks. He kisses your puffed out lips before resting his forehead against yours. “Plus, I wanna see this sweet little face when you cum.”

You kiss him some more as he starts moving his hips again. He thrusts in and out. Your sounds of pleasure come out unrestrained now. You didn’t have the power to care about that kind of thing right now. All you could think about was how good he felt inside you. 

He keeps bullying his cock into your tight hole while giving you more lazy kisses. He lifts your legs up from behind your knees, allowing him to get even deeper inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut with a breathy whine.

“Good girl, taking me nice and deep,” he praises against your lips, “This is just what you needed, yeah?”

You nod mindlessly as he pistons himself into you. The head of his cock nudges against spots deep inside you that have you shaking. Your arms are weak as you try clinging to him. He gives you one more kiss before burying his sweaty face in your neck. The position presses your thighs against your abdomen. You take him so deep that it’s nearly painful.

He keeps fucking into you though, sliding himself into your heat over and over. His breaths come out in labored puffs while you erratically suck in air between your whines. It’s all building to that breaking point for both of you.

“Can’t even speak, can you baby? Did I fuck you stupid? All those silly thoughts are gone now, yeah?” he croons breathlessly, “Yep, dumb on some cock, your favorite thing in the world, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whimper. The most intelligible response possible at the moment. He feels your tits pushing against his chest as you start squirming and shifting around more. You’re getting nice and tight too. A couple more thrusts, and he knew you would lose it. He slams into you with purpose, bouncing your body against the mattress.

“C’mon, princess. Let go for me. No thinking, just let yourself cum,” he purrs into your ear.

And you do just as he says. You cum again, squeezing around his throbbing length. Crying out, your hands tighten into fists and tug and pull at his sweater. He grumbles as you release, sucking him in and milking him dry. His cum spurts into you. Rope after rope spills inside your walls as he lazily rocks against you.

He peppers your face with kisses as the two of you come off the release. He then rolls off of you flat onto his back. A deep sigh leaves him before he rips off the sweater and flings it to the end of the bed. Your unfocused eyes follow his movements before you scoot closer to him. He smiles at you, knowing you usually got clingy after he fucked you like that. He kisses your forehead as you rest your cheek on his chest. His heart thuds against your face, still beating hard from the exertion. He strokes your hair a little before speaking again.

“You know I love you, baby, but I should take a shower. That sweater was so fucking hot. I’m gross, I’m dripping with sweat right now,” he explains as he starts to get up.

You pull him back down though and nuzzle into his neck.

“Maybe I like you sweaty,” you laugh.

“Maybe you’re a little more out of it than I thought,” he responds and pecks your lips, “But hey, if you like it as much as you liked that sweater, I’m not complaining.”

You groan and playfully shove him away, knowing this would be your life until he found something else to tease you about.

[loudclan-clangen]

(I thought of something funny)

Whenever Owlstar comes back to camp from solo walks, there's just this giant banner at the entrance reading "Welcome Back, Cheater."

Slitsplash swears they didn't put it up, but appreciates whoever did it.

Meanwhile, Fiercestripe is smirking in the background. (She did it)

They’re throwing him a party!

(˃̣̣̥▽˂̣̣̥) These asks all flow together so well I genuinely cannot tell if they are multiple people or just one person who is SO PISSED. Made my night to see these all come in at about 2am. If Owlstar has 100 haters im one of them, if Owlstar has 1 hater it's me, if Owlstar has no haters im dead.

I do! It was actually incredibly comical from my perspective because Eklutna showed up, did fuck all for 5 moons, got pregnant, then promptly died giving birth, to which i went "aw, that sucks" clicked on her kits, and SAW THAT THIER DAD WAS THE LEADER, SOMETHING THAT I DID NOT KNOW COULD HAPPEN. Eklutna didn't even have any romantic like for him, to my recollection, and Owlstar had like maybe a single tick for her? It was really just lucky rng I guess. Owl and Silt actually didn't break up in the game at all, in my original draft for the story, when i was just writing notes as i played, Siltsplash was a lot more... okay with it? Like they were pissed but their personality was a lot more demure so they didn't act on anything really. The exact quote from the draft was: "I won’t lie to you. I’m angry. Starclan, I’m more than angry, I’m furious. I have half the mind to tell you to leave and never come back.” They paused, seeing Owlstar deflate and taking some slight, bitter satisfaction in it before continuing, “But that wouldn’t be fair to those kits. They didn’t ask to be born, much less to you. They deserve to have a family, or as much of it as they are able to have, and starclan help me we’re in this together." It certainly fit with what I knew about them then, but given my ability to look forward and see future events, I decided that a break up made more sense.

Don't be sorry! I am not currently in artfight, I'm considering it but I wouldn't be able to be very active due to school, and I don't want to take another break from this blog so soon after my last, so it's not very high up on my list of priorities. I'm kinda casually working on refs for the more popular characters, so there's a chance I'll get those done and join a team, especially if it's something you guys want me to do. If that happens I'll be sure to let you guys know! I am now in art fight! I gave into peer pressure again. (In a good way).

I don't think even Silt knew. Siltsplash was OUT of it after their conversation with Owlstar, (see: the Eklutna hallucination), and they probably didn't even know where they were headed until they reached the nursery. But after setting eyes on the kits, Siltslpash knew that there was only one option. Yes, they "took the kids in the divorce" but truly they weren't thinking about revenge. They just saw kids who needed something that they could provide.

In terms of writing, though, since I have hundreds of moons of foresight, it was a total bait and switch. I needed to make sure that people had a reason to come back after the break and any comic with kittens in it usually gets a lot of attention, so it was a "marketing" decision to split up the moon the way that I did, in order to make sure that there wasn't too bad of a fall off in interaction for the blog.

In game Eklutna had an affair with Owlstar, died giving birth, and the "died giving birth" event overwrote the "reveal affair" event so technically, in game Owlstar didn't reveal the affair... ever? (Though I had written in my notes that he told Siltsplash who took them as their own). Story wise, Owlstar hadn't planned to tell anyone until the kits started asking about who their father was. Then he would tell them, and would probably reveal it to the clan when they earned their names and were able to become deputy. But, when Eklutna died all that went out the window. For all his faults, Owlstar is not a bad dad, and he would never leave his kits orphaned, even if it would get him in a lot of trouble to do so. He really does care for them, and he feels terrible about how much he's screwed up their lives so far.

He did bad, deitycrows, he did bad. He cheated on his mate and then his affair partner died in childbirth so he's not very popular rn, I've got to be honest.

I don't think it helps at all but, Owlstar did really genuinely like Eklutna! Now, was that because she never opposed him on anything and flattered him with adoring compliments at every opportunity? Possibly. But the "Starclan said" thing was honestly just more of an excuse for him. He woulda had an affair anyway, he just wouldn't have intentionally had kits with her.

:) Eklutna liked... the power that Owlstar held. She liked that he was chosen by Starclan to lead the clan, she liked that his kits are meant to inherit the position of leadership, and she liked that as the mother of his kits she would have a lot of control over both him and the leader after him. As far as his personality... he's kinda a clown but she could live with that.

To be frank: The order of inheritance is ABSOLUTELY FUCKED. If Eklutna had lived, it would be easy. She would take over as deputy until one of the kits was old enough to hold the position. But, since she's dead and Owlstar's only heirs are literal infants, as their adoptive parent Siltsplash is still the deputy for now. What happens when the kits reach adulthood is kinda up for debate. As Owlstar's closest descendant, Songkit should be deputy upon earning his warrior name, BUT Siltsplash is very much against that plan, and the kits might not want to go against their most attentive parent. So the very unhelpful answer is: We have to wait and see what the characters decide.

Thank you so much! I love to hear from first time viewers and see what you guys think of the characters! I'm glad that the dialogue worked so well and Eklutna definitely has Sol vibes! You look at both of them and go "in what world would this plan work the way you wanted it to???"

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 5

Ezra Prospect x f!reader

Rating: M — some prospecting violence

A/N: I cannot even tell you how much this chapter kicked my rear end — it would have never been finished without the love and care and hand holding of @the-scandalorian and @the-ginger-hedge-witch ❤️ Both extremely insightful in their own ways, I am eternally grateful to each of them ❤️ Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

—

All morning he’s been watching you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

The weight of his gaze on your back every time you turn around, logic argues it’s because he’s guiding you into something he knows you’re nervous about. But in the end, shame wins out. It tells you that he knows what you were doing last night while he was in the shower. You contemplate just asking him directly, if only to relieve the feeling, to get it out in the open.

Instead, you keep your mouth closed and decide to put your focus where it should be in the first place.

“Go over it again,” you ask him.

He nods underneath the dome of his helmet, carefully picking his way along a nearly invisible path.

“It’s a wreck. Been one for a while. I came across it a few cycles back, but once I saw that she was no longer functional, I cut my losses. Went through her innards, took what I could – which,” he looks back at you, “mind you, wasn’t much.”

He faces forward again, holding a branch to the side for you to pass. You step carefully over a thick root, accepting the hand that he holds out for help.

“She had been long abandoned even then, so I don’t think we’ll encounter any unsavory protectors today.”

You can tell from the state of the path that he must be telling the truth. The indentation made by long ago steps is covered by overgrowth, a trench you can only feel rather than see. The ground slopes underneath the creeping vines, the crooked line of it hidden by lush leaves. You follow his yellow suit like a beacon, the color a distinct contrast against all the green.

With each step, nerves unfurl in your stomach at the idea that he might be wrong. That there might be another person there, just as eager to keep what’s theirs as you are to take it. The feeling creeps through your veins like the thick vines that crawl over the soil, and keeping your eyes on the familiar yellow in front of you, you squash down the nervousness with every break of one under your boot.

“Slow now. She’s close.”

He holds a gloved hand out to the side, and you peek around the curve of his shoulder. Just beyond the trees, there’s a pod covered in overgrowth, a relic left behind. The windows are yellowed with age, mildew growing over their oval openings.

The hatch is closed, and the area is silent and still.

He takes careful, scouting steps and you follow close behind him.

“Weapon out, Birdie.”

Your thrower already in your grasp, you tighten your hold on it.

You focus on his breathing for a moment, slow and steady through the speaker in your helmet.

“You good?” His voice crackles over the comm link.

When you look up, he meets your gaze with a level one of his own. Patient, checking in.

At the hesitation you can feel in your expression, he reassures. “I promise you, any occupants are long gone.” Reaching out, he lifts the barrel of your thrower. “Still though, can’t be too careful.”

You nod, and he takes the lead, shielding you.

The hatch takes some strength to pry open, and though you should be more nervous about what – or who — you might find inside, you’re temporarily distracted by the sound coming through your commlink. Heavy exhales, low grunts. A low groan of exertion as he pulls, followed by a breathless sound of relief.

The crux of your thighs throbs, and as he disappears into the hatch, you scramble up behind him, right on his heels. There is a tense moment as he rounds the corner, but when he gives you the all clear, your shoulders drop their pressured weight. Relaxed, you both study the disarray in front of you.

Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust: the shards of broken monitor glass scattered on the floor, the torn seats with stuffing spilling out, the stripped panels from the wall. It’s easy to find the compartment you’re looking for: a gaping hole in the middle of the floor, wires spilling from its depths.

You curse silently. “Someone’s been in there.”

“They take everything?” he asks. Using the tip of his pistol, he nudges the lid off the top of a storage compartment and peers inside.

“I’m not sure.”

Setting your thrower and gloves to the side, you get down on all fours and reach into the open compartment. A tangle of wires obstructs your view and your fingers sift through them all, searching by touch alone.

Your arm disappears all the way up to the shoulder before you locate the sharp edge of the circuit board. Grasping it, you lift it free with a sharp tug. It takes forever to ease it out, but when you do, a grin breaks over your face.

Two converters. Worse for wear, but it’s something. Not near what you need, but it still feels like a victory nonetheless. Carefully detaching them from the board, you hold them out for his inspection, cradled in your palm.

“Look at you, my little channel rat.”

His levity sucks all of the remaining tension from the room.

You grimace. “What did you call me?”

“A channel rat. Your little scavenging fingers, digging through the depths of a ship for a treat.”

Dismissing his teasing smile, you shake your head. “Didn’t you tell me once that those things reeked of piss?”

He chuckles. “I did indeed.”

Going back to the hole in the floor, you study the wires left behind for possible scavenging. “If you call me that even one more time, I’ll shoot you in the back.”

His grin widens at your deadpan delivery.

“Deal.”

–

Back in the safety of your own pod, you pull in deep inhales of fresh air as soon as you lift your helmet off. There is a certain sort of pleasure to it, feeling the recycled air hit your cheeks. Inside the helmet, it’s humid and sticky, the blower pack in your suit not enough to combat the heat from your body. It’s built to keep you cool, but under the helmet, your hair sticks to your nape and your forehead with sweat. Under the helmet, your stale breath blows back into your face. Under the helmet, you feel like you can’t breathe sometimes - which is ironic, given the reason for it in the first place.

Ezra stands close, tossing his helmet down to fumble with the zipper of his suit.

That sound. You can hear it in your sleep. No different than the sound of your own zipper being tugged down, and yet, somehow, it is. You envision the entire scene with startling clarity every night: his bare fingers working the clasp, his suit falling away from his body, the sound underneath it all.

“You good?” He checks on you, and when you nod your head but don’t say anything, he bends his gaze to your level. The stark lighting of the pod makes his eyes look even darker, and his hand comes to rest on your shoulder. Right at the edge of your neckline, the heat of his palm brushes against your skin. “You sure?”

“Yea,” you reassure him, trying to ignore the weight behind your navel his touch brings. “It went good. Really good.”

“I think so,” he replies. “I’m impressed. Our first job as a duo, gone off without a hitch.”

He winks, squeezing your shoulder for a brief moment. When his hand slides away, you stop your body from chasing it.

“Here.” His voice pulls you from your reverie, a cleaning kit held outwards towards you. “You do this, and I’ll do dinner?”

Nodding, you take it from him.

Cross-legged on your cot, you enjoy the sounds of domesticity filling the pod: the gentle scrub of your steel cleaning brush, the clink of a metal pan on the stove, a spoon swirling along the bottom of the pan as Ezra stirs. His humming joins the din, and you glance up at him.

If there was something that you’d never have expected from your first confrontation with the man, a scene like this would be at the top of the list. When your attraction initially began, it used to eat you up inside thinking about how you didn’t know him. You felt immature and foolish thinking about how the feelings were rooted in loneliness, sprouting from a life lacking attention and flourishing in close proximity. However, as scenes like the one in front of you became more common, it was easier to accept it.

The want that you feel coats the space like the dust that lingers in the air outside; ever present, in every breath you take. You try to ignore it, a small pocket of embarrassment bubbling up every time you think about approaching him, though he seems like the type who would be into whatever arrangement you’d propose. Especially given how long he’s been alone. Not only that, but the way in which he carries himself suggests he’s ever fluid, open for whatever comes his way. Adaptable, a side effect of his lifestyle you’re sure.

You know better though.

His carefree conversation is practiced, a facade. One meant to disarm and distract. You’re fairly certain he’s past that stage with you, given not only the amount of time you’ve spent together, but also the way he looks at you. Unguarded, in the morning after he wakes or in the evening, right before he goes to bed. Distracted, letting himself slip into thought, his eyes hooded as his tongue slides slowly across his bottom lip.

Sometimes though, sometimes you see him looking at you in the same way he looks at others: like they are something to study, his eyes keenly assessing.

That look always gives you pause. No matter how much you know he’d probably say yes, his motives are the question you’d really want answered.

Picturing the bare skin along his ribs that rippled in his stretch the other day when he emerged from the shower, you silently flex your hand, mentally fitting your fingers along the velvet skin. Safe in the secrecy of your own mind, you let your daydreams flourish – a bubble that pops when he approaches your cot.

“Not a feast, by any means,” he says, sitting down next to you. “But it’ll do.”

You accept the bowl gratefully, steam rising from its contents. He blows on his spoon, taking a bite. The motion makes his jaw work, and when he swallows, you watch through the fringe of your eyelashes.

“You did good today.”

His easy praise just slips off his tongue, and for someone who has spent so much time in the darkness, you keen under its light.

You smile over at him, and he returns it - but only for a fraction before it drops.

He looks away, down at his food. “The next one might be a touch harder.”

“How come?” you ask, your mouth full.

“Because it’s occupied.”

You stop chewing.

His eyes flick up to meet yours. “Unattended pods are a thing of rarity. Most are occupied, and their inhabitants can be…”

You raise your eyebrows when he doesn’t finish the sentence. “Can be…?”

“Protective of what’s theirs.”

His statement hangs in the air, his expression sober.

Swallowing hard, you sit with it for a minute. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“Look,” he sighs, studying you. “I feel I should go alone, little bird.”

Frowning, you let your bowl rest in your lap. “What? Why? It’s too dangerous.”

He huffs in amusement. “You wound me with your lack of faith in my skills. I assure you, I’ve been navigating such situations alone for far longer than you’ve even been alive.”

The reminder of his age compared to yours should make you feel more at ease about his capabilities, but instead the statement temporarily distracts you. You take in his calloused hands, the lines that edge around the corners of his eyes, the grey flecks in his beard.

“I’ve taught you a lot,” he continues, “But letting the idea marinate, I believe it’s safer to keep you here.”

His suggestion catches you off guard. Everything about your arrangement has been with the word “partnership” in mind: he’s taught you how to dig, how to shoot, how to be aware of your surroundings. For him to want you to stay behind versus alongside him must mean there is something more dangerous about the situation than he’s letting on.

Not liking the idea of being separated from him, you press. “Trust me, I don’t doubt your skills. I’ve seen you in action.”

He sits up straighter, a proud smile stretching his cheeks, and you roll your eyes, undeterred.

“You’re the mechanic, I’m the muscle,” you mimic in his voice. “Weren’t those your words? If there is anyone there, you’ll deal with them so I can get the converters.”

“I’m afraid they won’t part with them as easily as your statement suggests.”

“I never thought they would.” You hold his gaze, searching. “Why don’t you want me there?”

He hesitates, and you can see a war within the depths of his eyes. Eventually, he answers, his voice softer. “I don’t want to subject you to…an avoidable confrontation. Not if I don’t have to.”

A beat of significant silence fills the space between you. Your dinners forgotten, the space around you shrinks to the size of the cot that you share. The urge to toss your bowl onto the ground and pull him to you builds the longer you sit with his statement, but there is something else about his words that tugs at the back of your mind.

You picture him walking into the Green alone, disappearing from your sight. Weeks with him at your side has you rejecting the mental image. Your stomach churns, your hand reaching out to cover his.

“If you go, I go.”

A grimace flashes over his features, the scar along his cheek highlighted for a moment. “I thought you’d say that.”

Rationally, you know he’s just trying to protect you, but you let your hand fall back, hurt. Busying yourself with your bowl again, you can feel him looking at you.

“Hey now,” he says, soft, but stern. “It’s not a lack of faith in your skills, trust me. It’s just that mercs out here are ruthless, raw. Their sensibilities have been swallowed whole by this place, and I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

His voice lowers even more, his tone gentle. “You remember what I said? About girls being rare in this place?”

You look up, and his gaze is fixed on yours, earnest and serious.

“I meant it.”

Apprehension flickers in your chest, but you remain firm in holding your ground. He can’t go alone.

“You really want to come with?” he asks.

You nod instantly. “Yes.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up, a hint of pride flashing through his eyes.

“Okay then, partner. Let’s talk about a plan.”

–

Ezra shifts on his cot, forcing his pillow into submission under his head.

“If you go, I go.”

Your words echo in his mind, your face appearing alongside. Your presence pulls at him from across the short distance between your cots, and he shifts again, rolling to face the wall.

He doesn’t want you to come with tomorrow.

He knows what this place is capable of, the way it carves out the morals of men to leave them shells of desperation. He himself has fallen victim to it, and though he hasn’t often found regret in his actions, he already regrets agreeing to let you come. He’s been here long enough to know that a partner is crucial to survival, but you…you’re unprecedented. You’re a girl. You’re something no one has seen in a long time, and he worries (an emotion he’s not used to) about how they’ll react when they see you.

If it’s anything like the way he reacts to you, you’re both in trouble.

You stir behind him, and he listens. You shift again, and he stills his breath.

The idea that you might be restless with the want you sated last night blossoms in his mind, heat pooling behind his navel. His fingers lightly scratch the wiry hair underneath it, just over where he aches. His cock twitches in interest, and distracting himself from the thought of everything that could go wrong tomorrow, he immerses himself in the thought of you.

You, right behind him, feet away.

You, trying to be quiet, slick need gathering between your thighs.

You, slipping your hand underneath the band of your leggings.

A phantom stickiness smears across the tips of his fingers, and they twitch against his skin. He teases at the band of his thermals, pretending his hand is yours. He moves it slowly, imagining your hesitation - eager, yet shy.

He thickens fully at the thought.

Unpracticed at hiding his attraction towards someone, he’s testing the limits of his self restraint with every minute spent in your presence. Constantly reminding himself of how vulnerable you are, the idea that you’d go along with any sort of proposition out of intimidation makes him sick. But you wanting it? You making the first move?

His hand (your hand) creeps a little lower, brushing against the base of his cock. It’s stiff to the touch, and he closes his eyes – only to be assaulted with the idea of someone else grabbing your hand to force it underneath their pants. His erection wanes, a series of images flashing through his mind: you screaming for help, you being forcibly dragged out of his sight, someone else taking from you what you never offered.

He softens.

His attachment to you is something like he’s never experienced before. This urge to keep you hidden from the world to protect you, while also helping you flourish. The need that coats him from the inside out, yet is forced to stay on a leash. It feels like a fever dream sometimes, the time he spends in the pod with you. A liminal place, a trapped sort of existence akin to hell itself in the way he wants you, but also something akin to heaven.

A companionship he’s missed, a presence he ached for and now has. Like you dropped from the sky, meant just for him.

He hears you shift again, and he frowns.

He should roll over and ask you if everything’s okay, but he knows it’s not. You’re probably worried about tomorrow and you should be. You’re as ready as you’ll ever be — as ready as this place will allow you to become before you’re thrown into the heat of the fire.

He also shouldn’t because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop himself. If he rolls over, he’ll see you — see your shadowed form in the darkness, the dips and curves of your body. He pictures himself being drawn to it, crawling the distance between your cots. Settling close to you, feeling the heat of your skin. Murmured, dulcet tones of soothing. His hands smoothing away your nerves.

His mouth being drawn to yours in the dark intimacy of the night.

He wants to tuck your face into the crook of his neck and tell you it will be fine.

But he doesn’t know if it will be, and so he stays still, guilt eating at his restless bones.

—

The pod stands alone in the clearing, silent and imposing.

Boot prints have tamped down the soil surrounding it, the greenery eaten away. The tracks are fresh, and they lead in every direction.

“How many do you think there are?”

Hidden in the green together, you speak lowly even though no one is tuned into your frequency but Ezra.

“Hard to say. I’d judge two, maybe three.” He shifts, trying to get a better view. “The size of their vessel doesn’t say much for numbers. Can’t be more than that.”

“Do you think they’re in there?”

Noting no sign of life surrounding the pod, you try to peer in the windows from afar to spot any movement.

He sighs, a heavy and resigned thing through your connection. He turns his head, and you do the same, facing each other.

“Unfortunately, Birdie, we won’t know until we open the door.”

He checks the charge on his pistol, flicking his eyes to your weapon in a motion for you to do the same. “You ready?”

Nodding, you grip your thrower. “Ready.”

Standing from your hidden spot, he takes an automatic lead in front of you. His slinking steps are careful, his breathing steady and measured. The dust motes surrounding you make the whole thing seem like a suspended dream, like you’re moving in slow motion along with them. For every step he takes, you do the same until you’re moving as mirror images, creeping closer and closer.

Anticipation and adrenaline have your entire body on high alert, yet the green around you remains eerily calm. There is no movement and no sound other than the gentle rustle of the trees, and while that would normally be muted underneath the dome of your helmet, your straining ears pick it up. A bead of sweat glides down the back of your neck, your eyes focused on Ezra’s back as he reaches the pod.

His gloved hand strokes down the smooth metal of the hatch, searching for an opening. When he finds it, you can hear a terse smile in his exhale of relief.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “You gonna open up for me?”

He works the latch open with force, and you spot check the edges of the clearing. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it in your chest, and in contrast, Ezra seems as calm as ever. You think about your own pod in the middle of a similar clearing, and how your role has reversed in your weeks here. Once the trapped person inside, now the intruder seeking what belongs to someone else.

The hatch opens, and you crawl in behind him.

It’s empty inside, though clearly in use. Two cots are pushed against the wall, blankets and pillows crumpled on top of them. Thermals litter the floor, metal dishes are stacked next to the small sink, and there is a station of cleaning tools left out, as if someone stopped mid-task.

“Speed is of the essence, little bird.”

His voice grounds you, your eyes immediately scanning the floor. It takes a minute to find the sealed compartment, but you catch the edge of it underneath one of the cots.

“Help me move this,” you ask him, picking your way over to the panel. While you’re careful with your steps, he stomps without care on anything in his way: discarded papers on the floor, a dirty shirt. He lifts the cot with a grunt, and you drop to your knees.

The panel springs open and sifting through the wires, you wish you stopped to take your helmet off. It’s hard to get close enough to the floor with the dome limiting how close you can get, and a small huff of frustration slips from your mouth as you stick your arm down, down, down, stretching it as much as you can.

Just when you’ve reached your limit, you feel the edge of the panel.

“Anything there?” He delivers the question calmly, though you can hear the slight tone of urgency that slips through.

“Got it,” you grit through your teeth, tugging it free.

The edges of it catch on the neat wiring that surrounds it, and impatiently, you tear through it all. Lifting it from the floor, your eyes widen.

“Ten. There are ten, Ez.”

You look up at him in awestruck wonder, and he returns a tight smile.

“Speedy now. Show me how you use those nimble fingers of yours.”

You click them off with practiced precision, trying to tamp down the elation that you feel at the added weight of each one in the pouch attached to your hip. When you have all ten, you toss the panel back into the nest of wires and slip the lid back into place. Standing to get out of his way, you watch as Ezra unceremoniously drops the cot back onto the floor.

He smiles at you, a genuine one this time. “You did so good, Birdie. So good.”

Relief floods your chest at his praise. Your stomach has been in knots all morning, worsening as you sat in the bush and waited, and though you know you’re not out of danger yet, you take a moment to let your victory wash over you. A sudden, fierce wish to be back in your own pod with him takes you by surprise, a burning need to throw your helmet off and have him do the same so you can kiss him. Your body subconsciously leans forward, drawn to the idea and to him and to the need to have his praise breathed directly into your mouth for you to swallow.

A similar look flashes across his own dark features, and there is a beat of weighted tension. It swirls in the space between you, filling it — and breaking, when he grabs your hand.

He gives it a squeeze, leading you back towards the hatch. “Come on. Before they get back.”

Following the back of his suit out of the pod, you notice the surroundings of the clearing seem brighter, less ominous. The dust that floats through the air no longer seems threatening and nightmarish, but more like a pleasant dream. You take in the details for the first time today, your eyes fixed where the tops of the trees brush the sky – disappearing when you’re ripped from behind with a sudden, forceful jerk backwards.

“Ezra!”

Your thrower gets tossed from your hand, and the air is pushed from your lungs as your back hits the ground with a thud. You kick wildly and try to scramble up, and a sharp kick from behind keeps you trapped in place, forcing you onto your front.

Coughing, you lift your head under the helmet, but the edges of the dome obstruct your view. Straining, you squirm underneath the heavy pressure of a boot on your back, fighting to see where Ezra is. You can see only his boots, toe to toe with a stranger’s.

The voice above you is grizzled and deep. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Looking for something we need,” Ezra drawls, and though you can’t see his face, you can picture it. The truthful admission comes out slow and confident. “We found it, so we’ll be on our way.”

You hear the charge of a thrower above you, and Ezra’s boots shift slightly. It’s a special sort of hell to hear him through the comm link without being able to see him.

“Go in there and see what the fuck they took,” orders the man pinning you to the ground.

You see his partner's boots walk out of your sight, and hear him climb the ramp to the pod.

“You stay right there,” he warns Ezra. “One move and I’ll shoot your partner here.”

Lifting your torso with a grunt, you shift just enough to get Ezra in your sights before the boot on your back forces you back down. Even though you’re prone and he’s being held at gunpoint—both at the mercy of a stranger—reassurance floods through you at just being able to see his face.

“That would be…regrettable.”

The shift in Ezra’s expression is cold and menacing, his fingers flexing slightly on the grip of his pistol.

“That so?” the man teases. His boot wiggles, shoving you deeper into the soil. “Feels kinda scrawny. Can’t imagine what use he is to you for someone so small.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ezra counters.

“Let’s see him.”

The words take you by surprise, just like the swift jerk of your shoulders. He flips you faster than you can react, his boots coming down to step on your arms and the tip of his thrower aims directly at your face – his eyes wide with surprise right above it.

“Is this – is this a girl?”

Your boot flies up to kick him in the back, and he grunts but doesn’t budge. You do it again, and he presses the muzzle of his thrower into your chest.

“Do it again and see what happens.” Antsy, he glances up in the direction of the pod and yells to his partner. “What the fuck is taking you so long?”

Taking advantage of his split second of distraction, you use every ounce of strength you have to bow your back off the ground just enough to catch him by surprise. His boots falter, taking the pressure off your arms and you quickly sit up, driving your elbows into his thighs. He growls in frustration, trying to keep his thrower on you while also bending to swipe for your leg, and you scramble backwards in the soil. Your boots slide on the damp earth, your gloved fingers digging into the ground for purchase and there is a sharp crack in the air as Ezra aims his pistol at the man and misses. You flinch, crawling backwards to get out of the man��s reach, and panic cuts through you when you hear the stomp of boots coming down the ramp.

“What the hell –”

Those are the only words the man gets out before you hear more cracking shots, and then he’s falling backwards, dead, onto the ground.

“You son of a bitch!” The man who had you pinned lunges for Ezra, his thrower tossed to the side, a knife in his hand instead.

Ezra abandons his own weapon, throwing himself at the stranger. You watch helplessly as two of them hit the ground, fighting for control of the knife. Crawling towards Ezra’s gun, you stretch your hand towards the weapon when you hear it.

“Just wait till I kill you,” the man warns between his teeth. “I’m gonna fuck that girl raw. Right here. Right next to your dead fucking –”

A grizzled choking sound cuts off the man’s words, and you whirl to face them just in time to see Ezra jerking the knife out of the man’s neck. Blood spurts across Ezra’s gloves, and he shoves the knife down again, and again. The force behind it is immense, Ezra’s face contorted in a look you’ve never seen before. His jabs are ruthless and quick, cutting and deep, and his arm speeds up, his face in a rage-filled trance, his eyes wild and cold all at the same time.

“Mine,” you hear him between heavy breaths, between each plunge. “She’s mine.”

Frozen, you watch in a morbid sort of fascination, but also in relief.

He doesn’t stop stabbing until the man is long dead.

—

The walk back to the pod is as quick as it can be, with Ezra’s weight leaning heavily on your side. All traces of joy and victory have long vanished, and the two of you say nothing to each other as you trudge along the hidden path.

His expression as he killed that man plays on repeat in your mind the whole way, along with his words.

“She’s mine.”

Though he’s trying to mask his pain, his grip on your hip tells you the truth, as does his labored breathing. You didn’t see it happen, but the man must have hit his mark at least once, judging from a telltale stain of dark red smeared across the front of Ezra’s suit. It seems to take forever to get back, and with every step, his wound gets worse and worse in your mind.

Finally back inside your pod, you strip and toss everything carelessly onto the ground.

“I need the med kit,” he groans, collapsing against the wall. His movements are jerky as he rips his helmet off, and then his gloves, using his teeth. “Fuck,” he sighs, his eyes pinched closed.

He’s pale, his sweat matted hair stuck to his forehead and you kneel in front of him with the kit, rifling through the contents.

“What do you need?”

His hand splays protectively over his lower stomach. “He got me through my suit, just here.” He shifts, a loud groan breaking free when he peels down the top of his suit. He rolls it to the waist, and gingerly pushing the fabric down, you see his thermals underneath, stained dark and saturated with blood.

He lifts it, and you wince.

“Looks worse than it is,” he breathes heavily, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“It looks pretty bad, Ez. Really bad.”

His stomach is matted and smeared with blood, and at the center of it all, a gash.

He holds his hand out for gauze, dabbing at the wound with a hiss. “See?” His stomach flinches, and he wipes it again before looking at you. “A stitch or two should do it.”

“You sure?” you ask, and he nods, letting his head fall to the side as he looks away.

“In you? Always.”

Your fingers tremble slightly when you flick open the med kit, and then rote memory takes over. You’ve done this – your father used to stumble home all the time with various gashes. Bar fights, brawls in alley ways. Prospectors are a rough crowd, and you’d stitched him up more than once. This is just like that, only better because you don’t have someone yelling at you to do it faster – but also worse, because you care about this person more. The thought leaps into your mind, and knowing you don’t have time to dwell on it, you shove it away.

Ezra flinches at the touch of your hand against his bare stomach, his muscles tensing under your fingers.

You pause, and he lets out a nervous laugh.

“Sorry. Cold hands.”

You give him an apologetic smile.

“Keep going.”

You take your time disinfecting the wound, making sure all traces of dirt are gone. Your hand sweeps across this skin more than once, trying not to think about all the ways you imagined touching his stomach for the first time. It’s soft under your fingertips, a slight round to his lean belly and though his neck is taut with tension, he remains still under your exploration. You want him to look at you: for reassurance, for acknowledgement of your hands on his skin – but he is resolute, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall.

Setting your rag down, you pick up the stapler.

“You ready?”

He nods.

Using one hand to pinch his flesh together, you brace the stapler against his skin, blood smearing on the metal. You punch the first one through, and he hisses, his hand gripping your wrist.

“Shit. Shit. Keep going.”

His breathing has turned into panting, his eyes clenched tight. You slide it along his skin an inch, and then punch another one.

The groan he lets out would be filthy, if not for the situation you’re in. It’s a strained, long thing — his head tipped back, veins highlighted along his neck and you toss the stapler to the side, pressing fresh gauze against the wound.

“All done. It’s done.”

He nods, a tired smile gracing his face. Leaning forward, he keeps one hand on his stomach and you watch nervously as he crawls onto his cot. He falls back onto his pillow, calmer now, but still pale.

“My thanks, Birdie.”

He slips into a stress-induced sleep, and you look at him for a moment before cleaning up.

At the sink, you notice his red hand print around your wrist. The blood had pooled between his fingers, the digits a slick slide over your small wrist and you brush your thumb over the marks he left behind. It looks violent, yet there is a part of you that likes it. Being branded with him, a part of him smeared into your skin.

You hesitate to wash it off.

—

He sleeps, and you keep watch.

You had worried for your father sometimes, but it was nothing like this. In the small amount of time that you’d come to know him, Ezra already meant more to you than your own father ever did.

In the dark, you finally let yourself dwell on the realization.

Your father had never truly been a father. He was more of a stranger, or a roommate at best. He dragged you down with him, keeping you close enough to use you when he needed. He was never invested in you, never cared what you thought or wanted. You never needed him for anything, but Ezra…Ezra you need. You need him to survive and get off this planet, but you also need him more than that. Deeper than that.

The respect and courtesy he treats you with is something that surprised you, given the way you met. In a short while though, you’ve come to realize it’s exactly what’s been missing from your life this whole time. His curiosity and interest is genuine, and his care for you — especially after the events of today — is obvious.

She’s mine.

Did he say that because it’s true? Or because he needs everyone else to believe it’s true?

His lashes flutter, a dream seemingly racing through his slumber and you watch the movement of his eyes under his lids. His fingers flex, and without thinking, you place your hand on top of his.

He stills, and so do you.

The minutes and hours slip by, the moon slowly making its way from one pod window to another and you keep your vigil all the while. He murmurs in his sleep, and you cradle the curve of his jaw. Even after he stops, you keep your hand in place.

Your thumb traces the line of the scar on his cheek - a hooked thing, violent. He never told you how he got it, and you long for him to wake up and regale you with the story. He’d make a meal out of it, you know he would.

When he doesn’t stir, you continue your exploration.

Delicate touches: a swipe over his silken eyelid, a trace down the line of his nose. The bristle of his moustache tickles the pad of your thumb, a direct contrast against the smooth patch of skin on his jawline where there is no hair.

He’s a killer, and you wonder how many have gotten as close as this.

She’s mine.

He’s right — you are. In a short while you have become his. The juxtaposition of the man you saw today versus the man in front of you now is jarring, as if he couldn’t be the same man at all. And maybe he’s not, for anyone else. But for you, he is.

You get both, and while you should have been scared by the way he savagely killed today, you instead find yourself proud. You find yourself drawn to it, admiration and assurance and a sense of protection swirling around in your mind.

He did that for you, something no one has ever done.

Emboldened by this knowledge and drawn to his profile in the dark, you rest on his firm chest, and your fingers splay outwards over his heart.

Leaning down, you press your lips lightly against his.

–

He’s been awake for a while.

He has wished for you like this so many times. Just like this, only he never imagined himself like this. Just his luck that his wish comes true, but at a cost.

You’re so close, your face hovering just above his. He can smell the sweetness of your breath, of your skin. The way you’re looking at him has been one he’s only ever seen in his dreams, and though his body aches with a hidden want that threatens to consume, he stays perfectly still, not wanting it to end.

He’s never been touched like this by anyone, and it takes everything he has to keep his eyes closed — until he feels you press your lips against his.

He responds instantly, his hand coming up to cup the crown of your head.

Your kiss is so soft — soft and delicate and vulnerable, just like you. Your mouth fits neatly against his own, and before he can truly savor it, it’s gone.

He opens his eyes and your shadowed form comes into focus, your proximity intoxicating. His dream come to life.

His hand slides down the back of your hair, settling on your neck. Holding you place, he can see the vulnerability that seeps out of your every pore, and he longs to soothe you. If he knew what he should soothe, he would.

He knows what he wants to soothe, but he waits.

“What are you doing, Birdie?” he whispers.

Your eyes flit between his, and you bite your lip, thinking. He watches as you war with yourself inside your head, and his touch drifts to cup your cheek. His thumb slides across the soft curve of it, and when his eyes dip to your mouth, he watches your expression change to something more assured.

Confident, resolute.

“This,” you whisper back, bending down for another kiss.

[sillyblues]

the ocean and the wind. (5)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis: tonowari is the ocean and ronal is the wind. where does it leave you?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes: reader is so lucky you have a support group but it's a good thing you are not that blind right?? anyways lmk your thoughts and which parts were your favorite i make sure to read all of your comments and rbs btw sometimes i just don't reply smts bc i got busy but yeah i appreciate every notes you leave!!

part 1 ✩ part 2 ✩ part 3 ✩ part 4 ✩ part 5 (here!) ✩ part 6 ✩ part 7 (final part)

The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Between the two, where does it leave you?

None. Of course, there is no place for you. You are nothing to them. You are not even a speck of particle that the air carries or the smallest piece of sand that the sea touches.

They were the source of your greed, your guilt and shame, but you were wrong. You are the shameful and disgraceful one. You who dared to overstep your boundaries. You who dared to desire them.

Humiliation burns your skin and chars your heart and remorse fills your lungs with smoke and suffocates you. You let it ablaze and reduce your heart to a pile of ashes and glowing embers that burn you inside out.

Your ache stings and brings forth droplets of salty tears that do nothing to extinguish your pyre.

"Ma’evi, what pains you so?" Your Sa'nok cradles you to her chest and sways you gently. Tears sprung out of her eyes as she puts your head on the crook of her neck. Like a furious river, you tremble and no rocks could stop your overflow as you sob.

Your muffled wails fill your home. You cry and cry undeserving tears you didn't notice when your father had come inside, only the warmth of another embrace and soft pats on your back.

“Cry it all out to us, my dear, and we will cry with you.” Do you dare to tell them? Do you dare to tell them of a horrible daughter you are? Do you dare to tell them of the sins you have committed?

“Let us see you, my child,” your mother tucks the strands of your hair that stick to your face into your ear. “Let us bear your pain instead,”

You don’t dare say anything and let their touch lull you to your sleep.

.

.

.

“The Olo’eyktan have announced that the Iknimiya will be held in a few days because of the auspicious sign of the return of our brothers and sisters,” your mother gently says as she cuts some food. You all sit on the floor as you eat. You didn’t want to eat with them at first, preferring to sleep the rest of the day away, but your parents have been concerned since your walls shattered in front of them. “Truth be told, your Sempul and I think you are ready.”

Your father hums as he offers you a bite from his hand and you eat it.

“Yes, we can see how independent you are already. You are even a greater hunter than I am now,” he jokes and your eyes waver at the effort he puts into making you feel better each day ever since your walls broke down in front of them. You smile and joke weakly in return.

“Am I now?”

“Mhm, an even better healer than me as well. I think you would make a great Tsahik,” you freeze at that. Memories of Ronal and Tonowari rush through your head and your hand trembles in place when you reached your hand for food. You quickly pulled back and lightly clasped your hands together, hiding your palms away from them.

Tsahik. Ronal is much suited for the position. She is more suited as Tonowari’s mate and Tonowari is more suited for her. Their bond is like no other after all. You would not be surprised should they choose each other when they complete their Iknimiya, Letsakx made a good job of waking you up from the blindness of their attraction for each other, which will happen soon. Very soon. And soon, you will have to live with your closest friends’ love that does not include you.

You hum, not daring to speak for fear you might stutter and they will hear the shakiness of your voice. They are very keen and observant. Perhaps they already have an inkling of what you feel. Of what you have thought. And what you have done.

“But Ma’evi, we are not saying this because we want you to complete your Iknimaya now,” your mother says as she takes the knife and plate away and gets closer to all of you three. She holds your hand in hers and looks at you with so much softness and your father squeezes your other hand with such gentleness that you feel yourself tearing up but you hold it down. “We do not want you to do it if you yourself do not feel ready.”

“Take your time, my dear, we will be always waiting here for you.” Really, you don’t deserve your parents. They don’t deserve a child like you. But the love they have for you is great and you find yourself squeezing their hands.

You find yourself letting them see you.

.

.

.

The day of Iknimaya has come and all of the men, women, and children had gathered on the central island. Many young hunters participated in this coming-of-age ritual. You are among them, along with your other friends and some you knew from one of your classes back then and of course, Tonowari and Ronal. They had been trying to get close to you, but you only smile painfully so.

“Are you alright now, [Name]? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Tonowari says to you with concern swimming in his bright blue eyes and your heart flutters at the thought that you were his subject of worry, but you are quickly reminded that you are not his. Ronal touches you and inspects you carefully as she circles around you for wounds that you might have. Your battered heart trembles under her keen gaze that looks only at you for the moment but you are quickly reminded that you are not hers.

“Your mother told us that you had gotten ill, are you sure you can join this Iknimaya?” your mother told everyone who asked about you an excuse for your absence. You realize that with you, they touch a lot and the ache grows for they caress you not because they want you as you want them. You smile bitterly.

“Yes, I want to do this,” you gently take their hands off of you, “Let’s talk again later, hm? My friends have been calling me.”

You send them a smile and return to your group of friends. You did not look back as you promised, despite the greed that claws you inside out. Your friends exclaim in surprise and joy at your presence. Some hug and some send a smile towards you.

But it’s okay, you think as you converse with them, this is a lesson you must learn and you would never dare to disappoint Eywa or everyone else again.

It wasn’t long until the ritual formally started and you find yourselves in the sea with water halfway up to your legs. The Olo’eyktan started his speech moments ago about the history and importance of your coming-of-age ritual, his gaze heavy with pride for all of you.

“Young hunters, it is time,” the Olo’eyktan says as he looks at each one of you, “It is time for you to become a true Na’vi. A true Metkayina.”

“Show us that you can handle the mighty and strong roars of the ocean by taming a Skimwing. Show us your worthiness by bonding with your spiritual brothers and sisters. Show us that you deserve the symbols inked into your skin.” He stomps and you all stomp. You all let out sounds of gruff and puffs with the tongues of the men out and the lips of the women pursed down.

Now, you watch as one by one, the names of the others are called out and they tame the Skimwing. You stare as Tonowari chooses the biggest one with the brightest orange spots that decorated its wings. You stare as he takes a quick glance at you and blinks while he turns away to look at Ronal. He sends her a reassuring smile and none for you. Your heart is silent as you watch him successfully tame his Skimwing and swim through the fast currents and return so proud and so imposing.

You stare as Ronal chooses the calmest one with calming green spots that adorn its wings. You stare as she looks at you with firm eyes that you could not read. She turns to Tonowari and nods at him. A part of you is scared that you do not know her well anymore and a part of you bleeds out at the confirmation that only Tonowari can truly see and understand her. Your heart fades away as you watch her gracefully soar and dance with the wind and return smoothly with such elegance.

Your turn has come and you look at the Skimwings that paid no mind to you. But there was one that looked back at you and swims slowly toward you. You let out a silent giggle to yourself. Would you let me see you? You hummed as you questioningly looked at it. It touches your hand with its head and makes you pat it as if saying, If you would let me.

You swing your leg over its body and sat on its back. You take your queue from behind and formed Tsaheylu with your Skimwing. The feeling momentarily blinds you before you become hyper-aware of the water that surrounds both of you, your weight on its back, and its feelings.

You both swim gently until the pace becomes faster. You both dive deep into the ocean and see the shoals of fish that swim past you, the sways of the underwater forests that glow so brightly, and the calmness of the water that leaves you breathless of its beauty.

You swim back to the surface and put your feet on its behind and crouch down, your grip hard on its tie. Your Skimwing jumps and unfolds its wings and you laugh breathlessly as you let the wind kiss your skin, its rustle cheering you on as you soar through the sky.

But it is time for you to return. As you come back, you immediately miss the ocean and the wind. After this, no more, you promised yourself, No more.

The bonding with the Tulkun soon followed after. Everyone went to the sides of their respective spiritual brother and sister and they all look so excited. Everyone was filled to the brim with joy but you, your nerves leave you trembling slightly.

Greetings, sister, you signed with a small smile hoping she would forgive you for only coming to see her today and not as soon as they arrived.

How dare you come at me only now? Is this what you see of me, just a way for you to complete your Iknimaya? Well, you are wrong! I will not bend over to your wishes so easily! she moaned in annoyance at you and sways you off gently.

You don’t think she could even bend but you just hugged her and buried your face against her beautiful skin that you would fawn at each time but you wouldn’t bring yourself to now. I’m sorry, sister. You don’t have to make Tsaheylu for me, I understand.

She pauses and was silent for a while.

…What pains you so, sister? Who dares to give you such pain? she hums at you, covering you with one of her fins and lets you hide. Tears escape your eyes and you sob silently underwater. Fear comes back and it overflows your lungs and shame burns your body hot despite the coolness of the water. 

Lend me your suffering and let me suffer with you. Let me see you, sister. You look at her in shock and disbelief. Despite that you have wronged her, she still wants to see you. 

She wants to see you. She wants to see your pain. She wants to see your fear. She wants to see your shame. Do you dare to let someone know of your sins? Your immoral thoughts and greed?

You look at your sister with only you in her eyes and she blinks softly at you.

You find yourself letting her see you.

She opens her mouth and you enter inside. Her queue comes down almost immediately and you almost laugh at how she truly wants to bond with you, even if it happened in an unfortunate circumstance you caused. You take your own and hold the end part of it, letting its tendrils connect to her glowing golden queue.

You close your eyes and your sisters’ memories rush through you. Her birth, her parents, her family, you see it. The joyous moments that contain you beside her, you see it. One particular moment was when you swam through the deep ocean and talked about the most mundane thing with her, lasting for even hours until you two have to breathe the surface’s air again. Her huntings as they travel outside your clan, you see it. Her first hunt without you and how she felt lonely without you by her side to congratulate you.

Now, you see her current emotions as she sees you. She’s distraught. Sad. In pain. But she is with you and your heart (or whatever is left of it) warms.

Oh, my sister, she whines and sobs. Her body vibrates and you feel yourself crying with you as well. My poor sister. You don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve this.

You think of the ocean and the wind once more, breaking your promise to yourself for the millionth time. The wind guides the ocean and wherever the ocean goes, the wind is there. The two cannot exist without the other for only together, they create the most beautiful peaceful calmness or the strongest violent storm.

Today, you have seen how great they are. And how well they suit each other. How Ronal’s grace matches Tonowari’s pride. How Tonowari’s imposing presence matches Ronal’s elegant strides. 

Today, you have seen what great Olo’eyktan and Tsahik will become. You have seen how far they are out of your reach and what your place will be for the years that will come by.

For between the two, there leaves none for you.

series-taglist: (tags in blue means tumblr won't let me mention you, please let me know if you changed usernames!) @totesnothere04 @ducks118 @narutoboi @yeosxxx @fanboyluvr @ladylovegood-69 @northsoulss @thatfictionalwh0re @ghostlyworld @toodaloo432 @lovefromjazzy @greendino7 @neteyamforlife @vermilionzombie @vxncxntt @adaiasafira @tsuteysyawntu @mooniequeen @eywas-heir

[mikuni14]

I Hear The Sunspot - Ep 10

I won't lie if I say that series that create dramas out of nothing, creating problems and scenarios that are far removed from the ordinary lives of millions of people around the world, kind of annoy me 🙃 Kohei and Taichi's relationship is getting more and more weird and unnatural, and they had such a good flow in episodes 1-6. Taichi, who didn't allow any bullshit and openly confronted Kohei and everyone he met, is now unable to communicate. Kohei, who had a tendency to blurt out confessions about his feelings, is now unable to communicate. We also had scenes of them being shy, hiding, which were eventually resolved by contacting/meeting/ even visiting home, and we keep going back to the same point over and over again. Although that's not even it: I complained about the repetition, but now they're back to a point where they never even were. Besides, I really have the impression that the series creates artificial drama, the lack of communication has reached astronomical proportions, they either do not talk to each other AT ALL, and when they meet for a second, when they are not with Maya, they barely talk about important stuff, which was not a problem for them before. They cannot talk, they cannot make an appointment and meet with each other alone like adults, they do not use phones, they cannot get rid of Maya for 5 seconds.

I am generally furious with Kohei that he cannot once and properly put Maya down for her words and behavior towards Taichi, if someone spoke shit like that about someone I like - not even my close friend or crush, and someone like that is supposedly Taichi for Kohei - we would have a serious conversation about it: either stay and shut the fuck up, or leave.

I absolutely hate how Maya described Taichi not knowing him at all and how Kohei immediately thought of it when he saw Taichi making a decision about his life, career and future. What the actual FUCK. Am I the only one who sees Taichi's life as being quite lonely and supporting himself and going to college and working and helping Kohei? And how he has to think about himself and his future because he has no supportive parents and no one will do it for him? How can anyone even think of him as doing it all thoughtlessly or on purpose? Or that he "abandons Kohei" because he is a stupid and cruel person who never cared? ☹

What is the point of this BL at all, since there has been no BL for the last 4 episodes, and the main characters are drifting further and further away from each other with each episode. Why don't they struggle with all these adversities, problems TOGETHER. What is the point of all this, since there is no "togetherness" in it! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

I just... I just love Kohei so much and he seems very lonely to me now. I started shipping him with Chiba-kun ngl, with whom he currently has the most chemistry and scenes lmao

On the one hand, it's not so good that the grandfather isn't more helpful and advising on the young man's important life decisions, on the other hand, the fact that he doesn't make a drama out of these decisions is a big relief for him 😊 Even if Taichi makes a bad decision, he'll have a place to go back to and he'll have the support of his grandfather, who won't make him feel bad about it or say "I told you so". Taichi is still young, he can do whatever he wants, he can go back to college someday, these are no longer the times when people had to make the most important life decisions before the age of 25, which were also irreversible. I think it was a good scene.

But what's worst about all this is that the series got itself tangled up in its own plot, because we don't have a single hint since ep 6 that Taichi is responding to Kohei's feelings, so this whole drama makes no sense. Since they have nothing in common romantically, if they want, they can meet up after work/school (although they haven't managed to do that yet lol) as friends, write to each other (also something they can't do) and live their own lives. Kohei can meet up with Maya since he prefers her company anyway, and Taichi can pursue his career. After all - there is no BL in this BL, so why the drama?

This show has become such a mess. But it would still be a "managable" mess if Kohei and Taichi had more than one scene per episode where something actually happened between them. And we didn't even have the aftermath of the famous "what if I didn't hate it". Like it never happened...

[shsy7573]

Random Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) Character/Song Analysis Kinda Thing… I Guess

Okay, so yeah, Luci has 100% taken over this page. So what? I’m not obsessed, you are.

Anyway, I’ve been listening to “More Than Anything” on repeat since it dropped, and like a lot of the fandom I tear up every single time… but unlike a lot of the fandom, it’s not because of the sweet father-daughter moment (which, don’t get me wrong, doesn’t help the situation because it’s just so damn wholesome).

No, what gets me is how, just through a couple subtle moments, the show is able to convey just how absolutely shattered Luci is as a character. And, you know, because he’s my favourite, bestest, snek-baby-duck-boy, it makes me a little emotional…

So now you’re all gonna hear about what goes through my mind every time I listen to it. YAY!

“Charlie! You don’t understand, Heaven never listens. They didn’t listen to me. They won’t listen to you!” / “You don’t know that—” / “I do!”

It starts before the song even truly begins. When I’m listening, it’s usually these first few lines that grab my attention. I end up replaying the first 4-5 seconds of the song over and over again because the pain in that “I do” is so fucking good! (And because I like to suffer apparently cuz I end up sad. Life of an angst lover I guess).

It’s the first time we see him with actual tears in his eyes. The raw delivery of that line is so attention grabbing, and manages to say so much in such little words.

I think the reason this particular scene tickles my brain so much is because it’s the breaking point for his character in a way. I am, and always will be, a sucker for moments where a character’s walls finally come down, and we get to see what’s been festering inside. When their deepest thoughts and how much they’re hurting are revealed. The entire song is what that is for Lucifer, starting with these two words right here. I truly cannot put into words just how much my breath is taken away by Jeremy’s delivery of this line. I cannot articulate how much I love it, and how important it is for Luci’s character. it just hits so deep and so right for me and I love it.

Lucifer isn’t just saying that he knows Heaven isn’t going to care about her plan (I don’t think anyone thought that’s all he was saying but whatever). He is saying that he knows what Heaven does to dreamers. He knows what they’ll do because he has already been there, and it destroyed him. They took his ideas that they saw as too outlandish, and they squashed them. Cast him aside. And he paid the price for it when he went bashing their back and did his own thing anyway.

Luci is a broken dreamer. Throughout the entire episode, and the series as a while, we are given very strong hints of this. However, it’s not until this song that we really see it in action. It’s not until these moments that we are able to see past both the veils of “Imposing King of Hell” and “Goofy Guy who’s trying his best but not great at Dadding,” and get a look at how genuinely depressed this man is.

“My dreams were too hard to defend.”

This scene eight here. The more I see it, the more I fall in love with it. Just a great example of ‘show don’t tell.’

He’s talking about having big ideas, he’s talking about giving people a chance and reaching outside the normal, he’s talking about being cast out of Heaven. I just love the parallel he’s drawing between Charlie’s mission, and his own past.

Charlie created the hotel in an attempt to give people who have been seen as lesser to all of Heaven some sort of chance. She is choosing to have faith in them, and to open up opportunities for them to lead a better life.

Lucifer, when he gave Eve the fruit, was taking a chance to allow humanity the chance to have free will. He wanted them to experience everything life had to offer for themselves like angels got to. He offered a chance for them to lead a better life.

He had everything, and he had complete faith that what he was doing was right. All the light and hope of his dreams was right in the palm of his hand. He had so many ideas that he thought, if they were saw through, would make the world a better place.

But it didn’t work out for him.

“And in the end, I won’t lose it all again.”

Now, the first seconds of dialogue may be what I keep rewatching, but this has got to be my favourite visual of the entire song. It’s such powerful imagery, and I fangirl over it every time.

Look at how small he looks in that shot (I know, I know, he’s tiny regardless, but like seriously). He is completely outnumbered, hopelessly overpowered, totally at the mercy of all his Heavenly superiors… and he’s all alone.

He lost everything because he had the gall to dream. It’s not hard to look at the song (and the episode at large, really) and find not only his feelings of being wronged, but also his immense guilt. It shows in how much he hates Sinners. They are basically the worst of what he did, a constant reminder of the day his mistake caused him to lose his home and everything he held dear, and they are all he gets to see. Only being permitted to see your failures for all eternity? No wonder he’s fucking depressed.

The day Heaven cast him out was the day he stopped dreaming. Because dreaming big only leads to pain, failure, and suffering.

“I just don’t want you to be crushed by them like… like I was.”

This next moment is kinda self explanatory and obvious and really doesn’t need any commentary, but I’m gonna talk about it anyway. Because I love it, and I love him, and… you know… angst. I’ve mentioned my lust for it several times now throughout this post, you really shouldn’t be surprised.

I just feel so bad for him. Lucifer made one mistake. One simple, misguided mistake that ended up introducing evil into the world, and all of Heaven came down on him for it. And, you know what, in the narrative presented by the show, what he did wasn’t that bad. He just wanted to give the world’s newest creations the same freedom angels had, and it backfired horribly. Lucifer, like Charlie, was an idealist who saw the best in people and wanted to help.

And what did he get for his good intentions? Shoved into the cesspool he unintentionally created, and forbidden to ever see anything good that came from his dream.

If I had to guess, Lilith was the only thing keeping his mental health afloat for a long time… and then they had Charlie.

“The tales about your lofty dreams. I’d listen breathlessly, imaging it could be me.”

His daughter became the light of his life. Something that he cherished and indulged more than anything else in the world. To him, she was perfect, and he wanted to do right by her in any way he could.

Lilith told their daughter stories of all her father’s dreams regardless of what he thought of them, and when the little princess came asking him… how could he refuse? How could he refuse her anything?

So he shared them with her. All the tales of grandeur, and fantasies of everything he wished the world could have been. All the dreams he had long since let go.

“And in the end, it’s the view I had of you that show me dreams can be worth fighting for.”

Now, the scene where Lily take’s Charlie away has always been excellent brain fodder for me because of how somewhat ambiguous it is. You could interpret his sadness to have SO MANY meanings. However, I have inevitably decided on two potential head-cannons/theories to share here for what could possibly be going through Snek-King’s head.

One: Lucifer loves his daughter, but he feels estranged and like he’s failed her in some way. She’s such a joy, such a wonder, and in a way it's his fault she’s trapped down here with all of human ties worst. He wasn’t to be close to her, and to make the world perfect for her… but he already feels like he’s failed her in the most unforgivable way. He keeps his distance because part of him doesn’t want her to have a super high of an opinion of him. It’s kind of his depression manifesting, saying that ‘she shouldn’t admire you and your stupid dreams when they’re the reason she’ll never see true light and happiness.’

The angst addict in me likes this one more, but still I’ve got another one that always pops.

Two: He feels like he’s selling her false hope, and he can kind of see the place her innocence is headed. He’s seen the horrors of the world, and he knows the more he indulges her dreams and fantasies, the more she’ll suffer when she sees that’s not what the world is like. He knows from personal experience how much it hurts when your dreams come undone, when you lose hope in the world.

Listening to Charlie’s actual lyrics, she tells him that he was the one who inspired her to dream, that he was right to dream, and that she’s not going to back down. In the song, Luci realises that 1: maybe he didn’t fuck us as badly as he thought and that she actually doesn’t blame him and wants her in his life and/or 2: she has her mother’s willpower, and she’s never going to stop dreaming or let her world be sullied like he did. She’s so much stronger than he was.

So he lets her in.

(Side note… AWWW, look how TINNYY he is! He’s so small. The start contrast in the second image gets me every time)

There’s a bit of symbolism in the song which I ABSOLUTELY adore, and it has to do with the wings. In the flashback, Charlie mentions his “lofty dreams,” when we see the duck, which later transforms to have multiple sets of wings. Later in the song, when Lucifer finally lets her in, he also sprouts those wings.

And I just love this, because I think it acts as the perfect symbolism of him finally opening his mind again. Not just to his daughter, but to the possibility of dreaming in general.

He takes her to a circus, a place filled to the brim with spectacles and thrills, a place where humanities wildest imaginations seem possible.

But even though he’s beginning to open up, and he’s willing to help her in whatever she does, he’s not ‘fixed.’ His depression and self doubt and feelings of hollow emptiness and guilt and apprehension aren’t gone.

And he’s still terrified of seeing her spark go out like his did.

This tiny smile break is so addicting to watch for me. It speaks volumes. Once again, my angst loving heart eats it up every time. It says, “I’m still worried, and there is still so much shit going on in my mind right now about all of this, but I’m here for you.”

And that’s what counts.

Luci’s character showed a lot of colours, and came a long way in this singular episode, but he’s still got a big uphill battle to climb. He still has to come back into his own where dreams are concerned. Maybe he never will, not completely. Realistically, he’ll never go back to the way he was.

But maybe, just maybe, in helping his daughter he’ll find something worth believing in again.

That is, of course, if they decide to give him a character arc beside ‘Dad who is trying and doing better,’ but for that only time will tell.

—

And THAT concludes my rant on the Rubber Ducky Ruler. If you stuck around this long, good for you! I wrote this whole thing on a limb at midnight, and NO I’m not going to go back and edit it because why would I ever want to see all the horrid grammatical and spelling errors I’ve inevitably made.

Maybe I’m off the mark on all of this. Maybe I’m head-cannoning too much. Maybe I’m just trying to suck out every hint of potential angst out of a song that’s supposed to be sweet and wholesome. That’s for you to decide. But for me, I’ve decided that I’m satisfied with this analysis. In the end, I just needed to express all the thoughts bumbling around in my head SOMEWHERE before I exploded, and unfortunately, I feel like I’ve run all my friends dry talking about this baby to them, so now it’s your turn. But, anyways, I think that about wraps things up. It’s time to go to bed.

Farewell, stay hydrated, and have a lovely rest of your day/night :)

[artsyhamster]

And we've reached the end! I cannot believe we made it but here are the final four. :)

You know the drill by now, explanations and ramblings underneath the cut :D

(1) THE FOOL / THE MAGICIAN / THE HIGH PRIESTESS |

(2) THE EMPRESS / THE EMPEROR / THE HIEROPHANT |

(3) THE LOVERS / THE CHARIOT / STRENGTH |

(4) THE HERMIT / WHEEL OF FORTUNE / JUSTICE |

(5) THE HANGED MAND | DEATH | TEMPERANCE |

(6) THE DEVIL / THE TOWER / THE STAR |

(7) THE MOON / THE SUN / JUDGEMENT / THE WORLD

THE MOON - As I mentioned in the previous set, I had The Star and The Moon exchanged at first. Colorwise I found the Balcony Smoker to be more fitting but descriptionwise.... "[The fool's] bliss (...) makes him vulnerable to the illusions of the Moon" fit Klaasje more. I feel like Harry related to her on a level and of course was drawn to her beauty, and fell for her deception. Or well at least I did lol. Although I don't even want to call it deception, more like...obfuscation in self-defense. Klaasje on the rooftop staring at a moon seemed like a nice visual image too.

THE SUN - I had. So much trouble. Filling this role. Since The sun stands for everything warm and joyous. "It enlightens, so the Fool both feels and understands the goodness of the world." And it's pretty hard to find something joyous in Revachol. I almost chose Ruby just for the orange aesthetics and the sort of... enlightenment. But considering she might shoot herself in the head, I refused to put her in the role of the sun. I wanted to save the Insulidan phasmid for THE WORLD at first, but I am damn happy I let go of that thought. Especially since the story starts and begins with the fool anyway. SO YEAH. I love this stick bug.... I cannot describe it. After you go through this whole bleak game, filled with death, misery, failure and coldness you find this...walking wonder. And the soundtrack to this encapsulates it so well, too. The phasmid scene always fills me with so much happiness T_T

JUDGEMENT - Also one of the the cards that were pretty clear to me from the beginning. Trant looks pretty menacing here but I love it lol. I added a small Harry, because under the judging eyes of his colleagues, everyone would feel small. "The Fool has been reborn. His false, ego-self has been shed, allowing his radiant, true self to manifest." The radiance is debatable, but Harry definitely went through a lot of development in the past few days and hopefully he came out a better person. He isn't absolved of his past mistakes and further judged on those, rather he is judged on the things he did right. And I don't know, what I like about Harry in general is that he is an absolute fuckup but if you give a person the right support and faith in them to be better, they can. If you keep reminding people only of the things they've done wrong, you are taking their room to grow, by defining them as an irredeemable failure.

THE WORLD - "The Fool reenters the World, but this time with a more complete understanding. He has integrated all the disparate parts of himself and achieved wholeness. He has reached a new level of happiness and fulfillment." Well, what can I say. Our fool Harry started this journey full of ignorance but he opened his eyes to the mistakes of the past and learned from them, and is now hopefully ready to tackle life anew. And I love the last sentence of The Fool's story: This cycle is over, but, the Fool will never stop growing. Soon he will be ready to begin a new journey that will lead him to ever greater levels of understanding. While this chapter of his life is over, there'll be new stories to be told. Setbacks and more opportunities to grow, and only time will tell where his journey will lead him this time.

Thanks to everyone who followed me and Harry on this journey and read through my ramblings. Also thanks for all the lovely tags & comments, it was an absolute pleasure reading through these. <3 Much Love!

[elysianstars]

So I've started playing Persona 5 Royal, because I'm fairly easy to influence, and Akechi seems like the kind of disaster I enjoy. Impressions so far (including vague spoilers, but I haven't gotten far in the actual plot yet).

Damn society sure hates a white knight, huh? Heaven forbid we raise young men to, uh...respect women and stop sketchy guys dragging them into cars while they shout for help. Fucking yikes.

ACAB going strong here, double yikes.

What is up with this restaurant dude? I don't usually let men in the passenger seat of my car, I refuse to save any man's number in my phone. Like okay Heterosexual Joe, who are you trying to convince. Also I can't tell if he's going to be like this all through the game, or if he'll actually turn out to be a good guy, beneath...what he's currently putting out there. Cannot predict which way that will go.

THE TRAIN STATION SECTION. WHAT. I just wasted 15 minutes of my one and only life, blundering around looking for signs to try and connect to the right train line. Congratulations, you have successfully recreated the frustration of trying to navigate railway journeys in an unfamiliar city. Never do that again. Please tell me I am not the only player who's ever had trouble with that.

I continue to be baffled (though not completely surprised) by the attitudes of literally every adult the main character is encountering (and most of the other students too). Oooh he's a horrible criminal delinquent. No, he's a hero who should have smashed that wannabe rapist's skull open and received a medal for it. I'm gonna start biting the furniture.

Wait so...it looks like the first dungeon in this game is based around a teacher who's molesting his students? Triple quadruple quintuple yikes. Legit I was scared he was going to be naked under that cloak. I thought they were just going to use clever camera angles to avoid showing full frontal, like they did for that episode of Alice in Borderland with the King of Clubs. I'm not having a good time here but let's stick with it.

Morgana is cute. I'm a simple soul, I see a cat, I like the cat. Thank you Morgana for balancing out some of the horrors.

Some designer tried so so hard to push as much Aesthetic as possible into these game menus. To the point I'm not even sure where to look sometimes. Not saying I dislike it though. Joker's outfit is great too, would look right at home in my wardrobe.

Anyway I've reached the part where they go into the castle for the second time, hopefully we get to murder this bastard teacher now (:

[radioactive-earthshine]

Random but, any hcs about Kon and his life in Smallville with the Kents?

I'm just going to make a list and babble :) Here's some HCs including bits with Bart bc they did live only 4 hours away.

1.) Not closeting, not in the way people use the term anyway - it was a necessary time that Kon so desperately needed. He needed a place to be someone OTHER than Superboy because he could no longer function without that off-switch.

2.) Kon always had shown interest in his comics of living a life without the Superboy question and being "normal" but it was very rocky for him so I feel like his early transition with the Kents were likely no different. Ma and Pa likely had to endure his dramatics, mood swings and outbursts of anger as he adjusted to being Conner Kent and living in a space that had consistent RULES. This is not to say he was just suddenly dropped off with strangers, because he wasn't, he knew Ma and Pa beforehand having spent a little time on the farm.

3.) If you guys thought Bart was bad at first, Kon was probably worse as Kon had years of baggage to unpack.

4.) We didn't get to see anything substantial of those early days with him with Ma and Pa but we saw small glimpses of him just not appreciating Smallville and thought it was "boring" and outright claimed to have hated it. It's a big adjustment.

5.) Suddenly coming to the realization that he was SAFE where he was and could just BE without suddenly having a fist in his face was one hell of a day...

6.) Yes we all should mock the cishet jeans and t-shirt look but he really was trying to figure out who he was without Superboy as a factor. I don't think Kon ever really does solidly figure it out as Superboy will always BE a part of him and part of his core identity and it's a balance he needed to try to find out - even if it meant going to one extreme side of the spectrum.

7.) To tie into #6 Kon found out he really does have an All or Nothing personality when living with the Kents.

8.) He's allergic to goat products - boy of steel he may be but even he is not immune to goat intolerance. There is no evidence of this, this is a true HC. He found out because Ma had goat milk and he decided to try it with... bad results.

9.) I am obsessed with Kon in his 2011 solo taking the time to WALK to school instead of flying or running or taking the bus - Smallville really brought him down to Earth even though he already was a child of Earth. It grounded him and put a lot of thinks for him into perspective.

10.) Going back to those early days - he reached out to Bart a lot to vent and ask for advice of how Bart coped with Max. They BOTH went from never having to worry about hiding their secret ID and doing WHATEVER they wanted to suddenly having to worry about preserving their identity and operating in an environment with rules that were the antithesis of what they were used to.

11.) Kon's entire first few months with the Kents were literal immersive therapy and I am furious we did not get to see this - this would have made an incredible comic.

12.) Adhering to comic canon I feel like it was during this deconstruction of who he is he realized he was queer. To the surprise of no one.

13.) His first gift to Ma and Pa was a quilt he made himself - you can take artistic-Kon from my cold dead hands. He made it at school in secret.

14.) Clark was a cryptid in Smallville when he was a teenager and Kon really was no different as his deeds throughout town resurface those old rural myths that began 30-ish years prior.

15.) I ignore any and all parallels that Simon was set up to be Kon's Lex Luthor and instead he becomes his BEST civilian friend. We do however find out that Simon's parents were scientists that helped make Kon - Kon has mixed feeling about this at first but he knows he can't blame Simon.

16.) Even Kon cannot help going back to old shenanigans with Bart and they make crop-circles - well they DID before Clark told them to stop - the killjoy.

17.) Cows make him nervous - look - he knew they existed but he wasn't aware of how BIG they were and he knows he is strong enough to pulverize them into instant bouillon but that still did not prepare him for the fact that they are megafauna that you have no control over.

18.) Kon will always take out a tornado - no he doesn't care if it's a small one - he's not going to sit back and watch someone's house be subjected to damage the tenants may or may not be able to afford. If there are TWO tornadoes at the same time he gets into a contest with Bart over who can neutralize them first.

19.) Going back to his acclimation - there was a lot Kon had to sort of unlearn when he started living with the Kents. Stuff he learned from being with Rex Leech, and during his time at Cadmus under Jim. He finally learned what it was like to be a normal person instead of a parody of what a normal person was.

20.) During October, Kon got really.... really.... into making the BEST corn maze. No, seriously, stupidly competitive. Like, not only did he want it to be complicated but he also for an added flavor made Bart chase people around with a de-bladed chainsaw. People think Kon hired like 7 dudes to do this but it's literally just Bart. He also made sure to decorate it with fake blood, webbing, and busted out fog machines just for an added flavor of spookiness.

[lilacartsmadsion]

These asks, those were your grand ‘fanfics’ you needed to do so you don’t lose a spark? I don’t know how long you are making us wait n but why lie?

…

Anon.

1st off.

These asks are from people who are GENUINELY asking for help. They are constantly trying to get by and reaching out to people who are WILLING and ABLE to raise their voices to fight for what is right.

If I cannot stand for these people then I cannot stand for myself. What am I if I am a child of God and I cannot even feel the slightest bit of sympathy or reach out my hand to the helpless? Who am I if I am cruel enough to ignore, EVERY man, woman and child who are praying desperately for someone to save them?

Second.

The other asks where I am GOOFING OFF with my friends? That’s normal shit you do. And you know, that for sure as HELL that I haven’t talked to @beatrixblog in SHIT KNOWS HOW LONG.

No matter if I am working on something I will ALWAYS have time for my friends. I can GOOF OFF when I need to and when I want to. ESPECIALLY since I’m in the 10th grade and things have been getting more and more harder the more I progress in school.

YOU cannot judge the fact that I am just spending time with my friends and assume that I am not doing work.

Third.

WHO ARE YOU to judge that I am not working at the pace that I am most comfortable with working? I cannot update 3 fics at a time, I cannot just magically think of ideas for 5 different fics. And I sure as hell CANNOT just magically write out the whole plot the way I want to in a matter of seconds. Especially when I’m making a new AU and need a shit ton of ideas.

I am currently writing two things at once just for Ninjago specifically and THREE if you count that post I’m going to be making about updating the ‘That time I adopted a god AU’ because I have been SLACKING OFF on the fucking lore.

And OH MY GOD am I not done with Sixth Lost Ancient AU?! Why is my Dark Vanilla AU taking this long to end its Hiatus? Have I seriously not updated my ‘Reincarnated MK AU?’ DO YOU REALIZE HOW MANY FICS I HAVE TO WORK ON RIGHT NOW?!

IF YOU CANNOT BE FUCKING PATIENT I AM GOING TO HAVE AN ANEURYSM.

And not only that, if I do not take my time on these things, the writing is legit, going to suck.

I have written fanfics swiftly before, and quite honestly? Everytime I do that the shit sounds so HALF-ASSED. Like I don’t even care about the fic anymore.

I want to be an Author, I want to write my own original stories. I want to have my own book series, but how can I do that if my writing is SHIT and half-baked like I didn’t put it in the oven for a few minutes?!

AND HOW CAN I DO THAT WHEN I AM UNDER THE PRESSURE OF A THOUSAND FUCKING SOULS JUST WAITING FOR ME TO DO A ROLE PLAY STORY THAT I AM NOT IN THE MOOD NOR MOTIVATION TO CONTINUE YET UNTIL I AM DONE WITH WHAT I DO?!

YOU DO NOT HAVE A RIGHT TO WHAT I DO. YOU CANNOT JUDGE HOW LONG IT TAKES. And I swear if this shit happens again, you can FORGET having a role play series at all.

[queenlilithprime]

Business of Love - Cruel Notes (Pt. 5/8)

Gavin (He/They) x Lily (They/Them), Malik (He/Him), and Harper (He/Him)

A @campwillowpeakvn fanfic

Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Blackmail, Threats

Word Count: 885!

Gavin's hands shook as he read the letter scrawled in red ink. The police eventually confirmed it wasn't blood, but it still looked like it. It was shakily written, unconfident but definitely Lily's handwriting. Along the top half of the paper, there are tear stains. Not many but enough for them to be noticed and smudge some of the letters.

My belov-d Hyeon,

Please pardon my absence. My heart aches for you, but for your own safety I cann-t return home. I cannot return to you without putting you in d-nger.

There isn't much I c-n say about where I am. I am fed and shelt-red. I miss you.

Suddenly, the handwriting changes, far more messy and aggressive, less gentle than Lily's.

There is no way they'll ever return. Give up. I've already taken the ring.

Leave my lover. Never contact or seek them again.

Lilith is mine.

Gavin's heart sank through the floor each time he read it, looking over and over at every word, every detail to see if it was possible to discern where they are. Who has them. Everything in him ached for Lilith and he felt useless not being able to bring them home.

They were barely taking care of themself at this point, losing sleep and having to take time off work because they just... Can't handle it. Malik had been staying over because Hyeon couldn't handle the silence of the house. The lack of someone else there. Even if he wasn't Lily, knowing they weren't alone was a big relief.

"Hey, do you want me to order takeout again or...?" He asked quietly, not sure if his college buddy would respond. "Gavin...?"

Malik's eyes settled on the letter in their hands, gently plucking it from the shorter of the two. The blue-haired architect reached up to grab it but Malik raised it out of his reach.

"Nah dude, you need to stop stressing over it. The police already have the original, rereading the copy you have won't make Lily appear. Stop." He said, his expression softening as he saw Gavin's red eyes. "I know you're struggling with this, trust me I understand. I would fucking freak if I were in your shoes. Lily was my friend too Gav, I'm also really worried about them."

"No Malik you don't... I mean you do get it but there's things I can't tell you and there's a reason why Lily and I don't go on trips without each other and—" Gavin was starting to tear up, thinking about how difficult it must be for Lilith to be unsustained for so long. His words started to blur together as he spoke faster, "I physically need to be near Lily or else they—"

"Or else what, Gav?"

"Lily gets sick..." His voice broke as he barely got the words out. Malik didn't... particularly understand why Gavin was so sure that Lilith would get sick if they were far away from him but... His best friend was also extremely sure of this.

"Okay... I don't have a clue how that happens but..." He paused before sighing, "I believe you dude."

"I just... I need to see them, to make sure they're okay." They said, dropping their head. Malik rubbed their shoulders for a second before pulling them into a hug. The architect was a wreck without Lily and honestly their entire friend group was incredibly stressed.

They all knew Lilith was pretty but, they respected the fact that they were in a relationship with Gavin. So finding out that they were kidnapped was a huge shock. Especially when the letters started.

The first few were vague threats telling Gavin to keep away and stop searching for Lily.

Eventually they ramped up to death threats.

Then, the blackmail came.

It started with threats towards Gavin's family, saying that they'll be physically hurt unless he stops looking for Lily.

After that, there were letters in Lily's handwriting pleading for Gavin to stop but with the tear stains and the aggressive writing under it, the police told him that these were likely coerced.

Gavin was growing unsure of how to handle it all, unsure of how to bring Lily back.

The latest letter stung like a knife. They were getting vague and infrequent again. Did this mean they'd stop?

Would he eventually never hear about them again?

How... How did this happen?

Who is doing this?

It was breaking his heart.

...

There was a loud shattering of a window that jolted Gavin awake, a rock had flown through his bedroom window and nearly hit him.

Malik ran into the room in his PJs, looking towards the window then to Gavin. When he saw that Gavin was fine he ran to the broken panes to see if the person was still there.

It was too dark to make out much other than the dude was fucking massive. Something itched at the back of his brain, the guy was so familiar but so... Not? Like he was forgetting someone.

As Malik stared out the window and dialed the police, Gavin picked up the rock.

It had a note taped on it.

Tell the police to stop looking or I'll burn your house down. This is your final warning.

If you tell the police about this I'll do it tonight.

[elizabethrobertajones]

"I'm so relieved to have you at my side, my loves," G'raha declared. "The fate of the star was not just in my hands, but yours too, and I cannot say how proud I am of us."

"Even me?" asked Frog, as Erenville rolled his eyes and tried not to look affected by the praise, despite the please twitch of his ears.

"Even you and the Gleaners did your part, Bounding Frog."

Day 5: Alternate Universe | In Another Life

"Oh, I don't think much about alternate universes except joke ones where Frog runs off with the Fuath but there's not like any lore or anything - Oh my god that one time Frog trolled Erenville by pretending to be a new Gleaner." *immediately comes up with 3 pages of backstory*

Anyway meet fucked up Allagan bloodline Erenville, Gleaner Frog and Warrior of Light G'raha :D (I really ought to have made Frog's colour scheme without the pink but it's so much a part of her I forgot it's from her Azem legacy until long after I posed and took the picture :P Really, G'raha should have pink highlights and a pink eye since I only have 1 canon Azem who is the forebear of any WoL in any AU I have and they have the Blessing of Pastel Pink Aesthetics they pass on)

Not a canon relationship as of the current waning days of Endwalker we're in and I can feel Frog trying to kill me with her mind for putting her this close to Erenville because this is currently her Nemesis and I am being a very bad blorbo caretaker by shipping them before plot has elapsed... But Erenville doesn't scare me as much as Y'shtola does so I can get away with it as long as Frog can't become so OP she can reach out of the fourth wall and murder me :P May be a level 100 ability but I hope the narrative gives me an opportunity to set her up with Erenville before then. And of course I ship G'rerenville 5eva.

WoL!G'raha's special interest wouldn't just be Allagan horrors but ALL the horrors and he'd know the most about manipulating aether for combat against primals and how to kill them all. It's joked that Hydaelyn blessed him with the Echo because she wanted to spare him bothering Krile with any more questions and tests and puzzles, and gave him the Blessing of Light so he could go off and do his own research. He made a beeline for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and became their champion with a try hard attitude and known for his enthusiastic thumbs up whenever tasked with the hardest task.

Erenville diligently and quietly studied all he could on Allagan Horrors to learn what his family's dark secret was, but never made it too well known why he was studying it, or that his one gold one red eyes were anything strange. However, his quiet competence got him sent to Erozea to help Rammbroes, and despite all his attempts to lay low, he found himself there at the unlocking of the Crystal Tower, learning way too much about himself in front of people who couldn't unhear it, and pushed along by an over-enthusiastic Warrior of Light who could not shut up about how great an advantage such a magical connection could be. Still, Erenville is calm and professional and when the time came and he knew there was no other way, he shooed the Sons of St Coinach out of the Tower and looked almost dispassionately over his shoulder to G'raha and bid him farewell.

The Exarch was, of course, 1000x more impenetrably vague and annoying but - and this was rather difficult for the Exarch to handle - the huge dark ears sticking out of his hood did give G'raha a hint about who he may be dealing with, though he suspected all sorts of terrible things like Allagan clone or robot and so on before daring to hope it was truly Erenville - when he realised the plan was to tidily pack himself and the Light away with a minimum of melodrama and fuss. This was mostly because of the extremely intricate plans for running the Crystarium in his absence that Erenville had bequeathed before they left for Mt Gulg. It was all just too like him.

G'raha made a ten times more melodramatic intervention while actively coughing up Light everywhere, but Emet-Selch is going to Emet-Selch and can't stand the Warrior of Light being as big a drama queen as he is so he just shoots Erenville and kidnaps him to the Tempest because he's fed up of G'raha talking and posing. A rescue was mounted, love confessed, everyone forgave everyone and cried a lot etc etc.

Erenville joined the Scions after that and provided a sensible counterpoint, inexplicably becoming close to Alisaie (she reminds him of Wuk Lamat but he still hasn't disclosed an onze of backstory).

When they come to Sharlayan for help to stop the final days, they meet an over-worked but still cheerful Gleaner who can lift a whole Troll over her shoulder, and is very helpful and friendly winking and showing them the secret paths. Of course, Bounding Frog is a born Gleaner - she's loved animals forever and had mapped the whole mountain ecosystem around her home village. Sent to Sharlayan by her parents to study the things she loves, she'd quickly risen through the ranks of the Gleaners to become one of their trustiest hands.

She did see through G'raha hopping around as a frog instantly, and on hearing of the incident Erenville only wryly said "I'm sure I could have played a better toad." This could not be disputed, as Y'shtola refused to cast the spell frivolously to settle their debate.

Frog kept in contact and kept them updated on events in Sharlayan once they left to take the fight to the Telophoroi and kept them updated on the Blasphemies once the final days began; by the time G'raha returned from Elpis having learned of an Azem somehow even more annoying that the most annoying interpretation of Azem you've previously heard of, they had all become very fond of one another. By the time they set off for the stars, G'raha and Erenville had admitted to each other they both had a huge crush on the huge Gleaner, and she in turn was waiting for their return more anxious for them than the entire fate of the star.

And of course once they came back from Ultima Thule, Frog's only problem was working out which one of them to smooch first, before carrying G'raha off somewhere quiet to sit and hug and be extremely relieved and happy together :')

[anoyedartist]

Another whump post based on my life:

Do you guys know what D of E is?

It stands for Duke of Edinburgh's and for it you have to do volunteering, learn a skill, do a physical activity over a certain period of time and finally you go on an expedition which is basically a long walk where you carry everything you need with you. I am doing my gold D of E and have just come back from the practice expedition which was 3 days (and 2 nights).

Let me tell you, it was TORTURE. I quite literally cannot walk now, I think my blisters have blisters. My shoulders and my hips are bruised from lugging around a huge rucksack and during the walk there were points were I thought I was going to pass out because I hadn't eaten anything substantial all day.

But it got me thinking, this has incredible whump potential. So I now present D of E whump:

Whumper forcing the rest of their group to keep walking at a fast pace without any breaks

Or maybe the team needs to make it to the next campsite before dark so they push themselves past their limits in order to make it back.

Whumper giving whumpee the heaviest part of the tent (or just making them carry the whole thing)

The shame that whumpee feels when they fall behind and the rest of the team has to wait for them

Whumpee forcing themselves to keep going even after they've reached the campsite because they have to put up their tent and make dinner

Whumper altering the other teams route so that they end up either lost or traveling way further than they intended, then watching in glee as the team trail into the campsite late in the evening

Tempers running high due to lack of food, the group has a huge argument over the directions but have to sleep right next to each other in a tiny tent that night

Trips and falls are so much more easy and much worse due to carrying extra weight

Injuries sustained from falling not being treated and made worse by the heavy bags and walking

Sleeping on the cold hard floor of a tent with nothing to distract you from your aching muscles

There are so many scenarios that could happen, definitely more than I've written, so if you want new and exciting ways to whump your characters, why not send them on D of E? Anything could happen!

Although I really hope that my proper gold expedition goes well. The real thing is 5 days (4 nights) and we have to be walking for at least 8 hours a day. Send help :(