#with assumption magic is not gone gone

[thimblings]

viago "fashion police" de riva

[harmonyunderstars]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐮𝐬. 𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟. 𝐖𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

“DATV is about hope and is escapist” then why is the story retroactively trying to paint Solas, the only person of the Evanuris who used his power and privilege to help end slavery and liberate the elves, as a prideful arrogant self-centered bastard who secretly loved being worshipped as a god when every single thing he has ever said and done contradicts those assumptions made by the Veilguard companions.

Oh I’m sorry, do you think slave rebellions can be accomplished through peaceful means? Through purely decentralized anarchist uprisings? Are we trying to argue that Solas didn’t rebel the “correct way”? Are we trying to argue that Solas actually wanted to be worshipped as a god by those he freed. Solas, a man who wanted nothing more than to be a spirit of Wisdom and act as nothing more than an entity that would help people act and think mindfully?

The game’s dialogue for the companions tries to make it out like Solas enjoyed being a rebellion leader, rather than it being one of the most frustrating and agonizing and embittering experiences of his existence. The game is so clumsy that is seems to imply that Solas trying to do right by the elves with the rebellion was another mistake on his part, as if someone trying to fight for the rights of an oppressed people is something that is ever a mistake one could make.

Real liberal (derogatory) hours here. Even at your most uncharitable—Solas helped give the elves bodies and helped the Evanuris secure their power—he was trying to correct that mistake and was the only one of the Evanuris that was actively doing so. Mythal was dragging her ass the entire fucking time trying to be a fence-sitting centrist that thought you could actually parley and negotiate with slave owners. Oh but wait, Veilguard conveniently proves you can! Just look at Dorian! Apparently all you needed to dismantle centuries upon centuries of brutal inhumane slavery was a dandy saying “please let the slaves go” and everything is all but resolved in ten fucking years. Solas, why didn’t you try taaaalking to the blood magic warmongering slave sacrificing Evanuris? Maybe things would’ve gone better if you’d just asked nicely 🥺

Veilguard tries to go the “Solas is corrupting into Pride” and they botched it so terribly. Solas is prideful, but the writers made him out like his problem was a secret vanity or desire for power. No, his problem was that he thought he was correct. That is a 100000% entirely different issue and it shows that the writers have no concept of nuance for psychology or even what Wisdom and even Pride are. And for people to swallow “Wow Solas was just a power-hungry arrogant bastard all along” is like reading Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee —the abandoned prototype of To Kill a Mockingbird that was meant to remain an unused manuscript—and thinking that is the real story and everything established in TKaM about Atticus Finch was just smoke and mirrors. Like come the fuck on.

Solas’s issue is that as a mortal he is inundated with mortal feelings that interfere with the purity of Wisdom. All mortals have levels of dignity and pride that are inextricably linked and mutually dependent to their recognition of their own personhood. Self-esteem, if you will. Wisdom is the act of deliberating and determining and enacting the best—most morally correct, most benign, most “good”—course of action in a scenario based on an aggregation of information and experiences. Solas’s “Pride” and biggest flaw is that he believes his judgments are the most objectively correct or best because this guy has spent tens of thousands of years watching and observing and experiencing people make the same mistakes over and over, behave in similar cyclical predictable ways in matters of love, power, violence, hatred, greed, tyranny, cruelty, ignorance, oppression, pride, grief, etc. Because Wisdom is derived from being able to apply knowledge and history and experience to solve a present problem, Solas naturally thinks he’s no spring chicken to all this and that he’s got a better grasp than most. Where Wisdom turns into Pride is the nature of the mortal mind, which for many likes to rely on rules of thumb and shortcuts and patterns to solve issues. While this is present in the dissemination of Wisdom, the flipside is that it can leave one vulnerable to stubbornness and partiality to one’s viewpoint regardless of new developments. Again, the mortal mind likes shortcuts because it saves time. Puzzling out whether this person or that scenario is truly uniquely unique every single time, wastes time. This is how presumptions and stereotypes arise. That Solas could only observe modern Thedas through what was reflected in the Fade gave him a half-understanding of people. That he chose to develop a resentment toward the Dalish after one bad encounter and remain detached from other races before joining the Inquisition meant he had fallen prey to these intellectual pitfalls, which is the result of his mortal nature interfering with his Wisdom nature.

It is also why he seems so philosophical and open-minded and lofty in some conversations and extremely definitive and judgmental in others over the same topic, notably modern elves and Dalish. This is the humanitarian nature of Wisdom—the pacifistic thoughtfulness—having been granted reactive, if at times impolitic claws. He is a man in flux, frustrated at the presence of pride in others; flush with his own thread of pride as an ages-old being; forced to endure ignorance of the Dalish that he cannot alleviate because he tried to once and failed, and to try again now while in the Inquisition would risk his identity being found out; and in his frustration forgetting what he knows very deeply, which is that the reason the Dalish are ignorant is because elves have suffered centuries of erosion of their civilization and culture, on top of enslavement, conquest, and cultural genocide. The Wisdom part of him knows that. At times he can remark and highlight very astutely on the plight of people when the topic of oppression comes up. The mortal part of him that is “active”, i.e. flossed with personality, esteem, and cognitive bias, obscures this clarity granted to him by his original nature. It clouds his thinking, it makes him forget, and it is even harder for him to recalibrate and remember their circumstances because once his Pride radar is pinged, it’s what he latches onto and mirrors. Unfortunately, Pride rarely conquers Pride. They only amplify each other, like gasoline on flames, so Solas’s mirroring unintentionally encourages more of what he detests. The pure material world is not like the Fade where strength of will can consume or cancel out another will. He should know that by now, but as stated, he’s in flux. His grasp on How to Be a Person is far more extensive than Cole’s, but it seems former-spirit-turned-mortals possess some lingering cognitive habits from their time as spirits, and this throws their mental gears out of whack.

Solas has never wanted to rule over people. He has never once wanted to be worshipped even at his most manipulative and Machiavellian. He wants to sit under a tree in the summer and idly discuss whether fire could be considered alive and if good requires evil to exist and the pros and cons of allowing collective memory to remain unchallenged. He wants to explore the Fade and see what new gentle incorporeal friends he might encounter.

Like of all things, the butchering of Solas’s character pisses me off to no end. Dislike him if you want, hate him if you want, but don’t for a second try to misconstrue that his problem is that he has secret aspirations for godhood. Does he think ancient elves are a superior race? There are definitely indications. But he doesn’t think of himself as someone to be worshipped by anyone, least of all other elves. Very huge distinction.

Edit: proof of what I’m saying about spirits and Natures straight from the horse’s mouth

[ashfae]

Edit on 5/2/2025: I have mixed feelings about aspects of this essay these days but have chosen to keep it up and pinned as I'm still happy with my analysis even if I'm furious at NG, who is mentioned several times. TW for that. Argh.

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The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as NG described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

[dclovesdanny]

Dead on Main as reincarnations in of Odysseus and Penelope

Jason was Odysseus and Danny was Penelope

After Jason came back, he always felt like he was different. Not just in the way of pit, madness and rage, but his mind felt different. He would feel strong rage, sure, but he had never expected to feel nostalgia and protective grief when he saw a dick smile. He didn’t expect to feel a strange sense of both kinship and resentment towards Bruce.

(their last argument hit different in his mind after we came back. It came like an echo, and Jason tried to ignore how it didn’t just feel familiar in the way of memory, but it felt familiar in the way of déjà vu.)

After Danny died, a lot changed. His friends and jazz noticed the changes and were kind about them, always accommodating them. But some of the changes weren’t normal. Danny didn’t used to be so patient. The way he fawned over Paulina faded. Jazz recommended that he take up a hobby to calm himself down, and instead of gardening or building things, he started weaving.

His weaving actually got pretty popular, and was one of the only things in school that no one teased him about. Dash Had made some comments in the beginning, but after he saw Danny make a tapestry depicting ember, the teasing stopped.

(The ghosts didn’t act very differently with him, but Ember teared up when he gave her the tapestry. Pandora had an odd reaction when they first met, a strange sense of trust in her eyes that he knew wasn’t just because he was kind.)

Danny didn’t know why his hatred of Vlad was so visceral. He didn’t know why looking at Danielle was so heartbreaking and beautiful. He didn’t know why he felt so intrinsically parental to her, or why he was so vehemently against Vlad getting near her. He didn’t know.

(He may not have known, but everyone noticed it. Everyone at school noticed the uncomfortableness whenever Vlad was close to him, they discussed and revision on his face and the way that once, after Vlad made a comment about winning his mother‘s hand, he flinched violently. They all noticed. And if Casper high became a no fly zone for Vlad, if all of the teachers made sure to be as unwelcoming as possible towards their mayor and all of the students knew to hide Danny Vlad was in the building? well, assumptions were made, and none of them were good. Even after Vlad was no longer mayor and they had all grown up, everyone knew to keep Vlad as far away from Danny as possible.)

Jason had gone to help infiltrate the Amity park situation, along with Constantine Tim, and one of the flashes. He hadn’t expected anything much, knowing he was only there to help make sure that the magic people, but that…. That changed after he saw phantom fighting Plasimius. After he heard the older ghost voice that was like nails on chalk telling phantom that they could be a family.

(Jason ignored how uncomfortably familiar that sounded. He ignored the flash of a memory of standing behind a pillar while the man threatened to TAKE HIS WIFE)

Jason wasn’t supposed to intervene but like hell he was leaving Phantom with this guy. So what if he had to steal some of Constantine’s stuff for it? The bastard needed to learn to have less pickable locks.

[scenekissed]

law of assumption for dummies!

(reminder you aren't a dummy! you are capable doing amazing things and a being an amazing person! 💝)

hello, i'm zoe and i'm gonna give you a run-down on LOA (the law of assumption!) i am also quite new to the concept but my silly little neurodivergent brain has picked it up quickly! i want this guide to be helpful to everyone who comes across it :D

what is law of assumption?

many people think that LOA is a magical thing that only certain people can do, while that's not the case! anyone can do it and everyone does it. you assume that you're going to fail a test? well it has already happened! whatever you assume is going to happen. it is a law it is a fact.

steps for law of assumption;

decide - what is it that you want? a new phone, money , a specific person to like you? think about what you want!

affirm - now state that you have your desire (by stating affirmations

persist - embody that feeling of knowing you have your desires, do NOT look for the 3d to conform! you do not have to feel on top of the world knowing of having your desires, you can feel like this is the worst day of your life and still have your desires! why? because YOU said so! not your mother, not your friends; YOU. you have the choice to change!

it is that simple it is all that! you are a limitless being who can have anything in this world!

extra things;

remind yourself not to over-consume if you are feeling stuck, looking for answers while having it is not going to solve the problem!

when dealing with intrusive thoughts remind yourself, you are not you're thoughts! remind yourself that! :3

the saying that helps me getting out of doubting, if they can have it, so can i! why am i complicating the law when i know it is a fact?

do not look for the 3d for proof, why are you looking there when you know you have it!? the 3d is a mirror of your thoughts, the things that you are thinking/assuming are reflecting this very moment! change your thoughts, beliefs

when dealing with a bad circumstances in life, do not let them get to you, "but zo, how can i deal with this if my family talks bad about me, being a broke person or something similar?" just tell yourself that things will get better, i've been there before, just tell yourself that things will get better. because it will.

what if the thing i'm trying to get is illogical!? i really want it but i can't get because i'm told i'm limited to what i can have! girl do you know how crazy you sound? "tHiNgS bEiNg LiMiTeD" the only thing that is limited is your beliefs. you can get a billion dollars out of thin air with no question asked. you can get anything your mind desires it is easy!

i manifest small things! it feels hard getting "bigger" desires what should i do? again, you are limiting yourself! you are working like a dog because you said so! change your mindset!

how to persist? live in the 4d, the imagination. affirm if you need to! live in the end :3

the 3d is always in my face how do i fix this? ignore, you might have an annoying sibling, always bothering you poking fun at you; if you kinda put the 3d as your sibling it will be easy to ignore!

blogs that help me! (like a ton)

@therealitysculptor - manifesting, shifting blog! answers really well (i asked them something and it really helped!)

@eamour - can i say less?! their stuff is amazing! (law of assumption related things!)

@youalreadyhavefullresults - make sure to read her stuff if you have the time!

@4dbarbie-backup - i know that ada's gone but those are archives and really helpful!

people who limit their beliefs, homophobic, anti-shifters, nsfw blogs do not interact.

[r-memberme]

you’re not fooling me | k.m

⎯⎯ He scoffed so hard you almost saw the trees flinch. “I’ve slaughtered men with my bare hands. I’ve bathed in blood. Feelings?” he sneered.

warnings: so he does have feelings

It was the sort of afternoon that didn’t beg to be remembered—no sweeping declarations, no high-stakes danger, no promises sealed in blood or magic—just the hush of old trees swaying in rhythm with the wind and the faint warmth of sun filtering through half-bare branches, dappling the worn path like scattered gold, as if the earth itself had tried to decorate its skin for you.

You were walking side by side, your boots scuffing lazily through crumbling leaves, and he was talking — something half-hearted and faintly amused, a story from a time so far gone you couldn’t tell if he was making it up just to hear you laugh — but then it happened, the moment that would lodge itself into your memory like a song: a sharp, fluttering rustle from the side of the path, broken and panicked, the sort of sound that hit somewhere under your ribs and made you stop mid-step.

Klaus paused too, head tilted, eyes narrowing in that way they always did when something tugged at his attention—not suspicion, not threat — just something quieter. Something helpless.

You barely got the words out — “Wait, did you hear that?” — before he was already turning, walking toward the edge of the clearing with that easy, predatory grace of someone who moved like the world itself bent to him. And there, caught in a cruel little snare of wire and brambles, wings flapping wild and hopeless, was a bird so small it barely seemed real. Its feathers twitched frantically. Its chest heaved. And its eyes wide and glassy with fear — reflected the barest glint of sky.

You didn’t expect him to crouch.

Didn’t expect the silence, the stillness, the slow, reverent way he knelt in the dirt without a word, as if the moment didn’t call for commentary. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t glance around to see if anyone was watching. He just reached forward—without fear, without hesitation—and placed his fingers gently around the tangled mess of wire and feathers, and then he hummed.

At first, you thought it was the wind again, or some trick of the forest—low and steady and soft—but no, it was him. A barely-there melody, old and unplaceable, like something ancient passed down from a time when singing to birds was a form of magic and gentleness was more powerful than force.

Your breath caught.

Klaus Mikaelson—who once told you that kindness was weakness, that mercy was the blade your enemies would turn on you if you dared offer it—was humming to a terrified creature in his hands like he’d done it a hundred times before.

The bird froze. Its wings stilled. And slowly, ever so carefully, he began to undo the wire—snapping one part, loosening another, working with the quiet focus of someone doing something sacred, until at last, the final knot came free and he cupped it in his hands a moment longer, letting it breathe, letting it choose.

And then, with no flourish, no expectation, he opened his palms to the sky.

It didn’t fly away at first.

It looked at him. Looked at you.

Then it soared.

Gone in a heartbeat, trailing a single feather behind like a thank-you.

And you stood there, dumbfounded, mouth parted in disbelief, watching him rise from the dirt and dust off his trousers with the air of a man who hadn’t just unraveled every assumption you’d made about who he truly was.

“…Did you just save a bird?” you asked, blinking, stunned.

He didn’t meet your eyes. “It was shrieking,” he muttered. “Giving me a headache.”

You stepped closer. “You sang to it.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You hummed, Klaus. You cradled a little wild creature like it was your own child and you sang.”

“It was merely a noise. A sound. It calmed it down, nothing more.”

“Klaus.”

“What?”

“You have feelings.”

He scoffed so hard you almost saw the trees flinch. “I’ve slaughtered men with my bare hands. I’ve bathed in blood. Feelings?” he sneered—except his voice cracked a little, and he turned away too quickly, like he didn’t want you to see what that feather-light act of mercy had done to him.

You grinned.

“Oh my god. You liked it.”

“I loathed it.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m leaving.”

You caught up to him, skipping a little, reaching out to thread your fingers through his—slowly, gently, because you knew better than to rush touch, knew how long it had taken him to earn that simple gesture—and he let it happen. Let you hold him. Let the silence fill again, full of softness and unspoken warmth.

“Just admit it,” you teased, eyes glinting. “You’re not as bad as you pretend to be.”

“I am the darkness that haunts men’s dreams.”

“You are the darkness that saves baby birds and hums lullabies.”

“I should’ve let it die,” he muttered—but he squeezed your hand, once, almost shyly, and didn’t let go.

And when you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye—Klaus Mikaelson, ancient and dangerous and wrapped in centuries of sorrow—you saw it.

The ghost of a smile.

The kind you only caught when he forgot to be afraid of being seen.

The kind you never forgot, no matter how quiet the day.

just a short and sweet one for today <3

[daretoassume]

how i counteract my negative beliefs.

over the years, i knew that i had lingering thoughts and beliefs that did not serve me. so, at the beginning of 2021, i started doing shadow work, which was very scary to me because there was a lot to uncover. i began to understand that those beliefs were programmed into me since i was a kid. i knew if i wanted to create my reality consciously, i had to let them go and change those beliefs. i did not deny that i had those beliefs. i acknowledged them so i could let them go.

like i said, i did shadow work first (which i still do every year so that i am always aware and can self-reflect on what needs changing). then i started doing affirmations, visualization, and commanding over the years. i do affirmations every morning right after my meditation. i feel them as if they were true while holding my chest with both hands. i always do my affirmations in front of the mirror and look myself in the eyes. sometimes it ends up as a whole conversation of affirmation, and i feel good the entire day.

next, i did visualization. since i love to daydream, i took that as an advantage but with full control. so i visualize myself with my desires showing up and getting into the feeling. "what would it feel like if my desires showed up?" i would try my best to feel my imagination in all my senses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch) sometimes it takes just a few minutes to get into that feeling but i stop right after i feel it, and continue what i am doing. sometimes i fall asleep while doing it.

lastly, there is commanding, which i mastered this year. since i have worked on my self-concept over the years, it is much easier to command my brain. now, if a negative belief comes up and i feel it, my body would fidget, and my leg starts to shake. the moment this happens, i always catch myself and tell myself, "hey, if this negative belief is true/possible, how come the positive belief is a lie/impossible when they are both neutral?" then i choose to command my brain with the positive belief or thought instead of being anxious about the negative belief. then the negative belief is gone!

because i am aware

that i have the power,

my imagination is real,

and i am deserving and worthy of everything i want in life.

if i understand those 3 things, then why choose to believe or have that negative belief? if i truly understand those 3 things, i would embody the feeling of my natural self which is my divine self. and if all beliefs are neutral, then i would choose to believe the one that serves me more. this is how i discipline my mind.

it's not about having no negative beliefs at all but having to counteract and always choosing what serves me more. my inner conversations are always me discipling myself and filing it with so much knowledge, love, and compliments.

"walk in the assumption that you are what you want to be. if you feast on that and remain faithful to that mental diet, you will crystallize it. you will become it in this world." ♱ five lessons: thinking fourth-dimensionally, neville goddard

you see, there are no "magic" techniques. it is only a matter of choosing the best for yourself. nobody will do this for you. if you are not willing to work on yourself, how will you experience change in your reality in ways you prefer?

[lunarxcity]

The Bond of my Bond (Part II to The Enemy of my Enemy )

Azriel x HewnCity!Assassin!reader

Summary: You're an assassin working for Keir and you are one kill away from buying your freedom. Your last kill? The shadowsinger of the Night Court. What happens when the lines between enemy and lover become blurred and you can't figure out what side you're on?

The one where they capture her after her attempt on Azriel's life and now they have to figure out what to do with her - Will she be sentenced to death at the hands of the shadowsinger or will he have mercy on his mate?

Part I if you missed it!

-

In the depths of the murky darkness, there is a light. You feel like you're drowning under a tidal wave of inky black, flooding all of your senses and even polluting your mind. You are fighting against this living darkness, but you feel yourself being dragged under it's murky surface.

You can't see the light, but you feel it's presence. It's a lighthouse in the distance shrouded by fog so thick it's invisible. You feel it in your chest and go towards that lighthouse when the darkness immediately ceases, and your senses come back to you.

You open your eyes and find yourself in some sort of living space. Large and comfortable with multiple couches surrounding a fireplace. You don't know where you are or what happened.

You try to get up only to find that your hands and legs have been bound together by rope. You inhale and the smell of ashwood floods your senses. Your magic is useless meaning you're stuck here for now.

You finally begin to recall the events that brought you here. How your attempt to end the shadowsinger had gone awry and you had not only failed your mission, you had also found out he was your mate. You assumed the high lord who came to the rescue of his spymaster had been the one to knock you out and bring you here.

Why he would bring you to his personal residence and not his dungeons is beyond you, being the shadowsinger's mate had its privledges it seems.

Mate. You had never imagined you would ever have a mate. You had always been so focused on trying to gain your freedom, being able to be your own person and decide things for yourself. You had never had time to imagine what having a mate would be like, you didn't want to think that someday your mate would come and rescue you from the life you had been bestowed.

You're snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind you and the cadence tells you that it's the high lord accompanied by his general.

They walk up and each pull up a chair in front of you. Each with a menacing look on their face likely directed at you which is a fair assumption since you did try to kill their brother.

The high lord stares you down, an intimidation tactic maybe? You've dealt with and taken down enough powerful men that this tactic falls short on you.

You meet his eyes and calmly ask, "How is he?"

At this question shock and then rage coats the features of the two males sitting in front of you.

"You dare ask when you're the one who poisoned him?" Rhysand lashes at you.

He regains his composure. "He is fine the bond has likely told you as much."

You knew he brought up the mating bond between you and the shadowsinger to make you squirm. You were able to school your features into a look of indifference, but at the mention of the bond you felt it pulsing in your chest. You knew that he is alive and you know that he is both angry and devastated. You couldn't blame him, he found his mate and she tried to kill him.

"Azriel told us you're from Hewn, so we reached out to Keir and asked if he wanted to take you back to Hewn for your sentencing." Rhys says nonchalantly like he's talking about the weather and not your fate.

You couldn't even hide the fear that flashed in your eyes at the mention of going back to Keir. After failing such a mission. He would kill you and revel in your execution, the sinister man. Well that's if Beron didn't get to you first.

"He refused and said it was a Night Court ideal. I found it odd that Keir would never turn down a free execution considering he's Keir which is when I put it together."

He stands up probably just to show you that he can, reminding you how powerless you are in this instance. "You must be one of his rumoured personal assassins he's lending out to other powerful figures."

You don't react. You are now very aware of every little thing your body language signals to him. Your life is in the balance now, and any slight misstep could lead to your imminent death.

He stares you down. "Who sent you?"

He is met with silence. You're going to refuse to talk for as long as you possibly can, each word that you utter would only place a bigger target on your back, so silence becomes the safest option for you.

"You do know I could just go into your mind and extract the answer for myself right?" He asks pointedly.

The implications hang in the air. You were trained against his kind, but who knows what he could have done while you were under. But again, let him see your mind. Let him see how he left those to suffer in Hewn banished to rot beneath the earth's surface while he lives lavishly in the Night Court.

"Then why didn't you do it already?" it's not a good idea to provoke the most powerful high lord in Prythian's history but you had a feeling he was bluffing and at this point you have nothing else to lose.

His expression shifts. He looks as if he is elsewhere. You realise he is probably speaking mind to mind with someone, likely the shadowsinger.

He gets up and motions over to the general who had just been there as a witness it seems. Eyeing you down, analysing your every move like you were his opponent.

"I don't believe in barging into people's mind without their knowledge. I have to go attend to something, but I will be back."

He begins to walk away and then pauses. "Consider giving me an explanation or letting me into your mind, it would be easier for all of us. I don't want to sentence my brother's mate to treason."

And with that, he leaves you to your own devices, alone in this foreign room in the Night Court with an unfamiliar mating bond tugging at your chest.

-

About an hour had passed. You were left with nothing to do, but think. In the final hour of your life, your death looming like a sword hanging by a string above your head, you realised that you had nothing to show for it. No family, no friends, no allies. No possessions either material or personal.

You had lived as a shadow, always doing someone else's bidding, whether it be your parents or Keirs. You had been fighting for freedom for centuries and had nothing to show for it. You didn't even know what you were going to do once you got it.

Haunted by the ghost of all that you didn't have made you focus on the mating bond which had surprised you. Nothing in your life had ever gone right for you it's not a surprise that it wouldn't start now. The Mother had dangled this mating bond in front of you to punish you.

He would never want you. Maybe before, but you had tried to kill him, and he nearly let you. You had been given a lifeline and you cut it off mistaking it as a noose.

You feel him before you hear him. You feel the mating bond become less taut, and then you hear the footsteps. They weren't the regular silent steps he took, you knew he wanted you to hear him.

The footsteps get closer and you refuse to turn your head. He takes Rhysand's seat and your mate is now sitting in front of you staring you down.

His face was unreadable; this was the stoic mask of the shadowsinger staring through you, eyes bearing into your soul. The bond flinched and his eyes flared, reacting to the bond.

At this point, the bond was radiating in your chest, almost yelling at you to go to him. The wants of the bond are very different from what was currently happening.

He clears his throat. "Did you know? That you were my..."

He couldn't even bring himself to call you his mate and you don't blame him you can't bring yourself to do the same.

You almost trip over your words, quickly denying this claim. "No no. I had no idea."

His face doesn't even budge.

In a voiice scarily calm for someone who was sitting in front of their attempted murder he goes, "So if not to rid yourself of a mate then why?"

Nothing more and nothing less. No threats of torture just a simple explanation.

You think for a moment, unsure of what you are going to say or if you would even respond, but a voice within you sways you to tell him not wanting him to think it was personal.

You take a breath and slowly go, "Your death was the price of the only thing I have ever wanted. The one thing I have been working towards."

You pause for a moment, trying to gather the words. "My soul has become marred from all that I have done. Your death would have freed me from the hell I've been living in, I don't think I would have survived much longer should I stayed."

The bond betrays his unmoving face. You feel something akin to understanding ripple across the bond and then a feeling of betrayal, and you don't know if it's directed towards you or the bond that's broadcasting his emotions to you.

He looks to you and takes a breath. "What you have done to me aside, I don't think anyone should be further punished after suffering through all that you have been through. For that alone I will tell Rhys to spare you." His eyes soften a little and then immediately harden.

"Do not take my mercy as an acceptance of the mating bond. As my mate, you are dead to me. I will eventually reject this bond once you are acclimated enough to this court. You will have my civility, but not my care." His eyes are daggers piercing you with every word that spills from his mouth.

He doesn't give you a chance to respond as he suddenly gets up and leaves the room.

The possibility of rejection had the bond in your chest screaming. You feel a weight on your chest, heavier than anything you know. It wasn't even you who had suggested the rejection, but the bond punished you either way almost begging for it's life.

In less than a minute after Azriel's departure footsteps enter the room. These footsteps were those of a heel, very different from the others and a voice you thought you would never hear again begins to speak.

"My name is Mor, Rhys sent me here to see if you would rather prefer talking to another female. While he wants to figure out your reasonings he also wants you to be comfortable."

She is too busy undoing the ties on your hands and wrists to register who you are. She finally gets them off and sits down in front of you and time stood still, you swear even the Mother had held her breath.

"By the Cauldron." Her voice is almost as low as a whisper, pure shock written across her features.

"Long time no see Mor how many centuries has it been?" Your words were meant to be lighthearted but the heaviness of your tone betrayed you just like she did all those years ago.

"You're..." She trails off still looking as if she had been looking at a ghost.

"Alive? I know it's surprising I didn't just stop existing when you had abandoned me in Hewn." You sound as if you're making a joke and not expressing centuries of hurt that her abandonment had left you.

"I was too focused on making it out I didn't realise... and when I did I heard your father had been killed I thought she would've killed you too." Her face is almost pale with shock and guilt.

Your best friend. Your only friend during your years of suffering in Hewn, the one who left one day without saying goodbye or coming back to rescue you from the same torment she had freed herself from.

"Well you can thank your father for that. He saved me for a price." You give her a smile and she looks horrified. She knows how her father operates and all about the guild of assassins that he runs through his unethical recruitment methods.

Out of everyone that you had talked to today, she was the only one who had truly realised the gravity of the situation that had led you to make an attempt on the shadowsinger's life.

You watch her begin to slowly put the dots together. Everyone always forgot how smart she was, the first thing they always see is the fancy clothes and jewlery, but Mor is one of if not the smartest person you had ever known.

"He was your last kill wasn't he? For Keir to allow this means it must have been someone really powerful."

You just stare at her, waiting for her to place the final puzzle piece.

"Beron?" You nod, confirming her suspicions.

Tears begin to well in her eyes. You know that she understands that your life was now at stake. That you could never truly be free without Beron and his men hunting you down.

She grabs your hand. "I am so sorry for everything I should've come back for you."

She wipes her tears and looks at you with the resolve of a warrior. "You will be under the protection of the Night Court from now on. You will be no one's prisoner from now on and you will reside with me in the high lord's residence. You will work with us in the coup against Beron and will be free after to live your life wherever and however you want."

Your eyes begin to well up with tears and she pulls you into a hug. You both break down in sobs, friends reunited after so long.

"You don't have to forgive me, but let me do this for you. Consider it my apology."

She pulls back and wipes her tears.

She starts laughing. "Come on, let's go tell Rhys. He is going to be pissed."

She puts her arm in yours and leads you down the hallway to Rhys' office.

While you didn't have your mate, it was nice to have your friend back. You were still upset with her about everything but her presence was a comfort that you didn't even know you missed.

She takes your hand and marches you over to Rhysand's office like a toddler marching their new friend that they met at the park over to a parent.

She stops you at the door and you hear a myriad of voices inside.

"Hold on for a minute this might get ugly." She warns you and then fearlessly opens the door.

She cheerfully makes a beeline for the high lord. "Rhysieee."

He looks at her suspicious and then looks you to and then looks downright agitated as he looks back to Mor.

The shadowsinger scans you over, likely noticing how you are free from your constraints and freely wandering around and then suddenly your view of the room is obscourd by the dark mahogany door slamming in your face.

He had his shadows close the door for him. Bastard.

Just to taunt you a little more a shadow slipped under the door and started giddily swirling around you. You almost smiled at the shadow's antics when it's tail was harshly yanked under the door.

It had fought back circling around your wrist, trying to take you with it but the shadowsinger's hold was too strong and it disappeared into the room in front of you.

Muffled voices could be heard through the door, but you couldn't make out any of the words. You did notice that both Mor and Rhysand's voices had gone from soft whispers, her likely telling him your predicament, to full-on yelling.

Now you could hear them through the doors.

"She tries to kill Az and we're rewarding her by letting her roam in the Night Court and giving her a position in the inner circle?" You could definitely hear Rhysand now.

"She will die if you release her Rhys, Beron's men are hunting her. I owe her my life she is the only thing that kept me going when I was in Hewn and I repaid her by abandoning her." Mor's voice was lethal.

"Besides, haven't you left the women of Hewn to suffer enough?" The temperature dropped.

"One conversation with her and you're already turning on your family Mor." Rhys' words were meant to strike and Mor responded leaving silence in her wake.

"She's Azriel's mate and my friend. She is family one way or another."

The temperature drops and the door slightly creeks openand next thing you know there is an Illyrian warrior on top of you.

The door swung open from the impact of you guys falling on the ground and the other 3 inhabitants of the room went silent.

"Oh hey... it was getting a bit tense in there, so I was trying to escape." The red-siphoned Illyrian warrior says guiltily while crushing you.

Azriel sighs as if he was asking the Mother for patience and then comes over and picks Cassian up off of you. His shadows help you up and even dust you off. They had shown you a lot more care than the shadowsinger and you are starting to prefer them to him.

If only the shadows were corporal you could be mated to them instead of this moody bat.

"Do I even want to know how much you heard? I really need to ward this door." The high lord begins to mumble to himself.

This court was a diplomatic disaster it's a wonder how they were able to run so smoothly.

Rhysand straightens up and looks at you. "I will allow you to remain in my court so long as you are helpful to me in staging the coup that will lead to Beron's death."

He looks between you and Ariel. "Azriel will be in charge of your assignments you will work under him."

Azriel's features reveal his protest, but they are immediately schooled back into their mask of indifference. He was having a conversation with Rhysand in his mind, you could tell.

Frustration and helplessness flood the bond, they are feelings that you know all too well. Feelings that only come up when you know you are at a total loss of control and the worst was coming.

Azriel nodded at Rhys.

"Azriel will be in charge of you during your time here, if you endanger anyone or step out of line in a way that threatens any member of my court he has grounds to deal out whatever punishment he deems necessary including exile or death." Rhysand says diplomatically, like he isn't putting your life in the hands of the man you had tried to kill.

Azriel's face betrays none of his feelings, either good or bad. All these years fighting the battless of the high fae, forced to do the bidding that they deemed below them, and now you were to die at the hands of your mate. It was poetic almost. Your last kill gone wrong, a tragic love story in it's own way.

Rhysand realises the error of his wording. Your lack of trust for men in power due to the things you have seen in your line of work.

He immediately scrambles to reassure you. "I assure you Azriel is a good male. He is very diplomatic and will not let his feelings get in the way of work."

Cassian tries to add on his own words of reassurance but they go awry. "Yeah! Azriel is so good at suppressing his emotions he's been doing it for hundreds of years."

Cassain looks surprised at the words that came out his mouth and quickly scrambles to correct his words. "Wait no. That's not what I mean-"

Rhysand facepalms. Mor laughs. And Azriel well lets just say he looks as if he is ready to rid himself of everyone in this room. His lack of patience with Cassain displaying itself on his face.

Great the next thing you need. A mate with emotional constipation.

Azriel sighs and holds his hand out. "Let's just get this over with."

You look at his outstretched hand confused. What exactly were you meant to do with this?

He looks downright done with your presence, let alone this whole ordeal. "A bargain because trust is not something we can count on right now. You will have more than just my word so I can assure you, you will be safe in your time here."

How can he say things like this and expect you to not be at least a little bit curious as to how the mating bond would have worked out. His loyalty and benevolence are apparent even to a stranger such as yourself.

You look at him hesitantly, but you comply putting your hand in his. The bond sings happily and immediatly heats your chest with a feeling of comfortability and calm.

You can tell he feels it too because he starts looking incredibly uncomfortable.

His shadows use the connection of your joined hands as a bridge and excitedly start circling around both your arms. A few of them come to you and start swirling around you, nestling themselves in your hair. One of them even circling your wrist.

At this he begins to look upset, obviously trying to reign them back in but only able to get a few back on his side.

He takes a breath and looks at you, "From now you will serve the Night Court in the coup against Beron and you will work with me until he is either dead or no longer a threat."

"While you are in Night you will be free to roam, you will not be a prisoner of me or my court. After your service, you will be free to live your life however you please."

He pauses and you can tell it's because he is trying to select his words carefully. Bargains like this are binding and any miswording could damn either one of you.

"You will be under the protection of the Night Court from now on, and, by extension me. I will make no moves to harm you unless in a dire situation and only then in self-defence. You are safe in Velaris but should you leave with me on a mission I will protect you from danger with blood, limb, and even life if it comes down to it."

You look at him in awe. You're his mate and he despises you and even then he would lay down his life out of a sense of duty.

He gave you his life it's only fair you give something in return. You begin to speak, "My loyalty lies now with the Night Court and not to Keir or any party he has hired me too. I will help you in whatever way I can and give you any information that you require. I work under you now, and should I betray you now or in the future, I will be prepared to lay down my life at your hands."

You shake your hands and they begin to glow. A binding light eminates from your joined hands, coating the entire room. The bond lets out a sound of satisfaction and you both feel a tug, flinching at the same time.

Warmth spreads down your arm and when the light dissipates, you notice that your arm is now covered in inky swirls of black. They formed an intricate pattern starting from your elbow to your fingers and they looked like Azriel's shadows.

You noticed that the swirls on your ring finger wrapped all the way around, like a makeshift ring.

Azriel begins to almost frantically take off his left glove, revealing deep burn scars etched into his skin. You knew Azriel had seen pain, but to have experienced something so horrific that it had left such a mark even with the fae healing left a heavy feeling in your chest.

At this, Azriel looked at you and then immediately at the finger on his left hand, which now had an identical thick band of swirling black around it as well.

It seems the Mother does have a sense of humour. Now not only do you have a constant reminder of Azriel on your body, you also have a reminder of the mating bond where a wedding ring would have gone in another life. One where you didn't try to kill him, one where you were more than just jagged edges deemed to cut anyone who tries to put you together.

Azriel is speechless, he doesn't know what to say without having his words betray him so he chooses silence.

Cassian breaks the silence, a shit-eating grin on his face as if he is enjoying this whole ordeal. He pats your shoulder and goes, "Congratulations I would now like to officially welcome you as a member of the inner circle of the Night Court."

Mother help you.

-

note: I am genuinely having so much fun writing this story I think I'm going to extend it to a series. I am lowkey anti-editing (because I am lazy), so if you see a typo, we can just pretend it isn't there... I know I said I would lock in on why me? but this story is flowing more for me right now! Thank you to all my lovely readers and as always until next time darlings!

My lovely taglist: @moonfawnx @theadharablack @thegoddessofnothingness @annamariereads16 @willowpains @slut4acotar @lilah-asteria

[monstersandgenderqueers]

Little Gifts (Part One)

Loki, a new resident in the compound, sparks your interest. You decide to give him a gift in secret, hoping he might cheer up just a little bit. Well, it didn't work out that way.

Pairing: Loki x neurodivergent!reader

Word count: 2200

A/N: Look, I really wanted to read a fanfic about an autistic reader but alas, there are so few. So I made one myself. Yes, this might just be a self-insert, but everyone's experience with neurodivergence is different, and it felt simpler just to make the reader's neurodivergence similar to mine. This series will mostly be exploring neurodiversity and Loki's reactions towards it, hopefully fluffy?

Masterlist | Next

I think he's gone, now's my chance!

You peek around the corner, hugging the little terracotta pot to your chest. Nestled inside is a tiny little staghorn fern, tucked gently inside some damp moss. You wait for a moment, listening for footsteps or voices.

Boisterous laughter echoes down the hall, forcing you to freeze with your back against the cold wall. The voices subside, and you dare to dart from around the corner and toward the door just in front of you.

Quiet as a mouse, you reach his door. After another quick look, just to be sure no one is watching, you place the fern carefully on the floor, and a card beside it. You'd handwritten detailed care instructions, ensuring that even the most notorious plant-killer could still keep the little thing alive.

Well, maybe.

You twist the pot just a little. There. He will love this… right?

You bought him this fern as a sort of housewarming gift. Or maybe a "welcome to the compound" gift or… a "be my friend, please" gift. Most likely the latter.

Often, you trail behind him on his escorted walks outside. He likes to stop and stare at the trees, or sit down on the bench and watch the undergrowth. You hope this gift isn't too far off the mark, but since you were so uncertain, you intentionally left your name off the card. Afterall, you don't want him to think you're too desperate to be his friend, even though you definitely are.

When you first moved in, you were just the same as he is. Self-isolating, restless, temperamental, and just downright rude. His reasons seem more concrete than yours did, though. 

Loki is forced to stay. His magic is restricted, and he isn't allowed to leave without either Thor or an armed escort. No one trusts him, but at least Thor trusts in whomever decided Loki should be punished in this way. You aren't privy to that sort of information, so you only have your assumptions for now.

Your excuses for your behavior are based on just… who you are. Different. Change is hard, and moving to the compound to live with some very intimidating people and surrounded by people at all times was devastating.

You'd gotten more comfortable in the time since, but it's still challenging. At least you're not a total jerk anymore. You still ask, sometimes, if it appears like someone is ignoring you on purpose or they get an attitude. Did I say something wrong?

Or maybe that was just all in your head.

Regardless, you see a kindred spirit in Loki. There are so many things you do differently because of your neurodivergence, and he seems to do them, too. Like masking, for one. Your masking is for the purpose of looking normal, to hide everything that makes you stand out, and from your perspective, it seems like he is also trying to hide himself away behind indifference and snark.

You really, really hope the fern will work.

Tiptoeing away, you make it all the way down the hall to your assigned quarters, and close the door shut quietly behind you. You're tempted to peer out from your door and keep an eye on it. You could just barely see his door if you poked your head out from yours. That'd be too obvious, though, and he might think you're a creep.

You pick up your plushie, hoping that if you squeeze something tight, your anxiety might just ebb away and you can go about your day as normal without constantly ruminating on Loki and whether he likes the fern or not.

It doesn't work. Now you're just pacing, second-guessing and triple-guessing yourself, new thoughts popping into your head with each stride down the length of your bedroom.

What if he thinks it's weird? What if he thinks I'M weird?

So? He doesn't know I left it, right?

But what if he does? What if I accidentally wrote my name on the little card?

What if he realizes it's me because I like my plants and I talk about them all the time?

What if he saw me walk in with it?

What if someone else did and they tell him?

But how would he know it's from me otherwise?

He won't be angry with me, right? Right?

What if he actually likes it and tries to figure out who left it but he finds out it's from me and then he gets upset because it's me?

You toss your plushie onto your bed, and then yourself right after it. With a deep groan, you smash your face against the comforter, trying to release some of the tension.

You hope he's at least a little bit like Thor when it comes to receiving gifts, polite and gracious even if the gift is really weird or random. You're horrendously terrible at figuring out what people want or like, and figuring out Thor is still something on your to-do list. 

Giving gifts is one of the few ways you know of to get people to notice you, so it stings a bit when gift after gift is ignored or set aside, even the things that don't really seem like gifts. Like for Thor, you noticed he developed a craving for sugary, processed foods shortly after joining the Avengers. So, you got him a variety pack of the most unhealthy types of cereal. You knew it was a stupid idea the second he patted your head and placed it on the counter without really looking at it. It hurt it a bit when you saw others eat it, but at least that gift was used by someone you know, which you can't say for everything else you'd gotten others for birthdays or holidays or "I just like you" days.

Your gifts are always ending up in junk piles or in the trash.

Maybe the fern would break that pattern?

After what felt like years of waiting, you get up and open your door as casually as you could make it look. You walk down the hall and around the little corner you were hiding behind before, and face Loki's door.

You try not to make it obvious when you look down, so you turn and keep walking by and just barely glance downwards.

It's gone! That means he saw it, right? Does he like it?

You can't help the smile that breaks your mask. He likes it, right? Just the thought of him smiling sent unfamiliar giddiness up from your belly to your chest. If you saw him smile in real life, your heart might just fly away.

But, instead of flying away, it breaks. Just as you enter the common room, you see the bottom of the terracotta pot sticking out from the garbage bin in the corner, the orange color drawing your eye towards it.

Oh.

The room is empty, so he probably just tossed it the second he saw it. Hearing laughter again, you walk towards the window and see a few people outside, enjoying the sunshine. Thor is the one laughing, chatting with Steve about something you couldn't make out. Loki is there, too, standing to the side with his arms crossed and his brows knit together so tightly they might snap off.

He glances briefly in your direction. You swear he's making eye contact, but there's no way he can see you through the dark tint of the glass.

You sigh, shuffling your feet a bit as you turn back around. Plucking the fern from the trash, you gently shake it to get the plastic off that stuck to one of the leaves. You carry it back to your room with you, berating yourself for getting teary-eyed and for the too-much bad feeling that fills your belly like lead.

After finding the fern a home next to your already mature staghorn fern, you sit and wait for dinner. If your memory is correct, the chef who makes all the meals for everyone is making something familiar to you tonight, so at least there is something to look forward to.

Loki glares at you as you take your seat across from him. Months ago, you claimed a chair where no one sat across from you on the long dining table purposefully. You hate when people watch you eat, or try to engage you in conversation when you have food in your mouth. Then Loki moved in and claimed the opposite chair.

The dining table was never packed, since there were always at least a few people absent for various reasons, so it was quite alarming when Loki chose that seat and stared at you with his icy eyes until you finished your meal. It was like he wanted you to get up and move, even though you sat down that day before he did.

Since then, he's given up on intimidating you into moving. He still sits there, of course, so it's extra awkward now that he's back to glaring at you after your failed attempt at friendship.

He knows, doesn't he? Why else would he be looking at me like he's trying to make me explode through the force of his glare alone?

Thor sat down to the left of Loki, his plate already mostly empty. He makes some comments about how the dish tastes like something from Asgard, but it's hard for you to make out with everyone else talking and scraping cutlery on their dishes.

Unfortunately, Thor must've asked you something, since he's looking at you like, "well?"

Even worse, Loki looks interested in your answer.

You swallow your bite. "Uhm… could you repeat that?"

Thor repeats himself, "I asked if you enjoyed the sunshine today. It has been such a welcome reprieve from the storms as of late." He winks, as if he had something to do with the storms, though you know he doesn't care enough to mess with the weather here. After elbowing Loki, he continues, "Even Loki basked in the sunlight this afternoon."

Loki doesn't seem to care enough to retort. He just keeps…. staring.

"Uhm… I went out this morning before the clouds parted. So… no, I didn't really enjoy the sunshine…"

Thor's eyes dart to Loki quickly before he looks back at you. "Oh? Where did you go?"

"Uhm… to town. For some shopping." You hope that's enough of an answer, but with the way the brothers just keep staring, you know it's not. "I bought some stuff for my room."

Thor brightly smiles. "Perhaps Loki could join you on your next shopping adventure. His room is still bare."

You hope you hide your disappointment well enough. Since you tried to get something for Loki's room, it hurts all the more knowing that he's actively looking for things and he rejected your gift. "Yeah. Maybe next time…"

Loki looks at you oddly. It's a subtle expression, one you hadn't seen on him before. Your mind ran through every instance you've seen an expression like that on someone else, but there was nothing. You hope it isn't disgust.

You trip your way through the rest of Thor's agonizing small talk then bring your plate to the dishwasher. Loki follows you, scraping his plate off into the compost bin. His elbow brushes your side ever so slightly, making your eyes widen. "Uhm, excuse me…" you say, as if you had bumped into him. You slot your dishes in the washer and walk away, feeling heat creep up your cheeks and your ears.

As you're walking to your quarters, a thought comes to mind.

Maybe he's just picky. Maybe a plant was the wrong gift. Books? He likes books, right? I've got hundreds stacked on my floor, at least one has to be interesting to him…

With a new goal, you quicken your pace and head directly to the stacks leaning precariously every which way against one of the walls.

Ah hah!

Without toppling anything over, you manage to snag the complete Lord of the Rings trilogy. This one is a cheap copy, one that you'd dog-eared and written in and highlighted. You think about buying him a new copy, but your impatience is winning.

If I put this in front of his door now, it'll be less obvious than giving it to him after another shopping trip.

Similar to earlier that day, you made sure everyone was still in the dining room before placing the book against the wall. You stick a little heart-shaped sticky note on the cover:

"I know you don't like it here much. I know what it's like to feel like everyone hates you. Maybe this might take your mind off it? Anyway, please don't throw this one away. It's actually mine, but you can keep it if you promise you won't damage it further. If you don't want it, maybe just put it in the common room?"

Like before, you leave off your name, hoping it might save you a sliver of embarrassment later if you find the book lying about elsewhere or in the trash.

You go to bed shortly after, forcing your anxiety to settle down as you anticipate the morning.

[rivalswrites]

#1 heating pad??

Before you read, please be warned that I'm writing based on my impressions of them not only in the game (though it's the biggest inspiration), but some of them with the movies/shows in mind too.

I'm going through it rn y'all, totally made this just for myself haha. Reader given no specific gender (though assumed to be afab due to y'know, having a uterus (mentioned in fic))

Masterlist

Summery: Rocket helps reader with cramps by basically being a fluffy heating pad for them

Pain and suffering, that's all you could think about. The bedroom was completely dark, the blackout curtains keeping the moonlight out. Your hand resting on your lower abdomen to try and magically make the cramps go away, though obviously it doesn't work.

The slight migraine wouldn't go away, despite taking stuff for it and not having been in a bright room for hours. Instead of seeking out one of the many medically informed people that were all held in the Baxter Building you just continued to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling and wishing your life would end; or that you could rip out your uterus, whichever came first you supposed.

A blinding light of the door opening made you groan and raise your arms to cover your face with. “What the hell man,” you said, voice dry and slightly gravely “at least close the door if you're gonna stay.”

“The flark happened to you.” Your instructions were left ignored by the raccoon standing at your door, hand still on the knob even. The audacity of this rodent.

“Close the door!” You told him even louder than before, to which he complied this time. Begrudgingly, you could hear him scoff and mutter under his breath. With the light finally gone you could go back to resting your hands on your abdomen. The warmth of your hands provided very small comfort, but you'd take it.

Rocket scurried up and sat on your bed, his eyes reflecting no light and yet still you could see them glow like the little critter he was. “I did what you asked, now answer my question” he demanded, taking in the image of your miserable form.

“I'm just on my period, cramps and stuff y'know.” He did not, in fact, ‘know’. Tarrin bodies were weird, he knew, but from the look of it this was a self sabotaging thing- was your body trying to kill you? Jeez, even he wouldn't wish that on Quill.

He scoots closer, little feet claws resting gently on your arm as he gets a look at your face, “Are you going to die?” The question makes you scoff and then laugh. “It certainly feels like it, though it won't. Happens every month, and I haven't died yet” you signed, raising a hand up and resting it on top of his head. He groans and tries moving his head away but that just fuels your desire to pet him more.

With another once over you, he decides to be nice and doesn't pull away more when you start petting him. “Do you…” he hesitates, this really goes against his bad guy persona “do you need anything?” You think about it, hand still on your abdomen pressing harder to try and combat the cramp that just developed.

“I don't suppose you know what a heating pad looks like?” You ask, and he could hear the slight waver in your voice. Your hand on his head returns back to the other one to push against the cramp too, though it doesn't help more. “No.. I don't” he mutters in reply, watching your actions carefully.

“Fuck…” you whispered, “should've gotten one earlier. Maybe I can ask Quill…” your head turns from side to side, glancing around the bed “now where's my phone…”

Rocket was insulted, the way you thought Peter would be more help than him, he'll show you- this plan is definitely to prove he's better than Peter, not because he actually wants to help. From context clues, like the name 'heating pad’ and the way you're holding yourself he can make an assumption on what you need. He doesn't have anything on hand, so he just shrugs off the jacket he was wearing and flops his body on top of your hands.

Surprised by his unexpected contact, you jump slightly, pulling your hands quickly from under him. “What-” you cut yourself off, letting the feeling of his warm fur sink in with the contact if your skin. “Oh, that's nice,” you mutter. Rocket scoffs “‘course it is, way better than Quill could ever do.” He mutters the last part about Quill to himself.

Hands rest on Rocket's back, slowly carding through fur as he rested horizontally on you. It was a peaceful moment, and his warmth provided you something much better than your hands.

“Thanks…” you whispered, hands coming to a stop- still on his back- as the earth spread and let the tired feeling fully wash over you. Finally you could get some sleep.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don't go mentioning this to anyone, ya hear me?” He bites back, not even moving from his position. Actions spoke louder than words. “Don't want this ruining my reputation, I spent years building it up y'know.” His little rant sadly didn't meet your ears, as you were already fully asleep. Man were you tired.

“Flarkin' terrins...”

[interstellarrisa]

Giving up is never an option˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

Actually, go ahead and give up but remember this: if you do you'll have to continue living in this shitty reality when you could instead be enjoying life with your dream manifestations or in your dream reality but instead you chose to stay, you chose to give up, you chose to not continue persisting.

You didn't find out about all this just for you to give up. Right now you could be dancing amongst the stars or performing on a stage in front of thousands of fans. Anything you can dream about is real and you can experience it right now.

If this is all fake and we're just being delusional because the law didn't work out for you then are those success stories all just lies and if so what would they gain by spreading lies? Nobody's paying them? There's even posts where shifting anti's themselves shifted. I myself have manifested time stopping, getting full marks on a test and even have a success story posted on my page.

Maybe the fact that the law isn't working for you proof that the law works. If you assume that you don't have your desires time and time again then that assumption might spiral into the belief that the law is fake and doesn't work. Isn't that the law working then because you assume that it's not working? Just flip those negative thoughts around.

From "Why can't I see xyz?" to "It doesn't matter if I can't see it, I still know that I have it and nothing can change it."

Remember: This is your reality, it exists solely because of you not the other way around. If you want something just be the one who has it. Just have it. The same way you are being the one who lacks it be the one who has it by fulfilling yourself in any way possible. If you are manifesting money don't think the way a poor person would but instead think the way a rich person would. This does not mean that you should spend your money irresponsibly and buy anything you want just because it's cute. Don't try to fulfill the outer world but instead the inner world.

"If you want to be happy, be." - Leo Tolstoy.

Be, embody the version of yourself who has it whether it be having straight a's or being a master at entering the void state. If you give up it's truly over. All your dreams, all the magical things you wanted to experience gone in an instant. The childhood dreams that you once had, are you really going to give up on them? You were given a chance to change it all and now you're just giving up, how disappointing.

˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆

[stangalina]

I want to read a fic where Arthur discovers that Merlin is Emrys, but the conflicting feelings of affection for Merlin and hatred for magic cause him to misunderstand the nature of Emrys' existence.

His brain rationalises the situation in the only way it can, and comes to the understanding that Merlin and Emrys are two separate people living in the same body. That Emrys is living WITHIN Merlin without Merlin's knowledge.

Which, if that were true, would actually be a smart move on the sorcerer's part. Arthur would not, will not, and will NEVER execute Merlin. He's also around Arthur all day everyday, so that means he's close by to get whatever he wants or needs from the king. This only further convinces Arthur that he's correct.

He is not correct, of course. But since he's Arthur, he doesn't communicate what he has "learned" with Merlin. He doesn't want to tell his clearly unaware manservant that he's got an all powerful sorcerer buried in his brain. And he certainly doesn't want to tell anyone else out of fear it'll lead to Merlin's death. So he keeps it to himself, like an idiot, and operates every day under the assumption that Merlin is possessed by the most powerful sorcerer to ever live.

Meanwhile, Merlin is thriving. Sure it had been terrifying for Arthur to first learn about the prophecy via a loose lipped druid on the verge of death, and THEN witness Merlin using his magic in order for the thing that killed the druid to not also kill Arthur, but the reveal had gone over shockingly well all things considered.

He did get a whole week of complete silence from Arthur, followed by a few more days of being stared at in a thoroughly unsettling manner, but after that everything went back to normal. Better than normal, in fact!

It was clear that Arthur was incredibly uncomfortable with his magic, which was understandable. Arthur may be a good man, but his quality of character didn't magically erase the prejudices and experiences that had been hammered into his head over and over since he was a child. The way he seemed to be coping with it was by pretending that nothing had happened at all, which was just fine as far as Merlin was concerned.

Gaius disagreed. But what did Gaius know? Healthy communication? Don't need it.

Merlin didn't use his magic around Arthur on the day to day, even though he could be sure he wouldn't get executed for it anymore. He didn't want to make Arthur uncomfortable, so he went along with the unspoken plan of pretending that nothing had happened. Resuming the exact same routines and behaviours that he'd been doing for years now. Gradually, Arthur relaxed. Well, as much as Arthur Pendragon can relax. And life resumed as normal.

Except for one little detail.

Sometimes, Arthur would call him Emrys. Not all the time, and certainly not when people were around to hear or see. But sometimes.

When he needed help. When he needed magical help.

An enchantment on a courtier, an artifact found buried under a house, a monster wreaking havoc on a town, or a hoard of bandits descending upon the two of them in the woods. A tome, a necklace, a potion, a poison, a cure.

If Arthur called him Merlin, he wanted his manservant. If Arthur called him Emrys, he wanted his sorcerer. It was a neat little system, Merlin thought. A sort of code, just for the two of them.

Of course, this equilibrium can only exist for so long before something slips and shit gets messy. But that's all part of the fun!

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Frisky Movie Date 💕 | Shoto x Reader

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x AFAB Reader 💋

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Romance

Summary: You reconnect with Shoto as adults. You start to explore your mutual attraction through a series of basic dates. When Shoto takes you to the movies, the last thing your'e expecting is for things to get spicy off screen! Suddenly Shoto's giving you the star treatment in public. Turns out, he's a credit to heroes everywhere - he's determined to show you that a Pro Hero always gets the job done. TLDR: Shoto fingers you into oblivion while on a movie date and it's HOT AF! 🔥

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, fingering, lemon, Smut, Dirty Talk, All characters are in their mid-twenties!

It's late evening and you're at the movies with Shoto Todoroki.

You've gone on a few dates together since reconnecting at your UA class's 10 year anniversary. You're both successful heroes in your own right - Shoto is consistently on the Top 10 Hero charts, while you prefer to operate in the shadows and off the grid. When you bumped into each other at the reunion party, the attraction between the two of you was undeniable.

Shoto in his mid twenties is...woof. He's handsome as ever - that trademark two toned hair does all the talking when he walks into a room. He's bulkier now than he was in school - he's filled out quite a bit with muscle since you last sparred with him in a UA gym.

He dresses much classier now, too...you recall days in the dorms where he would wander around in joggers and loose sweatpants. He's definitely retained a hero stylist since then. These days he dresses like old money - expensive cable knit sweaters, suit jackets and neutral leather shoes. And he always smells delicious - an interesting combination of fruit and sandalwood.

The first few dates were innocent enough - dinner at a high end restaurant (in a private room, of course. You needed to guard your identity carefully and it was imperative to your underground hero work that you not be spotted with a high profile hero like Shoto). A quiet evening outing to a museum after close. A stroll through a local park at dusk when most people had gone home for dinner.

Each date had been fun and sweet - you and Shoto have caught up and come to better understand one another's lives post graduation. You've asked questions about Shoto's hero agency, his challenges with sidekicks and administrative BS. And in turn, he's asked you to explain how you partner with detectives and the police in order to take down criminal rings throughout the city. You've talked about the state of the hero world, the gossip you've heard about your old classmates, and about your favorite foods (his being Soba).

Despite the sweet and chaste nature of your dates, sexual tension is constantly pulsing between you, staticky and sharp. You can feel it in the way he glances sideways at you when you walk side by side. It's evident in how his hugs linger a moment longer than they should, in the way that his hand brushes yours more than necessary when you sit down for dinner or coffee.

All of your interactions are above board, though. It's too soon to get physical. And you know that Shoto is a little slow on the uptake, so you assume he's going to take his time before trying to do anything *spicy* with you during a date.

Turns out...that assumption was dead wrong.

For your fourth date, Shoto takes you to a new mystery movie that's just hit the theaters. You sneak in during the previews so that no one will notice the two of you. He doesn't want to be swarmed by fangirls and you don't want your underground hero identity compromised. Sneaking around is a necessary evil when you're Pro Heros of this caliber. It also makes everything feel a bit clandestine and sexy.

You breathe in the cool dark air of the theater - there's something magical about going to the movies these days. It's so easy to stream things in your little apartment or at your agency office. There's something so fun and purposeful about setting aside time to go to a physical theater, to grab snacks and just intentionally enjoy a film with another person.

You stumble over an overturned popcorn bucket, your hero senses failing you. Shoto glances back at you and holds out an arm to brace your fall, easily slipping his hand into yours once you steady yourself. He guides you through the dark theater to the reserved seats. His hand is strong, reassuring. Strangely sexy? You wonder what those strong, supple fingers could do to you...

You refocus on the task at hand - finding your seats. Shoto locates them with ease and stows your drinks in the chair cup holders. He drops your hand unceremoniously and waits for you to plop in your seat before taking his own. You're pleased to see that the theater is fairly empty - there's no one sitting in your row and there don't appear to be any rowdy moviegoers in this particular crowd. The audience is mostly comprised of couples in their twenties and thirties. You fit right in.

You settle in, pleased that it's one of those theaters that has the fancy reclining seats. You eagerly hit the buttons and the chair hums faintly as its backrest tilts you into a slightly more comfortable position. Shoto reclines his chair to match yours, gazing up at the pre-film commercials with his usual intensity. His mismatched eyes glimmer in the cinema screen's glow and you can't help but admire how gorgeous he is.

As the previews wrap up, Shoto lifts the armrest up so that he can scooch next to you, his muscular thigh pressing flush against your own leg. You glance up at him in surprise - you definitely were not expecting him to try and cuddle you during this date. He's usually so reserved and shy!

You let yourself lean into him lightly, feeling the coolness of his right side seep through your thick sweatshirt and leggings like a refreshing mint.

"I'm excited." You whisper softly, tilting your head up so you can speak close to his ear. "I've read good reviews of this film!"

His lips ease into a smile and he nods. "I'm excited, too." He reaches down and slides his hand over your own where it rests on your thigh. A shiver runs through you at the touch. If Shoto notices, he doesn't show it.

The movie starts to roll. A half hour goes by - characters are introduced, settings are explored. A ragtag group of misfits is locked in a mansion and challenged to solve a startling mystery. You're both engrossed in the plot line (or, so you think) - when Shoto removes his hand from on top of yours and brings it to rest lightly on your upper thigh. Instantly you freeze, eyes darting down to where his large hand now rests on your leg.

You give him a sidelong look. He feels your eyes on his face and turns ever so slightly towards you, eyes widening questioningly almost as if to say "what?"

You shake your head loosely, unable to come up with a response.

What would you even say? Shoto's hand on your thigh doesn't seem particularly suspicious, and you want to be in constant contact with him anyway. He's cute and you're attracted to him and every touch he lavishes on you feels electric. You shake your head again and refocus your attention on the screen. Shoto smirks as he turns back to watch the movie as well, giving your leg a light squeeze with the pads of his fingers. You can't help the tremor that runs through your body at the delicate touch. For a moment, your brain goes off the deep end - you're craving his fingers everywhere.

You sink your attention back into the movie, interested to see how the film plays out. The plot moves forward - the characters explore the spooky mansion and the mystery deepens. You have a few theories as to how the plot might resolve, but it's still too early to tell.

You almost jump when you feel the Shoto's finger twitch at your thigh. No, not quite a twitch...more like a tap? Shoto starts to lightly tap his finger on your leg. You can't ignore the gentle beat he taps into your leggings - you haven't been touched in that particular spot in a long while. It feels both casual and intimate. You quickly glance down at his strong Pro Hero hands. You wonder if the tapping could be a nervous tic - extra energy flowing out through his finger tip.

You try to refocus on the movie, but when Shoto starts to trace soft circles into your leggings, you realize the touch is purposeful. You're not quite sure what he's trying to do, but he has your full attention as he glides his finger tips in small shapes against your leg.

He slides the finger an inch or two upwards and hits a sensitive spot on your inner thigh. You're instantly turned on - warmth radiating up your legs and straight to your cunt. You don't dare look over at him - it might break the tension. The spell. You can tell through your peripherals that Shoto is still staring straight ahead at the movie screen. There's no note in his expression to indicate that he's trying to silently seduce you.

He continues to run his fingertip featherlight back and forth across your soft leggings, moving slowly upwards. You feel yourself getting wetter with each gentle circle and pattern. It doesn't take him long to crawl his hand up to towards your pussy.

You're craving his touch on your clit now, but he's caressing everywhere but - his fingers slide up your waist, around your hips, down the dip of your the point of your inner thigh that connects to your labia...

You long to buck up your hips or to guide him to your pussy with your own hand. But you don't dare. You want to see how this plays out.

The movie plays on. And Shoto's gentle caresses continue.

After 15 minutes, you can barely sit still. You're soaking wet and your core is absolutely aching. Shoto's fingers swirl and slide down across your hip bone and ghost across the edge of your pussy lips. Tired of his teasing, you lightly shift your hips, desperate to get some friction against your tingling clit. At your sudden movement, his fingers still.

You worry that you've ruined his game, turning your head slightly to the left to gauge his reaction.

He softly turns to look back at you, his gaze locking with your own. His eyes are glazed over, boring into your own as he bites at his perfect mouth. Your eyes dart down to his mouth, drinking in the flash of white teeth sinking into his lower lip. He leans towards you slowly, closing the distance between you so he can whisper in your ear: "Can I touch you, sweetheart?"

You're suddenly intensely aware of where you are - a public place sprinkled with other couples. But the theater is dark and the movie is loud and Shoto's leg and side are pressed so closely to your own that you doubt anyone would notice if you just let him give you what you so desperately need...

You release a breath you didn't even realize you were holding, your vocal chords barely buzzing under the thick film score blasting through the theater speakers: "...yes."

That seems to be exactly what Shoto was waiting to hear. He swirls his fingers quickly to the center of your pussy, drawing the pads of his fingers up and across your cunt in the most delicious way. You try not to grind up into his fingers as he feels around for your sweet spot. When he finally locates your clit, you hiss appreciatively, a short burst of air leaving your lips before you clap your hand over your mouth to shut yourself up. You glance back at Shoto and see that he's grinning at you mischievously. It's an expression you've never seen on his face before. He looks cute and handsome and diabolical.

He pulls his hand away and you keen lowly in the back of your throat at the loss of contact. His face breaks into a grin as you make a noise he's certain only he can hear.

On the large silver screen before you, the protagonist is being chased by some sort of villain character. You're too punch drunk to remember what the movie is about anymore. What's the genre? No clue. The title? Don't care. Your pussy is soaked and throbbing and you're pretty sure you might need to ditch your ruined panties in the cinema's ladies room so you can make it home comfortably.

Your mind zooms in a thousand different directions - You're horny. Shoto is hot. Does he like you? Or does he just want to fuck you? Who cares - get your hands back on me, you Icy Hot freak! Why did he stop? Should you have pretended to ignore him - does he just like the chase? What is this movie called again? Why is the protagonist hiding in the woods? Is her underwear comfortable? Because yours is certainly not right now -

You feel Shoto's large, steady hands wrap around your hips. Before you can fully register what's happening, he's pulling you into his lap.

Jeez. Lord Almighty help me.

He pulls you towards him so that your back is flush against his chest, and his chin rests on your right shoulder. His breath is hot against the bare skin of your neck, causing ripples of goose bumps to prickle to life with each exhale of air. You feel him beneath your butt - he's unmistakably hard in those fancy pants of his. You glitter at the realization - Shoto Todoroki is hard for you. You wonder how big his dick is. You wonder how good it might feel.

Fuck.

No. No! You're in public right now. You need to cool off before someone notices you both and kicks you out of the theater for being too handsy. Or, worse - you need to cut this out before someone snaps a picture of two Pro Heroes are canoodling in a public movie theater. The press would go haywire if they found out about this.

You slowly turn your head around to see if anyone has noticed this sudden...intimate...change in position. But once again, there's no one sitting in your row. The movie theater chair backs are high enough to allot an illusion of privacy, and all of the other couples seem to be staring at the movie screen with rapt attention. The score swells as the protagonist continues to run through the woods in search of cover, and you hear audible gasps from the audience as she trips and falls over a log. People are invested in this movie. Unlike you.

"You're so beautiful, I can't seem to behave myself." Shoto whispers thickly into your ear. "I can't keep my hands off of you for some reason." He breathes in deeply. "Does your quirk have some kind of hormonal side effect?"

You want to burst out laughing - based on his tone of voice, his question is completely earnest, it's not a flirty come on.

"No, that's not how my quirk works at all Shoto. You're just horny." You say quietly, trying to keep the timber of your voice as low as humanly possibly so as not to draw attention to the way your bodies are currently configured.

"Yeah. I definitely am." He says simply, nuzzling lightly into your neck. He slides his hands up and down the sides of your legs as if to warm you up. "Did you enjoy the way I was touching you?" He says, a hint of slyness creeping into his hushed tone.

"I'm soaked through." You say, shifting uncomfortably in his lap. He sucks in a breath at those words, his own body pulsing with need. You feel his cock beneath you, heavy and getting harder by the second. You wish you were anywhere else - you wish you could hop off his lap, unzip his pants and hop on that sweet Pro Hero cock. You'd ride him through the night and well into the morning if you could.

Your mind is now a cloudy haze of hormones and longing.

"If you'd like to...maybe I could finish what I started." He says flatly, turning his head so that his lips ghost the hollow under your ear. You feel your heart beat quicken at the suggestion. Your entire body screams out yes! yes! yes!

"No. Shoto. We're in public." You hiss between your teeth as you feel his fingers dance across your legs and up towards your pussy. "What if we get caught? It's a PR nightmare waiting to happen."

Shoto says nothing. Instead, he reaches behind him and grabs his thick, corduroy jacket from where it hangs on the chair back. He quietly spreads the fabric across your lap, covering you like a blanket.

"Better?" He says softly, his fingers starting to swirl gentle circles into your thighs once more.

"Um." You gulp, taking one more look around at the theater before throwing caution to the wind. "Why the hell not?"

That's all the answer he seems to have needed. He draws a hand delicately up your inner thigh and dips towards your vulva, gently tracing circles into the comfortable fabric of your leggings. When he gets to your clit again, it's feels like magic. You wish you could moan out his name, but you're too nervous to speak. Beneath the jacket on your lap, his right hand is working wonders.

Meanwhile, he brings his left hand to his mouth, slowly sucking on his fingers.

"What are you doing?" You hiss out as he swirls his right fingers around your clothed pussy in a controlled, practiced sort of way. The impact is buttery and pleasurable in all the right ways. Your panties are dripping wet.

"You'll see." He says, distracted. You find out the answer a moment later when his fingers ghost beneath the elastic of your leggings.

"Shoto." You say warningly, still unsure about having a Rated R moment inside of a public theater.

"Trust me." Is all he says before he dips his spit covered fingers underneath the elastic bands of both your leggings and your underwear. You stifle a gasp as he slides his wet digits down, down down...swiping his dexterous fingertips across your swollen clit with practiced skill. Your whole body feels alive and electric at the contact.

He doesn't spend long playing with your clit - he has other plans for you. You feel him explore your pussy, sliding his fingers around your labia before finally dipping into your hot core.

You hear the tiniest gasp of air escape his lips as he realizes how fucking wet you are. He buries his face in the side of your neck and groans softly as he swirls his fingers into you softly. He's curling and scissoring his index and middle fingers lightly to give you a delicious feeling of stretching fullness. He feels so lovely inside of you, stirring your arousal around like thick honey. You grind up into his fingers gently, trying to flex your needy pelvic muscles in a subtle, refined sort of way (aka, you try not to look like a humping maniac in the middle of this public movie theater screening).

Shoto's fingers are the perfect mix of calloused and soft. He's got an amazing dexterity that no doubt comes from years of training in hand to hand combat. Each gentle push and pull of his fingertips makes you see stars.

You feel an orgasm building quickly as your pussy flutters and throbs around his capable digits. And honestly, it doesn't take a lot to bring you to the brink of pleasure.

Shoto continues to play with your pussy with his left hand. He drags his right slowly up your neck, letting his hand linger for a moment at your throat. There's no pressure in his touch - you just feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe. It's almost like a teasing little promise...I could choke you if you wanted me to. Your pussy pulses steadily around his fingers at the implication. After a moment, his palm travels up your throat, dips across the curve of your chin, and comes to rest snuggly across your mouth. He pulls back your face lightly, a silent command to keep quiet. This is something you've always loved about Shoto - the way he's so direct.

Ironically enough, as the film hits its climax you get closer to your own. The protagonist and the villain are having some big CGI battle, and the surround sound is LOUD. The image on the screen blurs as your eyes roll back in your head a bit, blissed out and riding high on Shoto Todoroki's fingertips. You have no fucking clue why there's a swamp monster in this movie and you don't fucking care.

Shoto takes his time working at you - his motions are gentle but precise. You huff lightly into his hand and shift needily in his lap, trying to get some friction going against his cock. You can feel him hard beneath you, his dick a welcome presence against your butt. You want him to fill you up with more than his fingers, and your hazy brain wonders what it would feel like to be stretched out by a top hero's cock. The thought sends your senses spinning.

Holy fuck you're about to cum hard.

Luckily, Shoto has been studying body language for quite some time in his hero work. He dips his lips to the shell of your ear, dragging the very tip of his tongue across the delicate cartilage before he whispers: "Cum for me, pretty girl."

He dips his head lower to plant a deep, wet kiss against the sensitive part of your neck and that's all it takes.

Theater goers and mysterious swamp monster character be damned, you're going to orgasm in the middle of this goddamn CGI fight scene if it kills you.

Your ears are ringing with the anticipation of your high - your blood is pumping through your veins a bit too fast, and you've all but forgotten to breathe. The music coming out of the surround sound speakers swells alongside the pressure in your pussy.

You cum - hard. Shoto's finger pulses in and out of you in time with your orgasm, and you take a short, shuddering breath as you ride out your pleasure. This is the wettest you've been in so long and it makes cumming feel so glorious and comfortable.

You lean your head back into him when you're finished, head falling against the hard muscle of Shoto's chest. Your body feels fizzy and warm - the kind of relaxed feeling you get when you step into a hot bath. He curls his finger inside you one last time as the aftershock of your orgasm dies down before covertly removing his hand from your panties and pants. He releases your mouth from his grasp and you breathe in the cool theater air.

Shoto's mouth finds your ear again, and he whispers one final sexy thing: "A Pro always finishes the job."

Your whole body shivers at the words.

The movie screen goes dark and the credits begin to roll. You turn your head ever so slightly so you can see half of Shoto's face through your hazy eyes. He smiles softly at you as he raises his left hand to his lips and licks your orgasm clean off of his fingers. Holy fucking shit.

Without warning, the lights flicker on and all around you. Couples stand and start to drift towards the theater's exit. You quickly scrabble up and off of Shoto's lap on shaky legs, incredulous. You can't believe you just did that.

You shiver from the shock of it all.

Shoto has managed to scoop his jacket off your lap before you get to your feet. He wraps the thick fabric around you, squeezing his palms lightly against your shivery shoulders. He pulls you in towards him, dipping his head down so that his lips meet yours. It's your first kiss with Shoto, and it's sweet and chaste and the complete opposite of whatever the hell just took place in that pleather theater chair.

You jump when you hear someone from the back of the theater say to their partner: "Is that Pro Hero Shoto!?"

Shoto flashes you a grin before he grabs your hand and you haul ass out of the emergency exit. An alarm blares to life and you cry out in shock as he tugs you along around the side of the building and towards the parking lot.

"Shoto! Shoto that's definitely illegal!" You cry out as your shoes hit the pavement. The air is crisp and chilly.

"So is fingering your girlfriend in public. So we're two for two." He laughs, so much more confident than the Shoto you knew back in school. Where did all of this charm come from?

And...hold on a second!?

"Girlfriend?" You question as a gust of wind nearly blows the corduroy jacket from your shoulders. You grasp at it desperately and manage to hold on with your free hand.

"Well yes. I figured I sealed the deal when I gave you an orgasm back there."

"Wha - ?"

"Denki told me that's how you ask someone to be your girlfriend. You pleasure them." Shoto locates his car and the two of you come to a stop as he fumbles for his keys. And boom goes the dynamite - Shoto is just as clueless as ever. He's being mislead by Denki, who clearly wanted a laugh at yours and Shoto's expense.

"Shoto." You say, pulling your hand away and pushing your arms into the jacket's sleeves to maximize comfort. "Shoto, have you ever had a girlfriend before?"

"Not formally. But I'm excited to be on this journey with you." He finds the right key and clicks open the passenger door to his expensive car. Ever the gentleman, he helps you inside and turns on your heated seat before making his way to the driver's side. He throws his key into the ignition and the engine purrs to life.

"Shoto...Kamanari was messing with you. Usually you have a conversation with someone about your relationship status before you slap a label on it. You don't just...give a girl an orgasm to lock her down."

"Oh." He turns to look at you, face stricken. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend then? Sorry, I just assumed..."

"No, no - Shoto, I want to be your girlfriend! All you had to do is ask."

"Oh thank goodness." Relief washes over his face and he slumps back in his seat. "I am not the best with these kinds of things."

"It's alright." You say, reaching across the center console to cover his hand with your own. "We can figure it all out together. And if you're half as good with your dick as you are with your fingers...well..." You grin up at him and the guy freakin blushes. Oh it is so on.

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

Okayyyyy I hope you enjoyed that little Shoto one shot! We've all been fingered in a movie theater at least once in our lives, right!? So this is a totally relatable tale, right!? Right!

Feel free to check out my other Shoto-centric fics:

Kirishima gives Todoroki S*x Tips | Todoroki x Reader Fic

Shoto Discovers He Has A Daddy Kink | Shoto x Reader

Shoto's First Kiss Series: Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋

And here's my Masterlist for good measure!

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

[spacerockfloater]

Alicent and Criston have every right to be together.

I’ve read a lot of posts regarding their non-existent hypocrisy and I’d like to clear some things up.

First and foremost, stop using Alicent’s “Where is duty, where is sacrifice?” line against her or Nyra’s outrageous “Exhausting, wasn’t it?” speech because you think you’re eating when you’re, in fact, starving. Alicent has done her duty and sacrificed herself. It’s the only thing she’s been doing for the past 20 years. She gave the man she was forced to marry four children and she took care of him despite all the shit he put her through. She has lived all her life based on her principles and now her husband is gone. She mourned him, she buried him, it’s been more than 10 days since his death (confirmed that E1 S2 takes place 10 days after Lucerys’ death) and she is finally fucking free. She deserves a sliver of comfort. Alicent is the only one in this series that’s been faithful and dutiful to a T, yet look where that got her. If someone has the right to break the law a little bit, it’s definitely her.

That being said, I don’t know when it was decided that Alicent is a pious saint that can do no wrong, but I need to remind y’all that following a religion does not magically prevent you from sinning. Is she committing fornication? Obviously. However, you are all under this impression that this is hypocritical on her behalf because she berated Rhaenyra for it when they were younger, without considering that her anger was justified for a myriad of other reasons, such as (but not limited to): 1) the fact that Rhaenyra’s freedom to marry whomever she pleased was a privilege granted to her thanks to Alicent’s efforts, who supported her even if Rhaenyra hated her, yet her friend casually threw that away, 2) the fact that Rhaenyra lied to her by swearing on her morher’s grave and never even mentioned Criston, 3) the fact that Rhaenyra had the guts to call her “sister” while lying to her face, 4) the fact that her lies resulted in Otto getting fired since Rhaenyra misled Alicent so that she speaks to Viserys in favour of her friend and betraying her own father by siding against him (a decision she wouldn’t have made if she knew the truth), leaving her completely alone and friendless at court, even if he was right all along and finally 5) the fact that Rhaenyra is the most sought after bachelorette in the whole world and by having sex she undermines herself (Rhaenyra knows this well, hence why she denies these accusations) and literally endangers herself, because had she been married to any other man but Laenor and had this man found out his wife and future queen is not a virgin, imagine the fucking horrors she could have been subjected to. Like, I hate to break it to you, but a 40-year-old widow, who’s had four kids and has completed her duty to the point where she is actually no longer needed and could leave the palace to go live the rest of her life in peace somewhere else and no one would notice her absence (literally though, she has birthed heirs, her husband is dead, her son is a grown adult king, her job is done there), having sex, is not the same as an 18-year-old princess and future heir in her prime, whose purity is linked to her worth, getting caught drunk in a brothel, hooking up with her uncle and losing her virginity to her guard, all in one night. Viserys himself was outraged. There’s lows and then there’s lows, y’all.

By the way, the crazy assumptions that Alicent has been cheating on Viserys with Criston for a while now need to stop. When Olivia Cooke said that they had filmed a messy sex scene with Fabien Frankel in a recent interview, she never said this was for S1 of HOTD. I don’t know where y’all got that from, but even if it was true, that scene has been scrapped so it is not canon. And don’t make me laugh about Daeron, a dragon rider who canonically has Valyrian features, potentially having brown hair. You’re all so blinded by your hatred for Alicent that you want her to be a lying hypocrite in order to make yourselves feel better about Rhaenyra’s mishaps, that you don’t get that the whole point of her and Criston getting physical is that she is a tortured woman who is finally able to break free, not that she has been a hypocrite all along. You’re heavily misunderstanding her arc.

Finally, when it comes to my good man Criston, y’all have lost it completely. No, Alicent is not raping him, unless he tells her to stop and she closes the door behind her like Rhaenyra did that is. No, Criston did not lie about how important his honour is to him. There’s a whole article on how Clare Kilner, the director of E4 S1, decided that Cole removing his armour slowly was necessary because it symbolises his inner conflict and uncertainty over breaking his vow: should he soil his cloak for the sake of the woman he loves? And he does soil it, because he thinks she loves him back. But that honourable man dies the day Rhaenyra tells him that he’ll never be anything more than a side piece to her. This man stops giving a flying fuck about his honour, oath, position and life. He is trying to kill himself. And you know what stops him? Alicent. Alicent is the only thing between him and death, the only person to show him kindness and understanding, to pull him up from the lowest point in his life. I don’t think you heard Alicent in E7 S1: “No, you’re sworn to me!”. Y’all. His life is hers. He doesn’t care about Rhaenyra, his job, Viserys, anyone else at this point. Only Alicent exists in his mind, Fabien himself has said time and time again that his loyalty to her is unwavering. He only exists for Alicent’s sake. He’s who you wish Daemon was. Crying that “Criston is a bad knight and a liar because he broke his chastity oath yet again!” is so pointless because that knight has been dead since Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. What does an oath mean when you find out the people you swore it to have betrayed you? Why should he keep his promise to the people who abused him?

[brucewaynehater101]

I’d love to see more of the Emotional Marks AU. I want to see the reveal and the Bats having the realization that just because they’re doing better /now/, it doesn’t fix the damage they did before. And that they can’t force things to heal. Healing takes time.

Post being mentioned is here

What I'm curious about is if it's a human only thing or if others (like Kyrptonians, Martians, Atlanteans, etc.) also get marks.

Anyways, here's some more stuff I thought of. As always, take as little or as much as you'd like of it ^^

Tim never takes off the object hiding his marks, even for himself. It's part habit and part desperation to never see how much his loved ones have actually hurt him.

He's unique in that he isn't sure where most of his marks come from. People usually see the marks within 24 hours of their appearance. Tim has gone years between seeing his own marked skin.

As I've stated before, the object works like glamor. Therefore, those with enough magic power would be able to see past it. This is part of why Tim wanted pants for the Robin uniform (any magicians working with Robin would see the moment they saw any of Tim's bare skin). Tim is very lucky the marks on his face only appeared a bit before he became Red Robin (and part of his reason for the cowl).

Marks typically stay away from the face. They only appear there if symbolically significant or if the marks are running out of space elsewhere on the body. Bart and Kon dying really did a number on Tim even though it wasn't their fault.

YJ and Dick have helped soothe some of the marks left behind by the Drakes (and Bruce too if you want good dad Bruce). Quite a bit have even fully disappeared due to them.

Tim still collected them like Halloween candy, though.

Major marks and their placement [though feel free to offer different ideas]:

Bruce calling Tim "Jason" - x on the back of neck

16th birthday - Major gash on right temple hidden by hair

Janet dying - splintering cracks along hand (bigger version of the one Janet fakes)

Jack coma then death - line in left calf then up to mid back of thigh

Bart dying - right side from under armpit to end of ribs gash

Kon dying - giant oval over sternum

Jason's TT attack - left foot/ankle cracks

Damian's attacks - stomach area

Losing Robin - largest slash diagonal across back (left shoulder to right hip)

There's more marks, but the ones on his face are caused by people not believing in him [this is not a "they should have" argument. It would have hurt regardless of what they should have done]

Hmm... So, the reveal? I'm thinking a magician. This would be after Tim switches back to just a mask and no cowl. His face marks would be on display for magicians but no one else. He, wrongly, assumed he'd be fine.

He's playing nice with the Bats at this point, even if he doesn't fully trust them. He loves them and wants to keep the peace. He'd never voluntarily show them his marks or tell them about it.

The Bats are being nicer under the idea that their assumptions about markless were incorrect. It weirds Tim out and usually has him ghosting them for a few days if they try to initiate feeling conversations with him. He kind of wishes they would just go back to normal.

It's a few months of this behavior before some magician makes a remark about Tim's facial marks. Something along the lines of, "You okay, Red? You're aware of how dangerous it is for marks to progress as far as the face, right?"

Cause what happens when there's no more room for marks? Drastic decrease in physical health. Could lead to death.

The Bats overhear and promptly freak the fuck out again.

Tim, who has been dealing with their bullshit for the last few months and doesn't want to deal with the confrontation, disappears. He's waiting for them to process their shit before returning [he loves them but does not want to be caught in that fucking whirlwind. Bats notoriously do not handle emotions well]