#you know that thing dogs do when you hold them above water?

[the-lavender-clown]

Ok now THIS is what I’m talking about!!

I cannot describe how obsessed I am with this drawing!! It turned out SO GOOD and SO CUTE!!

Thank you to my lovely beta reader for this doodle suggestion

[vaspider]

Last year I wrote about what happened at Pride when a couple of kids didn't understand why us older folx were so bitter about Reagan.

This year, I have something a little softer.

Someone who looked a little older than me came up to the booth wearing a pink t-shirt proclaiming him one of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, San Francisco chapter. As I was ringing him up, I asked if he'd been involved for a while.

"Yes," he said, "for a bit," in that way us middle-aged people do when we're sort of wincing and feeling old.

"Okay, well," I said, sitting at my register in my queer booth full of queer clothes and patches and pins, topless in public for the first time. (I had pasties on for my own comfort bc I was working, but I live in the city of the Naked Bike Ride, and I took full advantage). My baby brother and both of my partners ran around behind me, my brother wearing a loose tank top that makes his scars visible.

"I need to tell you that you all helped keep me alive."

He blinked at me as I continued, "I was a kid in high school in the early 90s. I lived in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, and what you all were doing was so loud and so out there that even I heard about your work. It was one of the things that kept me alive. So thank you, and please thank the rest of the Sisters."

I heard about them through people in my parents' church complaining about them, and then I sought more information through the beginning of the internet, through newspapers, through anything I could find. I found the cover of Newsweek that one of the Sisters was on. I read about their "exorcism" of fundamentalist preachers whose books sat on the shelf in my parents' basement and probably still do. I saw how loud and colorful and unapologetically queer they were.

The knowledge that someone was out there, so full of defiant joy, refusing the shame that people kept trying to put on them? Oh, that kept me alive. I saw them, and I knew I could make it through. I wrapped my hands around that knowledge, and I held on so tight.

It took me a long time - a long, long time - to unwind most of it for myself and get to the point where my fat butch ass was sitting bare-chested in the July breeze, looking up at him as he held out his arms and said "you're actually giving me chills." I answered, "I mean every word. You helped keep me alive. So thank you."

I never know what to say when people come up to me in public and tell me that I helped them or changed their life in some way. I appreciate it, and I genuinely love the people who apologized for "fanpersoning" at me last weekend, I just never know what to say. I'm incredibly grateful that the Sister I spoke to was incredibly gracious, saying "usually we give blessings, but I feel like you blessed me." Another member of the party let me pet their tiny dog, who was not very interested in me, and that's okay. It was an overwhelming day. Then, they moved on.

Me? I'm still sitting with the fact that I looked last weekend into the faces of people who didn't know they were holding my head above water, and that I got to tell them the work they do matters. It's a rare thing to get to tell someone, "You saved me," and I'm treasuring it.

Last weekend, I wore my new battle vest with nothing underneath it, unless it was too hot, and then I just sat in my chair, chatting and ringing ppl out with my skin free to the air. I decided last year that top surgery isn't for me, but that also I'm going to love this body unapologetically, and it's no less a transmasculine body because the soft new dark hair on my belly isn't accompanied by pink scars along my ribs.

I didn't get here on my own. I got here because someone else cut through the undergrowth ahead of me so I could take another step forward. Here I am, decades later, still taking step after step, one at a time, and trying to lay paving stones behind me.

Last weekend was another step along that way, another step through unwinding the fear and shame and sadness that my parents and their church built into me. Another step out of hating myself for hiding parts of myself for so long, for acting out in other ways to distract people from my queerness, for feeling so much guilt when other people tell me I'm brave, because I know how much of myself I hid for how long because I was a coward, because I was afraid.

Another step into expiating stigmatic guilt.

[girlkisser13]

being married to clark kent would include

• at first, he doesn’t want to reveal his identity to you, even though he feels he can trust you. however, he’s concerned that knowing who he really is might put you in danger.

• once you convince him that you’re willing to accept the risks and show him how much you care, the last of his walls come down. you’re stuck with him forever now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

• your wedding ceremony was lovely. there was a special moment when he used his heat vision to create a heart-shaped firework display in the sky as a surprise for you.

• becoming one of the few people who sees him for who he wants to be, not just who the world needs him to be.

• clark is incredibly gentle with you, always careful with his strength. he holds you close, gives you soft kisses, and makes sure you always feel safe in his arms.

• life with clark is never boring. whether he's saving the world or just helping out around the house, there's always a sense of excitement and adventure in your relationship.

• when it’s a quiet summer afternoon he’ll take you flying just before sunset, he’ll go right above the clouds so you can see what he gets to see.

• he loves the simple things in life— like spending a quiet evening with you at home, enjoying a homemade meal, or taking walks around metropolis.

• clark’s abilities come in handy for everyday tasks. whether it’s lifting heavy furniture, flying you to a special date, or simply speeding through chores, he always makes life a little easier.

• he likes to be touching you when you’re near— whether it’s a hand on your waist, his pinky brushing against yours, or his knee pressed next to yours when you’re sitting together.

• his love languages are acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch. he loves doing things for the people close to him. this includes taking out your trash, watering your plants, making your bed, putting on a pot of coffee in the morning, and fixing any holes in your clothes.

• finding out that clark was superman was not that surprising, but you were taken back when you learned his dog was also an alien. not that it stopped you from spoiling him with toys and treats and anything else his k-9 heart desired.

• there’s always a part of you that worries about him when he’s out saving the world. but he’s always reassuring you that he’ll always come back to you.

• despite his busy life, clark always makes time for quiet moments with you. whether it's reading together, watching the stars, or just enjoying each other's company, he cherishes these moments when it’s just the two of you.

• clark loves surprising you with spontaneous date nights. sometimes he’ll whisk you away to a remote, beautiful location for a romantic evening, using his super speed to make it feel like you’re the only two people in the world.

• TRACING HIS FAMILY CREST ON HIS CHEST WHEN YOU’RE LAYING ON HIS CHEST>>>

• you’ve had to adapt to living with someone who has super senses. you’ve learned how to whisper secrets to him, even in a crowded room, and you appreciate how he’s always attuned to your needs, often before you even realize them yourself.

• sometimes when the two of you are late for work he’ll fly you both there.

• seeing something solar powered and never missing the opportunity to say, "oh look, it gets its power from a yellow sun just like you, honey!"

• he rolls his eyes, but secretly he loves it.

• you love both sides of him— the farm boy from smallville and the alien hero who saves the world. he never has to pretend or hide who he is with you, and that freedom to be himself is why he’s so enamored by you. <33

[capquinn]

with the bonus footage from faceoff, thinking about dad!quinn driving doing errands and little bug in her carseat 🥺 she loves all the music he plays and they just yap together the whole time

Oh this is just the sweetest thing to imagine!!!

He’d be so dad about it — totally relaxed, just happy to have his little shadow with him for the day. Bug would be strapped into her car seat in the back of his SUV, her tiny legs swinging while she’s rattling on about everything under the sun. Her favourite animals (still bunnies), the latest masterpiece she painted at preschool, and a very important reminder for Quinn that they need more bananas because “you always eat them all, daddy.”

Quinn is endlessly patient when she asks him why the sky is blue for the fifth time that morning. He’ll glance at her in the rearview mirror, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he explains it again, his voice warm and steady. And when her tiny voice pipes up with, “daddy, can we play the star song again?” he’s already scrolling through the playlist to cue it up. Bug loves all the music he plays, even the stuff that’s probably way too mellow for a toddler, because she just loves him, and anything he likes automatically gets her stamp of approval.

But then, of course, her request shifts, her little voice cutting through with new urgency. “Wait! No, daddy! The Taylor Swift one!” she says, practically bouncing in her car seat. Quinn doesn’t even try to argue, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he flicks through her favourite playlist to find the one. As soon as the first notes of "You Belong With Me" fill the car, she’s grinning, her little voice belting out lyrics she only half remembers, making up the rest with pure enthusiasm. Quinn sneaks glances at her in the rearview mirror, his lips twitching into that lopsided smile he gets when she’s being her most Buggy self, and it’s so obvious how much he adores her. He hums along under his breath, the kind of dad who knows every word just because it makes her happy.

Once they’re at the market, it’s chaos in the best way. Bug insists on holding his fingers when they walk, because his hands are way too big for her little ones to wrap around, and it’s her favourite way to stay close. They’re an adorable sight — Quinn towering above her with his baseball cap pulled low, holding bags of fresh fruit and veggies in one hand while her tiny fingers clutch his other.

She’s a constant stream of chatter as they walk, pointing out every colourful fruit stand, every funny-smelling cheese shop, and even the dogs she spots trotting alongside their owners. “Can we get one of those someday? A puppy and a bunny?” Quinn just chuckles, making a mental note to prep a convincing argument against her animal plans when she’s older.

She’s got opinions on everything — what fruit looks the juiciest, which veggies are “too green,” and how Granville Island smells “funny but in a good way.” Quinn can’t say no to her (he's such a pushover), not when she looks up at him with that big, expectant grin, so they leave with more than they probably planned — strawberries, peaches, and something she insists looks like “a funny apple” but is actually a plum.

Afterward, they find a sunny spot by the water to share a treat. Bug picks something sweet and sticky, and as soon as it’s in her hands, it’s an adventure. She’s balancing it carefully, taking big, messy bites while pointing out every boat that drifts by.

“That one’s a big one. Do you see it?”

Quinn leans in closer, following her little finger as if he hasn’t seen a boat a thousand times before, his hand resting gently on her back to steady her as she wiggles with excitement, and it’s just… pure bliss for him. He’s not on the road, not at the rink, not thinking about anything but her and how good it feels to have this time together.

And Bug? She’s just thrilled to be hanging out with her favourite person, probably calling him the “best daddy ever” between bites. It’s so simple but so them, and just know Quinn’s walking back to the car with her perched on his hip, her sticky hands resting against his shirt, and he couldn’t care less. These are the moments he lives for — the ones where it’s just him and his Buggy, the rest of the world fading into the background.

[novaursa]

A Flame Torn (broken)

- Summary: Your father breaks Aegon, to avenge your broken heart.

- Pairing: cousin!reader/Aegon (The Uncrowned) Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: unworthy

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @callsignwidow

The air around the God’s Eye was thick with mist and tension, the sun a pale disk veiled behind gray clouds. On the shores of the great lake, two dragons faced each other, their wings spread wide, casting long shadows across the water. The sky above roiled with the promise of a storm, as if the gods themselves were watching the confrontation that would reshape the fate of House Targaryen.

Maegor the Cruel sat astride Balerion the Black Dread, his armor gleaming black as the shadow of his dragon. The sight of the monstrous dragon, its scales dark as night and its eyes like pools of hot coals, was enough to strike fear into the heart of any man. But across from him, mounted upon the smaller yet valiant Quicksilver, was Aegon the Uncrowned, his silver-gold hair caught in the wind, his expression resolute.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the distant cry of a lone bird. Then Aegon’s voice cut through the silence, carrying across the water with a desperate determination. “Uncle, listen to reason! We do not have to spill each other’s blood today. I offer you peace—an alliance that will strengthen our family and unite our claims. Marry me to Y/N. Let me be her husband, and I will support your reign.”

Maegor’s eyes, cold and unfeeling, narrowed at Aegon’s words. He had anticipated many things, but not this—a plea for peace from the nephew who had once sought his throne. “You think you can mend what you broke, boy?” he growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You think you can repair the heart you shattered with a few sweet words?”

Aegon’s grip tightened on Quicksilver’s reins, desperation flickering in his eyes. “I severed my betrothal to Rhaena when my father still lived! I did it for her, for Y/N, and for the hope that one day she might forgive me. I know I have done wrong, but this... this is a chance to make it right. Let me stand beside her. Let us unite our blood for the realm’s sake.”

Maegor’s expression twisted into a sneer. “You will never have her, Aegon. Not after what you did. And not after the way you grovel now, begging for scraps like a dog. My daughter deserves more than you—a weakling who hides behind words and hopes for mercy.”

Aegon’s face hardened, a steely resolve replacing the plea in his voice. “You claim to care for her, yet you refuse her happiness. I will not let you destroy all that is left of our family’s hope.”

Maegor’s laughter echoed across the lake, a dark, mocking sound that sent a shiver down Aegon’s spine. “You think yourself a hero, but you are a fool. You speak of family, yet you challenge me, the rightful king, for a throne you are too weak to hold.” He raised his hand, and Balerion bellowed, the sound reverberating like the roar of an erupting volcano. “Very well, then, boy. If you wish to play the hero, let us see how you fare in the flames.”

Without another word, Maegor spurred Balerion forward, the Black Dread surging into the sky with a terrifying speed. Aegon followed, Quicksilver’s wings beating rapidly as they ascended above the God’s Eye. The two dragons circled each other like dark stars, their riders grim and silent, preparing for the battle that could only end in blood.

Fire filled the air as Balerion unleashed a torrent of flame, the heat so intense that the waters of the lake below began to steam. Quicksilver darted through the air, smaller and faster, evading the worst of the flames, but the heat singed its silver wings. Aegon urged his dragon higher, guiding Quicksilver with precision, but each time he drew closer, Maegor drove them back with Balerion’s powerful dives and strikes.

“You were never meant for the throne, Aegon!” Maegor shouted, his voice carrying across the sky. “You do not have the strength to rule, nor the spine to keep it!”

“And you will never understand what it means to protect the realm!” Aegon shouted back, his voice hoarse with rage and pain. “All you know is blood and terror!”

Their dragons clashed, talons raking against scales, jaws snapping in a frenzy of rage. Quicksilver bit at Balerion’s neck, but the larger dragon swung its massive head, sending Quicksilver spiraling through the air. For a moment, it looked as if Aegon might recover, but Maegor directed Balerion down with a savage strike, and Balerion’s jaws closed around Quicksilver’s wing.

With a sickening crack, Quicksilver’s wing was torn apart. The smaller dragon’s roar of agony filled the air as it fell, its body twisting as it plummeted toward the lake below. Aegon’s grip on his saddle slipped, his face a mask of desperation as he struggled to regain control.

Balerion followed, a dark shadow against the stormy sky. With a final, vicious strike, Balerion’s massive maw closed around Quicksilver’s neck, ending the smaller dragon’s struggle in an instant. The two dragons, locked together in a deadly embrace, crashed into the waters of the God’s Eye, sending up a massive wave that rippled across the shore.

Aegon, mortally wounded, lay in the water, gasping as he tried to rise, blood pouring from the wounds inflicted by the fall and Balerion’s might. His eyes, filled with pain and a lingering hope, sought out Maegor as his uncle dismounted from Balerion’s back, the massive dragon looming behind him like the shadow of death.

Maegor stalked through the shallows, his expression cold as he looked down at the prince he had bested. “You speak of love, Aegon. Of peace. But you were always too weak to understand what it truly costs. You were never worthy of her.”

Aegon’s breath came in wet, shuddering gasps, his body trembling from the pain of his wounds. “And... you think... you know her heart?” he managed to choke out, his voice barely a whisper. “She... will never forgive you... for this.”

Maegor’s lips curled into a dark smile, his eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction. “She does not need to. She will understand, in time, that this is the only way. You were a lesson, Aegon. A lesson in what happens to those who overreach.”

With that, Maegor turned and walked away, leaving Aegon to his final breaths in the cold waters of the God’s Eye. The ripples of his passing spread out across the lake, mingling with the blood of the fallen dragon, a dark stain against the gray waters.

The healers who rushed to the shore found nothing but the broken body of a once-proud prince, his spirit fading with the last light of the dying sun. 

And somewhere in the distance, you feel a chill wind brush against your skin as you wait, knowing that your father will soon return with victory—but at the cost of something that was once precious, something you will never be able to reclaim.

[femoso-seben]

Mini witch story part one

Part 1, Part 3,

Rua walked over to the table last to arrive, her wolf familiar probably ran off to who knows where. She looked exhausted and behind her walking in shame was her familiar, Soap as she calls him. Apparently, when he was a pup he ate a bar of soap.

“You’re late,” Cordelia chimes in a teacup in her hand. As the oldest, she was the first to receive her demonic animal familiar, a big ol’ brown bear. For an old man, he sure can move fast when he is needed.

“I think you should put him through dog disciplinary training,” Sula said, this earned a growl from the wolf.

“Enough,” Rua sighs collapsing into her seat, “we are here for you,” she turns to me. You held onto my cup of milk.

As the youngest, physically, and mentally even though we all started at the same time. You were frozen in time and space. You look around, they are so much older, and time has taken ahold of them.

“Our Sire will give you a familiar,” Ophelia spoke up setting her cup of vodka down. “Then you can leave this Forrest and explore the world.”

“Why do I have to have a familiar?” You ask.

“In your absence, the mortals began a witch trial,” Rua spoke, “your familiar is there to keep you safe.”

“How?”

“In their humanoid form, they have their animal attributes.”

“Like eating Soap?” Your sisters broke out into waves of laughter and looked at the poor wolf who looked down at his feet.

“Do you have any animals in mind?” Cordelia asks.

“Fluffy. Likes to be around me. Strong. Friendly. Not so demanding… a cat.”

The forest grew cold as the trees warp around you all. Soon your Demonic sire who turned you all to witches walked from the trees. You get up and bow to him.

“Little one,” he begins, “I have your familiar.” You feel yourself blooming into a smile. From his hands, a black mass forms and falls to the ground.

Slime.

“WHAT IS THIS?” You shout poking the weird slimy creature. It lunged at you and gripped your leg. You let out the most horrific scream, and kick her leg throwing it off you. “WHY IS IT UGLY?”

From the back, you hear your sister cackling at you. The little slimy black thing slithers towards you. You look up at your Demon Sire who gives you a blank stare.

“Give me a cat!”

“He is very loyal.” Your sire says.

“HES UGLY AND SMALL!” You shout back picking it up with your staff.

“It’s an octopus,” Sula stated calmly. “A delicacy in Asia.”

“I DON’T WANT IT!” You look at your demonic father only to find him glaring at you. You stare at the little black blob, his Beaty blue eyes staring up at you. You think it’s glaring at you.

It moves closer climbing up your bare legs and to your chest. It sat right above your breast and two long appendages moved to your face. Your skin crawls and you feel the ICK coming. You grab it and punt it to the ground.

“ITS A PERV!” You scream and turn to your sisters for help. Rua turns away laughing to herself.

“You can always throw it away in a far-off land.” Ophelia offer.

“Don’t be foolish, our Familiars have an innate ability to find us,” Sula said.

Fear seeps into your skin. This creepy ugly perverted little thing was attached to you forever. You wanted to cry.

Your Sire and sister left you with these things.

It kept trying to climb up your leg.

You grab it by the head and look it over. An idea hit you.

“I can eat you!” You said a creepy smile crossing your face. Its little eyes and tentacles began to thrash around. You shove it into your bag and rush off to get some sauces and some vegetables.

How would you cook it? On a stove? In water? In bread? You shrug it had eight tentacles you had eight tries.

Your cauldron boiling, cutting board ready you grab the ugly thing and a knife ready to slice it up.

It transforms. In front of you is a huge tall man. You stare at his naked form. It glared at you, through a hood, holding your wrist.

“Let go!”

“NEIN!” He growls out his voice higher pitch than you would have guessed.

“Transform!”

“NEIN!” He said again.

“I am your master!”

“Du worst much night essen.” He snaps. He glared at him. You grab his hood and soon tentacles come out gripping your fingers. You screech and yank your hand away. He chuckles.

You wanted to strangle this man.

You finally agree not to eat him, and in return he lets you go. You also forced him into some clothes. You glared at him, and he watched you closely.

You grab your grimoire and put it into your bag. You are traveling, seeing the world! Staff in hand you walk out of the forest.

The sunset was absolutely stunning, the cliffside falls to crystal clear waters. The smell of freedom was intoxicating.

You feel the skin-crawling sensation of suction cups crawling up your legs you look down to see the disgusting thing crawling up your legs and to your boobs again. You grab it and shove it into your bag trapping it inside.

This bitch was ruining your moment. ------------

@milkywayhou full verson

taglist: @maylovesyousomuch, @trgraves-valx1f0r

[inkskinned]

okay yes it's often bad and hard and sometimes i am so anxious my whole body feels like it's vibrating but also at the same time the gps took me a different way on my drive and i got to see more of the river than i usually do and yesterday the sun was still above the horizon after 7pm and that was amazing and the whole sky turned an orange-gold like how they try to make ice cream taste; you know, one of those evenings that just tears you open no matter how jaded you get. it's warm for the first time here and people had lined up against the water just to stand outside and watch the sunset

and yeah it's tax season no i haven't done mine yet but when i mentioned it offhand in a single side-comment three days later my friend sent me a list of helpful tips and followed up to see if i'd need help on them

there's this parking lot for a walking trail near where i live and one of the two google reviews is my actual favorite: love it here. there were so many beautiful parking spots but sadly we could only take one. and no this person isn't going to go viral and probably the only people navigating to this spot are extremely local - but there's something so precious to me about someone taking the time to write something that will make strangers in their community laugh, even though there's no way for me to tell them good one! directly

yes i am not doing well sometimes i'm doing even very-badly but recently i have been given enough breathing room to say okay, this situation is bad, but then it will be over, and you will be moving onto the next thing and it's true that i need to get groceries and pay rent and argue with my health insurance but it is also true that in the absolute stress and anarchy of my life today someone recognized my dog before they recognized me and was so excited because "they tell everyone about the greyhound in the area and didn't get a picture before so can they take a picture now please"

in class we all stand in a circle and are all grown adults and for a moment while the teacher is figuring something out, we all hold hands, just to be silly and connected. for no reason at all at 8pm on a thursday my friends and i start breaking out the dance moves to high school musical. my coworker gchats me during a meeting about the book he recommended to me and i'm enjoying reading

i help a high school set up for a star-themed dance and while putting up streamers i find graffiti that says if you're reading this, i love you, and we're both going to get out of here right next to fuck everyone, live out of spite, don't let the fuckers make you die. on the bridge where i walk my dog someone has written i love you and on the sidewalk in chalk someone has written i love you and on the side of the water tower someone has written i love you

at the bottom of a text post an internet poet says - i love you, i love you, i love you. i've never met you, i love you because you exist and we exist together. and isnt that enough for now. just for this moment, i mean. like, if you just close your eyes and breathe - somewhere, across this world, i love you, because you're here with me.

[st-osmanthus]

My last dissertation proved definitively posited that Zoro does not get jealous over Luffy, except in the live action where he is hilariously transparent and insecure. But what about the other way around?

[For a delightful representation of the sentiments conveyed within this rant, I highly recommend the fic good things take time by cosmosthistle. It’s a beautiful piece of writing that exactly embodies my understanding of Luffy as a maturing MC with naive yet complex feelings. It’s a pretty popular fic but give it a read if you haven’t had a chance!]

Can we all agree that Luffy has abandonment issues? For a happy-go-lucky guy with no inner dialogue, he’s genuinely afraid of losing those closest to him. He can’t go on without his crew. This was my number one takeaway from Sabaody. Luffy is inherently possessive over his entire crew. They make up a key part of his identity, and he will fight the world for all of them.

Out of his entire crew, I’ll dare to say Zoro is probably the most of the most important to Luffy. Again, Zoro is Luffy’s voice of reason, moral support, enabler, and rabid attack dog rolled into one muscular package. Luffy holds him in high regard. He is 100% possessive of Zoro. But is he insecure about Zoro’s feelings for him to develop feelings of jealousy over his swordsman?

My answer is, yes, at times. And it sounds crazy because why would Luffy be insecure?! Who is more loyal than Zoro?! The crazy part is, Luffy can be too naive and vulnerable at times to see Zoro’s complete devotion.

At Water Seven when Zoro prevents him from welcoming back Usopp, Zoro actually threatens to leave if Luffy doesn’t hold his ground. And while there is no way Luffy would sacrifice Zoro to get Usopp back, the fact that Zoro voices the threat at all shocks Luffy to the core. Luffy already can’t deal when a crew member leaves (Nami, Usopp, Robin, Sanji). I can’t even fathom what he’d do if Zoro left him.

While Zoro has shown his loyalty time and time again to the audience, to Luffy, his initial promise was if Luffy stood in the way of his dreams, he’d cut Luffy down. And Luffy will never know what Zoro did for him at Thriller Bark. Luffy doesn’t know the extent of Zoro’s devotion (and I think he’d be furious if he ever finds out). Luffy thinks Zoro and him are equals; he doesn’t realize Zoro has placed his captain above his own ambitions, that Zoro is his. He may feel it, but he doesn’t know it at his core.

Because of this unknown, Luffy has the potential to feel insecure should something/someone else take away Zoro’s attention. If someone appears able to offer Zoro something Luffy can’t/hasn’t, Luffy would be confused, unable to voice his frustration, and generally drown in a jealousy he cannot explain. This is more of a potential pre-time skip.

In summary, Luffy, especially early One Piece Luffy, definitely has the potential for jealousy. I hope we get to see more of that in fics as writers become more confident at portraying Luffy as a complex, multifaceted character.

[augusgus]

he only wants to play (m.)

In which you attach a leash to Dottore's harness but fail to take into account that not every dog can be tamed. Alternatively: he bites.

pairing: dottore x fem!reader

tags: biting, finger sucking, reader's a bit of a brat, does this count as pet play?? mock pet play?? things mistakenly filed under pet play???

a/n: happy april fools day

Dottore was enjoying the silence. It was a rare moment of peace. Until it suddenly wasn't.

A click. And then, "gotcha!"

Admittedly, it took him a moment to comprehend the situation in its entirety, and that there was now a leash attached to the harness on his upper body. A leash that, when he trailed along it with his eyes, led to your hand holding it.

And the mischievous grin on your face as you tilted your head to the side.

"Aren't you a pretty boy," you cooed, reaching with your free hand to pat his hair before jumping to sit on the desk in front of him. Your feet were dangling from the edge and much too close to his pristine white suit to his liking. Not that he seemed to have a say in this situation anyway.

Tugging slightly on the leash, you tested the waters. But you were lucky and he wasn't annoyed so much as simply unimpressed with your little performance, and maybe - not that he'd admit to it - even a little intrigued.

You crossed your legs over each other and, smiling brightly, pulled on the leash again - only this time a lot stronger than before and Dottore found himself leaning forward, his head automatically raising to look up to you. You puckered your lips at him in an imitation of a kiss.

"Now, give me a bark, pretty please~"

He scoffed.

"And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?" It was the first time he'd opened his mouth ever since you'd disturbed his solitude and it showed in his tone. He sounded dry, very dry, almost sarcastic.

Because he sure as hell didn't want to... bark.

This time, you tilted your head to the other side, blinking big innocent eyes at him. "How do I put this..." You pretended to think, index finger lightly tapping against your lower lip, but he could fathom the curl at the outer corners of your mouth. "There might be a way for you to get a lot more funding for your research! Though there's still some, should I say, cajoling to do?" You grinned, "you know, for assurance."

He kept quiet for a moment. As a scholar, nothing should be put above knowledge, and gaining access to said knowledge, in terms of importance. If he let a promising opportunity for funding go to waste, it would be more than merely irresponsible. It'd be downright stupid and he prided himself on being a little more intelligent than that. Not even his pride was to take precedence over this duty that he knew himself to be bound by.

Not even his pride...

He winced inwardly.

"...Woof."

The way the word rolled over his tongue was crisp with thinly veiled distaste and reluctance. You didn't think you'd ever heard something pronounced this harshly.

A giggle erupted from your mouth before you could hold it back. "What a good boy! Now, hand!"

Holding out your own hand, you eagerly waited for him to put his gloved one in yours. Only to be surprised when he instead interlaced his fingers with yours to pull you towards him and off the desk with a calculated tug. You almost fell onto his lap, stumbling over his outstretched legs, though you were able to brace yourself against his chest with your free arm. Your eyes widened when you found yourself face to face to Dottore.

He grinned as he slowly guided both of your hands towards his mouth, easing them until your palm rested against his cheek, the tips of your fingers just about brushing over the edge of his mask. Turning his head slightly, he leaned into your touch and it was already too late when alarm bells started to ring in your head at his sudden affection, for you to stop him from roughly digging his teeth into your palm.

"Ah?" The sound you made was fleeting, an involuntary reaction, and you could feel his lips forming a lazy smile against your skin. He let go, deep indentations left on your palm.

"Hm? Not what you wanted?"

The smug satisfaction in his voice made you scowl. But when you tried to pull your hand back he held it pressed against his cheek, grip not wavering the slightest even as you kept tugging.

"Perhaps..." He hummed, "ah, would you have me do this instead?"

Nuzzling his nose against your palm, he slowly kissed over the bite marks, lips cool and firm on your heated skin. You couldn't see his eyes but you felt the heaviness of his gaze, the unspoken challenge in it, as he eventually lifted your hand from his face only to tighten his hold around your wrist almost painfully.

You gave him a pout, "le'go. You're s'pposed to be obedient, you're no fun like that."

"Oh?" His voice was laden with condescension. "Aren't I a good boy?"

The huff caught in your throat when he raised your fingers to his lips and without warning sucked your thumb into his mouth.

It felt warm and wet and heat flooded your face with embarrassment at how the pressure of his tongue sent shivers down your back. How you lost the strength in your knees when he grazed along the skin with his teeth - the amusement that was radiating off of him as palpable as the slight trembling in your limbs that you couldn't seem to control.

He released your thumb with a quiet pop and a string of saliva connected to his lips before he pressed a sloppy kiss against the tip.

"Still not a good boy?" He drawled, the patronising smirk he sent you positively arrogant. "My, how difficult. Behaving doesn't appear to be my forte, don't you think?"

Lifting your index finger to his mouth next, he lightly bit down on it, just hard enough to make you feel his intention. A whine bubbled up in your chest when he soothed over it with his tongue but you managed to swallow it before it could reach his ears - the visual alone enough to have heat pooling between your legs, let alone the sensation of him wrapping his lips around your finger. For some reason it felt much too intense and... indecent, this warmth and intimacy.

With his gloved hand pushing down on your wrist, he opened his mouth to show off your finger pressed against his tongue - and this time you couldn't help but whimper. You didn't pull away, despite your embarrassment, despite the unexpected turn the situation had taken. You were mesmerised by the spit running alongside your finger and over the side of your hand, the wetness it left in its wake. By how turned on you were by it all and how it only served to fan the heady feeling fogging your mind.

With a smile he kissed down along the skin. Small, tantalising kisses until cool lips landed on your palm where he traced the markings left by him.

"For how little fun I supposedly am," Dottore mused sardonically, "you appear to be enjoying yourself quite... a lot."

He turned his head until his chin was resting on your palm. A mockery to the obedience you were demanding earlier.

"I suggest you try on the leash this time." He guided your hand to your own mouth, smearing the wetness that had remained on your thumb over your lips. "perhaps I will make you my bitch then."

[kooktrash]

hehe i know you mostly write for tae and jungkook which i get, fine ass men mhm mhm 😏 but how about a lil smutty drabble with namjoon, maybe some oral ft. hair pulling kink? 🗿 i’m a dirty slut, sue me sandra 🧍🏽‍♀️

luvvvv a good Namjoon smut moment bestie. didn’t know if you wanted him to receive or give but who doesn’t like a good pussy pleaser Joon fic?

tw: established relationship. oral [f receiving] 933 words

he’s a munch | kim namjoon

“Joon,” you released a breathy laugh as your boyfriend came over to you, arms immediately wrapping around you and pulling you into his chest. He hummed softly as he pressed his lips to yours, fingers toying with the hem of your sleeping shorts, “I’m gonna make breakfast.”

“Why?” He asked, letting his hands slip under the waistband to cup your butt, “I’ve got a cute meal right here.”

“Yeah? What about me? What am I supposed to do?” You asked as he slowly slid the shorts down, not bothering for one moment to take things slow. Your boyfriend was keen on early morning activities, especially when he just gets back from a morning gym sesh and walks in to find you in the kitchen.

“Let me be greedy first?” He asked as he sunk down onto his knees dropping your shorts the rest of the way down. You didn’t even bother to fight him as his fingers slips under the hem of your underwear and tugged them down too.

You bit back a smile as he looked up at you from under your legs as he guided you into spreading them further, face leaning into your heat. Your hands sat on the counter at the first touch, Namjoon didn’t ease into it, still horny from the events of last night where he had you pressed against the headboard holding onto it for dear life as he fucked you from behind letting the bed creak underneath you. His tongue licks flatly against your folds, not entering into your cunt but licking at whatever puddle of slick might be there. Wasting no time at all, his hands were on your hips, guiding you forward so that your cunt was practically seated on his face as you stood over him letting him kneel between your spread legs like a human worshiping a goddess. He didn't want you hovering just above him, he wanted to be buried in that perfect cunt until he could barely breathe. That’s how be liked it no matter how gentle of a boyfriend he was, he had to fuck you with everything he had, even if it’s just his tongue doing it.

You were fucking soaked too, always so ready for him to devour that there was no way he could ever be gentle with you unless it’s in aftercare. Your juices were all over his chin and his nose as he found your clit with ease, moaning into your pussy. You began a hesitant grind of your cunt into his face and his nails were digging into your soft thighs, to keep himself from throwing you onto the floor and fucking your brains out. You’re sore from last night, he can tell by the way you seemed drained and right now he couldn’t put you in more pain even if it was pleasurable. He had to hold back at least right now.

"Fuck," your head fell back, breathless moans and a few more curse words followed in a mantra before he felt your fingers tangle into his hair. "Yes, fuck, right there, baby. Don't stop."

Alternating between sucking on your clit and quickly lapping his tongue against it, Namjoon could feel your body begin to tremble and without a single thought in his pretty head, he yanked a leg up onto his shoulder for more support. The counter was slowly slipping away from you but he pressed you into it enough to keep you in place.

Namjoon’s tongue lapped at your folds creating a squelching sound from the way he ate you out like a dog thirsty for water, your hips rut against his face in pleasure. Your mouth was drawn open, loud moans slipping from your lips, "S-so close baby.”

He sucked on your clit, tongue hitting the tip with each swivel as the hand around your thigh was suddenly pinching forcing you to put weight on his shoulder and pull on his hair just that much more. He reached for your other leg nearly dropping you back on the counter as he hoisted it over his other shoulder. You had a hand pulling on his hair clinging to him as the other pushed against the counter to keep balance but he didn’t even notice. He was too focused on bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm to care if you fell. If anything you would just fall on his face and sit and ride his tongue like the pretty, desperate baby he knows you are.

Your legs were shaking and he was beginning to feel a little bit of pain from the way you tugged on his hair but it only spurred him on knowing how close you were. This entire time he didn’t speak, not when his mouth was full of your pushy and he never wanted to tear away.

The scene was erotic, so horny and needy and if you could look down then you would see his hips just barely grinding up into nothing seeking friction on his hardening member. The hold on your thighs was harsh, firm and tight to keep you from trying to lift yourself up and you were whining, “I’m gonna, oh fuck, I’m gonna, Joonie…”

His head moved with your hips as you fucked into his mouth and without another word he felt it. He felt your release dribble so smoothly into his mouth and he didn’t let up, letting you ride his face to orgasm letting you take control.

When you were finally able to stop cumming, he set you on top of the kitchen counter licking your essence off his lips. His hair was a mess from your rough pulling but he just kissed you without a care in the world, “Tastier than anything you can serve me on a plate.”

You laughed breathlessly as he pulled you I go a reassuring hug, “It’s not even 8:00am yet.”

“And I’m already well fed.”

::.

hopefully it was up to par 🫶

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[hugsandchaos]

Headcanons for Eldritch Danny

I suck at giving measurements, but I can try. Just know he’s as big as a two story building standing up and can hold a bus like a hot dog. But I bet he’d try to use both hands since it probably has people inside.

He only has two arms in his eldritch form. He can use them to crawl and walk around no problem, but running is something he doubts he can do, so he just flies if he needs to go fast.

I’m thinking of giving him extra eyes just for the spookiness, but I also want a few features to reflect on the whole “space eldritch” thing. Here’s what I have. 1) No extra eyes, but looking into Danny’s eyes in this form will make you see the vastness and beauty of space. Galaxies, stars being born, comets shooting past planets, ect. Whether they’re terrified or amazed by this sight differs based on each person. 2) Give him extra eyes and make them the ones that give the person a vision of outer space. The first two eyes are just completely green now. No white, no pupils, just a green glow.

A circle of the northern lights floats above his head at all times, similar to a crown. A few strands of southern lights give him a pair of antlers like a deer maybe?? Just a reminder, northern lights are normally green and blue and southern lights are red and purple. At least in the pictures I’ve seen. Also the deer thing is just because a lot of people like to link Danny with a deer, and honestly, I kind of see it! I like it!

Most of his body is dark, but his hands, hair, and part of his tail are white.

Also, his skin sort of moves kind of like water when he’s still. Because everything in space is always moving, so is Eldritch Danny. If you were to lean on him, though, you wouldn’t feel the ripples. The ripples stop a little before they touch you.

Star! Freckles! Star! Freckles! STAR!! FRECKLES!!!

The white spots glow in the dark, and his tail looks like a comet when he flies overhead at night.

That’s all I’ve got. For now.

Honestly, writing this, I’ve been imagining Danny using this eldritch form and is outside Casper High for whatever reason. A bunch of students are coming over to say hi and Danny is just laid down on the ground. Sam and Tucker come over to say hi and Danny uses a hand to pull them close and curl up around them, purring just loud enough that everyone can hear.

Or they all hear this deep, terrifying roar and Danny perks up before answering his one of his own, albeit not as loud or intimidating. In comes Eldritch Clockwork!

Bonus quotes! Also Lancer’s in on the secret.

Lancer: Alright, you’ve had your fun. Time to come back inside.

Eldritch Danny: *unhappy eldritch noises while putting a hand over Sam and Tucker*

Lancer: Young man, let go of your friends and come back inside.

[6okuto]

"PICNIC DATE"

timeskip osamu x gn!reader | this one's cute. there's no actual picnic date though

a picnic date seemed like a perfect date idea for osamu.

he promised he’d handle the food, always happy to impress you with his cooking—not just onigiri, but a new recipe he’s been practicing to surprise you. he could imagine it: a warm sunday afternoon, the checkered blanket, him taking everything out of a picnic basket, the sun setting over the park’s hill and the air getting chillier, compelling you to cuddle up beside him.

so why, he wonders, are there storm clouds rolling in?

your head is tilted up, eyes narrowing at the grey skies. if there was one thing osamu was correct about, it was that the air would get colder. a wind pulls at the edge of the blanket underneath you and messes up his hair, sending shivers down his spine as it blows through his shirt.

“’samu, you checked the weather, right?”

“hon, ’course i did,” he defends himself quickly with a frown. “i swear i would’ve known if there was a storm coming.”

“okay, well, i don’t know how to tell you this, but i’m pretty sure there’s a storm coming.”

osamu groans, letting his head fall to rest on your shoulder. “don’t say that. we walked here.”

resting your head against his, you bring a hand up to rub his arm, both to comfort and keep him warm. “maybe it’ll go away?”

it doesn’t, of course.

there’s maybe a ten minute window where you both decide to pack up and get moving, speed walking back to your apartment, concluding you could just come back another day.

but then the rain starts.

and it comes down hard.

you wonder how movies manage to romanticize this.

the picnic basket hits osamu’s thigh as he runs, and the blanket quickly becomes drenched in your arms, not any different to your clothes as you become soaked to the bone.

rain slams onto the both of you in buckets, the pressure like hail because of the sheer amount. you bump into osamu as a gust of wind catches you off balance, and he uses his free arm to keep you up.

“samu—” you try to shout above the storm. your voice manages to get his attention, because he quickly grabs your arm to wrap around him and he lifts his jacket to cover your head as much as possible.

“samu,” you repeat yourself.

he moves closer so you can hear him. “you okay? y’want me to carry the blanket or anything?”

“i—” you cut yourself off, the rain still hammering down, and suddenly a muffled loudness pelting the jacket above you.

and you laugh.

to be honest, you don’t even know what you wanted to say before. maybe you called osamu’s name just to make sure his was there. thunder booms, and the rain hurts against your back and arms, and there’s so fucking much—”this fucking sucks!”

you trip over your own foot for a second, and start laughing even harder. “seriously, i can’t see shit! what the fuck?”

and your boyfriend who falters when you do, starts to laugh too. “we can—oh, fuck off—we can hide out in the convenience store, alright?”

osamu swears at the picnic basket repeatedly scraping against his arm—”why do they make picnic baskets such ass?”

his complaint alongside your laughter and running is keeping you out of breath, and all you can do in response is hold onto him a little tighter, laugh a little louder.

by the time you get to the convenience store, osamu’s certain he looks like a dog who just got thrown into a bathtub way too big for it, but “at least y’look as good as always.”

“oh, shut up,” you snort, breathing heavy and your hands on your knees.

“sorry for…this,” he apologizes to the person at the register. they shake their head and tell the both of you not to worry after you apologize too.

apparently aisle six has towels and clothes if either of you needed them, and the washroom had just been cleaned, though you were welcome to rest as long as you needed.

you both thank them, deciding to stay on the mats anyway until you were dry enough to not drip water everywhere you walked.

it's a lot quieter inside.

everything outside is muffled and you can finally hear yourself breathe. there’s an audible humming from the freezers, and the weather forecast plays on the television against the wall, warning everyone else about your first-hand experience.

osamu’s the first to speak, his voice defeated and quiet. “sorry this is how we spent our sunday afternoon.”

he’s pouting when you look over, and your chest tightens at the sight.

“it’s okay, ’samu. we can go home and still do something. there’s not a lot we can do about a thunderstorm,” you comfort him and wrap your arms around his waist.

drops of water fall from his hair and hit your skin as osamu hugs you back, pressing a kiss to your temple. he sways you from side to side, and you watch the rain slide down the store’s glass doors. “i dunno, i could still go fight the clouds.”

“yeah, i’m sure if you punch enough rain it’ll scare them away.”

“i am pretty scary.”

“your head has never looked flatter.”

“hey.” osamu pinches your waist and you jolt against him. the both of you snicker as you hit his hand and his hold around you tightens. you intertwine your fingers with his hand that pinched you with a smile. “i’m kidding.”

he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair anyway.

“i feel like i just got thrown into a washing machine,” you suddenly mutter.

your boyfriend hums. “at least there was no spinning?”

“oh yeah? us against a tornado next?”

osamu softly laughs at the thought of trying to outrun a tornado, or spinning in it alongside a house and cow as if you were a cartoon. “if we try to have a picnic again and a tornado hits, i’m gonna be mad.”

a laugh escapes you and you nod. “fair enough. no tornado, then.”

“no tornado.”

really, he doesn’t know what he’d do if that ever happened. but osamu thinks he could handle it.

he looks at you smiling despite how much he can feel you shivering and the fact that your lunch was inevitably ruined, and he thinks he'll be okay as long as he has you there, running and laughing with him until the storm was over.

happy birthday again 2 the twins. i write for tsumu more than samu so here i am ^___< (once again)

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[aftgficrec]

Hi! Thanks so much for doing this i have wanting to catch you open for so long!! How are you? I hope you have a good day!

I was wondering if there were any fics focused on neil and mary/neil and Nathan? Like his emotions, thoughts, etc, and the things he went through bcs of them/how they still affect him even now? Thank you so much in advance!

Our poor traumatized Neil! Yes, there is much to explore on this topic. -A

most previous asks lead to more recs:

angsty bad days for Neil here

Neil with ptsd here

more Neil with DID here

Neil cries, comforted by Andrew/foxes here

Neil says ‘it’s fine I’ve had worse’ here

Neil’s scars 2 here

scars and healing here

Neil goes to therapy here 

Neil attempts suicide here

‘You're Wonderful’ here

‘Hold My Hand?,’ ‘I'll Still Solve You,’ and ‘Fear (but not of you)’ here

‘The Books of Baltimore’ series: ‘Ghost of You’ here, ‘Run to You’ here

‘the upswing’ (completed), ‘please (don't bite),’ ‘Will you love me for who I am…’ ‘To be safe,’ ‘Safe with him,’ and ‘i called your name ‘til the fever broke’ here 

‘my friends and I…,’ ‘Pasts Intertwined,’ ‘My Stomach is a Wasteland,’ ‘side effects may vary’ ‘Bad Apple,’ and ‘You Are So Much More Than Your Father's Son’ here 

‘Medicated rabbits don't run as fast’ here

‘Broken Symmetries’ and ‘No More Fucks To Give’ (updated) here

‘24 Floors’ here

‘A Quiet Little Seedling,’ ‘If I Knew You,’ and ‘Step By Step’ here

‘slow down (you crazy child),’ ‘Make a Home’ (updated), and ‘make me a promise’ here

‘Dreamed in red’ here

‘...Just Us, and Y(our) Friend Kevin’ here 

‘Nothing Mattered Until You’ here (jeanneil)

amputation or permanent leg damage:

Neil's legs (the fucked up edition) here and here

Neil dies/amputations in Baltimore here

‘La jetée n'est plus loin’ here

‘I’m More Than This Body of Mine’ here (completed)

‘Next to You’ here

‘Rare pair hell series’ part 9 here

‘Live for you / Stay for me’ here 

‘“I pick up daddies at the playground.”’ here

‘lie to me (for i do not wish to live the truth)’ here

‘White Hands’ and ‘If Neil, Then Fox’ here

‘(don’t fear) the reaper’ here

‘Under the kitchen lights…’ here

‘Point Nemo’ here

‘Lifelines’ here

‘does the dog die at the end’ here

you may also like:

Neil runs after joining the foxes 2 here

andreil on the run from the mafia here

soulmates who feel each other's pain here

Mary/Nathan's people come back here

Mary tries to take Neil from the foxes here

Neil kills Nathan here

tell me where i came from, what i will always be by geeseproblems [Rated G, 317 Words, Complete, 2021]

She lives in his body like no other.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: canonical character death

Down with Something by pawnofkings [Rated T, 3051 Words, Complete, 2021]

Neil is sick, and he does his best to keep anyone from finding that out. He collapses in the middle of practice.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you asked for this by Anonymous [Rated M, 790 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

Neil Josten and guilt

tw: implied major character death, tw: child abuse, tw: emotional abuse, tw: blood, tw: negative self talk

A reflection or a lie by ShadowDolphin [Rated G, 839 Words, Complete, 2022]

Sixteen year old Neil Josten has an identity crisis cuz depersonalization is a wonderful thing that exists and he doesn't feel real

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

i know you'll take me with you by lil_macaroon [Rated T, 6129 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

Neil has feelings that make him want to run. The only thing that keeps him at Palmetto State, hell, what keeps him in South Carolina, is the promise he made when Andrew asked him to stay three years ago. Unable to run, it all keeps building within him until one day, Andrew puts him in the car, and they go.

keep your head above the water (I can’t) by drewdrop44 [Rated T, 1156 Words, Complete, 2022]

The feeling of water moving over his head, swallowing him whole. Neil woke with a scream trapped in his mouth.

tw: drowning, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: nightmares 

It's a punch and a kiss, I'm trying to remember by beckdarkthrone [Not Rated, 18604 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

He has a hold on himself as Neil, as Abram, as Nathaniel.. Until he doesn't.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: dissociative disorder, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: internalized homphobia

NB: this author has a podcast with aftg-centric episodes; check out ‘So You Think You Like’ on spotify.

We're all Monsters Here by serene_chaos [Not Rated, 892 Words, Complete, 2022]

"I am part of the slaughter house. I feel that makes me more of a monster than you.” “Don’t look at me to absolve you.” Andrew flicks his cigarette towards Neil. Sparks landing inches from Neil’s hand. OR Neil doesn't think Andrew is a monster, but thinks he might be.

tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Who Am I to You? by serene_chaos [Rated M, 91907 Words, Incomplete, Updated April 2024]

Neil Josten was born with violence in his blood and raised as a weapon to hide in plain sight. And then he finds himself surrounded by foxes and his usual survival tactics ruined by a five foot goalie. The whole mobster mafia problem isn’t helping either. -- Cue a Neil who cares a little less, a past raven, and potentially a little something more to live for.

tw: attempted rape, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: attempted nonconsensual drug use, tw: panic attacks, tw: flashbacks, tw: homophobia, tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: animal abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm 

you will always be my favorite form of loving by something_boring [Rated T, 15831 Words, Complete, 2024]

5 times the Foxes tried to take care of Neil and 1 time they didn't have to.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: blood, tw: vomit, tw: violence, tw: bullying

pain our brain has made by pipedreamaddy [Rated M, 16052 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2024]

Neil and his discovery that he has trauma-induced migraines because we all know how he neglects his health. Between everything else going on with him, a migraine seemed very minor to him. But now that he is in a healthy, safe, and loving environment where he is thriving, he can take care of himself—theoretically speaking, at least. Or the fic where Neil finally gets the healing that he needs.

tw: needles, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: childhood trauma, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: flashbacks, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced murder

Keep Your Head Down and Don't Look Back by Capheira [Rated G, 775 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil has spent most of his life running from his past but perhaps this time he was a little too efficient.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks

Scars Like Stars by Kory_Rory [Rated T, 3429 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Neil deals with his trauma by biting himself while being completely oblivious to the harm he's putting himself through. But it's okay cause the foxes are there to help him :)

tw: self harm, tw: body dysmorphia, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: negative self talk, tw: flashbacks 

I’m not used to all this water, love (it’s true) by niicowo [Rated T, 1415 Words, Complete, 2024]

Neil never thought anyone could ever love him. His parents never made him feel loved. But then again, what did he know about love? Nothing, he guessed. But one thing he did know was that Andrew loved him. And he just may love him too.

tw: past suicidal ideation, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Razor’s Edge by godless_writer [Rated T, 2178 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten, a caring, shit-talking, striker for the Palmetto State Foxes. Nathaniel Wesninski, a runner, and the son of The Butcher of Baltimore. When Neil thinks that Andrew is in danger after he walks into Kevin and Andrew fighting, his world turns red and those lines become blurred.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: dissociation

Don't let me be by Cutie_Wan [Not Rated, 1983 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil suffers a major dissociation episode in front of the Foxes.

tw: dissociation, tw: self harm, tw: violence

grin and bear it by wlwmlmsolidarity [Rated G, 1221 Words, Complete, 2024]

neil has chronic pain due to lola and tries to just ignore it and push through on a bad pain day, andrew forcefully makes him relax and accept help

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: chronic pain

NB: includes fanart by @clementinecloudz

scream and yell but i feel speechless by DepressedTerrestrial [Not Rated, 6770 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil had some unnecessary surgery done when he was younger. No one (including Neil) knows how to handle this except for Andrew (kind of).

tw: past medical abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture

Isn't he the monster by DarkD [Not Rated, 16033 Words, Complete, 2021]

On a day when Neil "wakes up" in a particularly bad mood, hearing anyone being cruel to Andrew becomes unbearable to the point that he is on the verge of an explosion.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: self harm, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: child abuse

Art

Day 19: bullet and Day 4: stitches art by @thefluffiestbird

Nathan was known for his extravagant parties and incredible entertainment art by @mac-monsters; twitter

Neil & Mary on the run edit by @romanovass

These ouches feel a little rough for a child on the run. comic by @softerstorms

“Don’t you dare be more afraid of me than you are of Andrew” art by @rainbowd00dles 

There’s nowhere to run art by @/tryashaa on instagram

“I’m fine” - *literally dying* art by @/koldangrey_art on instagram

[triptychgrip]

Yurio crushing on Yuuri

“How many times do I have to say it?” Yuri snapped, warily eyeing the sparkler he was now holding out to him. “That’s not my name!”

Yuuri just smiled, stepping a bit closer.

“Ah, sorry…I guess it’s already become a habit,” he replied with a shrug as well as a tilt of his head.

The fizzing light turned the rims of his glasses into gleaming squares, and the reddish tint of his irises was thrown into sharp relief, his eyes no longer appearing so inky as they strained to make out shapes in the dark. Not that Yuri spent a lot of time thinking about that…

“Anyway, do you want to light a sparkler? I could use your help in preventing Makkachin from trying to eat them, and besides, I noticed you hadn’t lit one, yet.”

He was about to retort that that was because he wasn’t seven years old, but something in the pig’s gaze made him reconsider.

Yuuri just looked so damn hopeful for some reason. As if the entirety of his night rested upon whether or not Yuri would join him in running around with his arm stretched aloft like a(n admittedly graceful), luminescent maniac. He made a tutting sound before looking back out at the surf.

He’d stood at the edge of the Gulf of Finland many times, marveling at the distance out to the Baltic Sea when standing in St. Petersburg. But there was something about the ocean here in sleepy Hasetsu that tugged at his chest in a way he’d never experienced in Russia.

“Fine,” Yuri mumbled, wedging his heel a little too deeply into the squelching sand. He almost stumbled and fell. “Probably best if Viktor’s dumb dog doesn’t wind up in the hospital with a burnt tongue.”

Yuuri giggled like he’d just told the most hilarious joke and he wondered why his face was feeling so warm, even with the frigid water underfoot.

—

The above excerpt is from an upcoming scene in my Viktuuri developing relationship/bodyswap WIP. The somewhat unhinged premise involves Viktor realizing that he and Makkachin can swap bodies for a 3 hour window of time every day: a phenomenon that begins in the days leading up to Yuuri and Yurio facing off against one another in the Onsen on Ice challenge. Obviously, this has major impacts on Viktor and Yuuri’s dynamic, especially when Yuuri spends time with “Makkachin”, not realizing he is sharing things with his coach (rather than his coach’s dog).

Writing this fic has been a ton of fun, 1) because I tend to mostly write post-canon content, so this gets me out of my comfort zone, and 2) because writing from Yurio's POV as he is forced to watch Viktor’s interactions with Yuuri is always so interesting. Especially with respect to Yurio’s blatant admiration for him, which Viktor can't help but tease him for.

I took a break from writing this story for a few months, but recently was re-inspired to continue working on it. I hope you'll give it a chance!

You can read the story so far, here. I'd love to know what you think of it!

[grimoirey]

🌛 The Fool's Journey 🌜

The Fool's Journey is the story of the journey we all take through life. This is depicted in the Major Arcana of the Tarot. We see the Fool encounter each card as he navigates his way through life, living and learning important lessons as he continues on.

https://78nightsoftarot.com/blog/the-fools-journey-aeclectic-tarot/

The following is brought to you by Solandia from The Aeclectic Tarot.

0. The Fool

With all his worldly possessions in one small pack, the Fool travels he knows not where. So filled with visions, questions, wonder and excitement is he, that he doesn’t see the cliff he is likely to fall over. At his heel a small dog harries him (or tries to warn him of a possible mis-step). Will the Fool learn to pay attention to where he’s going before it’s too late?

1. The Magician

Traveling on his way, the Fool first encounters a Magician. Skillful, self-confident, a powerful magus with the infinite as a halo floating above his head, the Magician mesmerizes the Fool. When asked, the Fool gives over his bundled pack and stick to the Magician. Raising his wand to heaven, pointing his finger to Earth, the Magician calls on all powers. Magically, the cloth of the pack unfolds upon the table, revealing its contents.

To the Fool’s eyes, it is as if the Magician has created the future with a word. All the possibilities are laid out, all the directions he can take: The cool, airy Sword of intellect and communication, the fiery Wand of passions and ambition, the overflowing Chalice of love and emotions, the solid Pentacle of work, possessions and body.

With these tools, the Fool can create anything, make anything of his life. But here’s the question, did the Magician create the tools, or were they already in the pack? Only the Magician knows – and on this mystery, our eloquent mage refuses to say a word.

2. The High Priestess

Continuing his journey, the Fool comes upon a beautiful and mysterious veiled lady enthroned between two pillars and illuminated by the moon. She is the opposite of the Magician, quiet where he was loquacious, still where he was in motion, sitting while he stood, shrouded in the night where he was out in the bright of day. Sensing that she is a great seer, the Fool lays out his sword, chalice, staff and pentacle before her. “The Magician showed me these, but now I’m in a quandary. There are so many things I could do with them. I can’t decide.”

The High Priestess doesn’t speak. Instead she hands him a pair of ancient scrolls. Seating himself at her feet, the Fool puts his decision-making on hold and reads by the light of her crescent moon.

“I did not know any of this,” says the Fool. The scrolls, like a secret manual, have given him insight into his new tools. “This information helps me to narrow things down, but I’m still afraid of making a wrong decision.”

The words come to him then, not from without but from within: “What do your instincts tell you?” The Fool reflects on that, and that’s when he knows what he should do. Decision made, he rises to leave even though he suspects that the High Priestess has more secrets she could reveal to him–like what lies behind the pomegranate curtain. Right now, however, he is focused and ready to be on his way.

Thanking the High Priestess, he heads off. But as he leaves he hears that inner voice, rising like the waters which spring and flow from beneath her throne: “We’ll meet again…when you’re ready to travel the most secret path of all.”

3. The Empress

Having decided what he will create with his tools, the Fool strides forward, impatient to make his future a full-grown reality. This is when he comes upon the Empress. Her hair gold as wheat, wearing a crown of stars, and a white gown dotted with pomegranates. She rests back on her throne surrounded by an abundance of grain and a lush garden. It is possible that she is pregnant.

Kneeling, the Fool relates to her his story. And she, in turn, smiles a motherly smile and gently gives him this advice: “Like newly planted grain or a newborn babe, a new life, a new relationship, a new creation is fragile. It requires patience and nurturing. It needs love and attention. Only this will bring it to fruition.” Understanding at last that his creations will take time to develop, the Fool thanks the Empress and continues on his way.

4. The Emperor

The Fool was given options by the Magician, and decided on one with help from the High Priestess. He learned how to develop it thanks to the Empress. Now it has reached as stage where he must find a way to manage it. How to do this? He approaches a great Emperor seated on a stone throne. The Fool is amazed by the way the Emperor is instantly, eagerly obeyed in every particular, at how well his Empire is run and organized. Respectfully, he asks the Emperor how it is he does this. And the Emperor answers: “Strong will and a solid foundation of laws and order. It’s all very well,” he explains to the Fool, “to be imaginative, creative, instinctual, patient; but to control one must be alert, brave and aggressive.”

Ready now to lead and direct rather than be led, the Fool heads out with new purpose.

5. The Hierophant

Having created a solid foundation on which to build his future, the Fool is struck with a sudden fear. What if everything he’s worked for is taken away? Is stolen, or lost, or destroyed or vanishes? Or what if what he’s created isn’t good enough? In a panic, he heads into a temple where he finds the Hierophant, a wise and holy man. Acolytes kneel before the man ready to hear and pass on his teachings. The Fool tells the Hierophant his fears, and asks how he can be free of them.

“There are two ways,” says the Hierophant sagely, “Either give up that which you fear to lose so it no longer holds any power over you, or consider what you will still have if your fear comes to pass. After all,” the Hierophant continues, “if you did lose all you’d built, you would still keep the experience and knowledge that you’ve gained up to this point, wouldn’t you?”

“That is true,” the Fool says. “But what about the community, society and friends I’ve discovered thanks to what I’ve created? More than knowledge or experience, I value them. If I lost all, I’d lose them too, wouldn’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” the Hierophant answers with a warm glow in his compassionate eyes. “If your community has traditions that you all share, ethics and beliefs, then you will never lose that fellowship even if circumstances force you to part. You can even pass such onto your children giving them the same fellowship with each other and with past generations.”

Hearing this, the Fool feels his heart ease, as if knots of fear have been loosened. A sense of peace blankets him, and he takes a moment to thank the good Hierophant most profoundly. Stepping out of the sanctuary he makes his way to a meeting with his friends. Tonight they will talk about how they can create lessons and traditions to preserve not only their experience and knowledge, but their community.

6. The Lovers

The Fool comes to a cross-road, filled with energy, confidence and purpose, knowing exactly where he wants to go and what he wants to do. But he comes to a dead stop. A flowering tree marks the path he wants to take, the one he’s been planning on taking. But standing before a fruit tree marking the other path is a woman. The Fool has met and had relationships with women before, some far more beautiful and alluring. But she is different. Seeing her, he feels as though he’s just been shot in the heart with cupid’s arrow.

That’s how shocking, how painful is his “recognition” of her. As he speaks with her, the feeling intensifies; like finding a missing part of himself. It is clear that she feels the same about him. They finish each other’s sentences, think the same thoughts. It is as if an Angel above had introduced their souls to each other.

Though it was his plan to follow the path of the flowering tree, and though it will cause some trouble for him to bring this woman with him, the Fool knows he dare not leave her behind. Like the fruit tree, she will fulfill him. No matter how divergent from his original intent, she is his future. He chooses her, and together they head down a whole new road.

7. The Chariot

The Fool is close to completing what he set out to create long ago, back when the Magician revealed those tools to him. But enemies are now standing in his way, devious human enemies, bad circumstances, even confusion in his own mind. There’s no more forward momentum; he feels he is fighting just to stay where he is. Walking along the shore, watching the waves come in, he puzzles over how to defeat these enemies and get things moving forward once again. It is here that he comes across a charioteer, standing in his gold and silver chariot, his black and white steeds at rest. “You seem a victorious warrior,” the Fool remarks. “I feel beset by my enemies, unable to move forward. What should I do?

“First, you must armor yourself,” the Charioteer strikes the chariot and then his breastplate with a gauntleted fist, making both ring out. “Next, you must focus on your goal, where do you mean to go, what do you mean to do.” The warrior nods to his beasts. “Your steeds keep the wheels turning, but it is your control and direction of them that gets them to their destination. Dark and light, they must be made to draw in harmony, under your guidance.” The Fool nods. That makes sense. “What if an someone or something gets in your way?”

The Charioteer coolly meets the Fool’s gaze. “You run them down. Your aim is victory, and to be victorious you must have unwavering confidence in your cause. Never question, never doubt what you’re trying to achieve. Never lose your focus or your motivation.”

The Fool is impressed and inspired. He thinks he now knows how to get past all the distractions and setbacks that have been keeping him trapped in place, like a riptide in the ocean. He thanks the warrior, but before he leaves, the warrior stays the Fool.

“One thing more you should keep in mind,” he says, “Victory is not the end, it is the beginning. Remember that before you decide to enter into any contest.”

8. Strength

The Fool, victorious over his enemies, is feeling arrogant, powerful, even vengeful. There are hot passions in him, ones he finds himself unable and unwilling to control. It is in this state that he comes across a maiden struggling with a lion. Running to help, he arrives in time to see her gently but firmly shut the lion’s mouth! In fact, the beast, which seemed so wild and fierce, is now completely at her command.

Amazed, the Fool asks her, “How did you do that?” One hand on the lion’s mane, she answers, “I asked the lion to do it, and it did it.”

“But-but-” the Fool stutters, confounded. “Why did it want to obey?” At that moment, the Maiden meets the Fool’s eyes; he sees in her warmth, gentleness, a heart so great that its generosity seems as infinite as its willingness to understand. And that is when the Fool understands exactly why the lion did her bidding.

It wanted to connect to that higher energy.

Yet there is still one thing that confuses the Fool. “But,” he says, much softer now, “Why would you, fair maiden, want to keep company with a beast?”

“Because he, too, is filled with a wonderful energy,” the Maiden says. “It is wild and fierce, but it can be banked, like a fire in a hearth. I knew if he would take direction from me, we could both be warmed.”

“So, too,” she adds, “are our passions. Let them run wild and they will do damage. But we can, with gentle fortitude, check and direct those passions. In doing so, we can get so much more out of them. And yet, still sate them.”

His rage quieted, the enlightened Fool walks away knowing that it wasn’t only the lion that was tamed this day by a Maiden’s pure and innocent strength.

9. The Hermit

After a long and busy lifetime, building, creating, loving, hating, fighting, compromising, failing, succeeding, the Fool feels a profound need to retreat. In a small, rustic home deep in the woods, he hides, reading, cleaning, organizing, resting or just thinking. But every night at dusk he heads out, traveling across the bare, autumnal landscape. He carries only a staff and a lantern.

It is during these restless walks from dusk till dawn, peering at and examining whatever takes his fancy, that he sees things he’s missed during his lifetime. His lantern illuminates animals and insects that only come out at night, flowers and plants that only bloom by moon or star light.

As these secret corners of the world are illuminated and explored by him, he feels that he is also illuminating hidden areas of his mind. In a way, he has become the Fool again. As in the beginning, he goes wherever inspiration leads him. Back then, however, his staff rested on his shoulder, carrying unseen his pack. The Fool was like the pack: wrapped up, unknown. The Hermit’s staff leans out before him now, not behind. And it carries a lantern, not a pack. The Hermit is like the lantern, illuminated from within by all he is, capable of penetrating the darkness.

10. The Wheel of Fortune

From out of hiding comes the Fool, into the sunlight, as if being pulled up from some low, dark point on a wheel. It is time for a change. Staff in hand, he heads back out into the world, expecting nothing. But, strangely, things seem to happen to him as the hours go by, good things. Wandering by a water wheel a woman offers him a drink in a golden chalice, and then urges him to keep the cup; as he wanders by a windmill, he stops to watch a young man swinging a sword; when he expresses his admiration of the weapon, the young man presses it into his hand, insisting that he take it.

And finally, when he comes upon a rich merchant sitting in a wagon, right over one of the wheels, the man hands him a bag of money. “I decided to give this to the tenth person who walked past me today,” explains the Merchant, “You’re the tenth.” The Fool hardly thought he could still be surprised, but he is. It is as if everything good that he ever did in his life is being paid back to him, three-fold. All luck this day is his.

11. Justice

The Fool is looking for a new path, a new aspiration and inspiration for his life. Sitting uncertain at a crossroads he notices a blind wise woman listening to two brothers argue over an inheritance. They have come to her for judgment. One brother has the whole inheritance, the other has nothing.

“I ask that all of it be given to me,” the poor brother demands, “Not only because I have a better right to it, but because I will not be wasteful with it, as he is!” But the rich brother protests, “It is rightfully mine and that’s all that should matter, not what I do with it!”

The woman listens, then awards half of the rich brother’s inheritance to the poor brother. The Fool thinks this only fair, but neither brother is happy. The rich one hates losing half his wealth, and the poor one feels he ought to have gotten all.

“You were fair,” the Fool remarks to the woman after the brothers have left. “Yes, I was,” she answers plainly. “With only half the inheritance, the rich one will stop being so wasteful. And the poor one will have as much as he needs. Even though they cannot see it, this decision was good for both.”

The Fool thinks on this and realizes that he has spent his life achieving worldly ambitions and physical goods while leaving his spiritual self to starve. He ought to have given half his time and energy to his spiritual self, but he didn’t. It’s no wonder that he feels unbalanced. Thanking the woman, he heads out to restore equilibrium to his inner scales.

12. The Hanged Man

The Fool settles beneath a tree, intent on finding his spiritual self. There he stays for nine days, without eating, barely moving. People pass by him, animals, clouds, the wind, the rain, the stars, sun and moon. On the ninth day, with no conscious thought of why, he climbs the tree and dangles from a branch upside down like a child. For a moment, he surrenders all that he is, wants, knows or cares about. Coins fall from his pockets and as he gazes down on them – seeing them not as money but only as round bits of metal.

It seems to him that his perspective of the world has completely changed, as if his inverted position has allowed him to dangle between the mundane world and the spiritual world, able to see both. It is a dazzling moment, dreamlike yet crystal clear.

Timeless as this moment of clarity seems, he realizes that it will not last. Very soon, he must right himself, but when he does, things will be different. He will have to act on what he’s learned. For now, however, he just hangs, weightless as if underwater, observing, absorbing, seeing.

13. Death

Having left the tree from where he hung, the Fool moves carefully through a fallow field, head still clearing from visions. The air is cold and wintry, the trees bare. He knows he has started on his spiritual journey in earnest, but feels strangely empty and profoundly sad, as if he has lost something.

Before him he sees, rising with the sun, a skeleton in black armor mounted on a white horse. He recognizes it as Death. As it stops before him, he humbly asks, “Have I died?” And the Skeleton answers, “Yes, in a way. You sacrificed your old world, your old self. Both are gone, dead.”

The Fool cannot keep from weeping. “Forgive me,” he says, embarrassed by his tears.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Death replies. “Mourning is natural and you must deal with your loss before you can accept anything new. Keep in mind, however, that old leaves must wither and fly away from a tree’s branches, leaving them bare, before new green leaves can appear.”

As Death rides away, the Fool sees the truth in those words. He, too, feels like a skeleton, all that he was stripped away. This, he understands, is how all great transformations start, by removing everything down to bare bone or soil so that something new has room to grow.

Recovering from feelings of loss at last, the Fool begins to wonder if he will finally find the new spirituality he’s after. It occurs to him that so far, he’s been dealing with opposites: the two opposing sides of the scales (Justice), the material and spiritual (which he hung between as the Hanged man), death and birth (the one leading into the other in the Death card). Does one always have to be surrendered to get the other? he wonders.

14. Temperance

It is at this point that he comes upon a winged figure standing with one foot in a brook, the other on a rock. The radiant creature pours something from one flask into another. Drawing closer, the Fool sees that what is being poured from one flask is fire, while water flows from the other. The two are being blended together into a completely different substance!

“How can you mix fire and water?” the Fool finally whispers. Never pausing the Angel answers, “You must have the right vessels and use the right proportions.”

The Fool watches with wonder. “Can this be done with all opposites?” he asks. “Indeed,” the Angel replies, “Any oppositions, fire and water, man and woman, thesis and anti-thesis, can be made into a unified third. It is only a lack of will and a disbelief in the possibility that keeps opposites, opposite.” And that is when the Fool begins to understand that he is the one who is keeping his universe in twain, holding life/death, material world and spiritual world separate. In him the two could merge. All it takes, the Fool realizes, is the right proportions, the right vessel and enough faith that the two can be unified.

15. The Devil

The Fool comes to the foot of an enormous black mountain where reigns a creature half goat, half god. At his hooves naked people, linked to the god’s throne by chains, engage in every indulgence imaginable: sex, drugs, food, drink. The closer the Fool gets, the more he feels his own earthly desires rising in him. Carnal desires, hunger for food and power, greed and selfishness. “I have given up all such desires!” he roars at the Goat god, resisting the beast’s power with all his might. He is sure that this is a test of his new spirituality, one where he must prove that the temptations of the material world cannot sway him.

The creature responds to his defiance with a curious look. “All I am doing is bringing out what is already in you,” it responds mildly. “Such feelings are nothing to fear, nothing to be ashamed of, or even to avoid. They are even useful to helping you in your quest for spirituality, though many try to pretend otherwise.”

The Fool gestures angrily at the chained men and women, “You say that even though these are clearly enslaved to the material world?”

The Goat-god mimics the Fool’s gesture. “Take another look.” The Fool does so, and realizes that the chained collars the men and women wear are wide enough for them to easily slip off over their heads. “They can be free if they wish to be,” the Goat-god says, “They remain here because they want to be controlled by their base, bestial desires. There are, however, others.”

At this the Goat-god gestures upward, toward the peak of the mountain. “Others who have used these same impulses to climb to the highest heights. If they had denied their desires they’d never have gotten there.”

On hearing this, the Fool sees that he has mistaken the Goat-god. This is not a creature of evil as he thought, but of great power, the lowest and the highest, both of beast and god. Like all power, it is frightening, and dangerous…but it is also a key to freedom and transcendence.

16. The Tower

As the Fool leaves the throne of the Goat God, he comes upon a Tower, fantastic, magnificent, and familiar. In fact, The Fool, himself, helped build this Tower back when the most important thing to him was making his mark on the world and proving himself better than other men. Inside the Tower, at the top, arrogant men still live, convinced of their rightness.

Seeing the Tower again, the Fool feels as if lightning has just flashed across his mind; he thought he’d left that old self behind when he started on this spiritual journey. But he realizes now that he hasn’t. He’s been seeing himself, like the Tower, like the men inside, as alone and singular and superior, when in fact, he is no such thing.

So captured is he by the shock of this insight, that he opens his mouth and releases a SHOUT! And to his astonishment and terror, a bolt of actual lightning slashes down from the heavens striking the Tower and sending its residents leaping out into the waters below.

In a moment, it is over. The Tower is rubble, only rocks remaining. Stunned and shaken to the core, the Fool experiences profound fear and disbelief. But also, a strange clarity of vision, as if his inner eye has finally opened. He tore down his resistance to change and sacrifice (Hanged man), then came to terms with Death (Death); he learned about moderation and synthesis (Temperance) and about power (The Devil). But here and now, he has done what was hardest: he destroyed the lies of his life. What’s left are the foundations of truth. On this he can rebuild himself.

17. The Star

On the bleak landscape where the Tower stood, the Fool sits, empty, despairing. He hoped to find direction on this spiritual journey, a path to his spiritual self, but having just learned that most of his life was a lie, he now feels lost. Sitting on the cold stones, he gazes up at the night sky wishing for some kind of guide. And that is when he notices, nearby, a beautiful girl with two water urns. As he watches, she kneels by a pool of water illuminated with reflected starlight. She empties the urns, one into the pool, one onto the thirsty ground.

“What are you doing,” he asks her. She looks up at him, her eyes twinkling like stars. “I am refilling this pool, so that those who are thirsty may drink, and I am also watering the earth so that more fruit trees will grow to feed those who are hungry.” She nods back to a single fruit tree that stands nearby, a nightingale singing amid its branches.

“Come,” she invites. “Sate your hunger and quench your thirst.”

The Fool plucks some fruit from the tree, then kneels by her and drinks from the pool. The water tastes wonderful, like liquid starlight, and the fruit is equally delicious. Both help to heal his wounded heart.

Having quenched his thirst and sated his hunger, the Fool lays back to gaze up at the stars. “They’re so beautiful,” he said, “but so distant.”

“Like possible futures,” agrees the girl. “Cool and distant. Yet if you keep one in sight, it can guide you to your destination no matter how far away it is.” Even as she says this, she began to fade away, like dew, vanishing. All that remains is a gleam that was at the center of her forehead. This rises up and up, until it settles in the night sky as a shining star. “Follow your star,” the woman’s voice seems to sing from that light, “and have hope.”

The Fool takes in a breath and rises. It is a dark night, a desolate land. But for the first time, he has a guiding light to show him the way. Distant as it is, it restores his faith.

18. The Moon

Following the star the Fool travels through the night. The full Moon rises, illuminating for him a watery path. And he begins to feel disoriented, as if walking in his sleep. He passes under the moon, between two pillars ancient and strange. Suddenly, he looks around to find himself in another land entirely. When he was in the presence of the High Priestess, he saw hints of this dark land through the sheer veil draped behind her throne. And later, when he hung from the tree, he felt himself between the physical world and this one. Now, he has at last passed behind the veil.

Here are the mysteries he sought, the darkest mysteries, ones that have to do with the most primal and ancient powers. It is a land poets, artists, musicians and madmen know well, a terrifying, alluring place, with very different rules. Wolves run wild across this land, hunting along side maidens with bow and arrows. Creatures from childhood nightmares and fantasies peer from shadows, eyes glowing.

The path the Fool was walking is now a river, and he stands hip-deep in the powerful pull of its salty waters. There is, on the nearby shore, a small boat, but it has no rudder, no oar. The Fool realizes he has only two choices. He can lose himself in this desolate, primal land of madness and illusion, howl with the wolves, be hunted down, or he can get into the boat and trust himself to the river. The moon will be in control either way, but in the boat his surrender to the powers of the unconscious will at least take him somewhere.

Inspiration, visions and genius are the rewards of such surrender to the Moon’s Magic, as artists, poets and seers know. The Fool gets into the boat, and shoves off. As the waters sweep him away, moonbeams light his “path” and he feels the Mistress of this dark land gazing down at him with the High Priestess’s approving eyes.

19. The Sun

The Fool wakes at dawn from his long, dark night of the soul to find that the river has deposited him in a serene pool. There is a walled garden around this pond dominated by roses, lilies and splendid, nodding sunflowers. Stepping ashore, he watches the sun rise overhead. The day is clear. A child’s laughter attracts his attention and he sees a little boy ride a small white pony into the garden.

“Come!” says the little boy, leaping off the horse and running up to him. “Come see!” And the child proceeds to take the Fool’s hand and enthusiastically point out all manner of things, the busy insects in the grass, the seeds and petals on the sunflowers, the way the light sparkles on the pond. He asks questions of the Fool, simple but profound ones, like “Why is the sky blue?” He sings songs, and plays games with the Fool.

At one point the Fool stops, blinking up at the Sun so large and golden overhead, and he finds himself smiling, wider and brighter than he has in a very long time. He has been tested and tried, confused and scared, dismayed and amazed. But this is the first time that he has been simply and purely happy. His mind feels illuminated, his soul light and bright as a sunbeam, and it’s all thanks to this child with his simple questions, games and songs. This boy has helped the Fool see the world and himself anew.

“Who are you?” the Fool asks the child at last. The child smiles at this and seems to shine. And then he grows brighter and brighter until he turns into pure sunlight.

“I’m You,” the boy’s voice says throughout the garden, “The new you.” And as the words fill the Fool with warmth and energy, he comes to realize that this garden, the sun above, the child, all exist within him. He has just met his own inner light.

20. Judgement

As the Fool leaves the garden of the Sun, he feels that he is near the end of his journey, ready to take a final step. But something is keeping him from doing this, holding him back. He gazes up, hoping to find guidance from the Sun; instead he sees above him a fiery angel, beautiful and terrible.

“You are right,” the Angelic figure confirms, “you have only one last step on your journey, one final step to completion. But you cannot take that step until you lay your past to rest.”

The Fool is perturbed. “Lay it to rest? I thought I’d left it behind, all of it!”

“There is no way to leave the past behind,” The Angel observes. “Each step wears down the shoe just a bit, and so shapes the next step you take, and the next and the next. Your past is always under your feet. You cannot hide from it, run from it, or rid yourself of it. But you can call it up, and come to terms with it. Are you willing to do that?”

The Angel hands the Fool a small trumpet. The Fool is hesitant, but he knows that the Angel is right. There are certain memories he has a hard time looking back on as they make him feel guilty, ashamed, angry. He knows that he’s never come to terms with what happened and he must if he wants to make that final transition.

He blows the trumpet and it cracks open the Earth. From under the Fool’s feet, the spirits of his past selves rise up, including those less than admirable past selves that he’s tried to forget.

For the first time, he faces them. They are, he sees, nothing to fear. They were him once-upon-a-time, but not now. Even as he realizes this, he finds himself forgiving those past selves for the wrongs they did that left him feeling bad. He senses, in turn, that they forgive him for ignoring the lessons they had to teach him. As he reaches an understanding with them, they start to rise up and float away, vanishing into the sky. Though they remain as experiences and memories, they no longer have any power over him. He is free of ill-feelings, reborn, and living in the present.

21. The World

The Fool turns to take that final step along his final path, and finds, to his bemusement, that he is right back where he started, at the edge of that very same cliff he almost stepped over when he was young and too foolish to look where he was going. But now he sees his position very differently. He thought he could separate body and mind, learn all about one, then leave it to learn about the other. But in the end, it is all about the self: mind and body, past and future, the individual, and the world. All one, including the Fool and the Mystic who are both doorways to the secrets of the universe.

With a knowing smile, the Fool takes that final step right off the cliff…and soars. Higher and higher, until the whole of the world is his to see. And there he dances, surrounded by a yoni of stars, at one with the universe. Ending, in a sense, where he began, beginning again at the end. The world turns, and the Fool’s journey is complete.

[devils-tarot]

The Fool's Journey (1 of 3)

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Just a Disclaimer: english is not my first language, so there will be mistakes. Sorry about that.

Part 2: is available here.

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Once upon a time... This is how we can start the story of the arcana with no number, The fool. I'll show you one aspect I love the most on the Tarot: its mith.

But first lets get a few things clear before we get to the main subject here. Everything I'm about to tell here is A MITH not a historical event. It holds mysteries on my tradition, and we do not expect it to make sense to everybody.

All I'm about to share is about the Tarot Deck with 78 cards, in wich 22 of them are major arcana and the rest are minors. The story of The Fool goes withing all the major arcana, therefore, the 22 cards all together is the The Fool's Journey.

The first one to tell a story like this was Roberto Caldeira in his book Caminho do Louco, published in Brazil. And one of the aspects of our system towards Tarot is: it tells all the stories, the old ones and the yet to come, so, the one I'm sharing here is my version of it. To see my master's version, get his book.

That being said, here we go. Hope you have fun!

There once was a man who used to live his life like everyone else was. Day by day he did just what everyone was doing: work during the day, ate anything that could look like food, complain about life, complain about others, complain about work, and sleep late in the night just to wake up early next morning to repeat everything, again and again...

One day he woke up, got dressed and walked out the house to go to work when he tripped over his own foot and fell down the stairs. In that moment, while he wasn't neither safe nor on the floor, but somewhere in between, his hole life has passed trough his eyes, and for a fraction of a second it was almost like he was in another reality.

Suddenly, he found himself on a cliff, with a dog chasing him. He quickly noticed his strange clothes and luggage (if we can call it that). Nothing there was understandable to him. He didn't understand what was happening, but overcome by the need to survive, to stay alive, he threw himself off the cliff into the unknown.

This urge to stay alive transformed the man into The Magician.

"OK, Now this?" he thought to himself. He had changed his clothes, had a cape now, everything was so weird. He decided then to open up the bag he was carying, he had to know what was in there...

A sword, a chalice, what seemed to be a disc of gold, and a staff... He knew everything he had carried with him, but what would he do with those was still a mystery.

He than decided he had to keep going, wherever he was going to. This urge kept chasing after him, the urge to live. And so he did. He used the disc as mirror sometimes, had the sword to help on fishing or chasing animals, the staff helped him walk, and the days where going, but not flowing.

He then decided to put his instruments in front of him and did something he had not yet tryed. Observation. And so he stood there, thinking, and in the processes, his mind got free. He was infinite, and he knew it. That moment everything made sense.. He had seen everything, as above so below, and as suddenly as that he changed to The High Priestess.

The Fool is now fully conected and awere of himself in the world. The high priestess has overpassed the mistery, and so our character now understands more of whats happening aroung him. His in some "spiritual existence", or so he thought.

During that time, the Fool got to learn more about his instruments. He then discovered that the sword was all about his soul, his discipline in order to be trustfull. That sword was a reminder that life will train you as a Warior, to fight for your life, for your existence. It's how it works for every being on the planet. We gotta fight for our existence. With discipline.

The chalice was a way of checking his emotions and dealing with them. Remembering to keep his water clean in order not to get thursty! It also showed him that, he was thursty of love, of happiness, of life. Know he could seed that. Oh, and that mirror? Yes, that golden disk reflected him to himself. "Are you worthy? do you feel worthy? what are you wothy for?" As a reminder to forge himself into a better and more beauty version of himself. That just growed bigger and bigger.

That staff became something more to him. Now he had a purpose: to improve. Improve himself for himself. He deserved it! And so he start day by day studying his own life, lookig inside him, fighting his demons.

He was so immersed in the experience he was living, that he barelly saw how much he accomplished. And when he stopet for a bit to look aroung him, everything was diffent. He had became The Empress.

Each achieviment of him was like a child: he was giving birth not to humans, but to his own desire. And there was a bunch of them already, growing all around him. He was no longer thursty for life, or happiness... He started seeing that everything he did had bring something new to his life.

He couldn't be happier. Thouse days were so great he just kept going, chasing his dreams, making them come true. He realized that the urge he felt some time ago was still there, but had chenged, as he did over the time. Something felt different.

He than decided to do what he learned already: ask the universe, life will talk to us. His conection was still on point, and he started to realize he had been manifesting all this glory and life, but where was it? What he had in the end? Was him high? Just as a mother takes responsibility for her children, he needed to take responsibility for his dreams too. It would not be enough to reach them, we must maintain them.

So, our man started to put order in his life. He had a sword, he need to discipline himself. And that made him The Emperror.

Disciplined, our Emperor conquered his life, dominated his daily life facing his main enemy: laziness.

It didn't take long until this whole result catch the attention of the people around. It's not every day that you see a kingdom emerge out of nowhere like this, in your neighbor's backyard. After attracting so much attention, the emperor ended up noticing the society around him.

Thus he observed the people, their customs, and noticed a lot of himself in others. He noticed his old tricks, his struggles, his improvements. They weren't that different, and he could see that.

And suddenly he asked himself: "everything I've been doing, everything I've been fighting for: my wealth, my success, my work, my life, is all of this my will or is it theirs? Who made me?"

Thinking about that, with all the discipline he had learned with the emperor, it was not difficult for him to change again, this time into the Hierofant.

Society is such a complex theme, don't you think? We organize our lifes in so many different ways, with different traditions, with different gods (or its absense). The Fool as deeply mesmerized by the fact that he had been following rules over rules, and all of it was our. We made them. So they made him. That's what he was thinking. He had to do something differente. And so he tried.

He decided to test and question every rule he came across, and in this process a lot happened. He discovered new places, with new people, who had new customs. And when he put into practice what he had learned in the last few months, he came to the same conclusion: Whenever I discover something, I become aware of something, I have the opportunity to dive into it, and when I see results I know: discipline leads to success. The magician, the high priestess, the empress and the emperor had already taught this to the Fool.

Thus he realized that yet another mystery had been revealed: society. Yes, all of us. Our complexity, our characteristics, our possibilities of existence. What do we devote our lives to? He questioned himself rhetorically.

In that moment he wondered, what do I want to do now? And the Lovers he became.

He look up and saw an angel. Was it god? Could it be god? Well, there was no need to worry about the answer. He just asked, and got answered.

After a while, The fool learned so manythings with the angel that got him into thinking that everytime he decided to do something, his wish as blessed by God. Even the bad choices he made was blessed. If life was a road, it sould be a big crossing streets, and the present time is right in the middle of it.

Every decision he made took him somewhere. Some places were goog, other not so much. When he choosed to give himself the attention and care hi needed the things went well. But whenever he let go of his own live, he got lost in his own life.

The should be a mystery, and he was right. He learned that what mooves him is his wishes to became better. He got to understand (finally!!!) the urge he felt. It was DESIRE.

He then realized he was free. Free to choose his own path, to go wherever he wanted. There are so many possibilities for us out there, he tought, and so he decided he was going foward, and that's how he turned into The Chariot.

Now, the angel of life on the previous card had given the Fool a perspective of life, and with an open mind he persued his desire. The star on the forehead show us that he could see the world from a new perspective.

But something was off. The chariot no longer moved. After trying and trying, he only walked in circle. After sometime re realized the problem. One of the animal was going left, the other one right. How could he go anywhere?

Remembering the old days, he decided to put on practice again what he learned, and voilà, something seemed to be working. He could see now, the horses are actually one: he himself. His emotional body and his racional body, materialized outside him. He had to master them, as he did back in the Emperor with his daily routine. Heart and Mind united into one.

Then, without reining in the horses, he climbed into the Chariot. Armed only with his true will, he commanded his instinct and his reason, his rational body and his emotional body. And on he went. And he achieved his goals. And because of this he was transformed and sat on the throne of Justice.

to be continued...