#truly unfortunate yet unavoidable

[flufflecat]

noticed that my cat is shaped like canon human bill

[brokenmenswhore]

tables & chairs | aemond targaryen

request from dms! thank you for this one because PHEW

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader (sister!reader)

summary: there’s a chair… and a table… and you get it

warnings: s2 spoilers!!, smut (MDNI 18+), slight voyeurism

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While everyone assumed an angry Aemond should be isolated, lest he lash out at anyone, you knew better.

You had always looked up to him as a younger sister would an older brother, and as such, you knew him well enough to know when he needed space, and better yet, when he needed comfort. At least, you usually did.

Unfortunately, you found yourself confused when your brother stomped past you toward the council room. You figured that perhaps a council member committed some form of transgression, but it was much too late in the day for the usual meetings called by the Prince Regent, and you could spot at least two of the council members speaking with one another on the steps.

You followed behind Aemond, entering the council room slowly to find him seated alone, evidently frustrated and annoyed by something. He sat tall on the chair at the head of the table, only moving his head to turn toward you as you entered the room.

“Does something trouble you, brother?” you asked.

“It need not concern you,” Aemond responded, averting his gaze from you.

You sighed, “Talk to me, Aemond.”

“Truly, it is of no concern.”

You took a deep breath; sometimes it was difficult to get Aemond to break his walls down and allow your comfort in. You approached him, using your arms behind your back to hoist yourself up onto the table, shifting over slightly so that you were seated on the table directly in front of him. You made yourself unavoidable.

You reached out a hand and lifted his chin until his eye met your own. “Talk to me, Aemond.”

He took a deep breath. “The false queen has found more dragon riders.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion; that was the last thing you expected him to say. “That- that is impossible,” you replied.

“Evidently it is not,” Aemond said, “I thought the same, but I was behind Silverwing only moments ago. She had a rider, and her mate was awakened as well.”

“I-“ you were not sure what to say, or how to comfort him, “I do not understand how such a thing is possible.“

Aemond leaned forward and suddenly slammed a hand on the table directly next to your thigh. “She is raising an army. I must do the same,” he said, the volume of his voice slightly elevated, his frustration evident.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked.

Aemond gave you a small smile, despite his current temperament. He began to toy with the hem of your dress. “I can think of a few things.”

“I meant something genuinely helpful, Aemond.”

Aemond looked up at you, his fingers never leaving the fabric of your dress, as he said, “I’m simply pleased to have you here, and so close to me, no less.”

“Aemond-“ your voice trailed off, losing itself as he began to slowly push your dress higher and higher up the tops of your thighs.

“Yes?”

“This is the small council room.”

“I am aware,” he responded.

Aemond tapped two fingers against the sides of your thighs, prompting you to lift your hips briefly so he could move the fabric of your dress from underneath you to behind you. The hard wood of the table was rough on your bare skin.

“So pretty,” Aemond whispered, kissing up one of your thighs, leaning forward more and more in his chair as his hands gripped your legs to keep them open.

“Aem-“

Before you could even get the full word out, Aemond moved your small clothes to the side and licked a strip from your hole all the way to your clit, causing a gasp to leave your lips at the sudden feeling.

He pulled away briefly. “Something to say, sweet sister?”

Your chest rapidly rose and fell in anticipation. “I came in here with intent to make you feel better, you know.”

“This makes me feel better than you could possibly know,” Aemond replied, diving back in as he sucked on your bud. You fell backwards, propping yourself up on your elbows as he grabbed your waist to pull you to the edge of the table and therefore even closer to him.

You whined, keeping quietness in mind, as Aemond gave small kitten licks to your pearl, causing your breathing to become erratic. The feeling of his mouth on you was heavenly, and the potential of getting caught only added to your arousal.

Aemond moved his tongue to your hole, gazing up at you as he began to taste within you, curling his tongue as much as he could as his grasp on your hips tightened to keep you in place, the pressure destined to leave marks.

His nose was buried in your clit, almost involuntarily at the mercy of his positioning, further stimulating you as it rubbed against your clit with every movement of his head.

You threw your head back, one of your hands moving to hold onto the back of his hair. You pulled lightly, giving him direction on how to move his head. He groaned in response, the vibration sending a shiver up your spine. His eye never left your face as he watched exactly what he was doing to you.

Aemond hit a particularly sweet spot within you and your arms grew weak, your back falling onto the wooden table with a small thud. You whimpered at the pain, but it only egged Aemond on more as he intentionally nodded his head up and down as his tongue fucked you, causing his nose to give your bud even more stimulation.

Your back arched off of the table, your hand still on Aemond’s head, fingers tangled in his hair. Holding his hair acted as an anchor for you to begin grinding your hips upward against his face, and he loosened his grip on your hips to allow for your movements.

Right when he felt you begin to clench around his tongue, he pulled away. You caught your breathing for a moment before shifting to look at him, his face still between your legs.

“Why’d you stop?” you breathed.

“Just giving you a break,” he shrugged, nonchalant, “it’s no fun if you come already.”

You pouted as your arousal calmed down and Aemond returned his mouth to your clit, flicking it with his tongue.

He tapped two fingers against your hip to catch your attention, so you looked down at him. He pulled away from you for a moment and held out two fingers.

You pulled his wrist toward you and put his fingers into your mouth, making a show of sucking on the digits before pulling them out of your mouth with a pop.

He quietly growled at the sight, retracting his hand away from your mouth and inserting his now-wet pointer and middle fingers into your hole, causing a loud whine to leave your lips.

He pushed his fingers in and out of you as he sucked your clit, watching you the best he could as you writhed beneath him. He draped his unoccupied arm across your stomach, holding you down as he moved his fingers faster and faster.

“Aem- Aem- fuck-“ you breathed out.

He only pulled away from you long enough to speak the words: “Say my name and I’ll let you come.”

You whimpered under his touch as he moved his tongue and fingers at a ruthless pace, working overtime to pull your orgasm.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging to keep his head where you needed it most as you squealed, “Ae- Aemond!”

Your high crashed over you, Aemond not letting up until he could no longer feel your spongy walls squeezing his fingers.

He gave a few gentle kisses to your hips, leaning backward and relaxing into his chair as you caught your breath, covering yourself with your dress and sitting back upward.

No words were exchanged between you two as you hopped off the table, standing dangerously close to Aemond as you locked eyes with him, your bodies nearly touching as you sank to your knees, ducking your head so you were fully underneath the table.

Aemond only watched, maintaining his relaxed position as you untied his breeches and pulled them, along with his small clothes, down just enough to free his cock.

You gazed up at him as you licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, giving special attention to the very top before sinking your head down on the length. He was too big for you to keep him entirely in your mouth, but you were able to control the reflexes in your throat for a moment so that you could take all of him briefly, the head of his cock poking the back of your throat as your nose hit his pelvis.

You pulled back to just the tip, sinking back down to a comfortable length and setting a pace you could manage. Every so often, you stilled your head and swirled your tongue around the head of Aemond’s cock, and you could hear his breathing become heavier as you did so.

You bobbed your head at a steady pace and Aemond continued to watch you, groans leaving his lips each time you looked up at him, tears forming in your eyes from his size.

You heard the door to the council room swing open, and you instinctively tried to pull back, but Aemond grabbed the back of your head and kept you on him, forcefully inching the chair closer to the table so that you were fully covered by the wooden furniture above you. You shifted backwards on your knees to accommodate his actions. Aemond bunched up your hair, quickly moving you up and down once to prompt you to continue before removing his hand and placing both of his elbows on the table in front of him.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Alicent spoke, standing on the other end of the table with one hand resting on the back of the chair opposite Aemond.

Aemond cleared his throat. “What for, mother? I’m rather busy.”

“You do not look much busy to me,” Alicent patronized.

At that moment, you moved your hand to his cock, lightly grasping the base and helping yourself as you continued to move your head up and down, allowing for stimulation over his entire cock. He shifted in his seat at the feeling, fighting with all his might to maintain his composure.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying so hard to sound normal that he sounded even more strained.

“Whispers say you chased another dragon toward Dragonstone this morn,” Alicent said.

You ran your tongue along the slit at the top of his cock, causing his entire body to jolt. To cover up the reaction, Aemond slammed his hands on the table. “Silverwing has a rider.”

“Whispers also say you burned down an ent-“

“Mother,” he cut her off, and you took his slight pause as an opportunity to move your hand up and down even faster, and you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, “I wish to be alone.”

Alicent sighed and stepped closer to him, and you could feel his body tense up beneath you.

“I truly hope you will one day allow yourself to forget this grudge you hold,” she spoke.

Aemond simply gave her a small nod, his self control slipping further and further away from him.

Alicent took a deep breath. “Have you seen your sister anywhere?”

You disconnected your mouth from his cock and instead ever so gently began to suck on his balls, your hand stroking his cock at a torturously slow pace.

Aemond’s breathing was becoming erratic as he cleared his throat to cover up a groan, “No, I have not.”

“Shame,” Alicent responded, “if you see her, inform her I need to speak with her, will you?”

Aemond was fighting with every cell of his being to remain stagnant as you began to suck his cock again, bobbing your head and moving your hand significantly faster. “I will,” was all he could get out.

Alicent gave him a nod, still gazing at him with confusion for his strange attitude, but she left the room regardless.

When the doors slammed shut, Aemond leaned back again and looked down at you. You met his gaze, the sight of you causing his cock to twitch and flex in your mouth, signaling he was near his climax.

“Fuck you,” Aemond quipped lightheartedly.

He gently pushed at the bottom of your jaw, prompting you to cease your actions. He held underneath your arms and began to pull you upward, his hands trailing further and further down your body as you stood, finally landing on your hips. He pulled you close to him, sitting tall as you moved to straddle him on the much-too-large chair.

“Hi,” you said.

Aemond smiled. “Hi.”

He stretched his neck up toward you and kissed you, starting off gentle before intensifying the kiss by tightening his grip on your hips, moving them back and forth to grind against his cock.

You moaned into the kiss, reaching down to move your dress out of the way and ensure there were no obstructions as Aemond slowly rocked his hips to allow for even more friction.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to his body.

His lips moved down your jawline to your throat, sucking a sweet spot just below your ear and eliciting a whine from your lips.

“Need you,” you sighed.

“Thought you came in here for my benefit?” Aemond teased, reaching down to move your small clothes to the side again and line his cock up with your entrance.

“At least when you’re under the table, there’s an equal chance we may not get caught,” he started, slowly gesturing your hips down onto his length, “but if anyone saw us now, I doubt they would question such a sight.”

“Aemond-“

You lost yourself in your pleasure, setting a steady pace, riding him as he watched you in awe, your hands bracing yourself on the chair behind his head.

“I think you like the idea of getting caught,” he teased.

You stuttered out, “and I think you q-uite like being r-regent, Your Grace.”

You put special emphasis and attention on the final two words, knowing it would send Aemond into a frenzy, and you were correct.

Aemond was holding your hips so tightly you were certain they would bruise as he began to fuck into you ruthlessly, watching your face contort in a mixture of pain and pleasure as his cock nearly split you open.

You were still moving up and down on top of him, but your rhythm was becoming less and less stable as Aemond moved faster and faster. His arms wrapped around you to hold you down and in place.

“Aemond, fuck,” you moaned, your spongy walls squeezing him in anticipation.

“Try again,” he demanded, referencing your words.

“Y-Your Grace,” you whimpered, the pressure becoming too much.

“Good girl,” he cooed, and his words sent you over the edge, your climax washing over you as you squeezed his cock in intense pleasure.

His thrusts didn’t stop or lessen in intensity at all. He was still chasing his own high, the feeling of yours only bringing him closer.

You were overstimulated from now two orgasms, nearly crying at Aemond’s final few sharp thrusts that allowed him to spill his seed inside of you, no urgency to pull out whatsoever.

Aemond left his arms wrapped around you as he caught his breath, and you did the same.

“I forgot what was plaguing my mind when you first came in here,” Aemond stated.

“Good,” you giggled, “that was the point.”

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tags: @ellijg

[lilstarkeydream]

Hidden Flames- Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N, a Kook who prefers the company of her Pogue friends, falls for Rafe Cameron. Despite their growing feelings, they maintain a facade due to their conflicting social circles and personal insecurities. Y/N is best friends with Sarah, Rafe's sister, which fuels Rafe's hidden affection. He despises how Y/N hangs out with the Pogues, believing she has more potential, while Y/N can't stand Rafe's for fights and stuck up nature. After a dramatic confrontation, they confess their feelings but must keep their relationship secret, with only Sarah in the know.

Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, Smut, Adult language, Violence, Alcohol use

Authors note: Hey guys! This is my first time writing any fan fiction, so go easy on me but I hope you enjoy. I am hoping to have another chapter up within the next week, as well as a series navigation. Feel free to send requests if you have story ideas for Rafe (check my bio).

7.1k words

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It was 9 o'clock on a Friday night. Nightfall had crept up before you knew it, and the island was alive with the buzz of another wild party. After a long day working at the golf course, you headed straight to your best friend Sarah Cameron’s white mansion. Known as the Kook princess, Sarah had welcomed you into her world since you moved to the island in middle school. The Cameron residence had become your second home, between sleepovers, getting ready for parties, and just gossip sessions. Despite the bitter fallout between Sarah and Kiara, which shattered your once inseparable trio, you managed to stay close to both, splitting your life between Kooks and Pogues. 

Sarah's boyfriend, Topper, was a constant presence. As her older brother’s best friend, he was also practically part of the family. You weren’t super fond of Topper, as he could be a self-entitled asshole, but he made her happy for the most part- besides their weekly fights and Topper getting mad at Sarah for the littlest of things. He made her happy that’s all that mattered. Rafe Cameron is Sarah's older brother and Topper's best friend, he was also a self-entitled asshole, who you, unfortunately, had to see on a weekly basis, due to the mutual connection. Topper and Rafe also golfed a lot, leaving the interactions unavoidable since you worked as a Bev cart girl for extra cash. Rafe was insufferable, to say the least, he always found a way to make your life a living nightmare. 

Your other time is spent hanging out with the Pogues- JJ, John B, Kiara, and Pope. Both you and Kiara are technically Kooks, but honestly, that lifestyle became too much for you both all the time. Hence how you found your best friends, the Pogues. The Pogues offered freedom, adventure, and a sense of belonging you hadn’t found anywhere else. Your parents disapproved, deeming your Pogue friends as bad influences. They never understood why you would want to degrade your self-worth and reputation, but they don’t understand how intoxicating Kook life can truly be. Your life felt like a constant balancing act, a war between the adventurous and fulfilling life as Pogues and the obligations of being a Kook. 

Now, you were at Sarah’s house, frantically trying to find the perfect outfit for the party, rummaging through her expensive wardrobe. You were caught between wanting to look sexy or slutty, and trying to distract yourself from the anger simmering from your encounter at work earlier that day. Every dress you held up seemed to fall short of the image you had in mind. Rafe Cameron had made yet another one of his insufferable comments, making it impossible to focus. You tried to shake off the previous encounter from the golf course.

Earlier that afternoon, the golf course was bathed in golden sunlight, creating the perfect atmosphere for your shift. As the beverage cart girl, you were used to dealing with the occasional lewd remark or entitled attitude from the Kook golfers, but Rafe always took it a step further. You had just finished serving drinks to a group of older businessmen when Rafe called over, his smirk as infuriating as ever, signaling he only wanted to cause you chaos

"Hey there, service girl," he said, leaning against the cart with an exaggerated casualness with the usually smug grin hung on his face. "Nice to see you finally doing something useful for once."

You forced a tight smile, hoping to get through the interaction without causing a scene. "Can I get you anything, Rafe?"

"Yeah, how about a little respect?" he sneered back, his body language reeking of mockery. "Or is that too much to ask from a Pogue-wannabe like you?"

Your hands instantly tightened on the steering wheel of the cart, every muscle in your body screaming at you to say something back, to put him in his place. If anything he was even worse. But you knew better. Engaging would only escalate the situation, and Rafe thrived on conflict, he wanted you to respond with a snarky comment. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, preparing his drink and handing it to him with forced politeness and a tight-lip smile on your face. 

"Here you go, Rafe. Enjoy your day."

He took the drink, his fingers brushing yours in a way that felt more like a taunt than an accident. "Don't screw it up too badly tonight, alright? Wouldn't want you embarrassing Sarah in front of everyone."

The comment stung more than you cared to admit. It wasn't just his words; it was how he always managed to make you feel small and insignificant- solidifying your existing insecurities. As he walked away, laughing with his friends, you felt the familiar mix of anger and frustration bubble up inside you.

As you were brought back from daydreaming your anger only grew, causing you to blurt out your day's frustration, "I fucking hate him, Sarah. All he does is go around doing drugs and causing fights. I was so close to flipping out today." pacing around Sarah’s room, venting. You already debriefed Sarah on the whole incident, but you couldn’t help but talk about it again. Your usual thick skin was not feeling so intact. 

Sarah looked at you with her empathic face, sighing, trying to calm you down "Y/N, you know he just tries to get under your skin. It’s what Rafe does."

Frustrated, you rolled your eyes, "He doesn't care about my feelings. He thinks I’m a total disgrace to the Kook name. Maybe he’s right. I don’t give a shit about the Kook life and do half of what I do to please my parents."

You continued pacing, finally settling on a black dress that hugged your curves, pairing it with your simple burgundy swimsuit underneath. Leaving your hair down, you opted for simple strap sandals, finally feeling ready for the night. 

Rafe Cameron is a special kind of infuriating. You try to tolerate him, you do, but his constant snarky comments about every aspect of your life makes him incredibly punchable. No matter how tall and handsome he might be, it didn’t matter in this instance. You could handle some comments, but you weren’t a complete pushover.

Sarah trying to steer the conversation to a happier note, in an attempt to diffuse your anger “Let's just go to this party, get blasted drunk, meet some people, and forget about tonight. Rafe isn't worth the stress."

Taking a deep breath, you knew she was right, momentarily letting go of your anger “You’re right. I’m not going to let him ruin our night. Let’s go have some fun." Finally settling down from your pacing, you put the final touches on your makeup sitting down in front of Sarah’s mirror.

“I know I’m right Y/N” giving me a loving side glance “Plus why does it matter what he thinks anyway. He’s always high and pissed off”. She paused for a second, finishing up her hair. “Alright, we're all ready to go and get drunk as fuck?” she said with a smug look on her face. 

You took a deep breath, letting the tension of the day slip away. Sarah's carefree attitude was contagious, and despite everything, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. She might be a little blind to her brother's flaws, especially since she was dating Topper and their worlds were so intertwined, but she was still your best friend.

After a quick car drive and lots of shuffling through Sarah’s mixed-genre playlist, you arrived at the more-than-alive scene of the party. You weren’t even sure whose house it was but hell that didn’t matter. A party is a party. Music instantly fills your ears as soon as you step out of the car. The front yard was packed with people, a mixture of Kooks and Pogues mingling together, the tension of their social divide momentarily forgotten. Almost serving as a symbol for what your pogue-kook life looked like. 

Walking through the front door, the house was a blur of lights and laughter. You made your way to the kitchen, the center of every good party. You hugged Sarah as she wanted to venture off to find Topper, as usual, but you didn’t mind. You needed a little break to gather your thoughts anyway. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and perfume mingled with the heavy aroma of alcohol and smoke, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Grabbing a red solo cup from the stack, you filled it with a generous amount of a strong mix of whatever was handy—tonight was about forgetting the week’s frustrations. You took a small sip, wincing slightly at the strong taste, but internally smiling at the immediate warmth of the alcohol that spread through your chest.

The drink was strong, probably vodka, but you needed it. As you leaned against the counter, you took a moment to take in the scene around you. The living room was a blur, with loud music thumping in conjunction with conversation and laughter. 

Despite the alive atmosphere, the exchange between you and Rafe still lurked in your mind. Sometimes you felt like a Kook who didn’t quite fit in, you have well-off parents and a promising paved future with privilege and opportunity. Your parents envisioned you with a successful career, bringing pride and status to the family name. Yet, you were never a huge fan of the behavior the Kook lifestyle manifested, often self-centered, ignorant, asshole-like individuals. Rafe is a great example of that.

With your drink secure in your hand, you pushed yourself off the counter and made your way through the house outside to the bonfire. You felt a wave of relief as soon as the fresh ocean air hit your face, heat from the fire mixed with the ocean breeze creating a perfect party atmosphere. You spotted your friends - JJ, John B, Kiara, and Pope, sitting around the fire, laughing about something stupid JJ said. The genuine joy is clear on their faces, contrasting with the pretentious kook attitudes.

With a big grin on your face, you called out, “Hey guys, mind if I join you?”

Kiara’s eyes lit up in recognition of your face, “Y/N! Get over here, come sit down. We were just talking about crazy stuff JJ pulled off last week. “ 

As you settled in, the warmth of the fire continued to provide comfort as well as your friends began to ease your previous tense state. JJ went into vivid detail about his last mischievous adventure, our expressions displaying a mix of disbelief and laughter at his antics. The conversation effortlessly flowed, sharing jokes and stories that had everyone laughing until their stomachs hurt. I could feel the effects of the alcohol starting to take effect. In other words, the night was perfect. For a moment, it felt like everything in the world was right. These moments with your Pogue friends were ones that you cherished most. They made you feel alive, grounded, and understood; something you missed out on in your Kook life.

Eventually, you reached the bottom of the solo cup, signaling a refill was needed. Standing up, you navigate your way back to the kitchen, passing both Kooks and Pogues you couldn’t put a name to. The house became a maze, with more people filing in as the night was still young. As you reached the familiar environment of the kitchen for the bottle of Vodka, you suddenly bumped into someone. Looking up, you found yourself face to face with the one and only Rafe Cameron, his ocean-blue eyes, slightly glazed with alcohol and god knows what other drugs, looking down at you. His presence was overwhelming, you could smell a mixture of his cologne and the sharpness of vodka. 

Rafe smirked down at you drunk, “Well, well, look who decided to slum it with the Pogues tonight. Have you decided you're finally trying to find yourself a real man, Y/N?”

His words were a direct hit causing you to look away, annoyance taking over your face, however, you kept your cool, “Just enjoying the party, Rafe. Not that any of it is your business” 

Rafe took a step closer, lowering his voice for only you to hear, “Everything you do is my business, Y/N. Don't you forget that?” His sudden proximity made your heart race, you felt a mix of anger and something else- something else you wouldn’t dare to acknowledge.

Flustered, you shot back, “Fuck off, Rafe. You don’t care about me.” You angrily push him away, your hands firm against the muscles of his chest, and quickly turn around, making your way back to your friends. The interaction with Rafe left you shaken, the interaction making you once again feel so small yet so noticed. You quickly downed two more drinks, trying to steady your nerves. Taking in Sarah’s words from earlier to just try and enjoy the night.

As the alcohol coursed through your veins, you started to feel a pleasant buzz, hoping the tension was behind you. You felt engulfed by your friend's laughter with the warmth of the fire.

Suddenly, your mood shifted once again, as you saw Rafe Cameron making his way towards the bonfire. This time more drunk and agitated. 

As Rade approaches he spits "Y/N, you think you can just walk away from me like that?"

You stood up, the alcohol giving you a false sense of courage. "What the hell do you want, Rafe? Can't you just leave me alone?"

Rafe rolled his eyes, continuing to mock you “Oh, look at you. Acting all tough in front of your Pogue friends. You’ll never be a pogue Y/N, just give it up!"

The Pogues immediately rose to your defense, with John B stepping forward. "Back off, Rafe. She doesn't need to deal with your shit tonight." John B stepping between you and Rafe. 

Topper, along with a few other Kooks, approached to back up Rafe. "Stay out of it, John B. This is between Rafe and Y/N."

Tensions escalated quickly as insults were thrown back and forth. You could feel the eyes of everyone around you, the entire party was now focused on the showdown. Anxiety coursing through your body, unsure of why Rafe had a sudden interest making his hatred for you a public display.

Rafe's voice grew louder, more aggressive. "You're just a joke, Y/N. You’re pathetic. You don’t belong with us Kooks, and you never will."

Your anger boiled over, you began to raise your voice. "And who are you to decide where I belong? You’re just a spoiled brat who thinks he can control everyone."

Rafe's eyes flashed with anger, and he took a step closer. "You’re going to regret saying that."

Before you could react, Rafe shoved you. The force of his push sent you stumbling backward. The Pogues immediately rushed to your side, while the Kooks moved in to support Rafe. The scene erupted into chaos, with shoving and shouting escalating into a full-blown brawl. 

John B and Topper exchanged punches, while JJ and Pope tried to hold back the other Kooks. Even with the chaos, Rafe's eyes remained locked on yours, his anger still burning. 

You struggled to regain your balance, your head spinning from the mix of alcohol and adrenaline. Kiara was at your side in an instant, helping you to your feet. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

You nodded weakly, brushing off your clothes and fixing your hair. "I think so. I didn’t hit my head or anything. I’m just really drunk." You instantly are brought back to reality realizing there’s still a fight going on, in an attempt to break it up, you make your way to John B. and Rafe.

"Stop it, Rafe!" you shouted, trying to pull him away from the fight. "This isn’t worth it!"

Ignoring you, Rafe lunged at John B again, but you stepped in between them, pushing Rafe back with all your strength. "I said, stop it!"

Sarah appeared behind Topper, her face prominent with both frustration and concern. She darted between the fighters, yelling at Rafe and Topper. "Stop it, you idiots! This is so stupid!"

Sarah was still trying to break up the fight, her voice cutting through the air. "Rafe, Topper, knock it off! You're acting like complete assholes!"

Breathing heavily, Rafe finally relented, his eyes still locked on you. He remained silent putting his hands up. Before turning around and walking away he muttered, “Dirty pogues.” You glared back at him, your chest heaving, at a loss for words.

As the thrill from the fight finally died down, everyone began to disperse, the calming party atmosphere now shattered. You turned away from the bonfire, heading toward the beach to clear your head. JJ tried to stop you from leaving telling you to stay with them, all you could do was shake your head, knowing the complexity of your emotions was too much right now. The cool night air did little to calm your racing heart. You began to feel tears prick in your eyes, the emotions of the recent events starting to overtake you. Your chest tightened as you began to silently cry, tears streaming down your face. The alcohol did little to nothing to suppress the storm. 

You were still wondering about Rafe's sudden outburst of emotion aimed toward you. He’s said many rude comments to you in the past about you hanging with the Pogues, and how it’s like you aren’t a real Kook. But never this confrontational. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the drugs. But his anger was more intense, more personal. The same feeling as earlier began to rise, the one you don’t dare to acknowledge, was there another reason for his sudden interest? 

You walked along the shoreline, the sound of the ocean filling your eyes, the waves crashing against the sand. The consistency of the ocean brings you a brief sense of relief from the chaos you were wrapped up in. Despite the beauty around you, the moonlight reflecting on the water, you felt the rage boil inside you, coming with another wave of tears.

Rafe's actions tonight suggested something more, tonight hinted at a complexity you hadn’t quite considered before. You wiped your tears with your arm, frustration continuing to bubble up within you. 

Why did he care so much about who you spent your time with? Why was he always your prying eyes, always judging? The more you ponder these ideas, the more confused you become. You couldn’t deny a spark you felt when he was close, but even if that was true, it was too deeply buried underneath many layers of anger and resentment. 

As you were still deep in your thoughts, staring out into the ocean, looking for some sort of answer, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You turned to see Rafe following you, his expression unreadable. "Y/N, wait," he called out, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. 

You crossed your arms, the moonlight glowing over your soft features. Rafe could see your clear hurt expression and tear-stained cheeks. “What could you possibly want Rafe? Haven’t you caused enough trouble tonight” You demanded, despite your voice trembling due to hurt and sorrow

Rafe sighed, looking away, running his hand through his hair, “I don’t know, I don’t know Y/N.” he paused for a second, words hanging heavily between you “Maybe I just… I just wanted to talk”

You scoffed at this almost instantly, and you began to turn around and walk away “You have a weird way of showing it? Insulting me, pushing me, hurting my friends.” you spat back, nothing but bitterness in your voice, unwillingly for him to truly see how deeply his actions hurt you.

But his footsteps continued to follow you, “Please” he pleaded, reaching out to grab your arm gently, causing you to turn around to face him. Your heart skipped a beat despite your anger still present. “Just… give me a chance y/n” 

Your mind raced, surprised by his vulnerability, you paused and looked up into his eyes. In this moment, the resentment you too held for each other seemed to melt away, leaving something raw and unspoken in its place. You hated the way he made you feel so small and judged yet here he was at the same time, his vulnerable voice struck something else in you, making you hesitate. Quickly second guessing if you’d regret giving him a chance to talk to you. Opening the possibility of finding out the motives behind his spite and arrogance. The scene from earlier races across your mind. 

All you could do was mutter softly, “What could you possibly want to talk to me about, Rafe? To hurt me again? To prove that I don’t belong? I thought you made it clear your feelings towards me.” your voice breaking even more with every word. 

Rafe's grip on your arm tightened slightly, just enough for you not to walk away. He took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "Y/N, I know I've been a complete asshole. I know I've hurt you and pushed you away, but... it’s because I didn’t know how else to handle this. Handle us."

"Us?" you echoed, confused and overwhelmed.

"Yes, us," he said, stepping closer. "I can't stop thinking about you. It drives me crazy seeing you with them, with the Pogues. I hate it because I... I care about you." You searched his eyes, looking for a sense of truth behind his words. Could it be that all his hostility was masking something deeper he felt?

His confession left you stunned. You had always thought Rafe hated you. Ever since you knew Sarah, Rafe was only rude to you. Rolling his eyes every time he saw you, purposefully causing hell for you on the golf course, yet being overprotective when it came to you hanging with the pogues. These new emotions were a lot to take in, something you’d never think for Rafe Cameron to admit. 

“Why Rafe?” you spoke, your voice still barely above a whisper, “Why do you care so much about who I’m with?”

He hesitated at this, not sure whether to reveal the truth to his bitterness, “Because… because it’s you y/n” his voice finally breaking at his vulnerability, “Because you’re different. You make me feel things I don’t want to feel. I don’t know how to handle this.” 

Before you could process all of it, still looking wide-eyed at Rafe, he leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. It was soft at first, hesitant, but then it grew more passionate. A knot in your stomach growing, the sensation of his lips felt like none other. You kissed him back, your heart pounding, swearing you never wanted this moment to end. This new side of Rafe was one you never wanted to end. 

Rafe pulled away abruptly, his eyes wide with regret. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I—" Against your best judgment, you closed the distance again, kissing him more passionately this time. The alcohol must’ve taken over the rational thinking of this situation, the four drinks you had taking its full effect. The moment his lips met yours, a surge of heat spread through your body, making your heart race and your skin tingle. His lips were surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor.

His hands gently cupped your face, his touch both tender and possessive, sending shivers down your spine. Every movement of his lips against yours was intoxicating, drowning out the chaos of the party and the world around you. You could taste the remnants of alcohol on his breath, mingling with a hint of something sweet and entirely Rafe.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a mix of emotions – anger, desire, confusion, and an unexpected tenderness. It was as if all the tension, all the animosity between you, had been building up to this moment, where words were no longer necessary. Your mind struggled to keep up with the rush of feelings, but your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, craving more of his touch.

In that kiss, you felt a vulnerability you had never seen in Rafe before. It was raw and unfiltered, a glimpse into the complex layers beneath his tough exterior. The kiss was a silent confession, a bridge between your worlds that had been divided for so long. It was overwhelming, exhilarating, and left you breathless, with your heart pounding and your mind reeling from the sheer intensity of it all.

You both pulled away from the kiss, both breathless, your head swirling with a mix of new emotions. 

Rafe still noticed your still drunken state, leaving you in no condition to stay alone, “Y/n you shouldn’t be alone right now. Do you want a ride? You can stay the night at my house.” 

Despite your best judgment, you found yourself nodding and smiling. “Sure” is all you could muster out. Even if this was just for one night, you didn’t want these feelings to end. The intimate moment between you and Rafe was far from unexpected, and it was probably the alcohol but hell you didn’t want this night to end. You got out your phone and texted Sarah and the Pogues, letting them know you were getting a ride home and not to wait up for you, telling them you just needed some time to clear your head. You felt guilty for lying to your friends but you couldn’t help but wonder what the night held. 

Rafe led you to his truck, and the cold air flushed against your warm skin. Rafe opened the door for you, his touch lingering on your arm, you climbed in, your mind racing. The car ride was silent, but not awkward. You both stole glances at each other, the kiss and the rush of new emotions lingered in the air between you, heavy with unspoken words and possibilities. You couldn’t help but feel torn. On one hand, you saw a side of Rafe that was genuine and sincere, something that made you want to trust him. His body language, the way he carefully watched the road but still glanced at you, and his words from earlier all hinted at a deeper truth.

On the other hand, you couldn’t shake the nagging guilt and doubt. Trusting Rafe felt like betraying the Pogues, your friends who had been there for you through thick and thin. They despised him, and for good reason. His past actions, the way he treated you and others, loomed large in your mind. Was this a mistake? Would you regret this in the morning?

When you arrived at the Cameron residence, you both carefully and silently made your way up to Rafe's room, you were already familiar with the layout of his house due to being here millions of times hanging out with Sarah. Although despite the numerous hangouts, you have never once been into Rafe's room.

When you entered his room, you weren’t surprised by the size but more taken aback by the simplicity yet authenticity of his room. The smell of his cologne filling your nose, being the main aroma of his room. The room was dominated by a king-sized bed, neatly made with dark blue and grey bedding. In one corner stood a large grey sofa, both the bed and the sofa facing a ginormous TV mounted on the wall. His room was so organized, not a spec of clothing on the floor, it seemed like everything had its place. His dresser took you by the most surprise, it wasn’t even the dresser itself but the picture frames scattered on top of it, Rafe looked happy in all of them, yet again a new side of Rafe you haven’t seen.

Pulled out of your thoughts, Rafe comes back from rummaging through his closet and hands you some spare clothes for you to sleep in. You offered him a warm smile in exchange and made your way to the bathroom to change.

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind you, a surge of conflicting emotions hit you like a wave. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, your face flushed from both the alcohol and the events of the night. Questions and doubts flooded your mind. What were you doing here? Why had you agreed to stay? The uncertainty was eating at your stomach, making your heart race.

You began to change into the clothes Rafe had given you, the feel of the soft fabric against your skin oddly comforting. As you pulled his t-shirt over your head, engrossed by his scent, intensifying your internal conflict. Why did his presence, his touch, and his kiss stir such strong emotions within you?

The memory of the kiss flashed through your mind. The vulnerability you had seen in Rafe, the raw intensity of the moment, it all felt so real. The feeling you didn’t want to acknowledge came rising back, feeling uneasy about facing these emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You were witnessing a side of Rafe that made you question everything you thought you knew.

Once you emerged for the bathroom noticing Rafe already changed into some grey shorts and an old t-shirt, Rafe looked up and said, “You can have my bed tonight.” His voice was low and tired, “I’ll take the Sofa. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

You hesitated at his words, feeling a mix of uncertainty and trust. Despite everything, despite your best judgment and all the hatred you’ve had towards Rafe for years, it all seemed to fade in that moment, you found yourself shyly saying, “Can you sleep in the bed, please? It’s a big bed, plus it would make me feel safer.”

Partially knowing your need to feel safe was a lie, you felt a deeper pull in your gut—a need for his presence. Rafe paused at your response, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt, “Are you sure y/n?”

You nodded at him reassuring him of your answer. Rafe turned off the lights, only the moon illuminating a path to the bed. Both of you got into the bed, lying down side by side. The silence was thick with unspoken words and new feelings, and the room was charged with the intensity of the night’s events. The bed felt enormous with the space left between you, a sharp contrast from your previous closeness.

Lying there, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a tangible reminder of how close he was. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process everything that had happened. You had always seen Rafe as the enemy, the source of your frustrations, but now he was something different, something you couldn't quite define. The kiss tonight felt like it changed everything you thought you knew about him. You saw Rafe with lots of girls at parties but never seen him touch them or kiss them the way he did to you. 

Rafe turned to you, interrupting your thoughts, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you tonight. I just... I don't know how to deal with these feelings. I’m sorry"

You turned towards him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes despite the darkness. "Rafe, why now? Why tonight?" The alcohol seemed to be fading from your system.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and over his face, clearly still confused with his emotions, "I don't know. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's just everything catching up to me. But when I saw you tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You looked beautiful tonight y/n, I’ve tried to push it away, but I can’t anymore."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his. "Rafe, this is all so confusing. I've always thought you hated me. I’ve been friends with Sarah for so long, and all you ever did was give me death glares"

Rafe shook his head, his hand closing around yours. "I never hated you, Y/N. I was just too scared to admit how I felt. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. The truth is I’ve always liked you. You’re gorgeous y/n, I can never keep my eyes off of you." You could tell this was hard for him to admit, not being of the emotional type, but his confession tugged at your heartstrings. 

The raw honesty in his voice stirred something deep within you. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, capturing his lips in another kiss. He wrapped his hand around your waist pulling you closer. Your hand resting on the back of his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles. This kiss was softer, and more tender, but still charged with the same intensity and emotions as before. 

Rafe pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "I didn’t mean to complicate things."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It's okay, Rafe. Maybe we both needed this."

Rafe's hands cupped your face, reconnecting your lips with a deeper kiss, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. The kiss was more than just a kiss; it was a confession, a release of everything you both had been holding back. You could feel the desperation in his touch, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "I need you."

The words sent a chill through you, and you responded with equal intensity. "I need you too, Rafe. I want you” 

He could feel the warmth of your body through his fingertips, a reminder of how vulnerable this moment was. His hands were steady, yet there was a slight tremor, betraying the storm of emotions he was feeling. Rafe slept with women before but it was never a feeling like this, he never felt nervous. 

As he slid your shirt off your shoulders, his eyes never left yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a silent question asking if this was truly okay. When you nodded, the trust in your eyes sent a wave of relief and gratitude through him. His touch grew bolder, his fingers trailing down your sides, savoring the feel of your skin.

When he finally reached the waistband of your pants, Rafe paused, taking a deep breath. This was it—the point of no return. He met your gaze again, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found only the same longing mirrored in your eyes. Slowly, he pulled your pants down, his hands skimming your legs, committing every detail to memory, not knowing if this moment would happen again. Rafe's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, every inch of you in this intimate moment. 

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity

Rafe's heart raced as he stood back to take in the sight of you, fully exposed and completely trusting. There was a deep sense of awe mixed with desire, It was a connection, a moment of raw honesty between two people who had spent so long hiding their true feelings. He was nervous, not wanting to mess up this chance to show you how he truly felt, and that nervousness translated into gentleness. As he leaned in to kiss you again, his hands exploring your body with newfound confidence, he felt a surge of emotion he couldn't quite put into words—a mix of fear and excitement. 

At that moment, Rafe realized just how much he wanted this, and wanted you, and he vowed to himself that he would make this night unforgettable for both of you.

As Rafe reached for the hem of his shirt, you felt a rush of anticipation mixed with butterflies in your stomach. The reality of the situation hit you all at once, making your heart race, but you’ve never wanted him so badly. When Rafe lifted his shirt over his head, revealing his toned chest and muscular arms, you couldn't help but stare. The moonlight filtering through the window highlighted the contours of his body, casting shadows that emphasized his athletic build.

Your hands instinctively reached out to touch him, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. His skin was warm and smooth under your touch, and you could feel the subtle quiver in his body, betraying his nervousness. As you explored his chest with your hands, you were overwhelmed by a mix of emotions. There was a deep, unspoken understanding between you, a silent acknowledgment of the complexity of your relationship. You didn’t know if this feeling would be there tomorrow, both of you silently promising to make the most of tonight. 

Your breath hitched as you moved closer, pressing your body against his. The feel of his skin against yours was intoxicating, heightening your senses and deepening the connection between you. Every kiss and every touch was filled with a newfound intensity, a reflection of the passion and desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

In that moment, you realized just how much you wanted this, wanted him. All the years of misunderstanding seemed to fade away, replaced by a powerful need to be close to him, to understand him in a way you never had before. As you lost yourselves in each other, you felt a sense of completeness, as if this was where you were meant to be all along.

Rafe's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch with a hunger that matched your own. You arched into his touch, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as he found all the right spots. It was overwhelming, the sheer intensity of it all, but you didn’t want it to stop. Rafe broke the kiss and began slowly trailing down your neck, his mouth latching onto your breast, swirling your nipple, flicking and sucking, while his other hand cupped your other breast, kneading and teasing until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

He seemed to know exactly how to drive you wild, alternating between gentle caresses and firm, deliberate touches. His hand slowly trailed down your stomach, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin, before finally slipping between your thighs. You gasped as he found your entrance, his fingers stroking and circling, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Rafe's mouth never left your breast as he continued to pleasure you with his hand, his fingers moving in and out in a rhythm that matched the quickening beat of your heart. He added another finger, stretching and filling you, his thumb expertly finding your most sensitive spot. The combined sensations of his mouth on your breast and his hand between your legs sent you spiraling toward the edge. 

Just as you were about to tip over into bliss, he stopped abruptly, pulling his hand away. A whine escaped your lips, craving his touch once again. As scanned your eyes from approval one last time, he lined himself up with your entrance. With a gentle touch, Rafe guided himself into you, both of you gasping at the sensation. He moved slowly at first, giving you time to adjust, but soon the urgency took over, and his movements became faster, more desperate. The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. 

Pressing his body deeper into yours, you felt instant pleasure. You could see in his eyes that he felt it too—the same overwhelming pleasure, the same intense connection. You swore on your life you never felt something as good as his. Your moans filled the air and he picked up the pace. Rafe has never felt so exposed, yet so open to another person. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to be even an inch away from you. The intensity of it all was almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want it to stop.

You lost track of time, the world outside fading away until there was only the two of you. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, building higher and higher until you felt like you might explode. Rafe's name spilled from your lips, laced with need and desire. You could feel him getting close, his movements becoming more erratic.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both came undone, your bodies trembling with the intensity of your release. The climax washed over you in waves, each more intense than the last, leaving you breathless and completely satisfied. Rafe collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you both tried to catch your breath. His chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the frantic beat of your own heart as you clung to each other.

The silence was filled with a new kind of intimacy, the kind that comes from sharing something profound. As your breathing slowly returned to normal, you became aware of the lingering warmth of his body against yours, and the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was a moment of pure bliss, that you wished could last forever.

You could feel Rafe's fingers gently stroking your back, his touch tender and reassuring. The connection between you felt stronger than ever, a bond forged not just in passion, but a sense of trust that had developed between you. A feeling you had never experienced before, a sense of completeness that made you never want to leave his side. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the complexity of your relationship and the uncertainties that the future held. You tried to push the worries to the back of your mind, savoring the moment of how his body felt against yours.

As you drifted off to sleep, Rafe’s arms wrapped around you protectively, you couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for the two of you. You knew that this moment was fleeting, that the reality of your complicated relationship would come crashing back in the morning, but for now, you allowed yourself to savor the feeling of being close to him. You held onto a string of hold that maybe, this could last.

--——----------————- ❥・-------------------------

Chapter 2

Please like and repost so I know to post more chapters:)🫶 Thank you for reading!

[romanceyourdemons]

nosferatu (2024) is a lovely and often interesting film, but it does have a number of flaws, not least that i do not feel it truly is a nosferatu film. as is expected of robert eggers, it has lovely period-accurate sets captured in gorgeous lineal framing reminiscent of silent film and shot through with numerous references to classic film from faust (1924) to beauty and the beast (1946), and the presence of the supernatural is wonderfully visceral. and yet eggers, who usually puts so much energy into the realism of dialogue and period in his film, falls flat in this one—between the actors’ strained british accents and a narrative that does not engage at all with the culture and fears of its ostensibly german setting, the film seemed to be just another dracula story set in london. of course, what eggers really wants in the nosferatu conceit that he cannot get in a more typical story is the grand conclusion where a maiden willingly offers herself to the beast, thereby defeating him. the engine of fear in this film is the fear of losing control over your mind, losing control over your sexuality, and being compelled to obey; although i felt that the theme of sex, like the german setting, fell somewhat flat through extensive telling and not showing, i cannot deny that the revamped bride of dracula mina harkness plot gave admirable weight to the conclusion, the ultimate act of taking control over one’s sexuality. another victim of telling and not showing was the supposed modernity and enlightenment of europe, which was referenced ad nauseum but never shown in its medieval-looking town—putting strain on the emotional delivery of its clear and unavoidably orientalist narrative of the East as a nightmare den of pagan practices, disease, and unrestrained sexuality that cannot help but desire to spread its unholy influence over the enlightened West through the vector of greedy men and sexual women. at least it did make an effort to reframe the roma as vampire hunters rather than orlok’s unthinking slaves, and at least there were some cool shadow-based visuals that we got out of it. all things told, nosferatu (2024) has some very good visuals and very interesting concepts that it seeks to work with, but unfortunately, through excessive seeking and little accomplishing it falls flat

[etheries1015]

So I was scrolling through tumblr and saw this, https://www.tumblr.com/helena-and-helena-meta/733034749628710912/anyone-ever-just-be-doing-something-normal-and

So I wanted to know if you could write a fic or some headcanons based off it. Also, how are you?

Angst isn't really my forte, but I shall give it a decent shot :]

A sacrifice worth making

Featuring: Malleus Draconia

general warnings: Gender neutral reader, angst, kind of short. Sorry

TW: Depictions of injuries (Not gore) If there is anything else I missed, please let me know and I shall update this section accordingly

He thought you would never wake up. Seeing your frail body riddled with burns not reacting to any of the healing magic from the medicinal mages had given him very little hope, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach with a sour taste in his mouth he had never felt before. He hadn't felt this much agony in a very long time, how could he let it come to this? Allowing a human to shield him using their entire body, the prince of Briar Valley, the notion that the all-powerful fae wouldn't be able to save the one person most important to him further induced the dreadful thought he was not fit to rule at all.

He had not left your side, begs from Sebek or others had fallen upon deaf ears as he continued to try and have faith you would wake up. Every time he looked your way, he could not stop hearing your screams- those harrowing screams will haunt him for years to come. Every time he closed his eyes the scene played over and over, haunting him, forcing him to look as if his eyes were stapled open in a room of mirrors with no way of escape.

Nobody could have anticipated the creation of poison imbedded fire enough to kill off the prince of Briar Valley, and he knew if you were awake and he spoke of these worries to you, you would scold him saying it was not his fault and it was an unfortunate situation that had unavoidable circumstances and sacrifice. In the end, the potion that had been meant to hit Malleus- missed as you jumped in front of him and took the blow, your body bursting into flames as the deafening screams of pain escaped your mouth he watched your body drop to the floor. Although the poison that was laced within the flames was enough to kill a specific magic-induced fae, it should have had little to no effect on the average human.

Thus, It should have been an easy enough fix- you were to come into the best care that Malleus could possibly find you, and you were going to come back to them; smiling and speaking to him as you had always done. Yet as one day dragged on longer than the next, a week had passed and you showed no signs of awakening. Full of grief, Malleus had blamed himself more and more, until he could no longer take it. He could not find solace in the company of anyone else but you, the only person who treated him as his equal- you who would give him noteworthy advice, you who would speak your mind so freely and insisted he do the same. Although he felt a little silly and perhaps it was far too late, he took you up on opening his heart.

His long slender fingers traced your peacefully sleeping face, emerald eyes melancholy and longing to peer into your lively orbs once more.

"Your sacrifice," His voice was in a low whisper, "Will not...will not go unnoticed. Your bravery will be remembered all across Briar Valley," He choked up, feeling that same overwhelming feeling of grief.

"No, that...is not what I truly want to say," He pursed his lips, bending over to plant a soft kiss upon your forehead.

"I miss you, and... I'm sorry. I failed to protect you. Please, come back...I.." He couldn't find the words to describe the heavy feeling inside of his chest where his heart lay, it was the first time he had ever felt such strong emotions for another, much less a human. Their lives are far too fleeting, and he blamed himself for seemingly cutting yours short- and although time runs in the blink of an eye for Malleus- he could have sworn the time he spent waiting for you to wake up lasted ten lifetimes. A voice called to him from the doorway, and he knew it was that time of day to leave you once again. He gave you the promise of returning the next day as he had done every time he had to begrudgingly part from your sleeping form.

The Fae turned around to exit the room you stayed in, the same as he always had done after saying his goodbyes without as much of a farewell in return. However, what he did not notice this time, was the way your fingers moved ever so slightly- almost as if trying to reach him before the door closed and his shadow faded away...

~~~~

Masterlist

I hope that wasn't too bad. Thank you for the request <3

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee *BONUS* Scene part 9

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, aftermath of being a weapon/semi-retired weapon, lost family, fractured memories, rejection, fluffy heart-to-heart conversation

He was ever-composed and collected, but now he didn't know what to say.

"Learning that the wife I'd been forced to forget is alive, and is too terrified to recognize me? And that I'm a nothing more than a messed-up science experiment? I'm doing great." Whumpee let out a single dry laugh, humorless.

Flint nodded sympathetically. "Of course. Stupid question. I know you're not okay -- I didn't mean to ask in mockery. I meant to ask 'will you be okay'?"

Whumpee took a long time to answer. "...I'm not sure," he whispered hoarsely, staring up at the dark sky. "I don't think I can handle much more of this invisible pain. It's different when it's on the inside and you can't wrap it in gauze or apply painkillers. I've never felt this kind of pain before, and I... I don't think I'm supposed to be able to feel all this."

"It's okay to be a weapon and still have a heart," Flint chuckled. "Sounds to me like you haven't quite figured out how to live as yourself yet -- you're still expecting your training to activate and take away all the inner pain and emotion. But now that you don't have that ability anymore, you're struggling to acclimate to being emotionally human again."

"You're saying it's always going to hurt like this?" Whumpee's voice cracked. "I think... I'd rather go back to being Weapon than live with this strange new pain forever."

"No. You don't," Flint said with confidence.

"Why?" Whumpee croaked in confusion.

"Because it would mean sacrificing everything else you've earned for yourself as well. I've seen how gentle you are with Myra. She brings you happiness, does she not?"

"Yeah, but--"

"--And you smile more around her, correct?" Flint meaningfully cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

Whumpee’s brow furrowed. "...Yes?"

"So would you really prefer sacrificing those slivers of joy you get to be impassive again and feel nothing at all? Or would you rather be able to experience even the smallest amount of happiness, no matter how fleeting the sensation may be?"

Whumpee thought hard about it for several long minutes, mulling it over. "...I suppose you would be right -- I do enjoy some emotions, but not most of them, "Fli--Sir," he corrected himself firmly.

"I think we're past 'Sir' by now," Flint chuckled. "You don't need to be so formal anymore."

"Apologies, Si--Flint," Whumpee corrected the opposite way around, making the leader laugh again.

Flint sighed heavily, craning his head back to stare at the stars once his laughter died back. "It is the unfortunate reality of our existence that to truly live, we must also lose. It's inevitable. Unavoidable. Every 'hello' comes with the knowledge that there will one day be a 'goodbye'. Yet we choose to love, again and again, open ourselves up to being hurt... because it is worth it for the reward. To steal those small moments of light in the darkness."

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@dragongodryss @theforeverdyingperson

[kunosoura]

will we be receiving an annual "Nico looks back on the books she read last year" post

Sure! (Long retrospective under the cut)

I mentioned it in an ask I got a couple of weeks ago, but 2024 was kind of a bum year for me. A lot of the leisure reading I did ended up letting me down in small or large ways. I'm gonna try to be more discerning this year because I don't know if I have another year of slop in me. That said, it certainly wasn't all bad.

The Weaver and the Witch Queen by Genevieve Gornichec

A perfectly good story that scratched my itch for stories set in viking era scandanavia, with magic women too. Unfortunately it never truly excelled, with a straight romance that overshadowed the more compelling dynamic between the three sisters. Had one good moment of pathos near the end and then didn't do anything with it. Scratched the itch but really let me down.

Fourth Wing and Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros

Initially I was charmed with how much this seemed to be taking shameless pages from the come-and-gone Young Adult Dystopia wave - with the special snowflake main character choosing to be a fighter in the extremely dangerous dragon rider quadrant of her military academy instead of a scholar which would have been the more obvious fit, the tepid het love triangle between the good guy childhood friend and the badboy who seems to also hate her, the comically evil society they live in having its "wait our society is bad??" reveal stretched really far out, and other little bits here and there. Then, I was annoyed as the het love triangle shit turned into the snowflake mc and the badboy having dirty explicit sex every few pages. I stayed on because the action remained really compelling, with a great narrator adding a lot of tension to these dragonback wizard duels, and the occasional bout of compelling intrigue. Then, I think it lost me for good when the author's military wife ideology crept unavoidably into the rest of the story, and the noxious ideas about imperialism, military power and disability became too much to deal with. I might pick up the next book if the line isn't too bad to check out the audiobook from the library, but the good wanes and the bad waxes and cool dragon wizard fight scenes can only go so far.

Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang

I loved the prose so much that I didn't mind the shabby thematic work or the barebones and, from a bird's eye angle, ridiculous plot. That seems to be the general trend of how people reacted to this book - if the narration of the main character slowly falling back in love with a world not quite as desolate as she thought, with her rich benefactrix and with cooking, a love which slowly seeps back into her thoughts until she's gushing with it, fails to capture you, or worse alienates you, then you won't like the rest of the book. I loved it even if I realized it was deeply flawed.

Exordia by Seth Dickinson

Another book that knew how to pile on the sensuality but was a lot more judicious in its use - I've bounced off of Seth Dickinson's books before, and some of the moments in this book, such as the interminable dynamic between those two gay ass feds, or the author taking yet another moment to show off how good he is at reading wikipedia pages, almost lost me - but the dynamic between Anna and Ssrin, and the espionage thriller sequences, held me through. Like the Fourth Wing books, I'm sort of in a "we'll see how the next book grabs me" state instead of committing to the series fully, but more optimistically than the other example.

The Crown of Stars series (King's Dragon, Prince of Dogs, The Burning Stone, Child of Flame, The Gathering Storm, In the Ashes, The Crown of Stars) By Kate Elliot

Boy howdy did this one let me down. The first book was at times really difficult to read, because one of the main characters is a young woman trapped with very little recourse as a slave to Hugh a horribly abusive and narcissistic priest, and her managing to escape his clutches at the end was genuinely cathartic; her journey from there to the powerful, confident, iconoclastic sorceress she becomes by the end was one of the few consistently good things about the books. Beyond that, I also really appreciated how the author took the time to establish her world not as generic fantasy slop but as a very meticulous alt-fantasy recreation of central Europe circa 1000 AD, with appropriate technology, governments, and social customs; beyond that, at the borders of the world in the early books we get hints of more fantastic elements - gryphons, goblins, elves who more resemble a sort of Mesoamerica than the traditional elf tropes, and higher echelons of being in the heavens, impenetrable yet inviting to the canny sorcerer. The second book seemed to be shaping the series to be about trauma, with Liath struggling to remain free of Hugh both legally and emotionally, and one of the other main characters, Sanglant, struggling to survive and then recover from a year of being kept in squalid captivity, I really liked how it was shaping up.

Somewhere in the second half, the series just got.. flabby. Suddenly every major character had to go through interminable and at times mean spirited arcs about them getting broken down and traumatized. Characters who used to provide a nice contrast for the heavier PoVs of the main characters also had to become bitter and traumatic. The world itself grew darker and had none of the adventure or wonder of the earlier books, so everything became a slog. Just as the struggle against Anne's circle finishes, we suddenly have another war against the newly returned Ashioi to read about, but the author didn't have the energy to actually develop the few interesting parts of that (such as the growing tension between those who had to remain in their dying cast-off world and experience generations of making hard choices to survive, such as killing their abusive priest caste, vs. those who experienced a scant few months exiled as half-ghosts in the human world and are shocked to come back and find the survivors of their home lands completely different - this never goes anywhere!) so it ends with a wet plop. All the things hinted at in earlier books slowly got revealed and most of them were a let down. By the end, I was exhausted and so clearly was the author. Everything from book 5 on was mush. Several point of view characters had arcs that were either brutal to the point of cruelty (Zacharias) or completely fucking pointless (Anna!). Blessing drained the joy out of every page she was on. Ivar I'm never forgiving you for fumbling the affection of the hottest guy on the continent because you were too hung up on Liath. Hugh, kill yourself.

The Iron Dragon's Daughter by Michael Swanwick

Already one of my favorite books every, I got sucked back in reading bits of it formulating a hypothetical nonlinear animated adaptation of this (it would start in the final arc focusing on Rocket and ending with him getting shot down during the Spiral Castle raid then slowly unweave the mystery from there. ask me about it sometime) and ended up reading the entire thing again. God. Read this book. Jane would be so much happier as a Gayden.

The Sanderslop Corner

Tress of the Emerald Sea

The least successful of Sanderson's Secret Projects. Even for what was supposed to be a sort of feminist re-take on The Princess Bride, he still thinks the most interesting thing possible is having a character tinker with the magic in his world. I hope we get to see more of the evil sorceress she was cool.

Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

The middle child of the bunch. I read the ebook of this one, and the chapter art at times almost convinced me I was reading about an imaginative and exciting new world and not yet another corner of the tonal monotony of the Cosmere. The ending actually got me tearing up a bit. Points deducted for doing no weird gender/sex stuff with Painter in Yumi's body.

The Sunlit Man

From the perspective of this being a more connected cosmere novel, this really worked. Got me in the mood for the about to be released Stormlight 5, got me reconsidering how I viewed Sigzil, and all in all a book that played to Sanderson's strengths perfectly, even if it might as well have been one of the Stormlight novellas.

Wind and Truth

Maybe one of his weakest books yet, and that's after The Lost Metal hit lows his series hasn't seen since Elantris. The Great Reddit Debate between Jasnah and Todium was a mess, the Kaladin/Szeth chapters had their high points but the extremely on the nose use of the word Therapy became too corny to take seriously, the spiritual realm chapters did an excellent job of sucking out every bit of the mystery and historical ambiguity that made the Singer/Human conflict interesting, Vyre does nothing except continue being cartoonishly evil so Sanderson can further distance himself from any actual radical politics, Adolin's arc was Fine but overplayed, everything was just a bit too flabby and longwinded.. idk I could keep going but I think the biggest issue is that Sanderson's issues with dialogue and prose are becoming unignorable. This is two so called sanderlanches in a row to miss me. I think I may be past this series. I certainly am if he can't find a better editor.

Media consumption isn't a moral dimension so I'm usually not bothered about reading more SFF than anything else, but I think I need a break from the super popular genre stuff. I need some good prose, some subtlety, some complicated character arcs, and if the author didn't hate women that'd be great too. I dunno. I know the ye olde fantasy tone was always a fictional genre invention with its own foibles but I miss it. I need some characters that don't sound like they'd fit in on a college campus.

[dcrkcloud]

BASICS

NAME: clementine hoffman NICKNAMES: cleo (preferred), clem (family, close friends) GENDER: cis female PRONOUNS: she/her BIRTHDAY: july 12, 1997 AGE: 27 HEIGHT: 5'5" SEXUALITY: heterosexual OCCUPATION: clerk at mango bay record store LIVING: mango bay lofts #1c TIME IN PALM VIEW: since sept 2024

DETAILS

POSITIVE TRAITS: creative, passionate, reliable, flexible, fast learner. NEUTRAL TRAITS: ambitious, dominating, outspoken, hardworking. NEGATIVE TRAITS: cynical, guarded, destructive, self-critical, impatient. FORMERLY: confident, unwavering, energetic, proud, courageous. LIKES: soccer, wired headphones, skateboarding, doc martens. DISLIKES: entitlement, gossipers, closed spaces, most bugs.

HISTORY

Growing up is easy in the Hoffman family. The world is well and truly her oyster and she's signed up for every class under the sun until her heart settles firmly on music. Piano, guitar, vocals; you name it, she learnt it. Her parents and even her baby sister sat out in the audience at recitals, it was clear from a young age that the only place Cleo would ever be able see herself was on stage.

Though she and Maisie were almost polar opposites on everything else, music became one of the few things they shared. Cleo would play the piano while Maisie danced and the world would be at peace for just long enough to forget the arguments over the bathroom mirror or snacks tucked away in supposedly hidden spaces.

Eventually their paths diverged too far to come back from, and whilst Cleo would never say she'd hated Maisie, she'd never be able to understand how vapid the other had grown to be.

Raised the same, yet all Cleo could think about was how unworthy she felt of all the handouts their status offered them. All the classes she'd wasted money on, all the opportunities she hadn't worked as hard for as she should have. She couldn't shoulder the guilt of thoughtlessly taking and never doing anything to prove she deserved any of it. She couldn't stomach the thought of anyone thinking of her as spoilt.

Tirelessly, she put her all into school, recitals, practice. The eventual burnout would be unavoidable, but it almost made her feel more satisfied — to know if she'd worked herself to the point of exhaustion, maybe she's worthy of a fraction of what she's accomplished.

By then, she'd auditioned for likeminded musicians to form an all-girl band together called Blonde Sundays, named after the song Sunday Girl by Blondie. In the years to come they'd make a name for themselves across New York, steadily building an audience before social media sent them sky high with a viral video in late 2022.

Before all the chaos, she fell in love. A man who knew she was tired before her eyes got heavy, who played the mixtapes she made for him until the CDs scratched beyond repair, whom she could find in the crowd at any show, bright grin full of pride. They had their ups and downs like anyone else, but she knew only a month in that this would be the man she'd spend forever with, and in 2023, after a festival performance in Florida, under the hot summer sun, he promised to do the same.

Wedding planning unfortunately proved difficult with her busy schedule. They talked about it extensively and she believed he was okay with waiting, but on a trip back home to see family over the holidays that same year, a conversation with her sister seems to rattle him enough that later than night, he tells her simply that he can't see himself doing this for the rest of his life. It doesn't sink in that it's truly the end until she returns from the studio the following day to find all of his belongings gone from their New York apartment. Countless unanswered voicemails later, she asks her father to return the ring on her behalf.

But the show must go on. And at first it's easy to throw herself into work to avoid thinking about how all her stuff sits in boxes in her parents' home, how the right side of the bed is always cold when she wakes up, how the songs just don't sound the same anymore. The rumours stir up with her attitude on stage and with staff. Entitled, they call her, say she's gone off the rails as an industry insider claims her civilian fiancé is no longer anywhere to be seen backstage.

Come August, she's sobbing mid-song at a festival, barely able to hold herself together. It's the second time Blonde Sundays go viral, and the last time they perform with Cleo at the helm.

Suddenly, she finds herself with nothing but memories. Back at home with her parents, endlessly searching her name on social media over a tub of ice cream, was not where she pictured herself at 27. She can't look at her childhood bedroom without thinking of the career she threw away, and she can't look at New York without thinking of him, so at the end of the summer, she finds herself packing up what she has left and following Maisie to Palmview. If she has to lose the love of her life and her career, maybe she can at least salvage a relationship with her sister.

It becomes obvious very quickly that she's not ready to forgive and forget. Every time she looks at the blinding smile of her baby sister, she's reminded of how easily she had ruined everything. She's trying, sobbing in her bathroom after Maisie leaves, but less than a year isn't nearly enough time to reckon with everything she's been through. But Palmview she likes. The long summer days, the easy breeze, the record store she strong-arms into hiring her just down the street and the farmer's market every Sunday.

So for now, she'll just have to exercise that perseverance that had gotten her everything to pretending she's fine without it. Or something like that.

TRIVIA

Cleo was the vocalist and guitarist in Blonde Sundays, however she can also play the piano and keyboard, as well as a little bit of bass, drums and violin. She's also proficient in her chosen music production software due to producing both their early music and her solo music since being removed from the band.

All that to say, Cleo does still make music regularly. She has steadily built back up how often she posts on her social media, from just plain photos to short covers and snippets of original songs. Though her followers are still high, she has much lower engagement for the most part, but she's at peace with taking it at her own pace for now.

Both Blonde Sundays and Cleo's solo work lean heavily into indie-pop and pop-rock genres. Here are playlists giving a general idea of the kind of sound both the band and Cleo has as a soloist.

A couple months after Cleo's departure, the band reimagined themselves; new name, new direction, and it leaves a bitter taste in Cleo's mouth. She listens to every one of their new releases and seethes because they're actually pretty good. They continue to enjoy stable success.

Each city they visited for the first time whilst performing / touring, Cleo would buy a postcard. They're currently sitting in a box in her parents' house because she still struggles to look at them.

It's a lot cheaper to see Cleo in action now, frequenting open mic nights and karaoke bars, and often found sat behind a piano at any number of fine dining establishments. The money isn't anywhere near the same, and the adrenaline rush is basically non-existent, but it helps her maintain a weak connection to performing so it'll do for now.

LINKS

connections — wanted & established

pinterest

RESOURCES

gif packs #1, #2 & #3

[coconutcanary]

✨✨🪐✨✨

Hey everyone, it’s the Leap Year, that means it Leaper’s birthday. So I did some art of them

That being said, I want to post a personal update on well… *gestures to all of tumblr*

By now I’m sure the news of Tumblr’s partnership with mid journey and other AI art making companies has already spread, it’s bad…really bad

I understand there’s the opt out toggle (which I have already opted out of) but that being said, it’s clear that it’s not even reliable and that the data of my art and posts may be taken anyway despite it. For all I know, all of my posts as far back as 2016 may have already been given to these companies and I wouldn’t know

I have tried so hard to avoid it, I have jumped ship from both twitter and instagram to avoid this issue, but now it just seems unavoidable.

I know there’s AI poisoning tools like glaze and nightshade, however the downloads only work on desktop computers and unfortunately for the time being I have only been able to use mobile devices to make and post my creations. And to use the mobile friendly version of these tools I have to be accepted into WebGlaze via DM’s by their social media staff themselves. And who knows if they will give me an invite, it’s been a few days since I contacted them and I have received no replies yet.

So with that being said, this may or may not be the last piece of art I post here on tumblr. I genuinely hope not, I hope I get access to these poisoning tools soonish. But my hope is practically non existent. The internet seems to be becoming harder and harder for small artists like me to exist in online spaces. And while I barely have an audience, I still don’t appreciate the idea that someone could be profit off mine or my other fellow artist’s stolen work while I can barely muster the courage to even open commissions (or for my friends who do have commissions open and they are barely getting any clients or the recognition they deserve)

I do plan on still being active here, even if it’s just reblogging or liking posts or answering asks, but when it comes to sharing art online I can say that I have to step away from a bit until I know I can post my art knowing it can be exploited without me knowing.

For now the only thing I can say is if you have a toy house account, you can find me and my art there if anyone l still wants to see what I make. And I still plan on participating in artfight this upcoming July as well. But until I get access to those poisoning tools or some miracle happens and AI art dies, I genuinely don’t see myself posting art here anymore.

I will pin a separate post with my toyhouse account on it if anyone wants to follow me over there. I will keep yall updated if circumstances change for any reason though.

But on one final note, if this is truly the end for me and I can’t get the resources, I do want to say thank you to everyone who supported this blog. Either it be my mutuals, my regular followers, or even people have simply liked some content from me. I would have never thought posting fanart of jacksepticeye and markiplier would lead me to meeting the people I have met through this site. Tumblr is what inspired me to make art in the first place, I just feel terrible that even watermarks can’t protect my creations anymore.

While this isn’t a permanent goodbye, all I can do is say good night to my art sharing for the time being. Thank you all again, and to my fellow creators I’m sorry you all are also burdened with fighting this fight against AI and I hope we eventually gain victory on it down the road. Nothing will replace those who genuinely pour their heart and soul into art. No matter how good of a computer can mimic it

[majaloveschris]

And it's not that I don't want him happy or that I want him to end with me; I just don't think she is a good person, and I don’t want somebody I like to end up with somebody I don't consider a good person.///

THIS!!!

👏

I hope Chris looks past the crazies in the fandom because yes they unfortunately exist, but I hope he realizes that if and when he gets in a truly HEALTHY and happy relationship with a awesome woman, this fandom will show support.

He’s been with problematic women which is why many think this is a legit relationship, but this PR stunt chick takes the freaking cake. She and her crew are racist and the reason we’re screaming PR is because he’d hope Chris would NEVER purposely associate with trash like the PT trio.

Also, it’s Chris Evans, the man expresses his emotions freely, if this man was truly in love he wouldn’t be acting like this nor sharing or trying to prove this shitshow to the world. We would know absolutely NOTHING about said relationship and if we got anything it would be an article stating he’s taken and maybe a personal IG post….like ONE not twenty five and it won’t be a freaking story that’s for sure. 😂

This man goes goo goo ga ga over Dodger and you can tell that is the current love of his life. Dude would be happy and smiling, not displaying Arthur fist and putting his hand in his pocket after dropping his hand from hers right after ensuring his photographer got the pap walk and was no longer in distance.

Like you can’t make this crap up.

Anyway like I said when it’s real we’ll be excited for him because that’s what many want, him to find his one and be happy and ensure said woman is good hearted like him, no trolling, not clout chasing, no riling up the fandom. Someone who loves him for HIM and a queen that he will protect and unfortunately he hasn’t gotten close to that yet. I’m sure he’s aware of that too, but who knows.

Mind you, yes there will be obviously be those select fans mad at anyone he dates but that’s not the case for majority and who knows if said woman is great we might start seeing Stan accounts for the two and people in the fandom defending her.

I welcome it. 😌

I'm also pretty sure there will always be people who won't like whoever he dates, but that's kind of unavoidable when you are famous and a lot of people have a crush on you. And yeah, I know he's dated questionable people, but let's be honest, some people will always dislike the woman he's dating just because she's dating him. But as you said, those are just a tiny part of the fandom, and there are a lot of people who would support a relationship if it was with a woman who is a good person.

I agree with you that if it were a real relationship, I don't think he would post this much about it or that we would've gotten that pap walk. Every picture and video are unnecessary since they won't change either side's opinion, and those who don't like or support them as a couple won't start loving them just because of a few scary videos and "lovely" pictures.

I also want him to be happy, and I think a lot of you feel the same way. I just don't see him as happy or healthy. The clout-chasing and trolling parts are one of the things that make this whole thing look so toxic. I don't think they are good people, and yeah, people can change, but to me, it doesn't seem like either of them did. I obviously don't know them personally, so this is just my opinion.

I think he should definitely work on himself. I do think he is a good human being, but I also think he shouldn't let people walk all over him. I think that sometimes he can be too indulgent with people around him, and I think this whole PR shitshow could teach him to stand up for himself and for the things he wants. I do think he wants to settle down, and I'm sure she is looking for a normal, nice woman and for someone who wants normal things like going on hikes or road trips. Who doesn't want to parade in LA every single day. Who just wants to lay low. However, he also needs to work out his issues before he can get the partner he's been looking for. I think he's already done some work, but yeah, you know what I mean.

I just hope one day he finds the person he is seeking. He deserves to be happy.

[fudanshi-joseph]

You are quite opinionated and i like that quality a lot. You are quite mature unlike your previous significant other from what I've read. I don't know as much but from my perspective they are quite pathetic and immature. Unless that is their lifestyle I will not judge. You do deserve justice. They also deserve help to get better. You are quite strong also from my perspective but yet gentle and sweet. Just from what I've read, of course.

-(🗡️)

thank you for all of these things , again ^^ it is appreciated a lot . i have put a lot of work into myself over the years and to know it is noticeable even without comparisons to my old self makes me very happy . i enjoy trying to make myself the best i can be for those around me , even if they are only passersby for a fleeting moment . i still have my flaws and that is unavoidable but i do try to learn from them and keep myself from harming others even in my worst times .

i believe a lot of people would consider me " radicalised " although to me the things i say are common sense , just from lived experience .. i have strong morals and do my best to stick to them . i believe its just the " right " thing to do to .. well , be kind . preferably be nice as well but not in my control . i will also not be afraid to say that im aware morals are subjective , and that me viewing my own worldview as The One True One may be something to be looked down upon , but i hold steady about them nonetheless .

v*ctor is petty and immature and either unable to or refuses to change . he has told me and keeps it public knowledge that he holds no empathy for others and does not see others as " people " , rather something more akin to toys for him to play with , so it makes sense . i will not be cruel about these features of his because they are not inherently " bad " , as no differences in worldview and personal emotional ability outside the " norm " of things is ever really wrong or bad to experience . only what they choose to do with said features , whether to use them as excuses to be cruel or simply stay kind . he is , unfortunately , part of the former group . i believe his immaturity is a mix of both , personally . i really do not enjoy or condone treating peoples mental states as their body age , because it has been used against me and many others as a form of oppression for as long as time , but i do think that him being bodily 14 does certainly affect how he thinks of things nonetheless .

i do not want to say that i do or dont believe he deserves help , because just saying one or the other would be incorrect . i believe both , i believe that everyone has the opportunity and deserves to get better for themselves , because simply put , from experience , life itself is just better when you are not a cruel person and can hold compassion for others , even if you cannot truly feel or care for them . on the other hand , as he has wronged me so and has no intentions of getting better in that way , i do not hold the empathy towards him required to want him to really improve himself or think he deserves to in the first place .

[bloodstaineddarling]

november 2024 book wrap up

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë ☆☆☆☆☆

The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang ☆☆

Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellors ☆☆

The Ballad of Never After by Stephanie Garber ☆☆☆☆

Days of Blood & Starlight by Laini Taylor ☆☆☆☆

Phantasma by Kaylie Smith ☆

Kobieta, która kochała owady by Selja Ahava ☆☆☆

All Fours by Miranda July ☆☆☆☆

Pits & Poison by R. Raeta ☆☆☆☆

Well... this month was an interesting one for reading... On the one hand, I read a lot, but on the other... was it good? There were definitely some gems, but also far more flops than I could tolerate. To be fair, the last few months were exceptional reading-wise, and we all know the occasional flop is unavoidable, maybe even necessary, to truly appreciate the good when it comes. Still, I can’t wait for the year to be over. December is all about finishing what I’ve started, and I’m already excited about the stories I'm planning to dive into in 2025!

But let’s rewind and talk about this month’s highlights and lowlights...

Jane Eyre was phenomenal! It's easily one of my favorite reads of the year. Honestly, I loved it even more than Wuthering Heights. The atmosphere (gothic - love), the characters (jane- she's just like me fr), and the depth (It's still so relevant today)—it all clicked perfectly for me.

I buddy-read The Poppy War with a friend, and unfortunately, unlike her, I didn’t enjoy it. I had high hopes for a 5-star experience, but there were just too many things that didn’t work for me. By the time I finished, I thought I’d let it go and not continue the series, but… my OCD won’t let me leave things unfinished. Plus, a part of me is curious about how it all unfolds. Maybe I just read it at the wrong time in my life? Either way, I’ll be pushing forward, maybe even this month.

Then I FINALLY finished Cleopatra and Frankenstein—it took me almost a year. Honestly, it was just... meh. The cover claims it’s 'for fans of Ottessa Moshfegh and Phoebe Waller-Bridge' .... don’t piss me off. I made a separate short post if you want to read more about it.

Next up were Days of Blood and Starlight by Laini Taylor and The Ballad of Never After by Stephanie Garber

I decided to focus on wrapping up some fantasy series I’d started earlier this year, and these two were solid sequels! I’m so excited to see how both series end. Also, can we talk about how underrated Daughter of Smoke and Bone is? I know it’s an older series, but why isn’t anyone reading it? It’s so unique, weird, and even a little gross—and I love that!!!!!

Phantasma... I don’t even want to talk about it. I keep seeing people give it high ratings, and it’s just pissing me off.

Kobieta, która kochała owady (Nainen joka rakasti hyönteisiä) is a Finnish novel that had been sitting on my shelf for about a year—it was a Christmas gift from my brother—and I finally picked it up. It was… okay. Not amazing, but enjoyable enough. Sadly, as far as I know, there’s no English translation yet, so I won’t go into detail. But if you love “weird girl” literature, this fits right in.

All Fours by Miranda July... Oh boy. I need to read more of her work. Lucy Dacus described her writing on Goodreads as making her feel like she’s “allowed to exist,” and I couldn’t have put it better myself. This book was a fantastic exploration of monogamy, marriage, aging, menopause, parenting, and sexuality—with just a sprinkle of madness. Absolutely brilliant.

I wrapped up the month with Pits & Poison, a second book in a duology Peaches & Honey, and let me tell you—if you have Kindle Unlimited, go read it now!! This is what I mean when I talk about romantasy. It’s a fantasy series heavily centered on love and romance, but it’s not riddled with cringy, unnecessary smut. The romance felt real. I believed in their love. Everything just made sense. That’s what I want from romantasy. The first book might’ve been my favorite ? but overall, it’s a beautiful series I’d recommend to anyone who loves romance and fantasy (historical fantasy). I’m obsessed with how well it all came together. It was a breath of fresh air!

[tiredelirium]

D.13

My thoughts may be more of a rambling today than they have been so far. Sudden development of colds out of nowhere mixed with the responsibility to actually wake up at a reasonable time in the morning makes for a somewhat out-of-sorts head space.

I’m not responsible for a lot of things. One part a lack of desire. Two parts laziness. One part circumstantial. Three parts missing know-how.

What this means is that I don’t usually take care of myself very well. I think part of that is the dislike I have about myself at times. Dysmorphia comes and goes, but I rarely, *truly*, like the person I see in the mirror. Unfortunately there’s a lot of mirrors in my house so that is unavoidable.

I read recently that our babies, in order to grow properly, need to be held and played with a lot more than I would’ve thought. Apparently this translates to adults too, so it’s plausible that because I don’t have anyone like that anymore - for hugs, hand holds etcetera - that it may affect my mood more. Basically, I may be lonely and sad more often simple because I haven’t had physical contact with others.

I think that’s deeply sad in it’s own way, but also a beautiful truth of the human condition - if it’s a truth at all and not just a pretty lie someone made up.

I could believe such a lie, though believing the lie doesn’t mean I’m magically going to make more contact with others. To do so would require both confidence and comfortability in oneself that I’ve lacked on a fundamental level for a long time.

I hope I could reach a point in the future where that happens but it’s unlikely.

They say in therapy that admitting what you’re feeling is the fastest course to getting better, or at least one of the first steps. I’ve admitted plenty of times that I’m not happy, but saying you’re not happy isn’t the same thing as saying you are sad.

The reason behind the name for this blog being tiredelirium is the combination of Tired and Delirious. I’m always tired, on some level, throughout my daily life. Whether it’s physical, emotional or just energy. Delirium is inherent with the tiredness. It comes and goes, just like my own opinion of myself. Sometimes you can be so delirious that you unfocus completely from the world around you, snd aren’t really sure whether you’re thinking or not. Just existing in a space that feels so alien to you.

Nobody asked to be born. To have conscience of the world around them. To be a part of something strange and alien.

Yet here we all are.

Existing on a tiny rock floating in a cold void that seems lifeless save for us.

But that life is so rich and full and fleeting. Isn’t that so silly. Life’s too short, and yet trying to live your best life in such a span is the hardest thing in the universe.

Even though existing in the first place is an unbiased miracle.

[thedamselzelda]

The Izanami Gambit

Featuring: Beast! Dazai Osamu

Summary: Italy had failed to awaken any dreams or hopes within you, but when a certain enigmatic stranger ignited deep, irresistible desires, the idea of shifting your allegiances became tantalizingly unavoidable. How could you not consider a different path when such passion and promise beckoned so enticingly?

word count: 1.6k, fem!reader, reader called Izanami due to ability, mentions reader having violet eyes

~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

You exhaled harshly, turning another page of your medical book. You were so caught up within your troubled thoughts that you couldn't concentrate on the words before you anymore. How could he do this to you? How could Osamu be so selfish, demanding, and expectant of you to just understand his abrupt decision?

"I promise you; it's not going to be as long as you expect, and it'll help you tremendously with developing your ability. Please, just trust me."

He wouldn't even look up from the scattered papers on his desk as he spoke those words, his voice dismissive. You had pleaded, tears threatening to spill from your eyes - an emotional display you rarely allowed. You didn't want to leave, to be torn from the only place where you truly felt valued and wanted. You didn't want to leave him.

You huffed again, aggressively turning the page, the sharp crinkle of paper eliciting a man’s low chuckle. It was melodic, yet there was an underlying coldness to it no matter how much he attempted to soften the sound.

You shot daggers at the man sitting at the table across from you. His dark eyes slowly opened to meet your piercing gaze.

"Does my frustration amuse you?" You snapped in Italian, before glancing back down at the medical tome, trying to regain your composure.

His voice was laced with his thick Russian accent, "Apologies, moy dorogaya, but I do not speak the native tongue."

You scoffed, irritated that you were having to repeat yourself in a language he understood, "My frustration, does it amuse you?"

The man, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit befitting the climate of Russia rather than the mild Italian heat, rose from his table. He sauntered over to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, leaning casually against the chair before you. "And if I said that it did?"

You can't help but smile coldly in return, "You must be looking for trouble then."

You gestured to the vacant seat, and he elegantly pulled the chair out to sit before you, invading your personal space with his imposing presence.

"I must ask, what perplexes you so, moy tsvetok? Something so trivial shouldn't overshadow your beauty."

You raised your eyebrow skeptically. This man was really laying it on thick with the flattery. A coy smile crept upon your lips, "I wish it was simply as trivial as a lover's quarrel. However, it is unfortunately something beyond my control."

"Then make it yours to command," he purred, leaning in closer.

You huffed out a laugh, regarding him with amusement, "And who are you to suggest such an audacious feat?"

He looked down, smiling to himself as if savoring an inside joke. "Once again, I owe you my apologies. How rude of me not to introduce myself properly." He extended his hand toward you. "I am Fyodor Dostoevsky."

You gave his offered hand a curious look before meeting his piercing gaze once more. You simply stated your name before letting your eyes fall back to the safety of your book, attempting to disengage.

"Ah, so you're the Port Mafia's Izanami I've heard so much about," Fyodor murmured, his fingers twitching slightly as if beckoning you to place your hand in his. "You shouldn't be afraid to touch me."

"If you know who I am, then you know the reason for my hesitancy," you replied coolly, keeping your distance.

"I also know you are still under the belief that you cannot control it," he countered with an enigmatic smile.

Your eyes snapped back up to the raven-haired stranger, his words giving you pause. You slowly closed your book, intrigued despite your initial reservations.

He laughed lightly, reaching out to slide the tome away from you. "I see I've regained your attention." He frowned at the cover before setting it aside. "I am simply distraught that Dazai believes he can keep you under his control."

You leaned forward unintentionally, captivated by this bold stranger's apparent knowledge of your circumstances. "How do you know Dazai? And me, for that matter?"

Fyodor mirrored your movement, closing the distance between you as he rested his forearms on the table. "We have simply met in passing, and your name fell from his lips like a prayer to God himself." His piercing gaze bore into you. "If I may ask, why do you follow him so devoutly when it seems you are so troubled by his command?"

You narrowed your violet eyes, confused by the seemingly unending bounds of this man's knowledge about you and your relationship with Dazai.

"Moy tsvetok, if you are this blinded by your love for him, then you will never realize your full potential," Fyodor breathed, his words fanning warmly over your lips as he invaded your personal space further.

You found yourself oddly allured by this bold, enigmatic stranger despite your initial misgivings. He had you ensnared in his web of intrigue, or at least, that's what you wanted him to believe you were.

"What would that full potential be then, mio caro?" You reached out, daring to rest your hand atop his in a display of feigned trust.

His other hand swiftly covered yours, his touch firm yet gentle. "Whatever your heart desires. We can do wonderful things together," he promised in a silken tone.

Your lips parted, desire and indecision warring within you. Part of you wanted to immediately reject this stranger's bold advances. Yet here you sat, hand caressing his, your deadly ability somehow held at bay by his overwhelming magnetism.

"What will it be, moy dorogaya?" Fyodor murmured persuasively. "I assure you, you can get everything you want and more. Dazai couldn't even provide you with that. Look where he has cast you aside."

His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face in an intimate gesture. You stared down at your joined hands, considering the implications of his words - the prospect of freedom from the Port Mafia's control, of being truly unshackled to pursue your desires. However, you did... or had loved Osamu. The thought of betraying him caused your heart to seize...

Dazai couldn't help but shout in frustration after reading over a café worker's recount of your interaction with Fyodor. He had already pored over the letter from the villa's mistress, noting her description of you packing your belongings and threatening to not inform Dazai about your departure until a week later.

What were you thinking?

"Honestly, fuckin' forget her. Not like she could get back in here to do anythin'. I've already blacklisted her," Chūya scoffed from across the room.

Dazai looked up sharply from the papers clenched in his white-knuckled grip. "You what?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Chūya stood away from Dazai's desk, leaning casually against the bookcase next to Gin. The young woman jumped as Dazai's fist slammed against the wooden surface with a resounding thud.

"I never asked you to do that," he gritted out, shooting daggers at his second-in-command. Dazai sighed, shaking his head in frustrated acknowledgment - arguing with the hot-headed Chūya would be futile. "Just go. Both of you."

Gin bowed hurriedly before rushing out, not daring to linger with Dazai's temper flaring. Chūya, however, remained defiant despite the order to leave.

Dazai snatched up a cigarette, lighting it and inhaling the acrid smoke with a shuddering breath in a vain attempt to calm his rattled nerves.

"What's so special about Izanami that she's got you like this?" Chūya sneered, stepping over to press his palms against the desk as if to physically assert his dominance.

Dazai's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something more complex - an emotion Chūya couldn't quite place. "You wouldn't understand, and for once, I don't mean because of your ignorance."

Chūya tsked dismissively at the barbed insult, pushing away from the desk in a fit of pique. "Just forget the bitch, Dazai. You can't be the boss and worry about—"

"Don't call her that!" Dazai exploded, shoving his chair away from the desk with enough force that it collided against the bookcase behind him with a thunderous crash. "I'm done discussing this with you, Chūya! I will handle this myself!"

Chūya recoiled a step, realizing he had pushed too far. With a curt nod, he bit out, "Whatever you say, boss." Turning on his heel, he stalked out, leaving Dazai alone to grapple with the turmoil of thoughts swirling in his mind.

He grasped onto the maroon silk scarf resting upon his shoulders, rubbing it between his thumb and fingers to sooth himself, to ground himself from the overwhelming thoughts and foreign memories.

Within every potential universe the Book allowed him to glimpse, the outcome remained relatively consistent. Even in realities where Fyodor attempted to sway you, to turn you against the Port Mafia, you had always remained unwavering in your loyalty. Dazai had sent you away temporarily, not because it was a necessary step to help you grow into the full extent of your formidable power, but because it was the script he had to follow, dictated by the Book he had made contact with.

Dazai's eyes raked over the scattered papers once more, his throat tightening as realization struck him like a physical blow. He finally understood what set this current universe apart from all the others - in this existence, you no longer wished to merely survive. You craved the freedom to embrace life on your own terms, unfettered by the Port Mafia's control or his own selfish desire to keep you by his side, a desire fueled by the strong love he harbored for you.

In this world, this façade of a world, you longed to be separate from your ability. You craved to no longer be a notorious bringer of death. 

~ next part | LBH masterlist | BSD Masterverse

Author Chat: One last Happy Birthday to Dazai! I'm posting this last little bit for the day, as I'm currently rewatching BSD. :)

if I forgot to tag anything, please let me know. I hope this little teaser helps with Death Becomes Her a little bit, but it won't reveal everything of course.

Thanks for reading, and repost if you liked it please! <3 DamzelZelda

[insaneillusionist]

I think part of the reason I'm scared is because I don't change for people. And that's not really always the best thing. I'm always myself, but I'm not the most considerate. And the scarier thing is not being able to change for myself. Wanting to be kinder, more considerate, more hard-working, better, but not actually changing. There have been so many times where I've just wanted to be someone else, but I always forget and just can't manage to do it. One of my friends called that a strength because a lot of people change themselves for everyone else, but I just can't do it. Sometimes I wish I could stitch my mouth shut so I'd never speak again. And I can't disappear into a new persona. I have to create one, and then kill off the person here. And I can't live after that, can't be in control, or it will all break down again. People always say to show who you truly are, to not hide behind a mask, that people will like you as you are, but is that really true? Do people just get attracted to this ideal of growth, to being trusted? There's no mask for me to take off, no pillar to be seen instead of me, no blinding aura. I'm just me. And I hate myself. I don't hate a mask, I don't hate a warped reflection, I hate myself. What is there for anyone to want? I can't lie to myself, can't pretend to be someone better, can't promise to grow, I'm a stagnant creation. I was meant to be some ideal, out of reach yet still comprehensibly mortal. But those parts of me are easy to reach now, and those flaws are still chaining me. People say to look on the bright side, but when you're the shadow tainting your existence, what are you supposed to do? I don't hate a specific part of me, I hate all of myself. And none of this is salvageable. Some people are scavengers, finding themselves, and I'm a rotting corpse, my stench of decay growing stronger until it is unavoidable. The image, the macabre, might seem fascinating at first, but after a while, it becomes a regularity, a pain, something horrifying but in a different way, in one that cannot be romanticized. And when you see something plainly, well, what can you say that isn't the truth? What can you see that isn't the truth? A rotting corpse is a rotting corpse, nothing more. It's not that the person who used to be the corpse is better off dead, they're better off gone altogether. An unfortunate outlook on the world. Lady Justice may be blind, but I wasn't blessed with those eyes.

[k00296066]

Disrupt

to me, disrupt referred to the disruptions that i had witnessed in my college accommodation. moving from a very small village in roscommon to a populated area like limerick was a huge change. i went from living with my parents and my dog to living with a group of students whom i had never even met before. i found that solid and lasting friendships could be made but disagreements were unavoidable. a lot of things happened in the first semester that really showed that we all were young and prone to making mistakes. some things caused more of an issue than others like when my housemates friends destroyed our house and slept in my bed without permission. some things were much more personal like the comments one of my housemates made about me that were really unkind and his throwing out of some of my pieces of art. however, i acknowledge that i, too, was part of the problem at times like when my friends would take drinks from the kitchen that belonged to others.

i began my project exploring the disruptions of peoples features hoping to learn more about the art of caricatures and cartoon-esque drawing. yet i felt this aspect wasn’t really inspiring me and i kept getting stuck in a rut. i took a risk and looked at other avenues. i thought about how i was trying to draw those around me, the people i lived with, and then i thought about how they could be disruptive instead of me disrupting them. i think we can all agree that a house full of 17, 18, and 19 year olds is truly a house of disruption.

the idea to create road signs with cautions based on the disruptions in our house came to me just after my birthday party. there was an incident in the house where our couch was used in a way that none of us wanted it to. one of my housemates joked, saying “we need to find a way to stop this from happening again” and i answered “i should make a sign”. my housemates agreed that it would be very funny and useful if there was a sign and i thought it would be a perfect way to take my project to the next level.

my favourite sector of art would have to be typography. i remember beginning to learn about it in art class in secondary school and immediately falling in love. i’ve always loved recreating fonts and even making new ones. i knew signage was a great route for me as it had an aspect of language and typography with the phrases written. i really enjoyed trying to replicate the writing on signs and seeing what different fonts looked like on a regular sign.

i spent a lot of time looking at road signage from driving almost 3 hours down to college every weekend and also going on walks, photographing what i’d see. i loved the vibrant and contrasting colours and how they created a striking image in a landscape. i used my photographs to help me when i’d make a sign to make sure it would look realistic. at one point me and my friends tried to acquire a real sign from the side of the road but unfortunately our heist was cut short because the boot of my car was not big enough. this actually led to me playing with scale and making a 3D sign out of cardboard that was actually taller than me. it was really interesting seeing what a sign would look like in such a large scale when i compared it to the smaller signs i had made. i thought about the meaning and how maybe bigger signs could mean there was a bigger problem.

i looked at a lot of different artists and designers to help with my work like kathy predergast, margaret calvert, and tracey emin. i felt that i really related to the work of these artists and found similarities between the meanings of our work. margaret calvert proved to be a huge help as she was credited with creating most road signs. i also found a lot of inspiration from books in the library. i checked out many on colour and on international forms of signage. they were very interesting and provided a basis for my sign work.

in conclusion, disrupt became almost a self reflection for me. i was able to see what me and my housemates were doing wrong and try to rectify it in a comical way. i really enjoyed creating these signs and learning about how original road signage was made. if i had more time i think i would try levelling up my signage and possibly creating metal ones with vinyl on top. i think vinyl printing would be an interesting skill to learn. id also like to look more into photography and expressing my artistic view through photos of the disruptions in my house. i would also try to almost interview other people and see what the disruptions of their college accommodation would be. i found a lot of people felt my project was actually quite relatable. it would be interesting to see which accommodation has the most disruptions, and possibly make a map of the worst spots, similar to kathy predergast’s ‘lost’.