#Bright Moon Omen

[leaffsheep]

Had a Good Omens themed dream last night where I watched s2 and the only reason why I woke up was because I realized “EVERY” didn’t happen 💀💀

[deliasmilkshake]

☀️FNAF DCA x Y/N Fic Recs🌑

All of them are DCA x Reader Fanfics. NSFW fics will have a 🔞sign (I tend to like those that have plot and/or have fluff <3)

Inspired by: Pillowspaces' DCA Fic Recs.

Each I've read and made me fall for Sun&Moon all over again.

If you see your fic, you can ask for it to be removed if not comfortable with it being here.

PLEASE check each fics tags before reading them.

Last updated: 23/Sept/2024 [Gave Naff's two mer fics a doodle]

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☀️Solar Lunacy by BamSara (AO3 account required)

Same body!Sun/Moon/Eclipse x Staff!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @bamsara]

You weren't a technician, you weren't a security guard, you weren't a daycare assistant. You're just an employee. Staff. The ‘jack-of-all-trades’ employee with mediocre at best skills and specialty in none, tasked with doing miscellaneous jobs that robots couldn't do and human staff couldn't care to. The job is unpredictable, but it pays good and it's relatively easy.

Except for the part where all the animatronics are more sentient than you thought, and you're roped into a mystery surrounding the Daycare Attendants, who are bit too curious about you for your liking.

You don't think this was in your employee contact.

| Words: 225,814 | Chapters: 16/?

🌑Love, Death and Rollerskates by Spadillelicious

Rollerskater!Sun, Janitor!Moon, Metalstar!Eclipse x Staff!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @spadillelicious]

After moving to Crescent City in the 80s, you pick up a job at the local roller rink Party Planet. Ironic, considering roller skating is definitely not one of your talents.

On the bright side, you get to work with the friendly Sun. On the other hand, you also have to interact with the gruff janitor and security guard Moon on a daily basis.

But when staying after hours one day, despite being strictly instructed not to, you find out a terrible secret that changes everything you knew about Sun, Moon and Crescent City forever.

| Words: 98,091 | Chapters: 18/?

☀️Celestial Sundown by clutterspace

God!Sun, God!Moon, God!Eclipse x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @pillowspace]

There was something slumped beneath a tree, and you had no idea what it was. The sunlight shone brighter where it laid, despite the leaves above not differing from any of the other foliage.

It was such a small thing to notice in comparison to everything else, but it brought a small hysterical giggle out past the lump in your throat as it finally clicked in place what you were seeing.

It was a god.

You are a peasant living in the middle of the woods, Sun is the god of day you brought back home with you, and Moon is the god of night tucked away in the Celestial Realm.

| Words: 83,805 | Chapters: 7/?

🌑Celestial Omens by BamSara

Siren!Sun, Siren!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @bamsara]

When you are ten years old, you find two creatures, bloodied and injured, trapped a net on the beach near your home. You save them, make friends with them, and return them to the sea, leaving you to wonder later if your friends with the Sun colored scales and fins that shone like the full Moon were real or imagined up by a childhood of loneliess.

Time passes. You hear stories of monsters, Sirens in the water, one that is a good omen if spotted, promising your safe voyage as long as you respect the rules of the ocean, and one that sinks ships and eats people for fun. Just folktales meant to scare children.

A decade later, they return the favor, though they don't plan on leaving you so easily this time.

| Words: 36,318 | Chapters: 3/?

🔞The Pizzaplex Nighttime Mechanic by crickyluv

Same body!Sun/Moon, Glitch!Eclipse x Mechanic!Reader

~~ [Sun Design by: @crickyluv, Yn,Moon&Eclipse: Me & @crickyluv]

You finally got the job as the nighttime mechanic at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex! Unfortunately, you get a double shift. At least you get to spend time fixing the animatronic you knew best: Sun!

This is a slow burn that eventually turns into NSFW. There is a TON to get to before the spice comes.

| Words: 213,892 | Chapters: 47/?

☀️In Deep Dreams Between the Waves by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Mermaid!Eclipse x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

You see a fish, but the fish isn’t really a fish, because he looks up at you with big yellow eyes, wide with fright. Large black pupils dart around frantically. He’s small, less than half your size, which surprises you. You know mers are supposed to be big sea monsters that sink boats or cause storms, but you don’t see a monster. You think of a baby while staring at his chubby round face, creased with fear, and his small tail.

| Words: 55,644 | Chapters: 5/5

🌑Song Fish Amid the Stars by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Mermaid!Sun, Mermaid!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

This is a type of sequel to In Deep Dreams Between the Waves.

A pang hits your heart, going out to the little fish struggling to escape the cruel and entrapping lagoon.

But they look like mers. Sea monsters.

| Words: 69,362 | Chapters: 6/6

☀️Sleuth Jesters by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Detective!Sun, Detective!Moon, MafiaBoss!Eclipse x Vigilante!Reader

~~ [Yn,Sun&Moon Designs by: @sunnys-aesthetic, Eclipse: Me & @naffeclipse ]

“If I may, Detectives, I believe that the score is set at a tie on how many times you’ve both let me slip away under your watch.” You grin at the sun and moon like faces of your opponents in this game of cat and mouse. The narrow slice of Detective Moon’s gaze becomes threatening, where Detective Sun curls and uncurls his fingers in anticipation of whatever scheme you’re concocting.

| Words: 174,134 | Chapters: 15/15

🌑Pisces Caelestis by S_V

Mermaid!Sun, Mermaid!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @sortvaniliekrans]

Underneath the glowing eyes, a great maw opened to hiss at you, baring several rows of needle-like fangs, wicked looking and sharp and also glowing in the blacklight. As the thing hissed, the cries started up again, more frantic this time, and accompanied by- it almost sounded like scratching?

And it was coming from behind you.

The bleeding creature had never been the one wailing.

| Words: 76,588 | Chapters: 13/?

🔞Demon support by Megafacts

Demon!Sun x Demon!Moon x Human!Reader

~~ [Designs by: @megafactuals & Me]

You decide to try and summon a demon to destroy the world as a big bang to end all of humanity. Then earn the lavish life you wanted when you went to hell.

Instead you get two small demons who say they can satisfy your very desire, except the desire you called them for.

Bull. Shit.

| Words: 10,801 Chapters: 2/?

☀️Cryptid Sightings by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

Cryptid&Animatronic!Sun/Moon x CryptidHunter!Y/N

Perhaps this would scare a person, being all alone in the woods in the dark, but not you. You’re too intertwined with the paranormal and inexplicable. It’s in your blood. That doesn’t mean your heart won’t pound with terror when you face something with fangs and hungry eyes for flesh, but you don’t run away, and that’s what matters most.

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

You will face the monsters.

| Words: 253,823 | Chapters: 21/21

🌑Apex Polarity by NaffEclipse (AO3 account required)

SirenOrca!Eclipse x Photographer!Y/N

~~ [Designs by: Me & @naffeclipse]

n the Arctic, all is beautiful and cold and lethal. You tread over ice and underneath, a dark, powerful siren stalks you. Though you try to resist, you succumb to the lure of the mer and his decision to have you.

How do you survive an apex predator?

| Words: 125,998 | Chapters: 12/12

🔞Love for the endangered by Megafacts

Seahorse!Sun x Seahorse!Moon x Researcher!Y/N

~~ [Designs by: @megafactuals & Me]

You worked as a researchers for endangered species at a sanctuary.

One day, two of the newly discovered seahorse merfolk species come into the sanctuary after being caught in a net left in the ocean. Instead of releasing them back to the wild, the upper ranks at the sanctuary decide to use them for a breeding program.

Over the next few months you must decide to help your new friends escape or force them to spend their first mating cycle trapped inside of the sanctuary.

| Words: 28,299 | Chapters: 2/2

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If you have any fic you wish to recommend me, please do!

Though that will not guarantee it entering this list.

[megalony]

You're Not Leaving

As promised, this is my new Dark! Evan Buckley imagine, requested by anon. Thank you for this idea I loved it and any dark Evan requests I'll happily try and write them. Let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) tries to walk away from Evan, she knows his obsessive nature is out of control. But after a drunken night, she finds her way back to him and realises leaving a second time isn't going to be easy.

Enjoy.

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"What do you want, pal? You've been following me for the last five blocks."

Simon turned to look over his shoulder, hunching his shoulders up as his lips crinkled in distaste and panic.

Who was this guy? Why had he been following Simon since he left that bar? If he was looking for a hook-up, he had the wrong person in mind. And if he was looking for a fight, Simon wasn't the type to go round brawling with strangers.

It didn't help that the moon was barely visible behind the shimmering clouds and the street lights were as dim and helpful as a single match.

The man continued to stalk over until he was one foot away from Simon. He had broad shoulders that seemed to expand for miles and his arms were almost ripping through the thick denim jacket he wore that wouldn't even button up around his chest, he was that heavily built.

He had a heavy frame that made his shoes bash and stomp against the pavement, announcing his presence to anyone within listening distance. His hands were stuffed into his jean pockets. His face was freshly shaven, giving him a youthful look and his hair was perfectly cut into short strands that were just starting to curl and crimp at the ends. He didn't look as if the midnight air toussled his hair or touched him at all.

His eyes were the worrying factor. Simon couldn't tell what colour they would have been in the bright midday sun. But here in the darkness of the clouds, the man's eyes were raven black with tiny, glimmering flecks of white like miniture moons captured within each eye.

He looked manic.

"I want to give you a warning." His voice was smooth like velvet, with just a tiny frayed edging to it that cut through the air as sharp as a blade.

He took a step closer, hunching his shoulders higher and tilting his head down due to the height difference. The stranger was easily over six foot and he towered over Simon like a bad omen of death, here to take him down to the underworld.

"What?"

"You need to leave (Y/n) alone."

(Y/n).

The girl Simon had just been on a date with? The girl he had just parted ways with at the bar only ten minutes ago?

Why would this stranger need to give Simon a warning about (Y/n)? Why was he warding him away from her?

She was the one who had asked Simon out again tonight. They met in a cafe two weeks ago, went on a date last week and had been on a second date tonight. She was the shy type. The type of girl who had her face buried in a book and her soul hidden behind protective layers that took time to scrape through and see the girl hiding beneath. Who was this man, to her?

"I don't understand-"

"Then I'll simplify." Evan latched his fingers around Simon's throat before he could finish his sentence. He dug his short nails into his neck, pinched his thumb over his pulse so he could feel the artery in his neck throb and ignite with panic.

His left arm moved to pin across Simon's lanky, thin chest and with very little effort, Evan shoved him back against the brick wall behind him.

He squeezed his throat just tight enough to have tears welling up in his eyes and cause his lips to part in panic. He struggled for breath, gurgling and gasping as Evan pinched his throat so he only had partial use over his airways. He needed him frightened and compliant. He needed Simon to listen to what he was going to tell him and to heed his warning carefully.

"On your next date with (Y/n), you tell her you don't wanna be with someone like her. She's not your type. And you leave her the fuck alone."

"W-why?" Simon's voice was nothing but a gargle, a cat mewling in the midnight air. Begging for someone to walk past and see this altercation and help him. To get this freaked stranger off him before he crushed his windpipe or strangled him to death.

"Because she's mine."

Those three little words were as dangerous as a gun being aimed in his face. They were fire and ice, life and death, sun and moon all combined together in one big combustion.

(Y/n) was his. She was Evan's girl.

And he didn't care if she instagated this date or not, another one wasn't going to happen. He wasn't allowing this guy to take his girl away from him.

She wanted a break. She took a step back from her relationship with Evan, but he knew she would come running back to him when she realised how deeply he loved her and what their relationship meant to them both. She walked out of their flat and had been living with a friend. She didn't know Evan was still checking on her, making sure she was okay, that she got home from work safely, that she wasn't meeting strangers and getting herself into trouble.

He had left everything in their flat the way it was, he didn't move her clothes or their pictures or her hairbrush or anything in the bathroom. He was wating for her to come back. She hadn't taken a lot of her stuff with her and she hadn't come back for the rest yet, clearly she wasn't finished with their relationship like she pretended she was.

"After you break things off, I don't want you near her again. If you so much as look at my girl… well, I'll have to get creative."

The smile that formed on Evan's lips was more than frightening, more than sinister and much worse than pure terror.

(Y/n) was Evan's girl; his one and only. She was the one for him and he wouldn't have anyone else trying to hurt her or take her away from him. This guy needed to stay away from her for his own sake, or Evan would have to take more drastic action to make him pay attention to the rules laid out before him.

When Simon started to bash his hand down on Evan's wrist and then his elbow to try and gain some air, Evan obliged. He loosened his grip enough to let strangled gurgles leave Simon's lips as he gasped for breath.

"Understand?"

"Y-you're derranged-"

With a shake of his head and a chiding click of his tongue, Evan grabbed the hand that was about to land a very frail attempt at a punch on his jaw. In one swift motion, Evan bent his index and middle finger back until the tips of his fingers were touching the back of his hand, earning a howl from Simon at the same time as a sickening crunch tore through the air.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes! Fuck! Yes, j-just let me go." Tears drenched Simon's face as he pleaded and nodded his head until his neck ached and felt like his head was going to drop off.

He understood. He was listening. He knew his orders. He would stay the Hell away from (Y/n) if this guy was going to be hovering around her like a bad omen. He would stay away from her. He didn't need this kind of trouble and he wasn't getting involved in whatever mess she had going on here. This unfinished business had nothing to do with Simon. He wanted nothing to do with it.

Evan said nothing, but his smile was satisfactory. He took two steps back and watched with a grin as Simon slumped down to his knees like he was praying to the Devil himself.

He seemed to have learned his lesson.

Now all Evan had to do was stand back and wait. He knew (Y/n) like the back of his hand. She would come back to him in no time, and he would be waiting.

***

Swaying on her feet, (Y/n) leaned forward until her left shoulder banged into the familiar doorframe. Her right hand wavered and made the keychain hooked on her thumb jingle out a strange tune.

She tried her best to fiddle with the keys, but the chain wouldn't unhook from her thumb and her nimble fingers were trembling too harshly for her to find the right key. She had too many on the chain. Why did she even keep the key for the apartment in the first place?

This wasn't her home anymore.

She hadn't been back here in almost a month. She hadn't stepped foot inside, not to collect her clothes or her books or her jewellery or the little nicnacs she had made and was rather proud of. (Y/n) was too afraid to come back and bump into Evan in the process. He would make it harder to leave, and walking out with a small bag of clothes had been the hardest thing she had ever done in the beginning.

A groan tumbled past her lips and she slumped her forehead onto the cold wood, relishing in the way it cooled down her burning skin and relieved the headache pounding in her temple.

The chain finally unhooked from her thumb and when the metal sang as it collided with the floor, (Y/n) bashed her hand limply against the door.

"Evan?" His name trembled past her lips like a song she was too afraid to sing in fear of the consequences it would ensnare.

Evan loves you. That's why you're here right now. He's going to take care of you.

It was all (Y/n) could process.

If she wasn't drunk to the point of passing out, (Y/n) wouldn't have come back here to the place that still felt like home. The place she had moved into after only two months of dating Evan.

If she weren't drunk as a skunk, (Y/n) would have told herself some cold, hard truths that would make her turn around and go home.

Evan is obsessive.

He checks your phone. He won't let you go out alone without him. He won't let you take a phone call in another room.

He needs an exact schedule of your day, your week, your month so he knows every movement you make. Keeping you safe is his priority, but smothering you is the cost that comes with it.

He thinks you're the one for him and if you leave, the world will end. He is always anxious about you leaving him, it fuels the fire burning inside him and makes him controlling.

Give me your phone! Where are you going? Why don't you want me to go with you? Why won't you tell me where you're going? Can't you see I need to look after you? I need to keep you safe! Too many people get hurt in this world and I have to protect you. I can't let you leave. Why won't you let me look after you? Where are you going?!

The alcohol blocked out all of those thoughts. The vodka made them blurry, the shot of whiskey watered them down. The cocktails turned them into sludge and washed them along the river. Everything drained out of her head until the only thing left was the one truth (Y/n) could conceive. Evan loved her, and she needed some love tonight.

"(Y/n)- hey, you okay?"

When the door opened, (Y/n) didn't realise how much weight she had leaned onto the door, or how heavy her head was. Until the door opened and her body slumped forward like a pendulum.

A broken gasp broke past her lips but her head met with a hard, familiar chest that smelled like leather and pine. Her wet lips pressed into a cotton shirt that felt like the softest cloud beneath her skin and she almost started to kiss it. Her arms curled around a familiar waist that was broad and large and stocky. Her very own weighted comfort.

A large hand softly planted down on her back between her shoulder blades and the chest took all of her weight for her as if she weighed nothing more than a bag of sugar.

"Hi,"

It was clear the moment (Y/n) tilted her head back and pressed her chin into Evan's chest that she was drunk. Her eyelids were halfway over her eyes which were blown wide with pupils that were dancing around like stars. Her lips spread into a wide, lopsided grin and the soft, laboured breaths she took showed how drunk she had gotten tonight.

Saying nothing, Evan pressed his lips to the top of her head and let go of the doorframe so he could take a step back. He kept his arm curved around her waist and let her slump against him and stumble inside their flat.

Once the door was closed, Evan made quick work of bolting it shut and drawing the chain across before he looked down at the girl in his arm who melted his heart.

"Are you okay?" Evan's voice was as soft as melted butter and it made heat rise to (Y/n)'s cheeks and had her smile turning cheeky and flushed and embarrassed.

He did care. Evan was the only person in the world who cared about her. The only person she could rely on, despite his obsessive, protective tendencies that frightened her. What was fear compared to the love he made her feel?

"Can I stay with you? I d- I don't wanna be alone… or with Lacey." (Y/n) hiccupped through her words but her arms tightened around Evan's waist until he took a sharp breath. His eyes were enamoured by her and he took the time to drink in every inch of her that he could. He drank in her plump lips that looked even softer and thicker than the last time he kissed them. He was having withdrawal symptoms every day just thinking about those lips.

He raked his eyes over the dress she was wearing. Dark blue. His favourite colour. Did she dress up just for him? Did she know that off the shoulder look was going to aggravate him into wanting to rip that material off her arms and ravage her right here in the hall?

Did she know that it started to flutter around her thighs and stick to them when she started to sweat? Did she know not wearing any tights just gave Evan a better view of her plump thighs that he wanted to lay between until the world ended?

(Y/n) didn't want to go back to Lacey's apartment where she had been staying since she left Evan.

She didn't want to go there where her friend would already be in bed and she would be alone with her thoughts and the drowning knowledge that nobody wanted her. Simon broke it off with her. Two dates was all it took for him to say she wasn't his type. She seemed clingy. He couldn't get into another relationship right now. He wasn't ready for that. For her.

The only place (Y/n) could think to go that would make her feel comforted and loved was here. Her old home, with Evan. With someone who worshipped the ground she walked on and would love her like she depended on him to breathe.

"Then you'd better come in." Evan's voice was comforting and quiet and rolled in one ear and out the other, but in a good way.

He slid her bag off her shoulder and slung it on the second hook on the wall that still had her denim jacket and her raincoat hung up. He curved his arm tight around her waist and dug his fingers lovingly into her hip while he leant down and slid her high heels off her aching feet.

When she got drunk, her mind would wander. She sought the reassurance she couldn't get the courage to find when she was sober. She clung to Evan like her world, her life, depended on him. She kissed him and attached herself to him and became clingy and needy in such a way that made Evan feel like he had taken a dose of ecstasy and was on top of the world.

He knew he was needed when she clung to him and kissed him and ravaged him and begged him to tell her everything was okay. To tell her that he loved her.

He guided her towards the kitchen until (Y/n) turned to face him.

Her arms bound tight around his waist until her hands were on his upper back and he could feel her nails scratching through his shirt. She tilted her head down and suddenly smothered her face into the centre of his chest, squishing her nose against his sternum and fanning her hot breaths against his skin that was getting flushed already.

"Missed you." She murmured softly into his chest, so quiet that Evan almost missed the words. But they made him grin.

Simon had done as Evan had asked. (Y/n) had come back to him. Evan wasn't going to let her leave again.

"I missed you too, baby."

Evan kept his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist and moved his left hand to cup the back of her neck. His head tilted down until his lips and nose were smothered in her hair and he breathed in the scent of her lemon shampoo that drove him wild.

He swayed them both from side to side, feeling the way (Y/n) grinned into his shirt and he was sure she was starting to kiss his chest too.

"Don't wanna be alone…" Her voice was as quiet as the evening breeze drifting by outside. And Evan felt each word vibrate through his chest and into his heart. She knew he would never let her be alone. He would always look after her and shower her with love and show her exactly how much she meant to him.

That was why she was here. She was here because she didn't have the strength or the willpower to stay away now she was drunk. Her defences were down and she couldn't fight herself to stay away from Evan. She wanted to be loved and Evan was more than ready to do that for her.

"You're home now, you're not gonna be alone."

Moving his hand around from her neck to her face, Evan gently pinched her chin between his thumb and finger and lifted her head up from his chest. He wanted to see her. He wanted to look down into her eyes and see the stars that twinkled within them. He wanted her to look at him like she always used to; with love and adoration and wanting.

His thumb brushed across her lower lip and he tugged it down, noticing the dark patch in the corner where she had anxiously bitten a layer of skin off.

He couldn't resist any longer. He crashed his lips down against hers, tasting the infusion of vodka, whiskey and all sorts of alcoholic combinations on her sweet lips. His tongue battled against hers, winning the fight easily and stealing the gasp she elicited into his mouth.

His fingers crushed down around her hip as if making sure she wasn't a figment of his imagination trying to tease him.

Their lips parted for all of a second, just enough for (Y/n) to draw in a sharp breath to push away the dizziness in the front of her mind. And then his lips were back on hers, savouring her taste, drinking her in, swallowing her whole and consuming every inch of her that he could get.

When he walked her back, (Y/n) stumbled along, letting him drive her in any direction he wanted until her back collided with the kitchen wall.

A groan bubbled up in her chest but Evan swallowed it down, crashing his teeth against her lower lip until the metallic taste of iron trickled onto both their tongues.

Her heels scraped against the floor to keep herself upright and a dull ache throbbed in her shoulders and the back of her head when Evan kept her head tilted back and pushed into the wall. But he kept her pinned in place with his hard chest that collided with hers and crushed her between him and the wall.

His fingers roughly let go of her chin to glide back round and cup the back of her neck, curling his fingers into her hair so he could give a sharp tug and tilt her head up to be more at his level.

(Y/n) finally found some control over her limbs and wiggled her arms out from around Evan's chest so she could loop them around his neck instead. Her fingers dragged over the back of his neck and raked up, scratching against his skin until she felt him shivering against her and groaning into her mouth.

"Evan…"

She wasn't sure what she was asking him or trying to convey, but it didn't really matter. Evan seemed to have complete control and (Y/n) was more than willing to surrender to him.

Her heart rocketed in her chest and she felt adrenaline pooling in her stomach and travelling down her limbs when his hands moved. He let go of her neck but the way his chin pressed into hers kept her head tilted at just the angle he needed her in to keep devouring and biting her lips.

One hand travelled down until his fingers were splayed out in the middle of her back, pressing her chest fully against his so there wasn't even a membrane of space between them. But it was his other hand that (Y/n) started to focus on. His fingers scrunched up in the hem of her dress that had already ridden up her legs and became glued to her thighs.

With one sharp tug, Evan raked her dress up over her thighs until it was bunched over her hips, exposing her black laced underwear.

She gasped for air when Evan finally released her sore, bruising lips and though her fingers stayed curled around the back of his neck, she watched him tilt his head down. His chin pressed into his chest and his head leaned to the right so he could get a look at the underwear she was wearing.

The smile that formed on his lips was devilish and made his blue eyes darken three shades.

He hooked a finger into the lace and pulled it back, watching with glee as it snapped into (Y/n)'s hip and made her jump forward against him.

"Come're." His growl made (Y/n)'s knees go weak and she could feel herself about to slide down against him into a puddle on the floor. But his hand secured around the back of her thigh, dangerously close to her underwear and he gave a sharp pull. He lifted her leg until she hooked it over his hip and when he pulled, (Y/n) took the hint.

She lifted her right leg over his other hip and let him hoist her up onto his torso. Her arms bound tighter around his neck and she took the opportunity to smother her face against his neck while his fingers dug deeply into her thighs which would leave bruises in his wake in the morning.

(Y/n) let her hazy eyes fall closed and breathed in Evan's scent that felt like another wave of alcohol washing over her, intoxicating her to the max. Her wet lips started to create hollow kisses up and down from his shoulder up towards his jaw. And when she grazed her teeth over his skin, a dark hum vibrated through Evan's chest and made her stomach jolt.

She realised he was walking out of the kitchen and he lifted her higher on his hips so he could make quick work of climbing the stairs.

(Y/n)'s head started to spin and she opened her eyes, watching the light fixture spin in clockwise circles above her when Evan laid her down on the bed. The alcohol was starting to take a different kind of effect. She didn't want to keep her eyes open but the room continued to spin even when she closed them.

She could feel her hands trembling against the back of Evan's neck and she clung to him tighter, breathing through her nose to clear her head.

She almost whimpered when he unhooked her hands from his neck and started to retreat down her body. She thought he was leaving her. Maybe Evan thought she was too drunk and was going to let her sleep it off.

Electric sparks flickered through (Y/n)'s thighs when Evan laid on his chest between her legs and started to place open-mouthed kisses along her inner thighs. She felt his fingers hook into the top of her underwear and her head spun faster when he slowly dragged them down her thighs and flung them somewhere in the room.

"I'm glad you came back, baby." Evan was more than glad, more than relieved, more than grateful that she was back.

And he wasn't going to let her leave again.

***

Oh God, what had she done?

(Y/n)'s limbs felt like bars of gold when she brought a hand up to rub across her eyes and try to open them properly. She was thankful for the blackout blinds in the bedroom. They stopped the light from blinding her this morning and showing off her shame.

She could feel her heart rocketing up into her throat, closing off her airways when she looked down at her chest.

It wasn't a dream. Nor was it a vague memory. She had slept with Evan last night. The proof was Evan himself, wrapped around her like a blanket.

His head was laid comfortably in the middle of her chest, his nose tickling her skin and his sandy curls swept across her collar bone. He had both arms curled around her like she was a teddy he was clinging to in his sleep and his body was resting comfortably between her legs. Well, Evan seemed comfy. (Y/n), on the other hand, was aching. Her hips were bent outwards to accommodate him resting between her legs and from how stiff her joints felt and how accustomed she now felt to him laying on her, (Y/n) guessed they had been like this all night.

She didn't mean for this to happen.

(Y/n) didn't want to end up in bed with him like this. It wasn't what she planned. Hell, she didn't even plan to go back home with Simon after the date they were supposed to have last night.

Crawling back into bed with Evan only made this sticky situation worse because it made it that much harder for (Y/n) to walk away from him for good.

(Y/n) dropped her hand from her face and let her palm rest on Evan's shoulder and the touch made him groan into her bare chest.

He was always a light sleeper. (Y/n) could never walk out on Evan during the night because he woke at the slightest sound. If she moved in bed, his arm would suddenly secure around her and bind her to him like fate keeping them together. If she tried to get up before him, he would wake up and pin her down to the bed.

Trying to make a quiet exit this morning would be impossible with him laid on her like this, and something told (Y/n) this was part of the plan.

"Morning." Evan's rough, gritty voice sent shockwaves through (Y/n)'s system and woke her up immediately.

She stayed perfectly still as Evan moved his arms so his hands were planted down on the mattress either side of her arms and he turned his head to kiss her collar bone delicately. His lips worked their way up her skin, making their own path along her neck as he crawled up her body and hovered over her.

Hovering over her like this allowed (Y/n) to take a proper breath, but it also let her feel every ache and bruise she now had. Her shoulders were tense, her thighs were aching and surely bruised and she didn't want to look and see what marks Evan had left down her neck and across her chest.

"Here, take these for the headache."

(Y/n) didn't see him move and she stayed still as Evan pecked her lips and dropped a packet of painkillers on the pillow beside her from his bedside drawer. He knew exactly how rough she would be feeling and she figured she didn't look her best self either.

Her eyes followed him as he slowly climbed off her, shrugging on his boxers before he headed downstairs to the bathroom.

She didn't want to move. Her head was still pounding and when she sat up, the room tilted at an angle and sent her head swaying from left to right.

She had to leave.

(Y/n) had to be quick and leave the room before Evan managed to keep her here. He was the kind of person to pin her to the bed and distract her or he would wrap around her and sweet-talk her until she gave in and stayed here with him.

It was for her own safety that she had to leave.

Her legs trembled when she slumped off the bed and took a look around. Wearing last night's clothes wasn't an option today. (Y/n) had no idea where Evan had thrown her bra or underwear last night. And when she leaned down and picked up her dress, her lips pressed into a thin line and she dropped the material back down to the floor.

Evan had ripped it. As she tried to think back, (Y/n) had a vague memory of his hands roughly yanking the straps off her arms and tugging it down her waist. If she closed her eyes, she could hear the material shredding and the threads pulling apart.

"Thanks, Evan." She huffed to herself and shuffled towards the wardrobe in the corner of the room.

Everything was still in its place. (Y/n) thought Evan would have bagged everything up when she walked out. She thought he would have binned her things or bagged them so she could come and get them later. But she should have realised he wouldn't move anything. He wouldn't get rid of her things because Evan wanted her to come home, he would leave everything as it was because he didn't take no for an answer and he didn't believe their relationship was over.

In haste to try and make a quick escape, (Y/n) shrugged on some underwear, a bra, a pair of jogging bottoms and one of Evan's shirts. Somehow, despite all of her clothes staring her right in the face, she picked Evan's attire.

It's easier. It's quicker. Getting dressed in his clothes was quicker than fiddling with one of her shirts or dresses or fighting with a pair of tight jeans.

Her hands shook and her head pounded as she ignored the painkillers Evan had found for her and hurried down the stairs. Her eyes cast around the room to try and find her purse. She wasn't sure where she left it last night, or where her shoes were. Walking home in high heels was going to be a killer.

"What's the rush?"

His voice rattled (Y/n) down to her core and she spun on her heels to find Evan stood leaning against the wall in the hallway.

"I- Evan I'm sorry… I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have come round last night-"

"Yes you should. You came home."

She couldn't help but cringe at his words. Technically, (Y/n) did come home. This was her old home. This was the only home she had so far, she hadn't gotten around to taking her name off this flat. Her post still came here, her job still thought this was her address and she hadn't found a new place to rent on her own.

But (Y/n) couldn't stay here. She couldn't get back into this predicament of telling Evan where she went every time she had to leave the flat. She couldn't handle the constant messages and calls and how he would glare and push her behind him if anyone tried to talk to her that he didn't know.

She couldn't handle his obsessive nature that was getting out of control. She turned into his possession instead of his partner. She felt like someone under twenty four hour observation who couldn't take one step out the flat without Evan knowing where she was going and who she was going to be with.

"I'm gonna go-"

"No, baby, you're not. You're not going anywhere, you need to stay with me."

Evan moved within the blink of an eye and a croaky gasp left (Y/n)'s lips when his hands found her waist and her back suddenly hit the wall. Her eyes snapped closed and she couldn't bite back her whimper when her already aching body pinned into the wall.

"Evan I can't." Her voice was feeble and she knew he didn't believe or listen to her words. And when his lips attached to the side of her neck, (Y/n) pushed her arms into his chest and scrambled out of his grasp towards the door.

It was locked. Her fingers shook as she unhooked the chain across the top of the door but when she flung her hand in the dish on the side cabinet, she froze. The keys weren't there. Evan always kept his keys in the dish so if he had to leave in an emergency or for a last minute shift, he could always get out on time and as fast as possible.

Where were her keys? She still had her key to the flat on her keys- oh no. She dropped them last night. She didn't unlock the door, Evan had unlocked it last night to let her in.

"Where are the keys? W-where's my bag?" (Y/n) darted her eyes around the hallway but she could feel her heart dropping down to her stomach like a stone sinking into a lake.

She couldn't see her bag, she knew she had come over with her bag because it held her phone, her purse, her ID, her work ID badge. Everything important was in that bag and she had it on her last night when she went out. She must have come over here with it. She knew she did. What was Evan up to? What was he doing?

"Evan… what are you doing?" She was almost too afraid to ask.

Her eyes followed him as he pushed off the wall, dragging one rough hand across his lips and down his chin and jaw. The action was so slow and methodical that (Y/n) couldn't help but shiver. She watched him stalk closer to her, his hair askew in all directions, his muscles tense and free on display. The only piece of clothing on him being the boxers hanging dangerously low on his hips.

"I told you you're not leaving." Evan's hand was unusually soft as it curled around her upper arm and he slowly dragged her away from the door. "The only way that door will open, is if this relationship is patched up again. Otherwise, you're staying exactly where I can see you."

Bile rose in the back of (Y/n)'s throat and she shuddered as his words started to sink in.

He wasn't going to let her leave.

He had locked the door and hidden the keys. He had plugged her bag away somewhere in the flat so she couldn't find her phone and call for help. Their apartment was on the fifth floor, (Y/n) couldn't climb out the bedroom window or get out onto the balcony and find her way down to the ground without risking her life.

The only way she could leave was by finding the keys and risking making a break for it. Or by agreeing to work things out and getting back into a relationship with Evan.

(Y/n) took a step back but when Evan stalked closer, he looked just like a demon coming to claim her soul. The light from the balcony windows shone across on him and created a halo of light around him while his face and chest basked in darkness.

He advanced towards her, following her as she moved past the kitchen and stumbled into the living room. Her eyes swept around frantically, trying to search for anything she could use to either defend herself or break the lock on the front door to get out. But all she could focus on was the photos littering the apartment.

Dozens of them. Evan with his arms wrapped around her. (Y/n)'s cheesy smile as Evan rested his chin on top of her head due to their height difference. A picture of them both with Chris and Eddie on a day out to the zoo. A picture of them at Christmas. One of them with the team at the summer party a couple of months back.

Each photo showed how strange their relationship could twist. In half the photos on the walls, Evan simply had an arm around (Y/n) or his hand on her back. But in others, he was wrapped tightly around her like a predator trying to squeeze the life out of her and keep her safe and secured to him. No one else would be able to notice, but (Y/n) could tell which photos showed Evan in one of his manic moods.

His eyes always gave it away.

"Evan… baby, please don't do this. I was wrong to come over last night… I stayed the night and I hurt you-" (Y/n) cut herself off when she saw the way Evan's expression changed.

"You came home. Come on (Y/n) you admitted you missed me and I know you still love me. Let's talk."

Biting her lip, (Y/n) found herself nodding and she backed up towards the sofa and slumped down just as her trembling knees started to give way beneath her. She coiled her arms to her chest and flopped her head back on the sofa, but her heartbeat quickened when Evan sat down next to her.

He sat so close that their knees were touching and when he laid a hand on her thigh, she didn't have the nerve to pull away.

The way he tipped his head back so casually almost made (Y/n) feel like they had gone back in time to when they first bought this flat almost half a year ago. Back when (Y/n) didn't feel like she was smothered, like she was someone's possession and when she thought Evan's expressions of love were the best things in the world and life couldn't get any better.

"I never said I didn't love you," (Y/n) spoke quietly, her eyes focusing down on her hands that stayed rigid and frozen on her lap.

Her words seemed to have the opposite effect, although (Y/n) wasn't sure what kind of effect she was hoping for. But his hand on her thigh wasn't it. She felt like shrinking back and disappearing, but her body stayed motionless even as Evan leaned closer until his face was inches from hers.

"I want you to stay." He spoke as if (Y/n) didn't know that. She knew he wanted her to stay here, stay home, stay with him. The locked door gave that message away loud and clear. "You belong with me, you know I love you and I'd do anything for you. Anything."

Anything but let her go.

His lips attached to the side of her neck and when his chest merged with hers, (Y/n) couldn't stop him from leaning his weight onto her. She let him carefully push her back into the sofa and pin his hands near her head and the other next to her hip. Caging her in beneath him. Binding her to him.

"Tell me you'll stay. Tell me you'll come home to me." His words sounded like a command, something (Y/n) didn't want to disobey in fear of how he would react if she said no.

What choice did she have? She couldn't leave if she didn't agree, Evan wouldn't let her. She couldn't say yes and then disappear, Evan would find her. She couldn't start a new life without him, he wouldn't allow it to happen. And no one else seemed to want to be around her or in a relationship with her.

Evan did. He was here, he loved her, although he loved her far too much for his or her own good, he still loved her unconditionally.

When he worked his way up to her lips and stole a gentle, tepid kiss, (Y/n) watched his face hover over hers. She locked her eyes onto his blue orbs and felt his nose nudge against hers. She felt his breaths entwining with hers, his lips tickling hers as they barely touched, barely parted. His fingers dug into her waist. His chest pressed down on hers, his heart beating rapidly in tandem with hers.

"Tell me," He murmured against her lips, stealing another kiss. Then another, and another until (Y/n) felt positively drunk again and she couldn't think straight.

"I'll stay."

[sorceresssundries]

The Stars of Simril

Pairing: Gale x Tav (gn)

Summary: Gale and Tav sit together on the night of Simril, stargazing and storytelling. SFW.

Find it on AO3

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: This was all @alpydk's beautiful idea!! All I did was try and breathe a little life into it. I hope you like it.

'Simril was chiefly celebrated after dark, when the stars were visible across the sky. Celebrants located stars associated with their own births, or with their ancestors. Those without a lucky star could purchase star maps from merchants to help divine which belonged to them, based on when and where they were born. Cloudy weather was considered especially favorable on Simril, as finding one's star on an overcast sky was viewed as a blessing from Tymora. Simril was celebrated outside, with people trying to stay awake the entire night gathered around bonfires with plenty of music, food, and warm drinks.'

Gale Dekarios sat atop an old, abandoned rooftop underneath an obscured night sky and thought of his mother. Back home in Waterdeep, the city would be alive with laughter and music, the streets would be filled with the chiming joy of children energised by the thrill of the nightlong festival of Simril. They would eat sweets, dance to music and no doubt be fast asleep in the arms of relieved parents before dawn broke. But, for a little while, bedtime was a burden for tomorrow and tonight was for finding stars and receiving blessings. 

Ever since Gale was a boy, he and his mother had their own cherished tradition. The stakes were simple but high - the first to spot a Dekarios star would earn a silver shard, to be cast into the harbour waters with a wish. Gale's mother had always assured him that wishes made under the family's lucky star on the night of Simril were destined to come true. Gale would win every year, and it was only now he was alone, he realised it was because she always let him. It pained Gale to think that, year after year, he had wished for new magic, power, or knowledge. All he wished for now was the warm familiarity of home.

From down here, the vast expanse of space appeared serene and tranquil. It was almost impossible to believe it held a symphony of life echoing through the planes. Perhaps, he pondered, there existed another soul on a distant world, beneath another clouded sky, gazing upward and thinking of their mother. He hoped so. It made him feel a little less alone.

“Care for some company?” Gale turned to see Tav at the top of the ladder, clutching a bottle of wine and two glasses. He should have known they would find his hiding spot. He supposed taking a blanket up to an abandoned rooftop in the wilderness wasn’t exactly subtle. He was glad Tav found him. 

“Only if it’s yours” he said with a smile, and turned his face back towards the sky.

“You’ve picked a poor night for stargazing” Tav placed themselves on the blanket next to him, and their familiar, comforting woodsy scent wrapped round him and reminded him of the giant bonfires which would send smoke up to the star-speckled Waterdhavian sky. 

“Ah, that is where you are wrong.” He looked at Tav with a glint of magic in the warmth of his eyes. “A cloudy sky is a good omen on the night of Simril. If you manage to find your star when the sky is overcast, you are granted a blessing from Tymora. The lady of luck herself.”

“Your star?” Tav laughed but was not surprised. If anyone was to have ownership of a star, it would be Gale. 

“Every resident of Waterdeep has a star associated with them. Chosen based on birth and ancestry. Mine is up there, somewhere.” His voice sounded wistful, and Tav knew he was aching for his home. They didn’t say anything, just joined him in his silence and waited for him to continue.

“Some years, the sky was so clear and stars so bright you could practically breathe them in. As a child, I would spend the whole evening with moon-filled eyes and lungs full of stardust. I would stay up all night and watch my star, thinking it belonged to me.” Tav thought they saw a shimmer in his eyes, but it was quickly blinked away. “How odd, to think of the naiveties we grow out of; to think there was a whole person fighting through sleep to hang his small childlike hopes on a star that was never his.”

Tav let the moment sit, and considered their own past. “I wish I had a star” they whispered with soft longing.

“Well then, come on!" Gale rose to his feet, extending a hand to lift Tav up beside him. With a graceful sweep of his hand and a whispered incantation, he commanded the sky to transform, shedding its veil to reveal a pristine expanse of stars shimmering above them. Though they remained on their rooftop, it felt as though the heavens had opened up just to grant them a few hours of unobstructed wonder. Gale's voice was a soft murmur as he turned to Tav, excitement flashing in his eyes. "Let's find you a star."

“Isn’t this cheating?” Tav laughed “I thought part of the custom was to find your lucky star in spite of the clouds?’

“Let’s make our own luck shall we?”

Positioned behind Tav, Gale gently placed a hand on their waist, the warmth of his touch grounding them as they both gazed up at the celestial display. With his free hand, he began to trace a path among the twinkling lights, pointing out constellations that clustered together like families. He explained the stories behind them with the bright, clear confidence of someone who knew them by heart. He painted the night sky with the vibrant hues of mythology and wonder.

He spoke of Belnimbra's Belt, a constellation of five stars named for the legend of the first human female to have been turned into a swanmay. He recounted how she was relentlessly pursued by Lathander, God of the rising Dawn.

His hand swept across the Galleon Nebula, and his arm tightened around Tav’s waist as he spoke with soft reverie about how it is two million miles long and resembles a celestial ship forever destined to row itself across the sea of night. 

He told of the tragedy of Cassima, a maiden who was accused of evil witchcraft and burned at the stake. Selûne took pity on her, and transformed Cassima into a phoenix to rise in glory and join her in the heavens. Her star still flames bright in defiance of those who condemned her.

After he finished, he ran his hand along Tav’s bare arm and lifted their hand with his own to point out unmentioned stars.

“Pick one, and it’s yours” His voice was a delicate promise. “In hundreds of years time, lovestruck fools will tell your heroic story under a cloudy, Simril sky to enchant their beloved, and the other stars will flicker with envy.”

Tav blushed and nudged him playfully. “I’m no hero, wizard. Just a lost soul”. The sky, which to Gale was a memorised book of well-loved stories in a familiar language, was to Tav nothing more than a blank canvas of light and mirrors, blinking their own loneliness back at them. Tav knew as little of the stars as they did their own past.

“I don’t know anything about my birth or my ancestors, or even the stars. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well, then it’s lucky you’re with an astronomical expert.” He pointed their entwined hands at a small, clear light a little way apart from the larger groups. The slightly brighter of two stars so close they almost looked like they were touching. 

“What about that one?” Gale was holding Tav so tightly now it could not be described as anything other than an embrace. Tav could feel the steady rise-and-fall of his chest against their back, and the rhythm of it calmed their dancing heart.

“I like that one, what’s it called?”

“Not all of them have a name yet, that one is unclaimed. A clean slate. All yours.” his thumb stroked Tav’s wrist as he brought their arm back down, and he wrapped himself around them fully. “Of course, you will have to be ok with sharing a little bit of the night sky” Tav thought they felt a soft kiss against their hair. “I picked the one right next to mine.”

Tav didn’t say anything, but Gale felt a warm tear fall against the skin of his arm. They stayed there for a while, stargazing, until the dull ache of tiredness started to crack through Gale’s illusion. Soon it would be the end of Simril, and the start of a new day. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your lucky blessing” said Tav as they descended the ladder. 

“That’s ok.” He offered with the warmth Tav’s company had re-ignited in him. “Who needs lady luck, when I have you looking out for me?” 

“Speaking of which!...” Tav said with excitement. “I found a whole collection of enchanted rings buried in the village, so you should be set for a while..” 

The two of them walked together back to camp, laughing and chatting with the ease of two people falling in love - their hands occasionally brushing against each other, mirroring two almost-touching stars which had just appeared, faint and winking, in the sky above them.

Back in Waterdeep, A tired Morena Dekarios stood at Deepwater harbour, looking up at the distant light of her son’s star. Not as bright as it had been, nor as bright as it would be. But still there, nonetheless - defiant and hopeful. She cast a silver shard into the moonlit water and wished that, somewhere, her son was safe and cared for.

[climbthemountain2020]

Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met

Part 1/? | Ao3

I was momentarily and violently possessed by the spirit of Taylor Swift to write this Feysand

Biggest thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher @cauldronblssd and @rosanna-writer for the best betas a gal could ask for!

[In a world where the Archerons never lost their fortune, fate finds Feyre on the night of a masquerade ball.]

The sun was setting low and bright over the horizon of the lake while Feyre brushed out her hair, her hips leaned casually against the side of the stone railing of the balcony to keep her balance. Before too long, the nights would begin to bring a chill into the air and it wouldn’t be as easy to stand out here and marvel at the colors in the sky. But here at the end of September, the breeze was still balmy enough to skirt over her exposed shoulders like a soft blanket.

The upper register of the sky was turning a deep navy, the stars already sparkling like diamonds. They felt familiar and comforting to her, as they always did. Lower, the blues bled into a menagerie of lavenders, periwinkles, and the lightest, brightest pinks. She wanted to paint the colors so badly, lay them one by one onto a canvas until they merged together seamlessly. The colors reminded her of the smooth interior of a seashell her father had brought home once from a trip. Feyre kept it on her dresser, touching the glossy bridge of it every so often, holding it up to her ear to hear the sounds of the waves lapping the shore, though she’d never actually been to a beach herself.

She sighed, letting the arm with the brush fall to her side and flipping her hair back over a freckled shoulder.

The moon was going to be large in the sky tonight–a good omen for the masquerade in honor of Elain’s twenty-first birthday. If Feyre leaned far enough over the edge of the balcony, she could see the twinkling lights that spread across the entryway to the estate, glowing brightly and welcoming the already-surging crowds of nobles. Though she couldn’t see them from where she was standing, she knew from careful preparation how magical the lights looked, reaching criss-crossed over the main pathway up to the massive oak front doors, though Feyre couldn’t see them from here.

Despite all the shining luster, she felt her elation ebbing like the tide in her chest.

These hosted events were nothing new, but Feyre had trouble getting excited for them anymore. Something about them felt so shallow and empty–forced laughter, fake smiles–it was always the same. The same people, the same conversations, and the same…nothingness that followed.

Elain and Nesta enjoyed them well enough, though you might not know it by Nesta’s face or attitude. The two were born and bred for high society. In theory, Feyre had been too, but something had always been different. She’d taken the same lessons, been born of the same bloodline, suffered the same teachers, and fumbled through the same etiquette courses. But, still, something felt different about her.

A half-wild beast.

Nesta’s favorite insult. Yet, in the quiet privacy of her room, Feyre wore it like a badge of honor.

She would sit on her balcony often, long after the manor was asleep, and stare up at those same smiling stars, dreaming about the stories in her books, and wondering if, in some other lifetime, she was the one slaying dragons, riding horses, and falling in love. She dreamed of wielding the weapons that the guards tossed around so effortlessly in the yard, her fists clenching and unclenching with the want to hold them in her hand. She dreamed of the bow and arrows so vividly that sometimes she woke up feeling as though her arm had been drawn back at the ready, the golden eyes of some animal in the snow flashing brightly in her mind.

But, at the end of the day, Feyre understood her role. She knew her place here, even if she hated it. She’d have gone down swinging and fighting if it weren’t for her sisters, but she knew she’d never forgive herself if she ruined their chances at a life they wanted for her own selfish wants.

So, she allowed the soft dress to be pulled up her body, the corset laced so tightly she could barely breathe. She let the long, golden tresses of her hair be pulled into a braid–nothing efficient or practical, but wispy and loose and lovely. She let them apply powder and blush to her cheekbones, only to roll her eyes to herself knowing she’d be wearing a mask anyway.

Her mask was a glittering mass of crystals inlaid on the softest navy fabric, the tops of the gems twinkling brightly as she turned it in the light. She’d seen the mask in a shop in town and couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It had reminded her of the silent nights spent outside, and she hadn’t been able to leave without it. She may have hated getting dressed and paraded for these events, but at least she’d have chosen one aspect of her presence this evening.

She slipped into the satin shoes, and she listened to them click, click, click down the stone and marble of the halls on her way to the foyer.

The manor smelled magical, the air filled with sweet, sharp, and savory spices from across the world. Her father always returned from his expeditions with barrels of the best foods, cans of spices, and wooden boxes of the loveliest, most exotic teas. Their house regularly smelled of some beautiful delicacy or another, but on nights where events like this took place, the whole manor was awash in the smells, and Feyre always liked that best.

The loud rise of voices became nearly deafening as she reached the massive set of stairs in the entryway.

As she looked down, she could see Elain and Nesta already socializing and doing their duty. Elain was floating like a butterfly around the room, twirling her skirts without even meaning to and catching the wandering eyes of every eligible–and ineligible–man in the room. Elain was effortlessly beautiful and charming–a perfect fit in this life–all soft, rounded edges and sweet sighs. Her mask was a soft, brushed suede in a light brown, the gems rounded up and shaped to mimic the face of a doe. Fitting, for every bit of Elain was that beautiful, gentle, cushioned etiquette that high society expected of her.

If Elain was the cushion, though, Nesta was the pin.

Nesta had dressed in black and red tonight, the ruby gemstones of her mask catching the light and reaching out like the wings of a great creature around her face. Her silver eyes cut across the room, daring any man to come closer. She looked as though she was ready for war, and in truth, she might be. The expectation weighed heavily on Nesta to marry, and soon.

Even Nesta’s calculated coldness couldn’t combat the pressures of society for much longer. She may be cold, but with money and a noble name came the burden of responsibility. Even with her reputation, the men had been lining up for her for nearly two years already. The time she had left was running out. While Feyre knew Nesta did not care one bit for the implications of being an unmarried noble, Nesta knew the consequences for her family and her name were she to be labeled as unmarriageable, and she wouldn’t dare harm Elain’s reputation in such a way. And, in addition, Elain had been breathing down her neck, anxious for her turn and knowing that she could not step forward for a marriage offer until Nesta had accepted one herself.

Feyre sighed as she reached the bottom of the steps, turning immediately to the back walls behind the circle of pillars surrounding the foyer and leading out into the main ballroom. The estate was absurdly large–so large, in fact, that as a child, Feyre had spent years discovering rooms she’d never even seen before. It was a gross misuse of money, from her point of view, but it’s not exactly like they could give rooms to the needy. She had suggested it once as a child, and her mother had their governess strike her for it. Their mother might be long dead, but her lessons lingered into their lives.

As Feyre passed the great doors, the strung-up lights again caught her eye, glowing against the backdrop of the now deep-black sky with the woods behind them. Something stirred within her.

Go. Go see.

But she’d long felt that pull to the woods. She’d also long learned to ignore it for the sake of propriety.

She ribbed at Nesta and Elain often for their expectations, but she knew someday they would fall to her, too. She was nineteen now, and once her sisters had been paired off, it would be her turn to find a nobleman who she’d be handed off to and expected to run his home and birth his children until she died.

The thought was almost enough to send her running to the woods.

Feyre could barely hold a conversation with any of the insufferable, pompous pricks for more than five minutes; she wasn’t sure how she would ever be able to warm one’s bed long term. But she saw her life for what it was: a gilded prison where her options had been predestined, planned, and chosen for her the minute she was placed as a squealing babe in her mother’s arms and declared a girl.

Feyre grabbed a drink from a passing server, sipping it delicately and letting the bubbles settle on her tongue and in her spirit, calming her as she walked into the wide open ballroom and began to skirt around the walls. She’d need to limit it to just the one–she had a tendency to drink too much at these events, and she notoriously could not handle her drink well.

If Feyre was honest with herself, she had wondered more than once what it might be like to meet a handsome young man who was more than the surface-level idiots of the rich families. Not that she was one for a vulnerable moment, but as beautiful as these parties were, they were just the same, old, tired faces again and again. In her bed in the dark, she’d thought more than once what it might be like for a handsome prince like the ones in the books she’d hid away from her governess by shoving them in her mattress to come and whisk her away for something more–something wonderful. Not just for the love story, but for the adventure, too. They’d run off arm in arm, him setting her on a horse by his side to roam the wide world beside him, never behind.

She continued along the curved wall, watching the crowd of twirling bodies embellished in jewels and brightly embroidered threads. She could be in her room, painting the colors swirling together across a canvas, instead of being here and watching it all pass her by.

Abruptly, Feyre stopped in her tracks, the air stolen from her lungs as though by force. She’d been hiding in the near-shadows as the others danced in the light. But across the room, almost entirely encased in shadows of his own, a pair of violet eyes met hers.

Feyre felt as though she’d been punched in the chest, her entire world narrowing in on the singular raised brow attached to those beautiful eyes, staring directly into her soul as though asking have we met? He seemed to hesitate, to recognize her almost, his hand raising nearly imperceptibly as though to wave.

Had she imagined it?

She could almost hear the voice now as she took a tentative step in that direction, closing the gap as she made her way around the room.

Come. Come see.

Silky and smooth and low, like warm honey in a cup of tea, like the burn of whiskey in the swigs she’d stolen in her father’s office. He pushed off the wall and walked towards her, looking quickly to the sides as though to check if anyone else was watching. His approach caused her heart to thunder wildly in her chest.

Come see.

As they approached each other, the gap closing with each step, she was taken aback by his overwhelming beauty. His hair was the color of raven’s wings, softly catching the light of the chandeliers above. The rest of him that wasn’t covered by his mask appeared to be carved out of stone, his chiseled features sharp, but kind. Those beautiful violet eyes up close sparked like they held a galaxy within them, the glittering reminding her of the patterns of the gems in her mask.

This is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

His lips arched up at the corners as though he’d heard her.

Impossible.

He looked familiar as he passed behind each of the marble pillars lining the room, the swirling and twirling of dancers in her periphery not breaking her focus for even a moment. She was a woman possessed, all her energy focused entirely on this beautiful stranger, only steps away. She felt a strangely familiar comfort as they closed the last few feet between them. She was sure she’d have remembered someone like him.

“Hello, darling.” His voice nearly knocked her breathless again as he took her hand in his, sketching a bow as he pressed his lips to her knuckles delicately. The touch of his skin to hers was electric, the currents coursing through her veins like lightning and fire and shooting straight to her chest where they swarmed and tore like bees in a nest.

She must have gasped, her body reacting before her mind could catch up, because his lovely twilight eyes locked on hers, a brow quirking up again as he stared at her. There was something unidentifiable in his expression–something so wide open and unguarded and vulnerable that didn’t match his raised brows or rakish smirk at all.

Underneath all that, there was something like wonder.

Every so often, his carefully curated expression would tic just the tiniest bit, a strain of his jaw, a twitch of his brow, and Feyre could see something different hiding beneath. Something almost nervous.

“Hello.” Her voice was a curious whisper, full of awe and jittery trepidation, but the smile she was granted in return was as bright as the full moon over the lake outside the manor, and it felt especially reserved for her.

“What’s your name?” His voice was deep and rumbling, the timbre of it shooting to her ribs and tugging briefly, so visceral and real that she nearly stepped forward with the ghost of it.

“Feyre.” There was no use playing coy. She wanted to hear her name off his lips–had never wanted anything more than she wanted it.

She swore she could hear his thoughts twirling the name around in his mind, likening it to the tolling of bells. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Feyre,” he murmured, eyes still full of stars and staring at her. “Fey-ruh,” he mouthed wordlessly this time, as though tasting it on his tongue and savoring it. She shivered to the tips of her toes, her eyes tracking the shape of his plush lips as they moved around the syllables.

“Yes,” she said, embarrassingly breathless. “What’s yours? I don’t recognize you.” The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. Feyre had never been good at the rules of high society, failing even the most basic points of etiquette repeatedly and fantastically. But he seemed delighted, and the thrill of it all kept her heart threatening to pound out of her chest.

“Rhysand. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Feyre.” She loved the way he said her name; she loved the way it fit with hers. Feyre and Rhysand.

Rhysand. Rhysand. Rhysand.

He still held her hand in his.

“Would you honor me with a dance, Feyre darling?” She nodded mutely, still struggling to find words in the wake of meeting this familiar stranger, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

He took her hand in his, his midnight black suit with silver embroidery glinting in the light and catching the reflections like beams of light. Rhysand. She tried the name in her mind over and over again until it felt like home on her tongue.

I could see myself calling him Rhys, warm on a couch, his lips on mine.

The thought came out of nowhere, startling her and making a blush race across her cheeks and up her ears. She must have physically flinched, because she could feel Rhysand almost shudder beneath her hand.

At long last, they reached the dance floor right as a new song queued up from the musicians, a light and sturdy waltz that would allow for space to talk between them. She placed her hands on his shoulder and arms, beginning the steps that she knew by heart. He kept time immediately, almost as though the dance was something he’d also grown up knowing.

“You’re not from around here.” Not a question.

“No, I am not.” He offered nothing more. She scrunched her nose, studying him, and he grinned down at her, his hair tumbling down across his forehead.

“Where are you from?”

“Somewhere further north of here. I’m here for business.” She wasn’t one to ask family names, lest she seem like she was throwing herself at his feet. But his words were so vague she couldn’t help but cock a brow at him. He smiled, a laugh on his lips.

“Hmm, family business. Sounds very serious.” The mocking in her voice was not lost on him, and his smile widened.

“It’s all a bit dicey right now. I’m a little out of my element.” She could surely understand what that felt like, nodding almost imperceptibly in agreement.

“Well, what part of business requires you attending a masquerade in the forest?” She couldn’t help but tease him. the words flit off her tongue before she could bite them down, but she relished his surprise. He seemed to enjoy the teasing.

“Just an errant invite to a nobleman passing through. I make it a habit to know the people in the important families when I travel. You never know what you may find.”

“Or whom.” The words were coy, and his eyes flashed momentarily with something akin to hunger before it cleared.

“This is your manor, is it not?” Perhaps he cared more for propriety than her.

“Yes. I’m Feyre, the youngest. The ball is for my sister, Elain. She just turned twenty-one.”

“Ah, and you?”

“Nineteen. Yourself?”

“A bit older, not in spirit, though.” His grin was heart-stopping, her breath catching in her chest at the sight of it. He was stunningly gorgeous, a work of art. Her fingers itched to paint his face embraced by the night sky, the stars humming and shooting past behind him as though they were alive…

Her thoughts were interrupted by his hands on her waist lifting her into the air as though she weighed nothing, her small yelp bringing yet another flush to her face. She’d lost her place in the dance while her thoughts had wandered, but he just chuckled lightly as he set her back down and they resumed. The music slowed to a quieter number and they readjusted their holds on each other to fit the new tempo, stepping close enough to feel his breath flit across her neck.

“You’re not at all how I imagined you’d be.”

“How you imagined?”

“Just the daughter of a noble family. You don’t act like them.”

She scoffed, then raised herself up a bit on her toes, arching her neck to place her lips closer to his ear, never breaking the slow rhythm of the dance. “Can I tell you a secret, Rhysand?” He shuddered lightly beneath her touch as they swayed.

“Anything.”

“I hate it here.” He laughed, something warm and welcoming blooming in her at the sound.

“I can see you somewhere different,” he said, voice still filled with amusement.

“Hmm, where?”

He pulled back a bit and pretended to think about it while she took in his face again, the mask doing nothing to hide the lovely strong jaw and high cheekbones, his dark golden skin nearly glowing beneath the chandelier lights. He looked like he belonged in the galaxies above them, flying through the night sky like some sort of Angel of Darkness in a painting. The thought brought a thrill to Feyre’s lower stomach that she’d only ever felt in the dark of her bedroom alone at night.

“I can see you outside, somewhere beneath the stars with a clear view of the sky.” Feyre could hear her own sharp intake of breath as she felt it, so she was sure he could too. Perhaps, it should be strange that someone she didn’t know at all could guess something so easily about her, something so intimate.

But instead of fear, the only feeling she could summon was comfort. Had anyone ever really known her? It was nice to be seen. It was nice to be known.

“I’d like that.”

The song came to an abrupt end, spooling immediately into another, more fast-paced dance. Feyre let the mischief flare to life behind her eyes as she grabbed his hand in hers.

“Can you keep up?”

His smile could rival the sun, and suddenly it was all she cared to see again.

He grabbed her hand, his skin warm and comforting against hers, and they launched into the steps for the dance, holding each other–perhaps a bit closer than was expected.

Song after song, dance after dance, the two twirled around the room. Feyre could sense time was passing, but she couldn’t find it in herself to track it or care, the world and people an inconsequential blur around them. They weren’t speaking with words, but it all felt like a conversation in and of itself, their bodies and minds somehow in step with each other, learning one another as his starry, violet eyes met blue. His smile crinkled around his lips, and left the smallest, almost unnoticeable dimples in its wake. Feyre grinned to behold it, and something told her it wasn’t a smile most were lucky enough to see.

She felt breathless, bubbly, intoxicated–and she knew that it was unrealistic to fall for someone so suddenly. It was something she expected of Elain, ever the romantic, but for the first time in her entire life, she imagined what it would be like if someone did make a bid for her hand.

For the first time, she thought about what it might be like to accept.

Please don’t be in love with someone else.

After what could have been hours, the songs began to slow again as the night began to wind down, the lights lower and the people quieter. Their hands regrettably dropped off the other, but Feyre wasn’t ready to let this go, not just yet. She leaned in almost imperceptibly, her whisper just barely a breath on her lips.

“Meet me in the garden? The back side of the house with the lake view.” Then, before she could view his expression or regret her actions, she walked off, very audibly complaining to her sisters that her feet hurt and she was off to bed.

Feyre sprinted down the halls, cutting corners so closely she almost slammed into the walls. She rushed across the marble floors, crashed into her bedroom doors, and flung them open and back shut with an intensity of which she didn’t believe herself capable. She shut and locked them behind her, kicking off her uncomfortable heels, ripping off the beautiful mask, and pushing her loose hair off her face as she strode to the balcony. She’d gone out this way in the night so many times it was like second nature to her now, the light breeze smelling of flowers and earth. She crept down the trellis, feet expertly catching on all the holds until she jumped the last few feet. Feyre skittered to the large stone wall to the garden, avoiding the gate in favor of scaling up the thick, twisted vines, swinging a leg over, and dropping wildly down to the other side.

Nesta’s words once again rang in her head, but if she could see Rhys again, even for a moment, then propriety be damned.

She turned to run but pulled up short with a gasp when she found him already there, nearly running into his chest.

“Hi.” The word was a breathy exhale on her tongue.

“I’ve been looking for you.” His words were soft and quiet in the night, a kind smile already on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners in what appeared to be delight. Without his mask, she could see his lovely face in full, somehow even more beautiful than before.

“Would you like to walk? I can show you the lake.” It was one of her favorite places on the property. Elain favored the gardens, Nesta the copse of old oak trees that were older than the manor itself, but Feyre had always loved the lake. More times than she could count, as a child and even older, she’d had to be dragged from its murky depths. She loved to play in it, the time slipping away as she swam around, played with the fish, and even laid on her back just watching the clouds. Nesta called her a swamp monster, but she hadn’t minded.

Under the light of the moon, she led Rhysand to her favorite lakeside view, a small stone bench beneath the curtain of a weeping willow. Here, she couldn’t be seen from the house, and it was often she’d come here to paint, or relax, or just be left alone.

“Is this your favorite spot then?” He asked coyly, almost as though he’d heard her think it, as she grabbed her skirts up and sat down.

“I like to be alone, more often than not, and it’s easy to come here and buy some time unseen.”

“Unseen, hmm.” He sat beside her, the warmth of his thigh brushing against her own. “Did you take me here to kill me then, Feyre?” A laugh burst out of Feyre before she could stop it, loud and unrestrained as she raised a hand to her mouth. He was so funny; men were never funny. She should have been embarrassed that she’d guffawed like a goat in front of him, but when she looked up, his face was lit with an intangible sense of joy that stopped her short.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” The words weighed heavy in the air around them, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I hope to hear it again.”

“You could.” She wasn’t sure what had come over her, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them with any sense.

“If I make you laugh too often, I think they require a proposal in these parts.” A grin split his face, but something about his tone felt serious to Feyre.

“Would that be so terrible?” His responding smile was sad, almost pained, as he grabbed her hand in his.

“Please believe me, Feyre, when I tell you nothing would please me more than to ask for your hand in marriage this very second. If I was able, I would have already asked your father.” The words froze and ached in her chest, making it hard to swallow, but she couldn’t look away.

“I wouldn’t say no.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to fight with himself over something. “In my current home, I am unable to make any propositions, and it would kill me to make you a promise I couldn’t fulfill. You deserve more than that. More than me.” It was the first true crack she’d seen in his mask, the first real show of that vulnerability that she’d sensed immediately. He huffed a mirthless laugh.

“What if I waited?” His eyes shot back to hers. “My sisters are not yet wed, and I cannot go before them anyway. What if we waited until your circumstances changed? We have time.” The hope and awe and wonder in his eyes was almost enough to unseat her entirely. His hand came to touch her jaw delicately, softly, as though she was something precious in his hands.

“I can’t ask you to–”

“I want to. Rhysand, I want to. This is crazy, I’m never this way. Truly, Nesta likens me to a beast more often than anything else. I don’t get along with others, but…” When she looked up again, he was staring at her like she’d hung the stars and moon. “You see me. I don’t know how I know, but I can tell. You see all that I am, here, now.” He nodded, brows deeply furrowed, as though thinking before he spoke.

“You would wait?”

“I would, unfailingly.” Something cracked wide open in her chest at the admission she hadn’t quite even felt herself deciding to make. Who was this man who had enthralled her so completely and utterly? And why did it feel more right than anything ever had before?

His eyes searched her face, as if looking for any reason to say no and failing.

“Would it be wildly improper of me to ask to kiss you?” His voice was as breathless as hers, as though they were speaking on sacred ground. She’d tipped forward a bit, leaning her face into his hand.

“It would, but do it anyway.”

“Can I kiss–” She didn’t let him finish as she surged up, pressing her lips to his.

The effect was immediate, sparks shooting off in her mind like a cracking piece of firewood. The tug in her chest became overwhelming as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his tongue moving against the seam of her lips as though asking for permission. She let him in, the smooth caress of his tongue against her own drawing a sound out of her that she’d never heard before. He smelled like jasmine and lilac as she ran her hands through his silky, inky hair, the motion drawing him closer as he ran his hands down her sides to hold her waist. It felt monumental, world-shifting, right.

The kiss deepened as he shifted her into his lap, his hands pulling, gripping, grabbing at every inch of her as they slid up her thighs to cup her ass. She ground down against him, feeling him against her and losing the fight against tipping her head back as his mouth left hers to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck. She gasped as she felt his teeth, feeling sharper and more dangerous than they were, skirting lightly over her pulse point, something deep and primal thrumming within her at the action.

He murmured against her, “Feyre, you’re my–” And she would have given him anything he asked of her in that moment. A kiss, herself, the entire world.

But, abruptly, the sound of laughter and shattering glass broke them apart. Someone at the party had dropped something on their way out, but Feyre and Rhysand stared at each other, eyes wide and wild, chests heaving for air as they broke free of the spell.

“Feyre.” The word was a prayer on his lips as he licked them, as though he were tasting her one more time.

She pressed another, more chaste, kiss to the corner of his mouth, smiling as he sighed against her.

“Will you write to me, when your circumstances change?” She asked. His face was full of such wide, open hope. She would wait, and she’d do so happily if there was even a chance of this being the future that awaited her.

“Yes, of course. I’ll call on you when all is settled. I will see you again.” It sounded like a promise, an oath. She believed him as she felt the surge of joy and anticipation welling within her, the feelings stronger and more potent than she had ever felt before.

They stood, so unwilling to untangle their limbs and let go. He walked her back to the stone wall, offering to give her a hand and help her up. She sat atop it, gazing upon him a final time.

“I am very glad to have met you tonight, Rhysand.”

“Rhys.” He sketched a bow. “Call me Rhys. I was enchanted to meet you, Feyre.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.” He smiled, and as she turned to quietly dismount the other side, she looked back a final time to find him already gone.

+++

Rhys stood on the stone wall surrounding the manor as the moon dipped low in the sky. The colors of the sun on the horizon would be coming soon, but he hadn’t been quite ready to go yet. Instead, he stood, shrouded in the dark, hands in his pockets and the entirety of his focus on a single balcony. The wall was large and sturdy, at least two feet across and spanning the entire estate.

Good, Rhys thought. There are predators here.

Through the balcony window, the gossamer curtains flowed in the breeze, the low, golden light inside highlighting the fuzzy shapes within. He could see movement, the motion he’d been waiting for since she left the lakeside bench. His breath caught in his chest as she appeared, her hair down from her braid, loosely flowing over her shoulders and back as she spun around the room in her nightgown.

Dancing. She was dancing.

For the first time in decades, Rhys felt something like tears burning behind his eyes. She was so incredibly beautiful there in the window, holding her arms out and mimicking the moves that they had completed together only hours before. He’d have stayed a lifetime if only to see her dance again, to see that beautiful smile light up her face when she looked at him.

He’d been a fool to accept her offer, but it had been so long since Rhys had felt hope. He’d been an idiot to come here in the first place, considering the circumstances, but he had to see her, touch her, know that there was something worth fighting for. If he was going to make it out alive, he needed hope.

Mate. My mate.

He’d heard her thoughts all night long, so open and honest and forthright, not even second guessing herself. She fit him so thoroughly, her thoughts often matching his as they flitted through his own mind.

She was perfect.

It had been years since the first time he’d seen her in his dreams, just snips and flashes of her running through the woods, sloshing through the lake, then more detailed pictures of her pranking her sisters and governess, painting the undersides of furniture and the trees of the forest so no one would see. It had been a particularly horrible day when he’d finally broken and gone to see her, the lights of the ball providing a convenient ruse.

He’d told himself to be aloof, just a visiting guest, only there to observe.

Then he saw her. The pull nearly painful and he was pushing off the walls to look for her the second their eyes met.

If he had suspected the mating bond before, he was certain now, the tether alive and glowing in his chest, though unsnapped. He wondered how it felt to her, a human, but they’d been sharing thoughts and emotions all night, to his great joy.

Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.

Half of that promise he could fulfill–he would never love anyone but her, his mate, the female from his dreams. He would always belong to her, the visual of her pressed against his chest as they danced, her smile bright and warm and eyes happy to see him. There would never be anyone else for him but the human girl who was a dreamer, who wanted more for herself in this life than the pretentious, materialistic world of a nobleman’s daughter. He watched as she threw herself back onto her fluffy bed with a sigh, kicking her feet against it as he smiled.

It was time for him to go, to flee back beneath the mountain before Amarantha looked too closely into his absence. He wouldn’t risk Feyre, no matter how much his heart ached to be near her. Just this glimpse would get him through, get him one step closer, one move further into a future where he might fulfill his promise, might be able to come to her again. Might even be able to bring her back home with him. Home, to his family.

He gave her a final look, smelling that pear and lilac scent on the breeze and filling his lungs with it.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise.” And then he was gone.

[marsprincess889]

NAKSHATRAS AS GODDESSES

4/27

🌸ROHINI🍭

DISCLAIMER: This is based solely on my research and the patterns that I saw. I can't promise that I'm gonna be sure in all the coorelations, but I'm going to attribute each nakshatra a goddess that I think fits it the closest. If you're dissapointed, to make up for it, I'm going to list some other deities in the end that I think also fit the nakshatra. Don't come for me if you think I'm wrong, be respectful in the comments if you think so and have fun 🤍

This one was easy and also not easy? It seems too easy, too easy to be true, like the mythology of the nakshatra itself...

Lakshmi

Pantheon: Hindu

Name meaning: a lucky omen, the goal.

Associations: wealth, beauty, love, abundance, fortune, power, fertility and prosperity.

Symbols: Lotus flower, elephant, owl, gold coins.

Lakshmi, according to Hindu mythology, was born from the churning of the ocean of milk, an event that was caused by the war between the Demons and the Gods. She was born fully grown, on a lotus, with a smiling, radiant face. She rides an owl and is often depicted by two elephants showering her. Elephants are a symbol of strength, luck and proserity. Owl (the symbol of the opposite nakshatra- jyeshta) is often seen with Lakshmi as a kind of guardian, always watching over her.

Rohini is the nakshatra of quick and rapid growth, its real life natives often being physically mature but internally childlike, often more dependant and submissive. This is the trait that makes this nakshatra the favourite of the moon, the planet moon is also literally exalted here, as well as Rahu.

One of the symbols of Rohini nakshatra is a chariot. It's a preserved tradition that brides ride in a chariot on the day of marriage. Lakshmi is often depicted seating on a chariot. Chariot/cart is also the symbol of the Taurus, the sign in which Rohini is located.

Some sources say that Lakshmi is associated with the moistness nessecary for growth (rohini's power).

You might have noticed that in most depictions she has four hands. They are said to represent the four aims of life: Dharma (righeousness), Artha (gathering necessary material recources), Kama (going after desires) and Moksha (liberation through knowledge). Her name literally means "aim" or "goal", so that definitely makes sense.

The deity assigned to Rohini is Prajapati- creator god. Rohini is the birth of the cosmic daugher and feminine at its most submissive. So submissive, that she does not question what influence is offered to her, she just absorbs it and gives it back.

Because Rohini is growth in all of its aspects, it's no wonder that the Hindu goddess of wealth is coorelated to it. Rohini is also closely connected to the Hindu culture overall. The overabundant use of bright, saturated colors and the frequent flower symbolism (flowers are connected to Rohini) is reminiscent of what people find beautiful as children, especially little girls.

The overall analysis of Rohini is a completely different topic and claire nakti has done a stellar job at it. Hopefully this post made it clear why I think Lakshmi is the fit for Rohini. Also, do not think me lazy because I chose a Hindu goddess, it's literally the best one I could find, besides, Indian culture really suits Rohini.

Apologies to Rohini natives and everyone else, I couldn't find other deities that suited Rohini, besides Prajapati and Goddess Rohini herself, but I think that Lakshmi is pretty much on point. Let me know your thoughts, comment, reblog, like. Thanks for reading and take care 🤍

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

flame-bright | part 1

The second installment of the HHU Universe has been completed!

F2L, slow-burn, reader is in major denial and also goofy af, sports statistician!seungcheol x fem!fashion designer!reader, reader is described as wearing heels/dresses often, lowkey implied that cheol is somewhat bigger than reader, I think gendered terms may be used??? Idk this is barely proofread, mentions of toxic relationships/habits that make reader’s life more difficult, mentions of cheating, eventual smut (18+ only, underage readers will be systematically hunted down and whooped), lots of mutual pining, probably some drinking, bad decisions are made generally throughout, Mingyu and Wonwoo and Vernon will make cameos (references to the Hope in the Fault Lines couple), and there will be a hefty amount of painful against in the next two parts. Lmk if I missed anything!

If there was one word you’d use to describe Seungcheol, it would’ve been passionate. 

At least, while you were being kind. As it is, you’re using a litany of far less flattering descriptors while you wait for him to pick up his phone, your breath curling into soft gray tendrils in the chilly night air. You watch the clouds moving slowly, backlit by an occasionally-visible yellowish-orange moon, and curse as you get Cheol’s voicemail message in your ear. 

From the minute you’d met Choi Seungcheol, your life had been struck with misfortune. It wasn’t his fault -- not at all, in fact. Most of the time it was yours. Or maybe Seungcheol was just one of those people who made you realize your own buffoonery. Whatever the reasons, it seemed like you’d been down on your luck ever since you met him, and you were starting to wonder if he was some kind of bad omen for you. 

Your first conversation had happened because you were trapped in an elevator with him when it broke down on you. You had been trying to visit your boyfriend, at the time, who had been “sick” -- which apparently was code for “sleeping with someone else.” You had found out because Seungcheol was his next door neighbor, and he didn’t waste time telling you about the girl he’d been bringing over that wasn’t you. A short conversation on the phone with the boyfriend was enough to confirm the story. 

You’d broken up with him instantly, right there in that stupid broken-down elevator. Cheating was a dealbreaker for you, which was saying something. You knew that you tended to allow all sorts of poor treatment from men that made your friends worry about your love life, which is why you never told them about anything anymore, which is why you started to open up to this handsome stranger in the elevator who was attentive and sympathetic and kind and who you’d probably never see again. You told him almost everything: the long string of first dates that never went anywhere, the flings, and the off-and-on relationships you’d had until you’d met the guy you just dumped. He listened perfectly -- made disgusted noises in all the right places, gasped, said “no he did not” at all the antics that men had put you through -- and when you’d finally left the elevator you’d thanked him for letting you unload. 

He’d smiled then -- his first smile at you. It was probably just how fragile your heart was, but it made you all warm and fuzzy inside to see the way it changed his entire face from intimidating to soft. “No problem,” he said. “Sounds like you needed it.”

“I did,” you moaned. “I really really did. I’m so sorry you had to listen to all that.”

“It really wasn’t bad. I’m glad that I got some entertainment while we were stuck in there,” he said, gesturing at the elevator. “I hope your love life gets better.”

You had fully intended to leave the apartment building and never see him again. But you had -- he’d been exiting the elevator when you’d come to pick up the odds and ends you’d left at your now-ex-boyfriend’s apartment. The way his eyes lit up when he saw you, the way he crowed, “hey, elevator girl!”, it had all made you laugh. 

“Elevator boy!” you’d replied. “How nice to see you.”

“My name’s Choi Seungcheol,” he told you. “And the pleasure is all mine. Please tell me you didn’t get back with my neighbor.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Absolutely not. I came back to fight his new girlfriend for my blow dryer.”

“Do you need help?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Are you offering to fight in my place?” 

That had made him laugh. “No, I don’t fight women. What if we tag-teamed? I’ll fight him and you fight her.” He pretended to size you up. “I can definitely take him, and I gotta say I’d put my money on you beating her.”

“Well,” you’d said, pretending to consider it. “I hope it won’t come to that, but if you wanted to be moral support, I would promise to never ever tell you my entire disappointing dating history ever again.”

“I really didn’t mind that,” he said in protest. “Maybe we should take the stairs this time, though. If we get stuck in there again I might have to tell you something this time.”

“I’d probably feel less guilty if you did,” you’d told him. “But sure. I don’t have the time to get stuck in an elevator today.”

You’d followed him to the stairwell, jogging behind him up the stairs. You’d arrived at the doorstep a little out-of-breath and even more unprepared to come face-to-face with your ex and his new girlfriend. 

It became clear within the first few minutes that there was no way she was giving you back your very nice, very expensive hair-dryer. She claimed, in fact, that it was hers. (Never mind that there was a piece of duct tape with your name on it stuck to the cord.)

Thus had begun the plans for the Great Hair Dryer Heist of 2018. Seungcheol had invited you across the hall to his apartment, where the two of you had brainstormed ways to get the hair dryer back. He vetoed your first idea (murder), and you vetoed his (military intelligence-level blackmail). Back and forth you went until you had come up with the only feasible, if illegal, plan.

To break in.

It amused you how seriously Seungcheol took the assignment to canvas the ex’s apartment. He had discreetly attached an audio recording device to his door and hid it with a welcome mat, so that he would know the couple’s routine. He wrote down the timeframes of their comings and goings. He even tracked patterns -- “if they come in later than 10:30 PM, they won’t leave the house again until after 10 AM,” he’d told you as you joined him for what had become weekly intel meetings. “Does your ex even work? How can he afford to leave his house so late?”

“He’s a nepo baby,” you’d told him. “His daddy’s his boss.”

Seungcheol scoffed. “You sure can pick ‘em, sweetheart.”

“You have no idea,” you mumbled.

Finally the big day came. Seungcheol had planned it down to the last second. He’d practiced picking his own lock while he knew the neighbors were out. He’d told other people on the floor what was going down so they wouldn’t be suspicious. He’d even bought a pair of leather gloves for both of you to avoid leaving fingerprints. It was, as he said himself, “go time.”

The breaking in part had gone pretty well, but then, just as you were approaching the door of their apartment with the hair dryer in hand, you’d heard the clattering of keys outside. You froze, but Seungcheol acted fast, pulling you into a closet and gesturing for silence. 

Which was also going well, until your phone had gone off, blasting “Toxic” by Brittni Spears. You hurried to shut it off, but you heard the person outside pause, as though listening. When they came in, they said, “hello?”

The girlfriend was home.

As she passed the closet and went into the bathroom, Seungcheol whispered, “leave with the hair-dryer. I’ll be there soon.”

You slipped quietly from the closet and dashed out of the apartment, diving into Seungcheol’s apartment before the other apartment door had even closed. The problem was, the sound of the door shutting meant that Seungcheol was compromised. You could hear the new girlfriend screaming at him. Fighting a laugh, you went across the hall and knocked at the door, brandishing the hair dryer. 

“Hi,” you said when she opened the door, red-faced, a shell-shocked looking Seungcheol behind her. And you held up the hair dryer.

She had been so shocked that all she could do was splutter. “I’m here for him,” you said, reaching around her and grabbing Seungcheol by the front of his jacket.

Impulsively she grabbed his arm, but he ripped it from her grasp. “Unhand me,” he said coldly. “And you’d better hope there’s nothing else of hers here.”

And with that, the two of you had left, triumphant.

This is how your friendship had started -- and the mishaps with dating continued, almost comically accelerating the closer you became to him. The problem was, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your friendship or end it, because you’d gone on to become really good friends with him. Not just “talk occasionally, never meet up unless one of you is going through something, cancel plans with each other” kind of friends, either -- he had become one of your best friends in the world. You saw each other almost every day and had weekly movie nights and lunch dates. Choi Seungcheol, for all his flaws, was the person you knew you could always call, no matter what went wrong.  

So why, when you really needed him, was he not answering?

With a final curse aimed in the general direction of Seungcheol’s apartment building, you begin to walk to the bus station in the dark, your car sitting dead and useless in the empty museum parking lot. You debate whether or not to tell Seungcheol the real reason you called him twelve times when he inevitably calls back in a panic, hoping it’s later when you’re safe at home and not while you’re on the bus. You decide what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and pull your flimsy jacket closer to you in the chill October air. 

As is your luck, though, Cheol calls when you’re still two stops away from home. You answer him immediately, knowing it’ll be worse if you don’t — the last time this happened he had actually called the police. “Hey!” you say brightly. “What’s up, Seungcheol?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a mix of relieved, exasperated, and amused. “You called me twelve times.”

You sigh. “I know. I really wanted to not have to pick up my own dry cleaning,” you lie, using the only feasible excuse you could formulate during the half hour you’d been on the bus.

“At this time of night? So you called me twelve times?” he asks skeptically. “Just do your own laundry and then you won’t have this problem.”

“I don’t have dry cleaning technology, and if you think I’m about to put vintage rockabilly sweaters into a washing machine, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

He sighs. “I can pick it up tomorrow. Was that really all?”

“Of course,” you respond too quickly as the bus makes another stop. “Why didn’t you respond, though?”

Seungcheol hesitates. “I had a date,” he finally answers. 

“Really?” you exclaim, even as your stomach drops. “How was it?”

“It…uh, it went really well. She’s still here,” he replies.

You smack your forehead. “Shit, man. You should’ve said something. I’ll let you get back to it.” And before he can protest, you hang up, your heart beating too fast for someone just sitting on a bus.

He was on a date, you think to yourself, willing yourself to believe it and let it sink in. Of course. Because there was only one thing that Seungcheol would ignore you for, only one thing he’d put ahead of helping his (supposedly platonic) best friend — his love life, which was not nearly as pitiful as yours but which somehow made you feel just as bad about yourself. You cursed yourself for not seeing this coming and for letting yourself feel somehow betrayed by it, because there was nothing between you and never would be.

You fume for the full five more minutes it takes for you to get to your bus stop. You’re furious at yourself for calling him, and furious for interrupting his date, and furious that you’re furious. “You’d better work,” you growl at the elevator as you push the button in the lobby of your apartment complex. To its credit, it does carry you slowly up to your floor, where you are finally able to collapse onto your couch, looking around the small apartment cramped with dress forms and fabric and your industrial sewing machine (all out and in use as you prepared to send samples for a new collection for the brand you worked for to your suppliers). You rub at your eyes, feeling yourself growing more overstimulated by the minute.

And then your phone’s text tone rings through the quiet apartment. You glance down at the name attached to the notification, and your heart drops.  

Jinho: [23:34] “Hey, hope you’re doing well. I’m going to be in town for a couple months preparing for a trade show, and I’d love to meet up if you’ve got time.” 

All thoughts you might have been capable of before this moment evaporate, replaced by a drawn-out scream of horror. Because it’s not like Jinho was the ex from hell — quite the opposite, actually. He was the only ex you had who wasn’t a deadbeat, a cheater, or extremely toxic. Jinho was a regular person with a stable job in art curation, and you had wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. In fact, you privately attributed your string of bad relationships to losing Jinho. Ever since he’d ended things with you, you’d been reeling, almost haphazardly grabbing onto anything that got close enough and seeing if it’d stick.

After staring at this text for what feels like several days straight, you decide you have no business answering it tonight. You are so far behind where you hoped you’d be if he ever reappeared in your life. Although you no longer have feelings for him, there was a part of you that had pictured the two of you reconnecting when you’d started your own fashion label, and you were married to someone else. Neither of those things having happened yet, you could almost feel the justification for Jinho’s departure from your life weighing on you like a wet blanket. Of course he wouldn’t want to be with you. You couldn’t keep a partner, and the closer you got to taking the leap with your own brand, the harder it became to leave the company you worked for now.

The telltale signs of a stress migraine start to sneak into your body — a dull pinching pain starting right where your hairline begins on the back of your neck, almost like gravity gets heavier there and weighs down the rest of  your skull. It’s easy for you to determine what you need. You strip your clothes off and head into the shower, relishing how the hot water feels like a reset on your skin. Today is over. Tomorrow, you can figure out how to deal with everything else.

After your shower, you do your hair and skincare routine and change into your softest cropped tank and sweats. As you round the corner to plug in your phone, you nearly collide with a man in your apartment. 

You nearly shriek as the man grabs your shoulders to keep you from falling, but stop yourself when you realize it’s Seungcheol. He’s looking you up and down, coughing with the force of your collision — although you didn’t hit him that hard. “Nice outfit,” he chokes out.

“What the hell,” you hiss at him. “I thought you had a date!”

“I did,” he says defensively. “But I had this sneaking suspicion you were lying to me about what you really needed. So I asked her to pick it up where we left off tomorrow.”

“Did she agree to that?” you ask him with a raised eyebrow.

“Duh,” he says with an eye roll. “I’m a catch.” He inspects your face closely. “You were lying to me, weren’t you? I didn’t see Bertha.”

Bertha was the name of the obscenely old car you drove, distinctive because of its smoky black color — it looked like the whole car had been dusted with gunpowder. You sigh and extricate yourself from his grasp. “You should be a police chief.”

“Where’s Bertha?” he presses, ignoring your sarcasm.

“She died. At the museum,” you say shortly, not looking at him as you rummage around in the fridge for ingredients.

“So you took the bus?” he asks indignantly.

“Yes, because you were on a date, and I’m trying to make sure at least one of us doesn’t die alone.”

“And I’m trying to make sure you don’t die. Period.” He shakes his head in frustration, watching you with dark eyes and muscular arms folded across his chest, his jaw set in a sharp line. “I’ve told you to call if you need help. I’d rather have to come get you when it isn’t convenient for me than get a call later saying that they found your body somewhere.”

“Okay, dad,” you say sarcastically, moving to the stove. “It is not a long bus ride and I brought my pepper spray.”

“Don’t call me dad,” he says, his cheeks pink. “And I don’t care. Please just tell me next time.”

You sigh heavily. “Fine, whatever,” you agree tiredly. “So, wanna tell me about your date?”

He wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to rub it in.”

“Nah, come on,” you plead. “Hearing about a good date might give me hope that they actually exist!”

He cracks a smile. “Well,” he says, pulling out one of the chairs at your table and taking a seat. “She’s pretty. We met at the baseball game. She’s a sports marketer. She really knows her stuff,” he muses, sounding impressed.

You suppress a surge of violent hatred for this pretty, competent, sport-savvy woman and smile at his assessment. “That’s great. And you got her to come home with you, so she must have liked you too.”

“I hope so,” he murmurs. His eyes travel over to the pot you’ve placed on the stove. “Didn’t they feed you at the exhibition?” 

“They fed us those stupid little hors d'oeuvres,” you grumble, flipping the eggy batter in the pan so it lands perfectly on the other side. “I wanted jeon, and I knew I’d be hungry later, so I made the batter ahead.”

“Wise,” Seungcheol says. He leans back in his chair, watching you for a minute. “So other than your car dying, how was your day?” he asks.

You give him a look, and he chuckles. “That good, huh?” he asks.

“Oh, Seungcheol, you have no idea.” You bring over the jeon with the sauce you’d made for it and push some over to him. “Jinho texted me like an hour ago.”

“You know I only know your exes by numbers,” he complains, poking gingerly at the jeon, which is still too hot for his hands. 

It’s frustrating to watch, so you tear a bit off with your fingers, blow on it, and hold it up to his lips. “Jinho is The First Ex,” you say as you do this.

“I’m convinced you don’t have nerve endings in your fingers,” he says before he takes it from you with his teeth. “And you’re talking about Ex #1?”

“Yes,” you say emphatically. And while Seungcheol didn’t know the full story of Jinho, he knows enough to know it’s a big deal. His eyes go wide, and you can tell he’s trying not to be nosy as he watches you. “He wants to catch up.”

“Are you gonna do it?” he asks you, taking a pair of chopsticks from the table and swirling the jeon around in some sauce.

“Why not?” you say in what you hope is an offhand voice, picking at the jeon and not looking at him. This does not fool Seungcheol for a single second. 

He clears his throat pointedly. You look at him like a child about to receive a scolding, and he groans. “Don’t give me those eyes,” he says. “I guess I can’t really blame you. I’d probably do the same thing if I were you.”

You brighten a little. “So you think it’s a good idea?” 

“I never said that,” he says with a grim grin. “I just said it’s what I’d do.”

You scowl at him. “Rude.”

“Just true,” he says with a shrug. He rises, only to collapse on the couch. “Since tomorrow night I’ll be occupied, would you like to do movie night tonight?”

“I really didn’t need the reminder that you’re getting laid, but sure,” you say, plopping down beside him. “I think it’s your turn to pick.”

Cheol smiles wickedly at you before reaching around you for the remote. “Okay. Action or romcom or horror?” he asks.

“Horror,” you reply. “It’ll make me feel better about my life.”

He chuckles and makes his selection, opening his arm for you to snuggle into his side. He knew -- from experience -- that if you weren’t snuggling something during a horror film, people (usually him) were likely to be injured by the way you jumped in fright. You willingly nuzzled yourself into the warm cream sweatshirt he wore, eventually falling asleep there despite the anxiety the movie had induced. 

Waking up in an empty apartment after movie nights with Seungcheol was always a bit crushing, but waking up on the couch with your favorite pillow from your bed, perfectly tucked into one of your favorite blankets, made your heart hurt in a different kind of way. You usually didn’t fall asleep during movies, but the stressful day you’d had had evidently worn you out. As you blinked the tiredness out of your eyes, you tried not to imagine how Cheol had probably carefully extracted himself from your grasp, tiptoeing to your bedroom to grab the pillow and blanket. How he’d probably have had to lift your head to put it on the pillow. How he’d draped the blanket over your sleeping form. It wasn’t good for your mental state to think of things like this, because it’d force you to admit something about yourself that you were extremely unequipped to handle.

So you sat up. It was Saturday, so you didn’t have work -- thank goodness -- and you decided to sketch a little to clear your head. But as you went to grab your sketchbook, there was a tiny note from Seungcheol in the corner of the open page:

“Why is this the only paper you have in your house? Lol. Anyway, I had to go home to sleep, but I put the leftover jeon in the fridge for you to eat this morning. Have a good day today :) be happier than me!”

Happier than me. This was how Seungcheol closed all of his communication with you. You seemed to be in a days-long, never-ending conversation most days, but in the rare instances when you had to part for more time than usual, he always said that. And every time, it made you melt. (Followed almost immediately by sternly reminding yourself that that was stupid.)

And so you stare at the note, half of you wanting to frame it, and the other half wanting to rip it to shreds. Instead, you just flip the page over and grumble, “he could’ve texted,” to yourself, hating the half-smile on your face that you can’t resist.

*******

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Minghao says, sitting at the head of the long table. “So, we’re talking about fall/winter of next year?”

“Menswear,” you confirm. It’s just you and he in the room, and you pull some of the pieces off the portable rack to show him.

“Want to explain why it’s two weeks late?” he says, inspecting the soft fabric of the brown suit you hand him.

“Production still hasn’t recovered back to pre-pandemic speeds,” you tell him tiredly, knowing this would come up. “We had the designs in by the deadline, but they didn’t get here until now.”

“Did Ali already cast models to wear these?” Minghao asks, moving on to the next piece and peering carefully at the design details on the cuffs of a leather jacket. “I want to get someone in this week if we can.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Our usual models come from across the world.”

“Then recast,” he says simply. “I know that we have a good relationship with the agency you usually go through, and I understand we’ve burned bridges with a lot of the local agencies back when He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was in charge, but I think it’d be kind of fun to use some new faces, too. It’ll catch the eye.”

You nod, biting your bottom lip in thought. “So, do you want me to do a social media sweep? Find guys in the area and invite them in?”

“Yeah, or just ask your friends. That’s how we got the deal with that producer,” Minghao reminds you, referring to a collaboration you’d arranged with one of your friend Jihoon’s proteges. 

“True,” you said, thinking to yourself. “I’ll ask around.”

So you go to your office after the meeting and text Seungcheol. 

“You: [10:34] hey, do you know anyone who might want a bit of extra cash? we need models for a shoot this week.”

“Cheol: [10:44] how much?”

“You: [10:46] uhhhh like $500? if they become a regular model for us that could become more”

“Cheol: [10:50] I got you. Wanna meet up for lunch?”

You have to laugh at this abrupt change in subject, but it’s been a couple days since you’ve seen Cheol, so you respond quickly.

“You: [10:51] sure!! where?”

“Cheol: [10:55] Bernini’s, I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”

***

“What can I get for you?” the friendly, bright-eyed waiter asks.

“I’ll have the caprese bites and the spinach and apple salad,” you say without any hesitation.

Seungcheol is squinting at the menu. “I’m still deciding,” he says. “What do you recommend?” 

“Oh!!” The server exclaims, looking excited that someone has asked. “I really love the tri-tip sandwich.”

“Yeah, that sounds awesome,” Seungcheol says. “I’ll have that.”

“He seems like a really nice kid,” you say to Seungcheol after the server scurries away to put in your orders. “Reminds me of Mingyu, a bit. He has that same puppy .” 

Seungcheol rolls his eyes but can’t hide a fond smile at the mention of his friend. “Except that guy hasn’t spilled anything on you yet.”

“How is he? With the job and everything?”

“Apparently the kid is actually awesome,” Seungcheol replies. “And it seems like the kid’s guardian is even better.”

“Does our friend Mingyu finally have a crush?” you ask, grinning widely.

“Of course. He showed me pictures. She’s some high-powered publishing whiz with her own business. She’s pretty.” He says it in an offhand way, and yet you still feel uncomfortable.

“And Wonwoo? When we went to see Vernon’s cousin perform, he seemed like he was pretty into her friend who does her makeup.”

“You know, you could just come with me to hang out with them,” Seungcheol reminds you. “Then they can tell you all about their lives in person instead of you having to hear it from me.”

You’re about to respond when you hear a familiar sound that sends every cell in your body into attack mode. It’s a grating female voice, seemingly echoing through the small restaurant. “Cheol,” you say, gripping his arm. 

“What?” he asks, alarmed at the sudden shift in tone. 

“We have to move. Now.” 

You tug him to his feet with surprising force and nearly dive underneath a big banquet table covered by a long white tablecloth. All you can see are the feet of the people passing by, so you wait. It isn’t long before the signature chunky red heels appear.

“And don’t give me a table here in the front, I need to be seated somewhere with easy patio access. For my health,” says the woman’s voice. You are positively cowering into Seungcheol under the table, and he is dumbstruck.

“Why are we here?” he asks with wide eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Ex #3’s Aunt Betty. She hates me,” you squeak. “If she sees me, she’ll verbally abuse me and I’ll cry in front of everyone.”

“Why does she hate you?” Seungcheol asks, trying not to sound amused and failing.

“Because I accidentally killed her Chihuahua. Spilled an entire bottle of Benadryl on the floor and missed a few pills as I was sweeping. The poor thing weighed next to nothing. Didn’t stand a chance.” You bite your lip. “We broke up a week later.”

“That’s terrible!” Seungcheol exclaims. “No wonder she hates you.”

You smack him on the shoulder. “I’ll have you know he was the most evil chihuahua in the world, which is actually saying a lot, because chihuahuas are generally pretty awful to begin with.”

He rubs where you hit him ruefully. “Okay,” he allows, his eyes reproachful.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. Who was your friend who you wanted to model?” you whisper to him under the table.

“Is now the best time for this?” he asks.

“Well, what else do we need to discuss? Now’s as good a time as ever. Plus it’ll calm me down.”

Cheol purses his lips. “Well, it’s me.”

“What?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You heard me.”

“You want to model?” you ask.

“I’ve modeled before,” he assures you. “I don’t know why you’re so shocked. Do you think I’m ugly?”

You glare. “It’s most definitely not that.”

“So you think I’m hot?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

You groan. “I’m regretting this conversation so much.” Pinching the bridge of your nose and avoiding eye contact, you actually manage a chuckle. “You’re actually perfect, but it just surprises me that you’d be interested.”

“Perfect?” he exclaims. “Wow, that’s a new one. How did that taste coming out of your mouth?”

“Don’t make me take it back. Are you broke? Do you need money for some reason?”

He actually laughs. “I’m doing fine. I just think it’d be fun. Plus, I love the clothes you design.”

“I don’t design for menswear,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but it’s still your brand.”

You scoff. “Hardly. It’s Minghao’s brand. I just work there.”

“And how is starting your own thing going?” Seungcheol asks, watching you carefully. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you mutter. “Honestly, I wish I had the energy to do more design work after my regular job, but I’m too busy and burnt out.”

He nods sympathetically. One of the many wonderful things about Seungcheol was his compassionate nature. You know he wants to see you succeed, but also understands there are a lot of obstacles between you and what you really want to be doing.

He changes the subject so you don’t have to. “Well, anyway. Modeling is fun, and it’ll give me the chance to learn more about your company and meet your work friends and stuff.”

“Do you have a portfolio I can show Minghao?” you ask. “There’s no chance he’ll reject you, but I figured it’ll help him warm up to you.”

“Sure,” he says, pulling out his phone. “I’ll text you the link.”

You tap it on your own phone and your jaw immediately drops. “Choi Seungcheol,” you gasp.

“Why the government name?” he protests defensively.

“You -- these are --” you stutter, unable to find the right words. “I was expecting something else.” You hope that Cheol doesn’t notice how flustered you are. Photo after photo showcased his wide, broad chest, that wavy hair, his beautiful eyes with those long eyelashes, his stunning eyebrows, and his absolutely perfect lips. The clothes are nothing but a shallow accessory to emphasize a truth that you’ve always known, but until this moment, have downplayed (for your own protection). 

Your best friend is absolutely devastating.

Conveniently, you are interrupted when your server pokes his head under the table. You all stare at each other for a few seconds, blinking, before the young man speaks.  “Why did you guys run away?” he asks, bewildered.

He stares at the photos visible on your phone. “Are you guys being weird down here?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Cheol demands.

“I’m pretty much weird wherever I go,” you offer.

“Well then come sit back down so I can give you your food,” the server says, giving both of you a strange look.

As you head back to your booth, you nudge Seungcheol. “Why did you become a statistician when you could’ve been a model and made really good money? I mean, seriously, Seungcheol.”

“Because I loved sports?” Seungcheol answers, his voice amused. You look up and he’s watching your gawking with a nearly smug expression on his face. “I’m starting to rethink my choices after this reaction, though.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you scold, shaking your head in exasperation. “I don’t need this going to your head.” You finally tear your gaze away from the photos to make eye contact with Cheol -- a grave strategic error on your part. The way the overhead lights of the cafe hit his face, bringing out the subtle golden tones in his dark brown hair and illuminating the shadows in his nearly black eyes, has you feeling dizzy and uncomfortable. His expression isn’t helping anything, either. He’s wearing his signature half-smile, one dimple poking through his cheek, and the expression in his eyes is soft and fond. It’s a look he wears often when he lays eyes on you, and it’s currently making you clench your teeth against how gooey it makes you feel inside.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, offering a mock-salute, and you give a dry chuckle, trying to play it cool while your heart makes its best attempt to beat itself out of your chest.

“That’s right,” you approve, sliding to the end of the booth. “Well, I’ll show your portfolio to Minghao, but I’m confident he’s going to say yes. Can you come over tomorrow night? I’ll need to measure you for alterations.”

“I’ll be there,” he agrees. “Aren’t you meeting with Jinho, though?”

You grimace. “Yeah, I am.”

“So, should I maybe come a different night?” he asks.

“Nah,” you say. “It’ll be good to see you right after. I might need to debrief you.”

His smile slips just a little, but you pretend not to notice. “Understood,” he says, an odd note to his voice.

***

Never, ever, in a million years, did you foresee this.

Jinho showed up with flowers. He took you out to a nice restaurant, and as the two of you finished up eating, he leaned in and took you by the hand. “I need to know. Are you seeing anyone?”

You looked him dead in the face. “If I was, I wouldn’t have come.”

A brief look of relief flashed across his face. “Then...I want to ask if it would be possible to have another shot with you,” he asked. “I know we weren’t perfect back then, and I know I broke your heart. But these past few years, I’ve been comparing every girl to you. I just know it’s you that I’m meant to be with.”

These were the words that you had imagined him saying since he broke up with you. But now that he’d said them, it was a little odd. You had expected elation hidden in the shock, but it never came. Instead, you thought of Seungcheol, who was probably making his way to your house right now, and just the thought of how he looked in the cafe yesterday with the golden light had Jinho’s words coming up oddly empty.

You were surprised at your own answer. “I don’t know that I’ve fully forgiven you yet, so I can’t say that I’ll take you back,” you had told him. “But…I guess you can try.”

Jinho had beamed at this response, and that was what had cued the long-forgotten butterflies. “That’s more than I deserve,” he had reassured you. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

By the time you make your way home, Seungcheol is at your apartment on your couch, scrolling through social media on his phone. And of course, the first words out of his mouth are, “how’d it go?”

You sigh. “He asked me to take him back.”

“And did you?” Cheol asks sharply, standing up.

“No,” you say tiredly. “Well, not really, anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“I said he could try to win me over again, but I made no promises,” you explain, leaning against the wall to remove your heels. 

“Come sit down,” Seungcheol says, suddenly looking worried. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, Cheol. Really.” You swat at him as he wraps an arm around your waist and waltzes you to the couch. The way you melt into his touch as you both sit down, somehow winding up with your head in his lap as he gently teases your scalp with soft fingers, is almost embarrassing. But you need him right now -- need some reassurance that the emotional turmoil you’re in is going to be okay, need some consistency and compassion, and you know Seungcheol is the man for that job, as much as you don’t want to admit it.

“I’m proud of you,” Seungcheol murmurs kindly. “The old you would’ve taken him back immediately.”

You manage a grin as you realize he’s right. “Thanks,” you say, straightening up a little. You’ve come a long way, and it feels good to recognize that.

Then suddenly, you remember why Seungcheol is here. “Oh!” you exclaim, sitting all the way up. “I need to measure you.”

“It’s okay, you can rest for a minute,” Seungcheol tells you, but you’re already on your feet, running for your measuring tape. Once you’ve retrieved it, you gesture for him to come stand in the middle of the room. 

“I’m gonna have to get a little friendly,” you warn him, and he scoffs.

You begin with measuring across his shoulders, using your phone to annotate the measurement in a spreadsheet you’ll give to the tailors later. As you reach around his chest with the measuring tape, your gaze flicks to his face, and you have to catch your breath.

It’s not just that your hands are brushing up against his muscular frame in a way that, despite all your physical closeness with Cheol, you have never allowed yourself to touch him. Not to mention, he’s wearing skintight clothing like you had requested, and it’s showing off his body beautifully. But it’s also the way he’s looking at you -- his dark eyes smoldering like embers, trained on you without breaking his gaze, the corners of those gorgeous lips turned slightly up so that the pinprick hints of his dimples can be seen. It has your face feeling hot and your heart doing its stupid, reckless, too-quick tap dance routine. You swallow hard and look away, and Cheol gives a low chuckle that makes you literally stumble backwards, only prevented from falling on your ass by Seungcheol himself. 

Because the minute you became startled, his arms reached around you instinctively, steadying you. And oh, he’s so warm and sturdy and real, and though you’ve been in his arms many times before, this feels new. Somehow, this feels both like the first time you’ve ever been held, and the most natural thing in the world, as familiar as coming home for the holidays. Your hands had shot out and twisted into Seungcheol’s soft white tee as you’d stumbled, and you now have to force yourself not to look at him as you extricate yourself with a mumbled apology.

Wordlessly, you continue to measure Seungcheol, unable to keep yourself from occasionally glancing back at his perfect face, while he continues to look at you, that same soft smile on his lips. You wrap your arms around his waist with the measuring tape, taking down his measurement with shaking hands, before dropping your hands lower to measure his hips. As you adjust the tape across his widest point, you look at him again, and you’re surprised to see him looking flustered, a blush rising in his cheeks. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” you ask -- only your voice comes out husky and soft because of the way your throat has seemed to close with the nearness of him.

“Uh, no,” he says, looking up at the ceiling. “You got it. Keep going.”

You try to shake yourself out of being flustered, and focus instead on measuring his inseam and outseam, after which you measure around his bicep as your final measurement. By the end of the measuring session, you’re both sweating, and both of you are holding your breath. Seungcheol makes some excuse for why he needs to go home, and vacates himself in a matter of seconds, leaving you standing dumbfounded in the living room.

You aren’t sure what just happened between the two of you, but you know that whatever it was has left you with a hollow kind of ache in your chest and absolutely no knowledge on how to cure it.

[concreteburialplot]

Moon, tell me if I could, Send up my heart to you?

So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you?

'Cause my love is mine, all mine 'Cause my love is mine, all mine

My baby here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth

So, when it comes my turn Could you shine down here for him?*

'Cause my love is mine, all mine 'Cause my love is mine, all mine

- My Love, Mine All Mine // Mitski

-

happy birthday mi cielo 🥺

at risk of sounding parasocial, since you’re my favorite omen, i’ll say less than i want to but, you are such a bright light. you are SO talented and kind and loving. you bring so much happiness to my sad days, and to so many others as well. i’m glad that in this timeline you ended up in your silly (amazing) band with your silly (talented) best friends. omens wouldn’t be omens without you. you’re the glue 🩷

i love you so much, happy birthday cat man 🩷

[theladyregret]

Drow Name Tables

Something I did as a special favor to @kimmurielsscryingmirror (@eldritchmist ) who showed interest. Because it’s...pretty big I decided to make it into it’s own post.

These are a few Drow naming tables that were originally found in an issue of Dragon Magazine. It’s two d100 tables of prefixes and suffixes commonly used in first names. The second couple of tables is a list of common house name prefixes and suffixes.

EDIT: Just a little something for those who care which I didn’t add before because it took me so long to finish the transcription I just wanted to post it lol. The gender difference is noted in the related Dragon Magazine article as being significant. Non Drow may not notice but a Drow will notice the difference. Female names sometimes borrow parts that are normally only considered male and this is considered fine...but a male with a name that borrows a typically only female part would be seen as extremely taboo.

Prefix (Female/Male) - Meaning

Akor/Alak                 beloved, best, first

Alaun/Alton             lightning, powerful

Aly/Kel                     legendary, singing, song

Ang/Adin                  beast, monstrous, savage

Ardul/Amal               blessed, divine, godly

Aun/Ant                   crypt, dead, deadly, death

Bae/Bar                      fate, fated, luck, lucky

Bal/Bel                       burned, burning, fire, flame

Belar/Bruh                 arrow, lance, piercing

Briz/Berg                    graceful, fluid, like water

Bur/Bhin                     craft, crafty, sly

Chal/Chasz                earth, stable

Char/Kron                  sick, venom, venomed

Chess/Cal                  noble, lady/lord

Dhaun                          infested, plague

Dil/Dur                         cold, ice, still

Dirz/Div                       dream, dreaming, fantasy

Dris/Riz                        ash, dawn, east, eastern

Eclav/Elk                      chaos, mad, madness

Elvan/Kalan                 elf, elven, far, lost

Elv/Elaug                     drow, mage, power

Erel/Rhyl                      eye, moon, spy

Ethe/Erth                    mithril, resolute

Faer/Selds                   oath, sworn, vow

Felyn/Fil                       pale, thin, weak, white

Filf/Phar                     dwarf, dwarven, treacherous

Gauss/Orgoll              dread, fear, feared, vile

G'eld                              friend, spider  

Ghuan                           accursed, curse, unlucky

Gin/Din                         berserk, berserker, orc, wild

Grey/Gul                       ghost, pale, unliving

Hael/Hatch                   marked, trail, way

Hal/Sol                           deft, nimble, spider-like  

Houn/Rik                       magic, ring, staff

Iiv/Dip                             liege, war, warrior

Iim                                   life, living, spirit, soul

Illiam/Im                         devoted, heart, love

In/Sorn                           enchanted, spell

Ilph                                  emerald, green, lush, tree

Irae/Ilzt                           arcane, mystic, wizard

Irr/Izz                               hidden, mask, masked

Iym/Ist                            endless, immortal  

Jan/Duag                       shield, warded

Jhael/Gel                       ambitious, clan, kin, family

Jhul/Jar                         charmed, rune, symbol

Jys/Driz                         hard, steel, unyielding

Lael/Llt                           iron, west, western

Lar/Les                          binding, bound, law, lawful

LiNeer/Mourn            legend, legendary, mythical  

Lird/Ryld                   brand, branded, owned, slave

Lua/Lyme                       bright, crystal, light

Mal/Malag                     mystery, secret

May/Mas                         beautiful, beauty, silver

Micar                                lost, poison, widow

Min/Ran                           lesser, minor, second

Mol/Go                            blue, storm, thunder, wind

Myr/Nym                       lost, skeleton, skull

Nath/Mer                        doom, doomed, fate

Ned/Nad               cunning, genius, mind, thought

Nhil/Nal                 fear, gorrible, horror, outraged

Neer                                  core, root, strong

Null/Nil                             sad, tear, weeping

Olor/Omar                       skin, tattoo, tattooed

Pellan/Relon                    north, platiunum, wind

Phaer/Vorn                      honor, honored

Phyr/Phyx                        bless, blessed, blessing

Qualn/Quil                        mighty, ocean, sea

Quar                                   aged, eternal, time

Quav/Quev                        charmed, docile, friend

Qil/Quil                               foe, goblin, slave

Rauv/Welv                         cave, rock, stone

Ril/Ryl                                 foretold, omen

Sbat/Szor                           amber, yellow

Sab/Tsab                            abyss, empty, void  

Shi'n/Kren                          fool, foolish, young

Shri/Ssz                             silk, silent  

Shur/Shar                          dagger, edge, stiletto

Shynt                                 invisible, skilled, unseen

Sin/Szin                              festival, joy, pleasure

Ssap/Tath                          blue, midnight, night

Susp/Spir                           learned, skilled, wise

Talab/Tluth                        burn, burning, fire

Tal/Tar                         love, pain, wound, wounded

Triel/Taz                           bat, winged

T'riss/Teb                           blade, sharp, sword  

Ulvir/Uhls                           gold, golden, treasure

Umrae/Hurz                       faith, faithful, true

Vas/Vesz                            blood, bloody, flesh

Vic                                       abyss, deep, profound

Vier/Val                               black, dark, darkness

Vlon/Wod                           bold, hero, heroic

Waer/Wehl             deep, hidden, south, southern  

Wuyon/Wruz                      humble, third, trivial

Xull/Url                                 blooded, crimson, ruby

Xun                                       demon, fiend, fiendish

Yas/Yaz                       riddle, spinning, thread, web

Zar/Zakn                             dusk, haunted, shadow

Zebey/Zek                        dragon, lithe, rage, wyrm

Zes/Zsz                              ancient, elder, respected

Zilv/Vuz                             forgotten, old, unknown

Suffixes (Female/Male) - Meaning

a/agh                  breaker, destruction, end, omega

ace/as                                savant, scholar, wizard

ae/aun                             dance, dancer, life, player

aer/d                                    blood, blood of, heir

afae/afein                         bane, executioner, slayer

afay/aufein                        eyes, eyes of, seer

ala/launim                          healer, cleric

anna/erin                            advisor, counselor to

arra/atar                             queen/prince

aste                                      bearer, keeper, slaver

avin/aonar                           guardian, guard, shield

ayne/al                       lunatic, maniac, manic, rage

baste/gloth                         path, walker

breena/antar                   matriach/patriarch, ruler

bryn/lyn                               agent, assassin, killer

cice/roos                             born of, child, young  

cyrl/axle                               ally, companion, friend

da/daer                                illusionist, trickster

dia/drin                                rogue, stealer

diira/diirn                             initiate, sister/brother

dra/zar                                  lover, match, mate  

driira/driirn                         mother/father, teacher  

dril/dorl                                 knight, sword, warrior

e                                           servant, slave, vessel

eari/erd                                 giver, god, patron

eyl                                       archer, arrow, flight, flyer

ffyn/fein                               minstrel, singer, song

fryn              champion, victor, weapon, weapon of

iara/ica                                 baron, duke, lady/lord  

ice/eth                                 obsession, taker, taken  

idil/imar           alpha, beginning, creator of, maker

iira/inid                                 harbinger, herald

inidia                                     secret, wall, warder

inil/in                                     lady/lord, rider, steed

intra                               envoy, messenger, prophet

isstra/atlab               acolyte, apprentice, student

ithra/irahc                         dragon, serpent, wyrm

jra/gos                                 beast, biter, stinger

jss                                          scout, stalker

kacha/kah                            beauty, hair, style

kiira/raen                              apostle, disciple

lay/dyn                               flight, flyer, wing, wings

lara/aghar                         cynic, death, end, victim

lin                                         arm, armor, commander

lochar                                   messenger, spider

mice/myr           bone, bones, necromancer, witch  

mur'ss                                   shadow, spy, witness

na/nar                                 adept, ghost, spirit

nilee/olil                             corpse, disease, ravager

niss/nozz                           chance, gambler, game

nitra/net                              kicker, returned, risen

nolu                                 art, artist, expert, treasure

olin                                   ascension, love, lover, lust

onia/onim                           rod, staff, token, wand

oyss/omph                       binder, judge, law, prison

qualyn                                 ally, caller, kin

quarra/net                           horde, host, legion

quiri/oj                                  aura, cloak, hide, skin

ra/or                                     fool, game, prey, quarry

rae/rar                                   secret, seeker, quest

raema/orvir                         crafter, fist, hand

raena/olvir                            center, haven, home

riia/rak                       enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ril                                 bandit, enemy, raider, outlaw

riina/ree                     enchanter, mage, spellcaster

ryna/oyn                         follower, hired, mercenary

ryne/ryn                      blooded, elder, experienced

shalee/ral                 abjurer, gaze, watch, watcher

ssysn/rysn          artifact, dweomer, sorcerer, spell

stin/trin         clan, house, merchant, of the house

stra/tran                             spider, spinner, weaver

tana/ton                           darkness, lurker, prowler

thara/tar                             glyph, marker, rune

thrae/olg                          charmer, leader, seducer

tree/tel                         exile, loner, outcast, pariah

tyrr                    dagger, poison, poisoner, scorpion

ual/dan                                speed, strider

ue/dor                                  arm, artisan, fingers

uit/dar                                  breath, voice, word

une/diin                         diviner, fate, future, oracle

uque                              cavern, digger, mole, tunnel  

urra/dax                       nomad, renegade, wanderer

va/ven                             comrade, honor, honored

vayas                         forge, forger, hammer, smith

vyll punishment, scourge, whip, zealot  

vyrae/vyr                     mistress/master, overseer

wae/hrae                           heir, inheritor, princess

wiira/hriir                           seneschal of, steward

wyss/hrys                          best, creator, starter

xae/zaer                             orb, rank, ruler, sceptor

xena/zen                         cutter, gem, jewel, jeweler

xyra/zyr                             sage, teller

yl                                          drow, woman/man

ylene/yln         handmaiden/squire, maiden/youth

ymma/inyon                      drider, feet, foot, runner

ynda/yrd        captain, custodian, marshal, ranger  

ynrae/yraen                       heretic, rebel, riot, void

vrae                                   architect, founder, mason  

yrr                                         protector, rival, wielder

zyne/zt                                finder, hunter

House Name Prefixes - Meaning

Alean                        the noble line of

Ale                             traders in

Arab                          daughters of

Arken                        mages of

Auvry                        blood of the  

Baen                          blessed by

Barri                           spawn of

Cladd                         warriors from

Desp                          victors of

De                               champions of

Do'                              walkers in

Eils                              lands of

Everh                         the caverns of

Fre                              friends of

Gode                          clan of  

Helvi                          those above

Hla                              seers of

Hun'                           the sisterhood of

Ken                            sworn to

Kil                               people of

Mae                           raiders from  

Mel                            mothers of

My                              honored of

Noqu                         sacred to

Orly                            guild of

Ouss                           heirs to

Rilyn                           house of  

Teken'                        delvers in  

Tor                               mistresses of

Zau                              children of

House Name Suffixes - Meaning

afin                              the web

ana                               the night

ani                                the widow

ar                                   poison

arn                                fire

ate                                the way

ath                                the dragons

duis                              the whip

ervs                              the depths

ep                                  the underdark

ett                                 magic

ghym                            the forgotten ways

iryn                               history

lyl                                  the blade

mtor                             the abyss

ndar                              black hearts

neld                              the arcane

rae                                 fell powers

rahel                             the gods

rret                                the void

sek                                 adamantite

th                                    challenges

tlar                                 mysteries

t'tar                                victory

tyl                                   the pits

und                                 the spider's kiss

urden                             the darkness

val                                   silken weaver

viir                                  dominance

zynge                             the ruins

[1mlostnow]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!

Hello! I’m Evan and this is my intro post (the third one, I redo them a lot).

[spotify] [poetry insta] [wall of text] [tone tag list]

I’m a guy, I use he/him, and I’m queer :3

I am a minor!!! Anyone can interact but I’d prefer that if you’re 18+ you don’t do asks or DM me.

EvanRadio : @evan-radio - Tune in!! ★

Writing and poetry : @1mfoundnow

House MD ask blog (Stevie) : @head-of-forensics

House MD ask blog (Gabi) : @plastic-surgeon-gabi

•☆•

•☆•

•☆•

Some basic information ⇨

Blue text is primary information or things I’d like to bring attention to, highlighted headers refer to the entire section (ie : My Resume)

I absolutely love nicknames, you can call me Ev or something completely different.

Obviously no discrimination of any kind, cringe culture is dead and I’d love to learn more about anything you know about.

Please please please interact. Feel free to do asks do anons reply to my posts, anything really. For the most part I’d prefer if you didn’t DM me just because those situations tend to be uncomfortable for me, but if you really want to, go ahead

ALSO I don’t get out a lot and I love interacting with people :))

If you wanna read any of my writing/poetry, it’s posted on my IG which is the same as my tumblr :333

I love my mutuals to death and I mean it when I say you’re my friends ♡︎

I do appreciate it if you could use tone indicators with me, but you don’t have to!

Uhh some assorted facts -> mbti : intj-t, I’m a Leo (idk the sun and moon stuff), I’m from America, more specifically the Midwest (CDT time zone)

Typically online from 8AM-1AM CDT but this fluctuates and will change soon.

My Resume ⇨

★ CEO of Losers Inc.

★ Weird kid since day 1

★ I’m a professional ghostbuster

★ Supervillain (for the outfits)

★ Midwestern Cowboy (fun, not cop)

★ OG test subject (I was in a jar with sticks and leaves and a few holes in the lid)

EvanRadio Tunes ⇨

AJJ, Arctic Monkeys, boygenius, Bright Eyes, Bug Hunter, Cage The Elephant, Car Seat Headrest, Crywank, David Bowie, girl in red, Gorillaz, Green Day, Hospital Bracelet, ICP, Lemon Demon, Lord Huron, Los Campesinos!, Modern Baseball, MCR, Pat The Bunny, Radiohead, Rex Orange County, Ricky Montgomery, Tally Hall, Tame Impala, TFB, The Lumineers, The Neighborhood, The Smiths, The Velvet Underground, TV Girl, Vundabar, Weezer, Will Wood, Will Wood and The Tapeworms, Wingnut Dishwashers Union, and more.

A Guide To Tags ⇨

#evan speaks -> I am very chatty. I love to talk. One day I’ll drop the 50 random drafts // #evan rants -> I love to talk about things that upset me. This will often be politics but it varies // #evan draws -> my art!! I draw and do digital art // #evan writes -> self explanatory, I write some stuff. I post it on my ig too if you wanna see that, it’s the same as my tumblr // #evan can’t vote -> strictly for politics, I am a minor but i encourage everyone to vote if they can // #i love my mutuals -> I love my mutuals :3

Hobbies ⇨

★ I occasionally crochet

★ I love to read and write

★ I play the alto sax in marching band

★ I love art

★ Music <333

Shows and movies ⇨

Supernatural, Sherlock, House MD, Dead Poets Society, My Babysitters A Vampire, Ghostbusters, Velvet Goldmine, The Truman Show, Goonies, Stand By Me, Scooby Doo, Homestuck, Hannibal, Saw, Good Omens, IT 2017, Over The Garden Wall, and more.

Kinnie List ⇨

★ Sherlock Holmes -> Sherlock

★ Castiel -> Supernatural

★ Steven Meeks -> DPS

★ Richie Tozier -> IT 2017

★ Teddy Duchamp -> Stand By Me

★ Truman Burbank -> The Truman Show

★ Egon Spengler -> Ghostbusters

★ Rory Keaner -> MBAV

Primary Fandoms ⇨

Supernatural, DPS, Sherlock, Homestuck, House MD, Ghostbusters

Some other facts ⇨

- I love my car #TOMATER supremacy

- I like to do little drawings sometimes, especially of my mutuals

- Once again I love my mutuals so much

- Richard Cameron Defender for life

- I change my blog theme frequently

- I have adhd

- if u ever draw anything for me I’ll love u forever

- THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING (6x20) IS THE BEST SPN EPISODE AND YOU CAN FIGHT ME ON IT

- I have a tendency to see notifs and forget to reply so if that happens just @ me, I promise I’m not ignoring you

Drawings from ping!! ⇧

Drawings from me ⇩

A note ⇨

Intro post will likely be edited often as well :))

Dead Poets Society ⇨

@pingunaa @ghostboyhood @wordssricochet @meekspeaks @lv3buzzz @yourfavvgal @poetsinnyc @apparitiongnostic @asclexe @lefthandedspaghetti @midwest-quill @notcatseatheadrest @wilsons-three-legged-siamese @de4d-poet-kisser @alightelixe

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

[edosianorchids901]

Glimpses of the Moon

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "wing hug"

Shivering, Crowley paced the ramparts. He took a few deep breaths and tilted his head back, hoping for stars. But clouds blotted out all but a glimpse of the moon, heavy grey stifling all else. Typical.

A biting wind sliced through his heavy clothes, and he gritted his teeth against the chill. Being out here was really not a good call right now. What was he thinking?

Well. He was thinking he really didn’t want to have a panic attack in the stone maze of the castle. Running around desperately, unable to find his way out…

“Crowley?”

Startled, Crowley turned around to look at the sliver of light emerging from the dark stairs. “Angel? What’re you doing here?”

“Being cold, for one thing.” Aziraphale hugged his arms around himself and shuffled towards Crowley. “It’s a ghastly night.”

“Well, at least it’s not raining.” Crowley glanced at the low, dark clouds. “Yet, anyway. Did you need some fresh air?”

“I did not,” Aziraphale said, coming closer. He paused beside Crowley, lips pressed thin. “But when I got back to our room, you weren’t in bed. I thought you said you were tired?”

Crowley shrugged. That was the downside to their little Arrangement sometimes. They traveled together, usually stayed together. It cut down on expenses and made life a lot less lonely. Unfortunately, it also made it harder to hide when he was struggling. “Nnnh. I did need some fresh air.”

“It’s awfully cold air. Not the sort of air you normally enjoy.” Aziraphale gazed up at the faint glow of the moon, now all masked by the clouds. “I don’t mean to pry, but… did something happen?”

“Not really.” This would make more sense if it had, if he had a real reason to be this agitated.

And if it was something he could explain. Oh, Satan, how could he explain to someone who had never been in Hell? Heaven wasn’t any more friendly, true, but the oppressiveness was more of the “no one notices you exist” variety rather than the crushing, writhing mass of bodies in the halls…

Crowley’s legs buckled, his breath catching, and he grabbed the wall for support. The cold stone numbed his hands instantly, which was the opposite of helpful for grounding himself. He struggled for air, but there wasn’t any, it was all closing in—

“Crowley?” Warm hands caught his arm, holding him up. He wheezed, throat closing. “Crowley, what’s wrong? Why are you breathing like that?”

“I… it’s…” Oh Somebody, he couldn’t breathe at all now. He struggled to focus on Aziraphale, on the warmth beside him, on the familiar smell. Everything about Aziraphale was so, so familiar. “I’m claustrophobic.”

“Um.” Aziraphale rubbed his arm, soothing, but glanced around with a skeptical look. “Crowley. We’re outside.”

“I know we’re bloody outside”, Crowley snarled. “That’s why I’m bloody outside. Those damn stone corridors, they’re so narrow, and I got lost…”

His breath caught again, pressure banding around his middle. It crushed down, pain throbbing through his chest and ribs. He grabbed at his heart, suddenly so dizzy that he might have toppled over if Aziraphale hadn’t been holding onto him.

Which would have been really, really bad considering he was leaning over the edge of the ramparts right now. This was his worst idea ever. Last thing he needed was another fall.

He stumbled away from the edge, hyperventilating, and Aziraphale moved with him. “Hush now, it’s all right. I’m right here, Crowley. You’ll be okay. You don’t have to talk about if it it’s too hard.”

“It’s not… it’s just hard to explain.” But if he was talking, maybe he wouldn’t be able to think about Falling. “Hell’s crowded. Corridors everywhere. Flickering light, like the torches. Lots of areas are stone. Easy to get turned around. Might never find your way out.”

His teeth chattered, and Aziraphale wrapped an arm around him. Then Aziraphale wrapped something else around him too.

Crowley looked at the bright white feathers in shock.

“I suppose getting lost in the castle was a bit too much like being in Hell?” Aziraphale asked gently, wrapping the other wing around him too. The feathers cut off the cold wind. “Does this happen often?”

Crowley growled vaguely, looking away. Yes, it happened often. More often than he liked. “Usually, being in cramped spaces just makes me uncomfortable. I mean, I know the castle isn’t cramped exactly. Bloody massive. But the corridors everywhere, not being able to find my way out. Sets me off.”

“You felt trapped.”

“Hn.” Being up here wasn’t helping much, not with the oppressive clouds, but it was still better than being stuck inside. “I just needed some space, s’ all. Too bad space is covered up, eh?”

He managed to make it sound like a joke, but Aziraphale gave him a knowing look nonetheless and mantled him closer. “This isn’t making you feel trapped, is it?”

Crowley glanced at the feathery wings hugging him, then shook his head. “Nuh, it’s like wearing a cloak. Warm.”

“Ah, yes.” Aziraphale studied him. “I suspect a proper hug would be different though, hmm? A bit too restrictive?”

“Probably, yeah. For now. But this is good.” And weirdly calming. Crowley leaned against Aziraphale, breathing a little more easily now. “Oop, look. Got the moon back, at least.”

He pointed to the break in the clouds, and Aziraphale followed his gaze. “Ah, yes. You see, Crowley? Space is still there.”

“Yeah.” Crowley smiled, gazing at the sliver of moon and a handful of distant stars. “It is.”

[bonefall]

can you tell us more about bb!shadowstar? I really liked her in dotc but I think that was because I read it years ago and my brain has ignored canon and made her my blorbo since then lmao

also dotc autocorrected to ditch and I think that’s where it belongs

She gets done SO dirty in canon OH my god.

BB!Shadowstar is a pious, quiet person who cares first and foremost about what's most beneficial to her cats, and her cats alone.

The Shadow Family is descended from Broken Shadow, who famously adopted The Tyrant and ruled by her side through the destruction of the Kinships.

With the lake poisoned and the ancient forest cut bald, it laid a curse on the family. All Shadow cats are born with pure black pelts. If they come without one, they are dead before their first moon.

Tall Shadow has lived her whole life with the curse of tyranny in mind. It defines her. She is both ambitious, and wants to rule through respect.

She cares immensely about the will of the Stars, and listens when they send a sign... though, she can still be guilty of interpreting their omens in a way that benefits her people.

She speaks with a LOT of "we" statements.

When Jagged Peak broke his leg and it didn't heal, it wasn't her idea to exile him. It was Clear Sky.

She didn't know how to feel about it, necessarily... it struck her as wrong, but he phrased it as fairness. "A cat who does not contribute cannot take. We can't make exceptions. He was broken for a reason."

When only Bright Storm returned, carrying a little kitten with a leg missing in the same spot Jagged Peak broke his, her stomach twisted in horror.

She was convinced, instantly, that Gray Wing had crafted that child. Xey had sent them a sign; what they'd done was cruel and unforgivable.

The first child of the forest, an echo of the first cat who died here.

From that day on, everything she did would be for the health and safety of ALL her cats. She would spend the rest of her life atoning for what she allowed to happen to Jagged Peak.

After a fight with Clear Sky because he rejected his child, Tall Shadow broke off her supporters. They didn't go to the Marsh at first, that happened slowly.

Their first camp was at Snakerocks, in the cave the dogs hid in many generations later. There's ochre drawings from them deep inside.

Her kindness only extended to her own cats, however. While she allowed Turtle Heart to bring Bumble to the group, she was clear that it was only on her vouch.

If Bumble couldn't learn to hunt then she would not be allowed to take. Clear Sky had still left a mark on her, and the whole Clan.

This wasn't a cruelty of herself alone; this was the agreement that the Clan had come to.

So when Turtle Heart died, they sent Bumble away. Thunder Storm returned from his time with Clear Sky. The rest is history.

But, when Thunder Storm and his cats came to ask for Bumble's kittens, Tall Shadow asked how she could know if they could care for them?

Part of her was legitimately concerned, and this was the part she put foward. Another part of her realized that the budding group could benefit her somehow.

She's not completely selfless, nor is she totally heartless. She's more influenced by Clear Sky's mindset than she realizes, but can take a stand when she feels it goes too far. Tall Shadow isn't above using people as chips to bargain, but stops short of putting them in danger.

Of all the leaders, she tends to play the most safe. Even Riverstar will stick his neck out for his ally Thunderstar on occasion, but Shadowstar needs to see something that could threaten her before making a move.

[newromesweirdest]

Octavian Relationship Headcanons - PJO/HoO

Yep, we're going *there*. I suddenly had some inspiration and decided to go for it. You can either interpret this as general headcanons or as a x reader, whichever you prefer!

Headcanons below the cut :)

Octavian has probably never been in a relationship, so once he does get into one.....oh boy......prepare for the awkwardness. He doesn't live under a rock so he knows how flirting works in principle, but he's rarely done it, so he's definitely awkward and I can almost guarantee that he stumbles over his words a LOT at first.

Has Octavian ever kissed anyone? Probably not, unless it was a game of Spin the Bottle and he entered on a dare or was forced to be there. Considering this, I feel like he would be over the moon when he finally gets to kiss his s/o for the first time. He is also probably bright red throughout the entire thing, but that has nothing to do with the kiss and it's obviously just due to the heat or the cold, or so he would say....

Once Octavian and his s/o have their first kiss, I feel like he goes a little feral. I'm talking constant kisses when they're in private. Octavian is in the temple and he has just finished reading the auspices when his s/o walks in? It's time for kisses with a side of polyester stuffing. Octavian and his s/o take a rare trip away from Camp Jupiter to go on a real date in Oakland? Citizens of Oakland, prepare to witness PDA. Octavian and his s/o find a moment of peace after a war game? Roman armor kisses.

However, does PDA occur in the eyes of Camp Jupiter? Absolutely not! I think that Octavian would be too skittish for that at first, and then soon it morphs into a habit, and later it becomes a sort of "professionalism" thing. However, Octavian totally goes to his s/o for comfort throughout the day, whether it be after a stressful Senate meeting or a draining prophecy.

A personal headcanon of mine is that Octavian occasionally sleeps in the temple, especially when New Rome is facing conflict and the prophecies and omens are rolling in. Octavian is essentially a divine mailman, and sometimes the mail gets a bit overwhelming, so I can totally see him camping out in the temple in case a late night "message" comes in.

After Octavian and his s/o have been together for a while, his s/o sometimes joins him in his "temple camping adventure." They probably store a few folding cots or an air mattress in a quiet corner of the temple, and they camp in the shadows close to the altar. His s/o definitely gets some weird looks from the other campers after that, so they had better be prepared to face the camp at the next meal or training exercise.

I feel like despite Octavian's wealth, he probably takes his s/o on "cheaper" dates (fast food, movies, beach trips, zoos). Octavian gave so much of his childhood to the legion, and I feel like he would yearn for "teenage" experiences, so he and his s/o go on a lot of cutesy, silly adventures.

However, if his s/o did want a fancier date, Octavian definitely knows the nicest restaurants in the area and will 100% book an expensive reservation at the drop of a hat.

I have a very specific idea of what Octavian would do for an anniversary, and I feel like he would take his s/o to a fancy restaurant, followed by something simpler like a trip to the San Francisco zoo. Fancy and simple! The best of the both worlds!

If they are both able to get away from their duties in New Rome, Octavian and his s/o occasionally borrow one of the legion's SUVs and go on a joy ride around Oakland. It drives Reyna up a wall, but she does allow it on occasion.

Overall, I think Octavian would be awkward but very sweet in a relationship. He can be a manipulative public speaker and a vicious politician, but he does have a heart and I think deep down he yearns to have someone who understands and truly supports him. Octavian is 100% a mushy romantic at heart and I will take no criticism on this one.

About a month into the relationship, Octavian is obsessively reading auspices while trying to figure out if he and his s/o are soulmates. 100% makes sacrifices to Venus before going on a date, and he's definitely putting all of his hope into this being a long-term thing.

Octavian believes in soulmates

[sailor-aviator]

Sailor-Aviator's Playlist Writing Challenge

Hello, hello!! Welcome back to another writing challenge! This one also had a lot of votes in the poll I posted, so I figured why not go ahead and release it?

The Concept

I have what some might call an eclectic music taste. What does that mean? I like a bit of just about everything! So, I compiled a list of songs from my playlists that I thought might make good fanfic inspiration! As with my Christmas Challenge, there will be a limited number of spots for each song! Just send me a DM/ask telling me which song you'd like to choose and for which Top Gun character you'd like to write for!

The Rules

You may sign up for more than one slot as long as there are slots available. However, you can not take up two slots for the same song.

Tag your fics appropriately! (Angst, smut, fluff, warnings, etc.)

18+ ONLY!

This can be a series, a one-shot, moodboards, or even a collection of drabbles! Just have fun with it!

You MUST use your song in some way in the fic. For example, if your song is Two Doors Down by Dolly Parton, then you could write about going to a party or about being a Dagger's neighbor.

HAVE FUN!!!

This writing challenge will not have a time limit, and you can sign up whenever you want! When you are finished (or started the series/collection), you can shoot me the link so I can tag it below. Also, please tag me in the fic and tag the challenge! The more the merrier! Now, there are some popular artists on here, but I encourage EVERYONE to listen to ALL the songs before making your decisions!! I will add more songs if I need to as well!

Tagging a couple of mutuals who I think would be interested: @goldenseresinretriever @bobgasm @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @jupitercomet @seresinhangmanjake @number-0-iz

The Playlist

Songs below the cut!

Two Doors Down by Dolly Parton

@aworldinsideaperson w/ Jake Seresin

@alegendoftomorrow w/ the Dagger Squad

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Ends of the Earth by Lord Huron

alegendoftomorrow w/ Bradley Bradshaw

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Work Song by Hozier

@devil-angel-winchester w/ Bradley Bradshaw

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Darling by Halsey

@goldenseresinretriever w/ Tom Kazansky

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The Death of Peace of Mind by Bad Omens

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Stolen by Dashboard Confessional

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Youth by Troye Sivan

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Get on the Road by Tired Pony

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Littlething by Jimmy Eat World

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The Saltwater Room by Owl City

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Enchanted by Taylor Swift

@shinycupcakebaker w/ Bob Floyd

@seresinsbrat w/ Bradley Bradshaw

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Georgia by Vance Joy

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I'll Be by Edwin McCain

@powellssugarbaby w/ Jake Seresin

@sweetwhispersofchaos w/ Bob Floyd

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Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar

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New Religion by The Heydaze

@aworldinsideaperson w/ Bradley Bradshaw

alegendoftomorrow w/ Jake Seresin

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She Burns by Foy Vance

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Shrike by Hozier

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Dancing With the Devil by Short Stack

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Like Real People Do by Hozier

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Shut Up and Dance by WALK THE MOON

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Bright by Echosmith

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Someone to You by BANNERS

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WILD by Troye Sivan

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Stay With Me by ayokay

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Iris by Jada Forcer

goldenseresinretriever w/ Tom Kazansky

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Sunshine by Short Stack

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Tell Her You Love Her by Echosmith

aworldinsideaperson w/ Bradley Bradshaw

alegendoftomorrow w/ Bob Floyd

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Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac

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Too Late to Turn Back Now by Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose

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Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks

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Mine by Taylor Swift

@bellaireland1981 w/ Bradley Bradshaw

alegendoftomorrow w/ Bradley Bradshaw

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Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

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Burn You Down by Short Stack

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Jolene by Dolly Parton

@dingochef w/ Jake Seresin

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Pretty Carolina by Jontha Links

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Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers

aworldinsideaperson w/ Bob Floyd

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Style by Taylor Swift

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Out of the Woods by Taylor Swift

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You and Me by Lifehouse

@bobgasm w/ Bob Floyd

seresinsbrat w/ Jake Seresin

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Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac

aworldinsideaperson w/ (TBD)

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[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

more sound of music x good omens. why not.

Hi, Good Omens Mascot here. The ordinary text is Crowley, the (slightly desperate /ref) italics are Aziraphale, and the bold is both of them. Sigh.

Raindrops on your wings, and starfall on mine Bright copper hair... and warm sushi, divine! Dining at the Ritz and warm picnics in spring... These are a few of our favourite things You in your dresses, our alcohol stashes Your pleading eyes when you flutter your lashes (Oh, Crowley, I don't do that) (Yes you do, angel) A cottage in the country, one day, wedding rings... These are a few of our favourite things Cream-coloured bowties and fussy waistcoats Your little smirk, and your love for those goats (Angel.) (Hush, dear) Long midnight flights with the moon on our wings These are a few of our favourite things When Hell calls, when Heaven's comments sting Or when we're feeling sad We simply remember our favourite things And then we don't feel... so bad.

Maybe when I'm not ill and miserable I'll record these and put them on the cursed Youtube channel. Who knows? Wait and see.

I love you, maggots.

[suguwu]

you know.

from the second you hear his name, you know.

("the knowing is the pain," your mother used to say, tracing the charcoal burn of her soulmark. her gaze reminded you of the morning mist, of how it swallows up the sun. she stared out into the distance, where the third moon hung over the horizon.

it had risen for the first time in a hundred years, pearly pink and huge, and your soulmark had burned itself into being as soon as it peeked over the edge of the world.

a lucky omen, they said.

"the knowing is the pain," she said again, and you turned away.

you didn't understand then.

now, you think—now you might.)

"aventurine," you whisper, so quiet that it shouldn't carry to him. it should be swallowed by the cacophony of the atrium, the rise of a hundred soft voices made into something bigger.

he turns around anyway.

the horror flickers over his face like a lightning strike. a bright flash, almost blinding. it burns out just as quickly, replaced by a charming smile.

he's handsome, and his smile is distracting, a magician's misdirection. but the horror—that stays with you. it makes a home in your chest, gnaws against your rib bones.

he slithers through the crowd. he guides you to the edge of it with a light hand at the small of your back, barely touching.

"my, my," he says once you're in the shadows. in the dim, his eyes almost seem to glow. "this is unexpected."

"is it?"

he smiles. you want to smudge it away with your thumb like a clinging crumb. reveal the horror that lingers just beneath his skin.

(the knowing is the pain.)

"c'mon," he says. "let's head to my ship. we can talk there."

you nod.

he leads; you follow. he moves with lazy, confident ease, but there's tension coiling through his shoulders. you wonder if anyone else can see it.

you wonder if anyone else can bring it out in him.

you think not.

you close your eyes.

(the knowing is the pain.)