#Deep Learning Market Share

[gaurik27]

https://heyjinni.com/read-blog/229623_ai-039-s-neural-core-forecasting-the-deep-learning-market-surge.html

[plutosunshine]

How to Make Your Life Fulfilling? Venus in houses

Venus in the 1st house

Venus in the 1st house gives you a natural charm and warmth that draws people in effortlessly. You have a way of making others feel seen and appreciated, and this can open so many doors for you, both personally and professionally. To make your life more fulfilling, lean into that charm—but not just for the sake of getting along with people. Use it to genuinely connect, to create meaningful relationships that feed your soul rather than just your ego.

Since Venus is all about beauty, love, and harmony, surround yourself with things that bring you joy and a sense of peace. This could mean curating a beautiful living space, engaging in creative self-expression, or even just taking time for self-care rituals that make you feel good in your own skin. You naturally exude a certain magnetism, so embrace it—but remember, true fulfillment doesn’t come from how others see you. It comes from how you feel about yourself.

Also, with Venus in the 1st house, you may have a tendency to seek validation from others. It’s great to be liked, but don’t let it define your worth. The more you love and value yourself for who you truly are—not just for how you present yourself—the more you’ll attract people who genuinely appreciate you.

Venus in the 2nd house

With Venus in the 2nd house, your sense of fulfillment is closely tied to your values, possessions, and the way you experience comfort and pleasure. You have a natural talent for attracting resources, whether it’s money, beautiful objects, or people who support you. There’s an appreciation for quality over quantity, and you tend to seek out things that feel luxurious or aesthetically pleasing.

However, true fulfillment with this placement isn’t just about accumulating things—it’s about aligning your resources with what truly matters to you. What do you value most? Is it security, beauty, love, or perhaps a sense of self-worth? The more you connect your resources and talents to those deeper values, the more content and abundant you’ll feel.

You also have a knack for making money through Venusian pursuits—art, design, beauty, or anything that brings pleasure to the senses. But watch out for the tendency to equate your self-worth with your net worth. Venus here can sometimes get too attached to material validation. Instead, focus on cultivating self-love and appreciating what you already have. That’s where the real sense of richness comes from.

Venus in the 3rd house

Venus in the 3rd house brings charm and grace to the way you communicate. You have a natural ability to connect with people through words, whether it’s through writing, speaking, or just casual conversation. You can make even the most mundane topics sound interesting and engaging, which makes you someone others enjoy talking to.

To feel truly fulfilled with this placement, lean into the art of communication. Share your thoughts, write, journal, or even engage in storytelling. You have a gift for making connections, not just between people but also between ideas. You could thrive in roles where you’re able to express yourself creatively—writing, teaching, marketing, or social media.

Relationships with siblings, neighbors, or people in your immediate environment can also be a source of pleasure and support. Venus here can bring harmony to these connections, but it can also indicate a tendency to avoid conflict or gloss over difficult conversations. Remember, true connection comes from being authentic, not just charming.

There’s also a love of learning with this placement. You’re drawn to beautiful words, poetry, art, or even music with meaningful lyrics. Feeding your mind with things that inspire and uplift you can be incredibly fulfilling.

Venus in the 4th house

Venus in the 4th house brings a deep love for home, family, and the feeling of emotional security. You’re someone who finds fulfillment in creating a beautiful, comforting, and harmonious living space—a place that feels like a sanctuary. Your home is likely a reflection of your personal style and values, and you might have a knack for interior design or decorating with a touch of elegance and warmth.

Relationships with family, especially with women or maternal figures, can be significant with this placement. There’s a desire to maintain peace and harmony within the family unit, and you may be the peacemaker, the one who smooths over conflicts or tries to keep everyone happy. But it’s important to ensure that your own emotional needs don’t get lost in the process of keeping the peace.

On a deeper level, Venus here suggests that you seek emotional security through close, loving connections. You thrive when you feel loved and supported at a core, foundational level. It’s not just about physical comfort—it’s about feeling emotionally safe and valued by those closest to you.

You might also have a love for nostalgia, family heirlooms, or anything that carries sentimental value. Surrounding yourself with things that evoke happy memories can be incredibly fulfilling.

Venus in the 5th house

With Venus in the 5th house, life becomes so much more fulfilling when you let yourself fully lean into joy, creativity, and self-expression. This placement is all about letting your inner artist come out to play. Maybe it’s painting, dancing, writing poetry, or just finding little ways to make everyday life feel more romantic and fun. You’re someone who thrives when you’re creating beauty or experiencing it, so make time for the things that light you up.

Love and romance are also major sources of fulfillment for you. But it’s not just about falling in love with someone else—it’s about falling in love with life itself. Date yourself. Treat yourself to little luxuries, whether it’s a spontaneous weekend trip, a fancy coffee, or a night out doing something you genuinely enjoy. The more you infuse your days with moments that feel special, the more alive you’ll feel.

And don’t forget to play. Venus in the 5th house is like the cosmic permission slip to embrace your inner child. Go do things just for the fun of it, without any expectation of being productive or impressive. Whether it’s a silly game night with friends or trying something new just for the thrill, those moments of pure, uncomplicated joy are what keep your spirit thriving.

You also have a gift for making others feel special, and that can be incredibly fulfilling. Compliment someone, write a love letter, or surprise a friend with something thoughtful. The love you give has a way of coming back to you tenfold, especially when it’s given without expectation.

Venus in the 6th house

With Venus in the 6th house, life feels more fulfilling when you find beauty and pleasure in the everyday routines. You’re someone who can turn even the simplest tasks into something enjoyable—like making your morning coffee a little ritual, organizing your workspace to feel cozy and inviting, or putting on your favorite playlist while you get things done. The more you bring a sense of grace and harmony to your daily life, the more content and grounded you’ll feel.

Work and service are big themes here too. You’re at your best when you’re doing work that feels meaningful, especially if it involves helping others or creating a more pleasant, harmonious environment. Maybe you have a knack for making things look beautiful, whether it’s arranging flowers, designing a workspace, or just bringing a calm, welcoming vibe to the office. The key is to find work that not only supports you financially but also feels rewarding on a soul level.

There’s also a desire for balance and harmony in your health and wellness routines. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re taking care of yourself in a way that feels good rather than just going through the motions. Think gentle movement, nourishing foods, or creating a relaxing bedtime routine that genuinely helps you unwind.

Relationships with coworkers or those you see on a day-to-day basis can be another source of warmth and connection. You’re someone who can make even mundane interactions feel pleasant and kind, and that energy tends to come back to you. Small acts of kindness, thoughtful gestures, or simply taking time to connect can bring a lot of subtle but lasting fulfillment.

Venus in the 7th house

With Venus in the 7th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re deeply connected to others in a way that’s balanced, loving, and genuinely harmonious. You’re someone who craves meaningful, one-on-one connections—whether it’s a romantic partnership, a close friendship, or even a business collaboration. You naturally know how to make people feel seen and appreciated, and that energy tends to draw others to you like a magnet.

Romantic relationships are especially significant with this placement. You thrive in partnerships where there’s mutual respect, affection, and a sense of shared beauty—whether that’s creating a beautiful home together, going on romantic dates, or just finding little ways to make each other feel special. But it’s not just about having a partner; it’s about having a partnership that feels balanced and fair, where both people feel equally valued.

There’s also a talent for creating harmony and peace in your interactions. You’re a natural mediator, someone who can smooth over conflicts and help people find common ground. This can be a gift in both personal and professional relationships, but it’s important to be mindful of not over-compromising just to keep the peace. Your needs matter too.

Life also feels more fulfilling when you surround yourself with beauty and grace. Maybe that means planning intimate gatherings, visiting art galleries, or simply spending time with people who inspire you. The more you cultivate relationships that feel warm, loving, and aesthetically pleasing, the more fulfilled you’ll feel.

Venus in the 8th house

With Venus in the 8th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re diving deep—into relationships, into your own psyche, into the mysteries of life. Superficial connections just don’t do it for you; you crave intensity, intimacy, and transformative experiences that feel almost soul-deep. You’re drawn to people and situations that make you feel seen in ways that are profound, raw, and real.

There’s a magnetic, almost hypnotic quality to your presence. People may find themselves confiding in you or feeling inexplicably drawn to you. But fulfillment doesn’t come from just any connection—it comes from those rare, all-consuming bonds where you can be completely vulnerable and still feel safe and valued.

Money and resources can also be areas of focus with this placement. You might find yourself drawn to situations involving shared finances, inheritances, or investments. You could even have a knack for attracting wealth through partnerships or strategic alliances. But the deeper lesson here is about not letting money or possessions define your worth. True abundance for you is about emotional and spiritual richness, not just material wealth.

Sexuality, too, can be a path to fulfillment. You’re someone who experiences love and desire intensely, and casual flings may leave you feeling empty. You crave the kind of connection where intimacy isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, psychological, even spiritual. When you find someone you can trust enough to let your guard down completely, that’s where the magic happens.

Healing and transformation are big themes here too. You have the potential to deeply heal yourself and others by facing your own shadows and helping others face theirs. The more you embrace the depths of who you are—the light and the dark—the more empowered and fulfilled you’ll feel.

Venus in the 9th house

With Venus in the 9th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re exploring, learning, and expanding your horizons. You’re someone who finds beauty in the bigger picture—in new experiences, different cultures, and the pursuit of knowledge that opens your mind and heart. Routine and predictability can feel stifling; you crave the excitement of discovering new perspectives and connecting with people who inspire you to think differently.

Travel can be a major source of joy and inspiration. You’re the type who falls in love with distant places, foreign customs, and the feeling of being somewhere completely new. Even if you can’t physically travel, exploring new philosophies, spiritual practices, or higher education can give you that same sense of expansion and fulfillment.

Relationships often take on a more adventurous, expansive quality with this placement. You’re drawn to people who broaden your worldview—those who challenge you to see life through a different lens. Romantic connections might even come through travel, education, or shared beliefs, and you’re likely most attracted to those who have a bit of a free spirit or worldly vibe.

You also have a love for wisdom and meaning. Superficial small talk? Not your thing. You want conversations that go deeper, that explore life’s purpose or the nature of love and beauty. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re discussing philosophy, spirituality, or big-picture ideas that make you feel more connected to something greater than yourself.

Venus in the 10th house

With Venus in the 10th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re recognized for your talents, beauty, or charm in a public or professional setting. You naturally know how to present yourself in a way that’s attractive and appealing, making you someone who can easily win people over in business, career, or social circles. There’s a magnetic quality to how you carry yourself, and people often notice your grace, style, or charisma.

You’re someone who finds purpose in being admired for what you do, not just who you are. There’s a desire to be respected, appreciated, or even loved for your work or contributions to the world. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re in a role where you can express your Venusian qualities—art, design, fashion, beauty, diplomacy, or any field where creating harmony and aesthetics is part of the job.

Relationships can also play a significant role in your career or public life. You may attract partners who can elevate your status or support your ambitions, or you may find love through work or professional connections. There’s a natural talent for networking and forming alliances that are both beneficial and pleasant.

However, the lesson here is not to get too caught up in appearances or external validation. It’s great to be admired, but true fulfillment comes from doing work that feels aligned with your values and brings a sense of genuine accomplishment. When you’re creating something that feels beautiful or meaningful to you, the recognition naturally follows.

There’s also a graceful, diplomatic way you handle responsibilities. You can be a natural mediator or someone who brings a touch of elegance to leadership roles. People may look up to you not just for what you achieve, but for how you achieve it—with poise, tact, and a genuine love for what you do.

Venus in the 11th house

With Venus in the 11th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re surrounded by people who share your values, dreams, and ideals. You’re someone who thrives in groups, communities, and friendships where there’s a sense of connection and mutual support. You naturally attract people who are kind, artistic, or socially conscious, and you have a knack for making others feel welcome and included.

Friendships can be a major source of joy for you. You’re the type who genuinely enjoys connecting people, bringing different circles together, or planning gatherings that feel warm and inclusive. You have a way of making group settings feel more harmonious, and people are drawn to your easygoing, likable energy.

There’s also a love for causes, movements, or shared visions. You might feel most fulfilled when you’re involved in projects that bring people together for a greater purpose—whether it’s activism, charity work, or just creating a sense of community. You’re someone who can bring a touch of beauty or artistry to group efforts, whether that’s through creative collaborations, event planning, or just making things feel more pleasant and inviting.

Romance can also have a slightly unconventional vibe here. You might find yourself falling for someone who feels more like a best friend, or you could meet partners through social groups, online communities, or shared interests. The lines between friendship and romance can blur, and you’re likely drawn to people who share your hopes and dreams for the future.

But the key to feeling truly fulfilled with this placement is to stay connected to what you love, not just who you love. What are the big dreams and visions that light you up? What kind of people make you feel inspired and uplifted? The more you surround yourself with those kinds of connections, the more your Venus shines.

Venus in the 12th house

With Venus in the 12th house, life feels most fulfilling when you’re tapping into the deeper, more subtle layers of love, beauty, and connection. You’re someone who experiences love in a soulful, almost otherworldly way. There’s a natural pull toward the mystical, the hidden, and the unspoken, and you may find yourself drawn to people or experiences that feel a bit like a dream or a secret.

There’s a deep, compassionate heart here. You’re someone who can love unconditionally, often seeing the beauty in people that others might overlook. But there can also be a tendency to give too much or to lose yourself in relationships, so finding that balance between self-sacrifice and self-love is key.

Solitude can be incredibly nourishing for you. Time alone, daydreaming, creating art, or simply getting lost in your own inner world can feel as fulfilling as being with others. You might find peace through spiritual practices, meditation, or spending time in nature—anything that allows you to connect with the intangible.

Love can be a bit elusive with this placement. There might be secret relationships, unspoken feelings, or attractions to people who are somehow unavailable or difficult to reach. There’s a romantic, almost fairy-tale quality to how you experience love, but it can also mean that you’re drawn to situations that are more fantasy than reality.

Art, music, and anything that allows you to express the deeper, more emotional parts of yourself can be incredibly healing and fulfilling. You have a gift for channeling your feelings into something beautiful, and the more you do that, the more your soul feels nourished.

[earthtooz]

phainon x gn!scholar reader, phainon is so in love and reader is oblivious

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

The moment Phainon’s eyes first met yours, there was a stutter in his heart, an indescribable feeling of reverence coupled with curiosity creeped into his being when he first met you.

Beautiful. That was the only word he knew at the time.

Your beauty was unparalleled, unmatched as you saunter into his view, mind not exactly present in the moment as your clothes swayed with your every hurried step. Your eyes were foggy, a testament to your dedication and work, evidenced by the tablet you held snug to your side.

He decides in that moment that he wants to know you, so he purposefully sets himself in your line of movement and waits for the moment when you bump into him, far too focused in a world that wasn’t the one you were presently in. Fate decided to be kind to him when you fall right into his schemes, allowing him to catch you with an arm secured around your waist, your tablet falling to the stone pavement with a dull smack.

“Oh my!” you exclaim. “My utmost apologies, I was not aware of where I was going-”

He smiles, for the last thing he was thinking of was your apology. Even your voice is beautiful, the words flowing into his ears like warm ichor.

“It’s alright,” he reassures with that smile of his, almost faltering when his heart skips another beat the moment your eyes flit to look at his. Phainon thinks he’s going to collapse to his knees if you glance away. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me your name.”

Unaware of his flirtatious intentions, you sound out the syllables of your name and he repeats it with much wonder. “What a lovely name. I’m Phainon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s been two years since he first met you, and you are still just as enchanting.

He learns you are a widely renowned scholar and author, which explains the tablet you held that day. Of course, you were shocked the moment he uttered his name, for the titles of the Chrysos Heirs were well known, essentially common knowledge for those that flourished in the world of academia. Phainon still cherishes the memory of your expression, keeping it in the back of his mind and musing over it in private.

If you had known he was holding that over you, you would have thrown a slew of unpretty words at him with that pretty voice of yours, and he would have cherished them the same way he does with all of your works.

Whenever Phainon hears that your most recent novel has been released, he is one of the first to scour for it, reading it from start to finish within days. Even your publications from years before have a place on his shelves, there is no book of yours that he has not purchased and proceeded to read from front to back.

He insists on meeting you whenever he can, and while you answer a question he asked, he’s trying to keep his marvelling to a minimum, trying to keep these feelings from spilling all over you as he lets you know that his undivided attention is on you.

You’re skeptical of him. You wonder why he seeks your companionship specifically, what about you entertained him enough to invite you on market walks, buy your favourite drink from your favourite stall, and then sit on a marble bench in a quiet park underneath falling leaves.

As you’re busy pondering, he jolts whenever your thigh brushes against his.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

His favourite time to admire you is when you’re deep in thought and unaware of the world around you, too focused on the wax tablet that sits on your desk.

Despite the practicality of papers, you tell him you like the sensation of writing on wax, how your pen glides along, all of your bursts of inspiration occur like this, so they hold a dear place in your heart. Soft chatter is exchanged, he tells you about his day, you share some idle musings about yours, then you let him know of the most recent developments of your work before he lets you write in peace.

Phainon tries not to stare too much, knows it’s unbecoming to do so, but he can’t help letting his eyes linger on you as your hand scrawls, occasionally taking a break here and there but never letting the train of thought end without it being recorded.

He could watch forever. He could be here forever, sitting in a comfortable chaise in the corner of your study, rendering himself invisible in your periphery as he just gets to exist with you.

The Chrysos Heir is in love.

It’s not widely known, perhaps less than a handful of people know, and it’s not because he has confessed it to them outright, but because they have caught on to the subtleties.

The company he surrounds himself with knows well enough about the scholar that has caught his heart, and how he refuses to run away. They give him teasing looks now and then whenever the prospect of romance and love is raised, and glance specifically at the light-haired when your name is mentioned in passing, not wanting to miss the softening of his bright gaze.

It’s even more entertaining because you are not aware of it.

You are not aware of Phainon’s awestruck eyes whenever he looks at you, how he leans closer whenever you speak, desperate to close the gap however he can. You are not aware of how he speaks your name so gently, as if wanting the wind to take the words away and to you so that no one else may hear. You are not aware of the little world Phainon lives in where it’s just you and him, existing together.

The rest of the Chrysos Heir hound after him relentlessly when they first discovered of your ignorance to his feelings, and now they make it their life mission to make fun of him for it, especially before you.

Phainon does not mind, well- tries not to, because he is in love.

As infuriating it is that you haven’t caught on, despite your immense intelligence, he waits patiently for the day you will.

Even though he yearns to declare it from the highest point of Amphoreus, that his very being has been seized by you, he is content with the quiet moments you share now, and he will happily take all that you give him, even if he wants more.

Phainon is in love.

© EARTHTOOZ 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[astrofaeology]

Groom in the Houses

paid readings | Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 Please support me by reposting, liking, following me and commenting your placement. The asterioid groom (5129) can reveal the charteristics of your future husband and your relationship with your masculine romantic interests can be derived from the placement in your natal chart.

1st house Your future husband will likely be very visible and personal in your life, someone who impacts your identity strongly. You might meet him through activities that involve self-expression or personal development, such as sports, fitness, or events where you showcase your individuality. This partner could also come into your life through situations where first impressions count.

2nd house He may be connected to your values, finances, or possessions, often someone who provides security. Meeting could happen through work related to money or material things — like banks, real estate, or markets. He might also come through family traditions or through shared financial interests and investments.

3rd house Your future husband is likely communicative and connected to your immediate environment. You could meet him through neighbors, siblings, local events, or educational settings like classes or workshops. Travel close to home, community gatherings, or social media connections are also possible meeting points.

4th house This man might be deeply tied to home, family, or emotional roots. You could meet him through family events, childhood neighborhoods, or even while dealing with family matters or real estate. There’s a strong emotional or domestic foundation in this connection, possibly through home gatherings or ancestral ties.

5th house Romance and creativity are central with this placement. You may meet your husband through fun, playful activities — parties, dating events, artistic or performance spaces, or anything involving children or hobbies. This placement suggests a joyful, lighthearted approach to meeting your future spouse.

6th house Work, health, and daily routines are important themes here. Your husband might come into your life through your job, workplace, or volunteer activities. Health clubs, clinics, or places related to service and helping others could be where you meet. This partner is likely involved in your everyday life in practical ways.

7th house The classic house of partnership and marriage — your future husband could come directly through relationship-focused environments. Dating sites, marriage agencies, social events, or through introductions by mutual friends are common meeting places. This placement highlights the importance of conscious, committed partnerships.

8th house Deep emotional or transformational bonds mark this placement. You may meet your husband through shared finances, inheritances, or situations involving crisis or healing. This could be through legal matters, counseling, or intense life experiences that bring you closer. There’s often a mysterious or magnetic quality to this meeting.

9th house Your future husband might be connected to travel, higher learning, or philosophy. Meeting could happen abroad, at universities, religious or spiritual gatherings, or through cultural events. This partner likely broadens your horizons and shares your love of exploration and big ideas.

10th house Career and public image are highlighted here. You could meet your husband through work, professional networks, or public events. This person might be influential or well-known in their field. Meeting could also occur at conferences, awards ceremonies, or places where people gather to achieve goals.

11th house Friendship and social groups are key. Your husband might come from your circle of friends, clubs, or activist groups. You may meet him at social gatherings, online communities, or through shared causes and ideals. This placement suggests a partner who is also your friend and shares your vision for the future.

12th house This placement suggests a more hidden or spiritual connection. You could meet your future husband in secluded or behind-the-scenes places like hospitals, retreats, or spiritual centers. Sometimes the meeting is subtle or feels destined, happening through dreams, intuition, or in quiet, private moments.

DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my sales page.

@astrofaeology private services 2025 all rights reserved

[ellipsus-writes]

Stories of resistance; communities of power

(Read over on the blog!) The first time I met a queer character was a literal flash in the dark: stumbling onto Maurice on the IFC channel, sometime around midnight—the Merchant-Ivory adaptation of E. M. Forster's novel where the two leads actually get a happy ending.

Before that, the only queer characters I’d ever seen were Scar and Ursula, camping, preening, and scheming their way to classic villainhood—swishy, fabulous, undeniably doomed. And then I found Oscar Wilde at the library: an actual gay writer (thrilling: I bought a poster on the nascent internet of the author lounging on a settee and taped it too my bedroom door—abandon straightness, all ye who enter here). And then I learned how it ended: destroyed by the state, dragged through a prejudicial court system—the ultimate doomed narrative, for the crime of being human.

There have been big strides in the, uh… how many intervening years? (Y2K was 10 years ago, right?) We no longer have to sit quietly, waiting for a flicker of queer joy on late-night TV, clawing our way through a wasteland of tragedy to feel seen.

Now, we make our own stories.

I wrote my own stories in high school; digging through the cracks to find historic queer spaces I could enter, rediscovering buried worlds and realizing we’d always been here. (Ask me about mid-18th-century gay life in Paris, or ‘20s Berlin... or don’t.) And fanfic, which went mainstream a little later, changed everything. It’s the way so many people carve out space for themselves—claiming stories that were never meant for us and making them our own.

Of course, it’s 2025. There are tragedies happening right now. Big ones, small ones, ones so personal they’ll never make the news; losses so massive they leave entire communities grieving. They can feel insurmountable.

But we have something stronger—community.

You’re already doing the work. You’re making yourselves visible—writing without permission, without waiting for gatekeepers to tell you what’s marketable or appropriate. You write anyway. You’re valid because you write. Your stories spread across the void, forming bonds when they most want to divide us. Instead of more tragedy, you’re making whole universes gay (literally).

Telling stories—messy, joyful, painful, honest, true—will always be a defiant act. Every time you write a queer character, spin a fanfic with queer headcanons, share a few lines that spring straight from your gut, you’re pushing back. The act of creation sets off a chain reaction—visibility, empathy, and the simple, profound reminder that you’re not alone.

That’s the gift of stories: to expand someone’s world, to help them see others—and themselves—more clearly, no matter what the world tells you. The power of storytelling has always been revolutionary, and the beauty of community is that it makes us unbreakable.

Our community proves this every day. You show up for each other—offering feedback, encouragement, shouting 2AM prompts and plotbunnies into the void (and the void answers back). You share your worlds, your ideas, your selves. You make space for each other, and you make Ellipsus stronger, more resilient, and more fiercely alive.

That’s why Pride matters. And why writing matters—more than ever.

For us, this work is personal. As a queer-founded company (myself—Rex—and my partner, John—hey how are you), we built Ellipsus as a home for creators who, like us, find deep belonging in community and creative expression.

With queer voices under attack—rights stripped away, books banned, Pride erased from calendars (FCK GGL)—we don’t need to tell you we’re worried. You’re worried, too. But together, we’re determined. We’re courageous and connected.

For Pride Month, we’re excited to give back to the community that gives so much to us—and to launch a few things along the way…

A new Pride theme for Ellipsus

Because queer joy should shine in every word you write. (Yes, it’s forever—not just for June!)

And coming soon…

You’ll be able to support your favorite little writing tool in more ways… yep, we’re jumping on the merch gambit. But it’s not all about us—50% of all proceeds from our shop will go directly to LGBTQ+ organizations fighting back against censorship, discrimination, and erasure:

The Trevor Project—Supporting LGBTQ+ youth.

Trans Lifeline—Providing life-saving resources for trans people.

The ACLU—Fighting for freedom of expression, trans rights, and against book bans and censorship.

... Pride is about all of us—so we want to hear from you.

What does Pride mean to you as a writer? How does your creativity reflect your community, and your hopes for the future? How does writing get you through it, help you make connections, and bring you joy?

Share your stories in our Discord, or shout into the void of Tumblr, Bluesky (and tag us!). We’ll be sharing some of your responses throughout the month. Our aim is simple: to give you a space to write freely, protect freedom of expression, and uplift queer voices—not just for a month, but for as long as it takes.

[beenbaanbuun]

Neighbour w/ song mingi

words - 3.1k

genre - smutty

warnings - fem!reader, afab!reader, neighbour!mingi, mysterious!mingi, drop-out!reader, bitter!reader, wet dreams, masturbation, nicknames (kitty, good girl), i think that’s it

——————————————————————————

Coming home from a night shift is never fun, but its even less so in winter. As if the bone-deep tiredness wasn't already bad enough, now you have to compete with the inescapable chill of the air and the long, dark mornings that seem to drag on for eternity. It feels like months since you’ve actually seen an ounce of sunlight, sleeping through the few short hours that you’re granted around this time of year. Then you wake up again at 4pm, just in time to watch the sun go down beyond the horizon as you cook your breakfast of packet ramen and coffee.

Its a depressing existence, and you’d be the first to admit that, but you cant really afford much else. As a drop-out in a city full of students, you don't really have too many options. Full time jobs favour people with actual qualifications, and the part-time job market is wildly oversaturated by struggling teenagers looking for a way to fuel the various addictions that come hand in hand with being at university. You remember it well; the £16 bottles of Tesco’s own brand vodka that went down about as easy as a fist full of gravel, the weed from a random dealer who passed you his number at 3am while you were sitting drunk on a park bench. Its an expensive life to live, and you don’t blame them for snatching up every single decent part time job your city has to offer.

Not really, anyway. Theres certainly a little resentment there whenever a drunken customer cusses you out for refusing to serve them. Perhaps a little hatred when you’re sent in to handle yet another bar fight between two men twice your size. Definitely a lot of frustration whenever you feel the amused eyes of your neighbour as he watches you sleepily fumble with your keys whenever you return home in the morning. You’ve yet to learn his name since he moved in, and part of you doesn't want to. From the few run-ins youve had with him, you can already say that no amount of resentment or hatred or frustration you feel towards your working situation compares to what you feel for him.

That stupid bleached hair that he lets grow into something akin to a shitty mullet before cropping it short again, that brash voice that you can hear through the thin walls of your apartment as he yells at whatever sport is playing on his tv, those strangely soft eyes that watch you with so much amusement as you stumble around your shared corridor. He gets home about the same time as you after his morning run, and you hate it. You hate him. Cocky, irritating, handsome bastard.

“Someone pissed in your cereal, Kitty?” he pulls you from your thoughts with a quick quip. His shoulder is leaning against the wall on your side of the corridor, almost as if he was waiting for you to arrive home or something. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was; he seems the type to imagine camaraderie where there certainly isn't any. Perhaps he sees you as a friend, despite never having asked you for your name, or your age, or where you work, or anything else about you, for that matter. Maybe he’s lonely.

“I don’t eat cereal,” you scoff as you brush past him to get to your front door. He twists his body to watch you amble past him, your keys already poised in hand, “why would i want to eat cold mush every morning? Its gross.”

He chuckles brightly as if you’ve just told the joke of the century, and you weren’t just complaining about the concept of the nation’s favourite breakfast food. The judgemental glare you shoot in his direction happens just as easy as his laughter.

“It's a metaphor, Kitty,” God, you fucking hate that nickname, “surely work can’t have fried your brain that much.”

He wears a smirk that stretches from ear to ear, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he stares you down. Part of you wishes you could sock him right in his pretty little face, but a smarter part of you knows that the muscles that decorate his body arent just for show. He's like a dog in that sense; no matter how cute and unassuming he makes himself out to be, there's always going to be a part of you that understands what hes capable of. Dogs were once wolves, after all.

Your gaze cant help but flicker to a scar on his cheekbone, and then up to the newer one that sits on his left hand eyebrow. They’re not the type that you get from playing a little too rough as a kid, nor the type thats left over from surgery. They’re purposeful and dangerous and it makes you wonder just what he did to deserve them.

“My brain is fine,” you make a point of looking away from the scar above his eye, no longer wanting to dwell on what might of caused it, “not that the state of it is any of your concern.”

He laughs again, his smile cracking his face in two as your annoyance only grows. How is it that he can make you feel so… undermined? With such ease too! Its like every toothy grin is an act of condescension, every comment crawling beneath your skin like beetles. You’ve met plenty of arseholes in your life, and yet theres been no one who angers you quite as much as him.

“I’m just being neighbourly, Kitty–”

“That’s not my name,” you growl out, a thick layer of impatience coating your words.

“Yes, but it suits you,” he says with a shrug, “far better than the one written on the front of your mail, don’t you think?” What business did this man have looking at your mail? You’ve never once paid attention to his, nevermind going as far as to read the name that sits just above the address. You regret it now as you watch the playing field become even more uneven than it already was. Its you against him; the older, stronger, cockier man that knows more about you than you do him. Logic says that this is a game; one that you've already lost.

He says your name, humming it lowly to himself as if its an equation he’s trying to figure out. It sounds good, coming from his mouth, his accented drawl pulling at the letters in a way you’ve never heard before. The vowels get extended and the consonants ring out clear like a bell. It feels like the first time hearing your name, and whilst that might not necessarily be true, it certainly is the first time you’ve liked it. Its the first time its ever felt correct.

You could kick yourself for even thinking something so… pathetic.

“It might not suit me, but it is my name,” you insist as you try to ignore the desperate pitter patter in your chest. Its not a sensation you’re familiar with, especially not when it comes to him. You can only blame it on the romantic dry spell you’ve been facing as of late. Turns out the night shift isn't exactly conducive to meeting new people.

“Sure it is, Kitty,” you grind your teeth against one another, “but what's a nickname between friends, hm?” his teeth glint in the flickering overhead light, flashes of luminance against his pearly white canines. If he truly were a dog, you’d already be running, the look in his eyes telling you exactly whats going to happen if you entertain him for much longer. Like a rodent stuck in the maw of its predator, you can already feel your fate closing in on you. If you don't leave now, you fear he wont ever let you go.

You slip your key into your lock and twist it.

“We’re not friends,” is all you say as you bump your shoulder into the wood to pry it open, quickly slipping inside before locking it behind you.

Theres a chuckle, and a single soft tap against the door.

“We’ll see about that, Kitty.”

——————————————————————————

You sleep strangely.

Despite your mind wandering and your heart rate shifting between erratic and arrhythmic, it doesnt take you long to slip into a dreamland once your head is actually resting on the soft fluff of your pillow. Darkness washes over you like waves lapping at the shore, pulling you further and further into the deep until you’re stuck within the murky abyss of your mind. Fish swim past in the form of dream fragments, very few of them making sense.

Your neighbour grins down at you with a softened gaze, hands flitting around your face as if he cant quite help himself but touch. You feel it so clearly; a finger tip gracing the end of your nose, a warm palm cupping your cheek, minty breaths tickling your skin so perfectly. It feels so natural, which is strange given your regular distaste for the man. And as he pulls his hand away, you can’t help but to chase it. You lean in close; so close that you can almost taste his musk on the tip of your tongue. It feels so real, and while every rational part of you thanks the heavens that it isn't, there's still a tiny voice in the back of your head praying that one day it will be.

And the worst part is, your sleep addled mind doesn’t even try and shut that voice it. It seems to nod along, letting your mind wander further and further until the dreams shifts to you lay on a bed. It’s not your bed, so you conclude that it’s his. You’ve never seen it before, but your mind seems to have conjured up something that works. Dark walls, dark bedsheets, dark furniture, all illuminated by the glow of his laptop which loops an animated screensaver of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn.

Heavy hands paw at your flesh, pushing and pulling at you like you’re a ragdoll. They’re careful, yet firm, putting you in position without pushing too far, or tugging too hard. Its like he’s done this a million times before, and you’d believe it if he had! Everything from his smirk, to the unfounded confidence lets you know that he’s good at this; good at catching women in his trap and fucking them until they belong to him, mind, body, and soul.

And you can deny it if you want, but something tells you that perhaps he has you on a tighter leash than you care admit. Perhaps he already owns your soul, and judging by the way his tongue presses upon your clit in your dream, it’s clear that he already owns your mind. All that’s left for him to take is your body, and would it really be so bad if you gave that to him as well.

If you were awake, you’d be hating yourself for having these thoughts, but you’re not, so you indulge. Your hands fly to his hair and tug on his silky strands like they’re the only things keeping you anchored to earth right now. It’s all too much; far more than you’ve ever felt in a dream before, and before you know it, you’re coming undone. Your heart is hammering, and your eyes are flying open and your own fingers are being drenched in your cum as they stimulate the motion of your neighbours tongue on your clit.

Fuck, you really must’ve been horny if you had to resort to sleep-wanking.

Disgust fills you from top to bottom as you sober up and let sanity rain down on you once more. Your fingers are sticky, but not quite as much as your thighs. Your underwear is seemingly nowhere to be seen, although you don’t doubt that it’s had the same treatment. You feel a mess, both physically and mentally. Seriously! Thirsting over a man you’ve dedicated your last few months to hating? It all feels too surreal to think about.

Yet think about it is all you can do. As you crawl out of bed, you can still feel his breath on your skin, and as you strip with wet sheets and shove them into the wash, you can still practically smell him. The steam that surrounds you in the shower makes your head spin, and its almost like you can’t stop yourself when for the second time that night—although the first time in whisky awake—your fingers find their way dancing over you clit to the thought of him consuming you.

You cum twice, maybe three times before the water turns cold and you’re left shivering and ashamed of yourself. This time it’s worse than when you first woke up, though. You’re conscious, and you willed those images to come into your head. No longer can you give your brain the benefit of the doubt because this time, this is exactly what you wanted, not just some crazy, nightmarish concept you’ve dreamt up.

“Fucking hell~” you growl to yourself as you switch off the water and lean your head against the cold tile. Your fingers are pruned, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the shower or the constant abuse of your poor clit. Either way, it’s a clear signal that you need to get a grip; get out of the bathroom and remove any thought of that man from your brain. These thoughts aren’t normal, you tell yourself as you wrap a fuzzy towel around your body; you don’t even know the man’s name for heaven's sake!

You make a mental note to check his mail the next time you leave the flat. By the end of the day, you want to know as much about this man as possible. If he’s going to take over your every thought, waking or otherwise, then you at least deserve to know the name of the man that’s ruining your life.

But speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?

There’s a knock on your door; three short taps that almost go unnoticed by you. “Shit—coming!” You yell out as you hurriedly slide some pyjama bottoms over your thighs and a loose hoodie over your head. The towel on your hair remains in place, keeping your wet locks contained and out of your face. It makes you feel a little silly, as you make your way over to the door and crack it open to reveal your neighbour, but then you remember that you’ve painted him as a slut, and so a woman with a towel wrapped around her head probably isn’t too unusual of a sight.

“Kitty,” he says with a sly grin the moment the two of you come face to face. What would happen if you just slammed the door in his face, you wonder? Would it wipe that look off of his face? You doubt it; a man like that is only spurred on by rejection. They’re too full of themselves to understand that not everyone in the world wants to get in his pants.

Fragments of your dream flash through your mind.

Maybe you do want to get in his pants…

“What do you want?” You try and push the thoughts of his tongue on you away as you speak, but you can’t push away the warmth that pools in your stomach as he looks you up and down. His gaze is so brazen as it studies your form, taking extra time to travel over your curves. They’re well hidden by the oversized clothing you don, but with the way he studies you, you almost feel naked.

“Oh, nothing much,” he takes his time in returning his gaze to your face, letting his eyes linger on your chest for a moment or two. You’re almost tempted to cross your arms and cover yourself, but there’s some sick part of your brain that’s enjoying the way he looks at you. It’s the same part that conjured up those dreams, and make you play with yourself in the shower; the same part that’s trying to convince you that lusting this hard over a man you’re supposed to hate is entirely logical. You hate that part of yourself, and yet you don’t dare fight it as it takes control. “I made too much food; I wanted to know if you’d like to come over and have some?”

Immediately, your brain goes blank. Stepping into the apartment of a man you don't really know is a bad idea, right? Sure, he’s your neighbour, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. Your eyes flicker across his scars again, and the burning question of where they came from returns. Your mind wanders to all sorts of dark places, and you try to ignore the way it makes the uncomfortable ache in your stomach deepen. You remember reading somewhere that fear is a powerful aphrodisiac and it’s the only explanation for the wetness that’s gathering between your thighs for the hundredth time today. It has nothing to do with his fluffy hair, or how hot he looks when he wears that condescending expression!

Even you can’t seem to make yourself believe that lie.

“I don’t really know you well enough to go to your apartment,” you try to reason, although you hardly sound stern about it. Your voice is weak, shaky, and there’s plenty of room for push back. With your brain teetering on the edge of too-horny-to-be-logical, you have no doubt that if he were to push too hard, you’d be sat at his dinner table by the end of the night. Perhaps you should just slam your door in his face; it would solve a plethora of issues, including giving you the privacy to fix the one between your legs (again).

“Well, my name is Mingi,” he smiles and you almost collapse to the floor right then and there. The name bounces around in your skull. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. It suits him; you like it; you can imagine moaning it.

“Mingi,” you whisper back to him, and his eyes darken.

“It sounds pretty coming from you, Kitty,” suddenly the nickname doesn’t sound so bad. It shoots a tingle down your spine right to that aching spot between your thighs. You gasp, and he looks at you like you’ve just moaned his name for the entire building to hear. Something tells you that the night is heading in that direction anyway. “So what do you say? Come over?”

And against all your better judgement, you nod.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, you just fucking nod.

“Good girl.”

[raven-cincaide]

Get To Know Your Wife

Summary: You can’t fight your arranged marriage with Megumi Fushiguro. But you’ll do everything you can to ensure it doesn’t become one of those loveless, boring marriages on paper. Even if that means you have to be the biggest pain in his ass, you could be.  

Pairing: Fem! Reader x (future husband,arranged marriage) Megumi Fushiguro Sweetober prompt 8: Farmers Market  WC 1.3K Warnings: Suggestive (dirty jokes and light humiliation/being a pain in the ass/dick jokes) cursing, fluff

“This is a pointless waste of time.” 

“ Hey, you take that back!” you spun around on your heel to face the brooding, pouting, cross-armed Megumi Fushiguro, who merely raised an eyebrow at your outburst and disrespectful tone. As you came closer, one hand on your hip and the second pointed an extended index finger in his face the tip of your nail was just inches away from his nose, and he merely scoffed.

You stepped closer, your nail just barely graced his nose.

Megumi swatted your hand away from his face as though it were a fly. “I said this is pointless,” he repeated slowly, as though you lacked some marbles or were a very dense child unable to keep up with the obvious adult talk. “ We will be married regardless of our thoughts or feeling; all this is just a waste.”

He made an open palm motion towards the farmers market all around you, the lovely-dovey couples sharing autumn treats, the families playing market games, high scholars messing about at the pumpkin carving contests and just passers-by enjoying the farm fresh veggies, hand-crafted items and stories from travelling merchants. 

It was a place where tradition met modernity, the new met the old, and there were indeed activities to fit both your tastes. Typical topics to talk about, childhood memories to share, heck even just as simple as learning about each other's favourite and hated fall treats could be something to talk about. 

Anything that wasn’t marriage or clan-related. 

Or at least, that had been your plan for the day. A feeble attempt at connection. You even went through all the formal hoops to request a sliver of his time, all according to customs and expectations and ridiculous rules between your clans. However now that you finally made it to the farmers market, he had the audacity to call all your effort ‘pointless’. 

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you would have slapped that self righteous expression right of his condescending face. The piercing glare that was soon accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk. The way he drew his own conclusions from your actions  “I’ll take your silence as agreement, now then we’ll head back-” 

“ -I’m not going to be stuck in a loveless marriage.” you cut him off. Your arms moved to cross over your chest, your foot tapped away at the ground in a nervous tipp-tipp-tapp sound- a dead giveaway to your anxiety. 

Megumi raised an eyebrow at your statement. “You think a trip to a farmers market will somehow turn this into a love story? You’re more naive than I thought.” 

You hated how he looked down at you. How he thought he knew everything because he was the zenin with the greatest technique that could make him the strongest in the world. How the power so obviously had gone to that spikey head of his and turned it so empty he became a sea urchin “No, I am giving you the opportunity to learn to treat me right before the marriage ceremony takes place” 

“ Or what?” 

“Or I will be the biggest nuisance to you, turning this marriage into a living hell” You threatened. When he didn’t relent, you smiled almost too sweetly, taking a deep breath. “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Instantly he was on you, his hand covering your mouth and the obscenities it spewed. 

“ What the hell?” Megumi growled,his face an awkward shade of red as he heard several passers by repeat your sentence. You weren’t done yet. Using the old, stick out your tongue and lick, trick, you felt him yank his hand away from your lips in disgust. 

Then you graced the passers by with another well timed, embarrassing comment: “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick and doesn’t know how to use–!” 

His hand was back over your mouth, blush unmistakable as he peered at you through narrowed eyes. “ Will you shut up!” Megumi growled as he began to pull you away from the centre of the marketplace. “You’re humiliating yourself!”

“Mphhmmm mmm phm” his hand muffled your words and insults that you tried to scream right out,  insults which turned into laughter as you dug your heels into the ground, making him stumble and struggle to drag you away. A sight that definitely attracted attention much to your delight and his humiliation 

“Fucking hell, shut up and move will you?” Megumi snapped, yanking you particularly hard the same second as you raised your leg,which made you lose your balance and hit his back, sending him flying forward. Megumi caught himself last second, and by extension you caught yourself by crashing into his back. “Ouph you little- Don’t you dare!”

You didn’t realize why he got snappy, until your eyes landed on some of his clansmen and a few familiar faces. You took another deep breath readying to scream your most humiliating insult yet. Should you do another dick jab? Maybe the next one should question his choices? Or his inability to find a lover unless his clan bribed someone and-

“Okay fine!” Megumi snapped over his shoulder before you could finish formulating your thought. “Fine.” He sounded defeated as he turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. “Where do you wanna go first?” 

You were tempted to send him to hell, to humiliate him in front of his precious friends and clansmen. But then you reasoned your ammunition against him would bleed dry even before the day was over. So you bit your tongue and plastered a huge smile on your face as your eyes landed onto one of the jewelry stalls a distance away, “We start over there” You nodded in the stalls direction and began walking there. “Oh and by the way you’re paying today. Your punishment for being ungrateful.” 

Megumi shot you another dark look as he fell into step beside you. “Whatever” he muttered with a huff. His hands were in his pockets but even without seeing them you could tell they shook in anger. An unmistakable frustration at being outsmarted by a girl. 

“Oh, and try to smile, will you?” you knew you were toying with him, but you had to know the limit to your power.

“Tsk” 

Okay, no smiles you concluded just as your eyes ran over the market patrons and landed on a familiar tall white-haired man you were certain carried the title of your soon to be’s adoptive father.“ Megumi has–” 

“ Will you shut up already with the dick jokes?!” Megumi snapped his voice loud enough to make the white-haired man turn around, and his lips split open into a huge grin. You swore the sight of it, and the subsequent ‘My son’ made Megumi hate you just a tiny bit more. “See what you did?” he mouthed pulling you in another direction as the man made a beeline for you, leaving you to wonder whether you should take mercy on your soon-to-be and sneak away before Satoru Gojo met you, or if you should dig your feet in again just for the sheer amusement of it all. 

After all, if Megumi had taken the time to get to know his soon-to-be wife, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament. So he had only himself to blame for this situation, right?

Author note: I'm dying beneath uni studies, work and my upcoming trip, but I still wanted to update something more this week. Hope this was worth the wait!

Taglist: @ambiguouslady42 @vividraft @escapistoftherealworld, @ssetsuka

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[vitalverstappen]

Ten Years - M. Verstappen

summary: years apart may not erase memories. time spent in a gymnasium you once knew like the back of your hand makes you wonder if the life you built without Max is really the one you want

pairing: Max Verstappen x former high school sweetheart!reader

warnings: none

word count: 3.3k

masterlist

The hallway buzzed with the typical chatter of students in the last week before summer break. Lockers slammed, and the smell of the cafeteria food mixed with the faint scent of freshly sharpened pencils. It was the last class of the day, and you and Max were standing by the lockers, your fingers intertwined, lost in a world of inside jokes and whispered promises. 

Max’s hand was warm in yours, his thumb gently traced the back of your knuckles. The familiar motion made your heart race, in that easy, natural way it always had when he touched you. His touch always felt like home - soft and tender, full of secrets shared and memories yet to be made. 

You could almost hear the promise in his touch - the one that said no matter what came next, you’d always be intertwined with each other. Neither of you knew exactly what the future held after graduation. Max had dreams of racing professionally, while you were preparing to move across the country for college, majoring in marketing. There were so many unknowns ahead of both of you, but standing there, side by side, everything felt as if it could last forever. 

“I wish we didn’t have to leave,” Max whispered, his voice tinged with that familiar sadness you both had learned to bury behind smiles and laughter. 

You squeezed his hand, offering him a soft smile, the kind that always had been your silent promise to him. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever happens, we’ll be okay. I know we will.”

Max didn’t reply, but his gaze softened to match yours. In that moment, everything felt simple again. It was just the two of you, standing in the chaos of the hallway, as the world outside rushed forward.

But that was ten years ago. 

Like most high school sweethearts, once graduation ended, so did your relationship. When the dog days of summer arrived, Max packed up and left, chasing after his dream of being a Formula 1 driver. And when the leaves slowly began changing colors again, you moved to college, pursuing dreams of your own.

Max’s departure had been sudden, unexpected, but it was never a dramatic breakup. No tears, no fights. Just two young adults starting on separate journeys, hoping to keep their connection alive, but knowing deep down that distance often meant goodbye. You both tried to stay in touch for a while - sporadic texts, late-night phone calls - but the inevitable happened. The messages grew less frequent, then disappeared altogether. 

You heard about him now and then through mutual friends and social media posts. He’d made a name for himself, climbing the ranks in the world of motorsport, just like he’d always dreamed. You went on with your life too. Relationships came and went. Jobs, opportunities, and travels filled the space he had once occupied. But still, every now and then, when you passed a familiar street corner or saw a race on TV, you’d catch a brief, wistful thought of Max.

Then, out of nowhere, you got an invitation to your ten-year high school reunion. The email landed in your inbox one evening, its subject line a reminder of the past: Class of 2015 - It’s time to reconnect! You hesitated, stared at the screen, ultimately ending up with Why not? A chance to see old friends, a chance to catch up with people you’d long lost touch with. 

And that’s how you found yourself standing outside of the old gymnasium, just like you had a decade ago. Through the window on the door, you could tell that the gym looked pretty much the same. Old bleachers, dim lights, the smell of dust and nostalgia hung in the air. You could almost feel the echo of music from prom night, the laughter of friends you hadn’t seen in years. The nerves were there, but laced with an odd sense of comfort. 

You took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy gym doors, stepping inside. The familiar scent of worn out basketball floors and faint hints of stale perfume hit you. The space hadn’t changed very much, save for the new banners that now hung from the rafters. The dim lights flickered above slightly, just like they had during school dances and pep rallies. The whole place felt like a time capsule, preserving the memories of a life you once lived. 

People were gathered in small clusters, some chatting excitedly, others standing quietly as they scanned the room, perhaps wondering the same thing you were: Where do we fit into all of this?

Your eyes swept the room. There were familiar faces, ones that had become distant over the years, their names and stories drifting further away in the tide of time. You smiled at a few people, exchanged pleasantries and small talk about what they were up to now. 

It only took a few minutes, but your friend group from high school quickly found you. They arrived in a small wave, the laughter and chatter of old friends filling the space between you. Casey, the loudest, was the first to reach you, pulling you into a tight hug that felt like no time had passed at all. 

“You made it!” She exclaimed, stepping back with a bright grin. Her eyes were the same, but there was something different in the way she carried herself now - more confident, perhaps. Life had moved on, but somehow she still felt like the same friend you’d sneak out of the house to go drive around the countryside with. 

“Of course,” you said, laughing “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

Behind Casey, Ben and Laura appeared, both of them with their own smiles, more reserved but just as warm. They hadn’t changed much either, though you could tell Ben had filled out a bit since the days he’d been known for his soccer prowess. Laura was just as sarcastic as ever, though her eyes carried that hint of wisdom only time could bring. 

“It’s good to see you,” Laura said, her voice smooth and familiar. “I thought you’d gotten too fancy for us.” 

Though you had moved to the city since you last saw the group, you knew they had a part of you that you couldn’t leave behind. 

“I could never,” you replied with a wink. “You guys have too many embarrassing stories.”

Everyone laughed, and for a moment, the years seemed to melt away. You weren’t in your twenties with a big girl job worrying about bills and current events. You were eighteen again, laughing with your best friends, all hoping to be on the same team for dodgeball. The same friends who shared everything - the triumphs, the failures, the moments that felt so big at the time, and now seemed smaller but no less important. 

For a while, the four of you wandered through the crowd, catching up on what had happened since graduation. Careers, relationships, moves, travels. All the things that had shaped you into the people you were now. Yet, amidst all the changes, it was clear you had all retained something - the same connection you’d once shared in those carefree years of high school. 

But even as the laughter and conversion flowed easily, there was an unspoken feeling, a lingering tension in the back of your mind, because you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

It was silly to think that he would be here. It was the middle of the Formula 1 season after all. He was definitely focused more on winning another championship than reconnecting with people he hadn’t seen in a decade. 

But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, the thought of Max lingered, like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. You could feel your eyes wandering to the door each time it creaked open, half expecting to see him walking through with that confident, easygoing smile. But each time, there was a tinge of disappointment in your heart. 

You told yourself to stop. There was no point in hoping for something that was never meant to be. Max had a life now, one that was worlds apart from the one both of you had left behind in that small town. The chances of him showing up was slim to none. 

It was a mixture of silly hope and longing for something you knew was gone, something you know had slipped away with the passing of time. You didn’t regret the time you had with Max, but you also knew that life had moved on for both of you. 

“You okay?” Casey asked, pulling you from your thoughts. She stood beside you, her expression soft with concern. 

You forced a smile, trying to hide the thoughts racing in your mind. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“About him?” she questioned. She didn’t need to say his name for you to know who she was talking about. 

You bit your lip, not sure what to say. It wasn’t like you were expecting Max to walk in and sweep you off your feet. You’d grown up, you’d moved on. But there was still a small part of you that wondered what would happen if you saw him again. If there was still something left between you, or if you’d just become a memory to him. 

“Just a little,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. 

Casey nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “I get it. I mean, you guys were the perfect high school couple. It’s hard not to wonder what might’ve been.”

You glanced at her, surprised by the understanding in her voice. “It’s been a long time though, Case. He’s got his life, I’ve got mine. We’re not… that anymore.”

She gave a small shrug, the kind that meant I know, but there was still a flicker of something in her eyes. “Maybe. But who knows? Life is weird like that.”

You gave her a defeated shrug, unsure of what to say in response, so you excused yourself to the refreshment table. 

As you walked away, the sound of laughter and chatter faded into the background, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts. Your eyes pretended to scan to the spread of snacks and drinks, but your mind was somewhere else. 

You caught a glimpse of the punch bowl and grabbed a plastic cup before reaching for the ladle absentmindedly. But your hand didn’t touch the cool plastic serving spoon that rested in the bowl. It brushed something warmer, something familiar. 

Your breath hitched as you slowly withdrew your hand, feeling the electric pulse of recognition. Your heart skipped a beat, and the world seemed to still for a moment. 

You didn’t have to look up to know who was standing beside you. The warmth of his presence was unmistakable, just like it had always been. 

Max. 

You blinked, your pulse hammering in your ears, but when you finally gathered the courage to meet his gaze, his eyes were just as you remembered - intense, yet soft, a mix of hesitation and familiarity. His smile was tentative, like he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap between who you were and who you had become. But there was warmth in there too, the same kind of warmth that had always drawn you to him. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, like he was testing the waters to see if you were ready for this. His gaze flickered between your eyes, your lips, looking for some sign of recognition or acceptance. His nervousness was almost endearing, reminding you of the first time he had looked at you like this. 

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. Your mind was doing laps while your heart pounded out of your chest, but you managed a small smile in return. 

“Max,” you breathed, his name feeling foreign and familiar all at once. 

There was a pause, an awkward silence stretched between you two. He glanced around briefly, like he was wondering where to go from here then slowly shifted his weight, inching a little closer. 

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions surge through you, a mix of nostalgia, surprise and uncertainty. It felt like the clock had rewound to those carefree days when everything had seemed possible and your world revolved around him, but mixed with the maturity that only came with age. 

Max cleared his throat, his voice less steady than usual. “I didn’t think you’d actually come.” 

A soft laugh escaped your lips. “I almost didn’t,” you admitted, glancing around the gym. It felt surreal to be back there, especially with him standing so close. “But I figured, why not? It’s been ten years.”

Max’s gaze softened, and there was a flicker of something unspoken between you two, a reminder of everything you once shared. “Yeah, ten years…” he muttered, trailing off as he glanced down at the floor before looking back at you. “It’s crazy how much can change in that time.”

“Yeah it is,” you said, your voice quieter now, unsure of what to say next. It had been a long time, after all. You both changed so much. Your life was different. His life, from what you knew, had become a whirlwind of speed and competition. 

You fiddled with the empty cup in your hands, trying to keep your composure, but the weight of those years between you hung heavily in the air. “How’ve you been?” you finally asked, hoping to break the silence.

Max hesitated, his hand running through his hair in the way he used to when he was nervous. “I’ve been good. Busy,” he said, a little smile tugging at his lips. “I’m still doing the racing thing. It’s… everything I’ve wanted. But, uh, it’s also a lot more than I expected.”

You nodded. “I can imagine.”

There was another pause, the kind that stretched out too long, making you feel like there were too many things left unsaid. Max was still looking at you, his eyes like a puzzle you weren’t sure how to solve. 

“I’ve seen a lot on social media,” you added, trying to fill the gap. “It’s incredible, everything you’ve achieved.”

His smile widened, though there was a hint of shyness to it. “I didn’t expect to make it this far. But it feels good, you know?”

“I can only imagine,” you repeated, this time with a slight laugh. Making light of the situation was much harder with your heart beating faster with every passing second. 

Max’s smile faltered for a second before speaking again. “And you? How’s everything?”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. So much had changed. You’d made a life for yourself, one that didn’t involve him anymore. “It’s good. I’m in marketing now. Moved to the city. Things have been busy, but, uh, it’s going well.”

Max nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

He shifted slightly as both of you took a step back from the punch bowl as the awkwardness of the moment settled in a little more. There was so much to say, so many things you’d both been through, but neither of you seemed ready to dive into it just yet. 

His eyes flickered around the gym for the second time, scanning around the room before landing back on you. All of you. “You look great,” he said, his voice soft but genuine. The compliment, simple as it was, caused your heart to flutter, reminding you of the years when those words had felt like second nature between you.

You felt a blush creeping up on your cheeks. “Thanks,” you replied as you took in the sight of him again. “So do you.”

The smile on your face lingered, a little unsure but real nonetheless. The air between you was charged, yet it felt oddly comfortable. Maybe it was the years of shared memories that created a sense of connection. Or maybe it was just the strange familiarity of a time long gone but never completely erased. 

“So, uh,” Max began, breaking the silence that had stretched a little too long again. “You’ve got this whole city life now, huh?”

You nodded slowly, your gaze flickering to the crowd, half lost in the movement of people talking and laughing around you. “Yeah, I moved to Amsterdam after university. It’s…different,” you said, trying to find the right words. “I wasn’t really sure how it would feel at first, but it’s been good.”

Max nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I bet it’s a big change. You’ve always been someone who could take on anything, though.” There was an admiration in his voice, and the sincerity behind it made your chest tighten. 

“Yeah, well,” you chuckled, “there were moments when I wasn’t so sure.” You glanced at him, feeling the weight of the words, as though the two of you shared something unspoken in those quiet moments. “But I’ve learned a lot.” 

Max took a deep breath, as though preparing for something. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, and his town was more serious now, almost tentative. “I didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance to say that.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, it was as though the years slipped away. The old familiarity crept back in, but it didn’t completely feel like the same person you had once known - it was a version of him shaped by all he had accomplished. He still had the same dirty blonde hair and lisp, but he was now a Max who had become something bigger than the boy you once held hands with in the hallway. 

“It’s good to see you too,” you replied softly. “I’ve missed you.”

The words came out before you could stop them, a quiet confession that felt like the truth, even if it wasn’t entirely what either of you were ready to confront just yet. 

Max’s eyes somehow softened even more as if the weight of that admission caught him off guard. “I missed you too,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the background noise of the gym. 

For a moment, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t awkward or comfortable, it just was. The pull of the past was undeniable, and yet the present was there too, a reminder of everything that had changed. 

Max shifted his weight, looking at you with a mixture of uncertainty and something else. “I don’t know what happens next,” he said, his voice still low, as though trying to find the right words. “But it’s… nice, seeing you like this. Seeing you happy.”

You smiled again, even though the words tangled in your chest, unsure of where this moment would lead. “I am happy,” you said. “I think we both are, in a way.”

His eyes met yours, searching for some sort of clue about what the reunion meant. The air between you crackled with possibilities, and yet, neither of you seemed ready to claim them. 

“Well,” Max finally said, “I should probably let you get back to your friends.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling the pull of the crowd, the tug of reality. “Yeah, I should,” you agreed softly. But you didn’t move, not right away. Neither of you did. 

Max took a slow step back, offering you a hesitant smile. “Take care of yourself, okay?” 

“You too,” you responded, though the words didn’t feel enough. Not for this. Not for everything that had been and everything that could have been. 

With that, he turned, slowly retreating back into the crowd. You stood there for a few moments longer, watching him disappear, the knot in your chest tightening once more. The feeling of his presence still lingered in the air, and despite the years, despite the changes, there was a part of you that still carried a piece of him. 

And as the night wore on, the gym buzzed with the laughter, memories, and the passing of time. But somewhere, amidst all the noise and familiarity, something had shifted. You weren’t sure where it would go, but for the first time in a long while, you wondered if maybe the past had something more to offer. 

[pearlprincess02]

dating & dates (virgo version)

virgo: (virgo venus/mars/5th house/7th house)

when dating someone with virgo venus, virgo mars, virgo in the 5th house, and virgo in the 7th house, expect a relationship built on thoughtfulness, consistency, and deep emotional investment. they may not be the most overtly romantic, but they show love through acts of service, attention to detail, and genuine care. they appreciate reliability, intelligence, and a sense of purpose in relationships, valuing partners who are grounded and communicative. while they can be reserved initially, once they trust you, they become incredibly loyal and attentive. virgo venus expresses love through small but meaningful actions. they value stability and practical support over grand gestures, wanting a relationship that feels productive and secure. virgo mars is intentional in their desires, preferring a slow-burn attraction that builds over time. they enjoy a partner who stimulates them mentally and shares their appreciation for effort and routine. virgo 5th house finds joy in structured fun, intellectual activities, and anything that engages their analytical side. they prefer dates that involve learning, improving, or experiencing something meaningful together. virgo 7th house seeks a dependable and communicative partner. they want a relationship that feels like a true partnership, where both people actively contribute to growth and success.

date night ideas

cooking a healthy meal together at home, going on a scenic nature walk with deep conversations, visiting a farmers’ market & picking out ingredients for a meal, touring a botanical garden/greenhouse, going stargazing with a telescope & a cozy blanket, finding a cozy hidden gem restaurant with fresh, clean ingredients (virgo venus, virgo 5th house) organizing a cozy home spa day for each other, volunteering together at an animal shelter/community event, trying out a meditation/yoga class together, planning & organizing a fun weekend getaway, taking a day to declutter & reorganize a space together, attending a wellness retreat/self-improvement seminar, having a detailed planning session for future goals & dreams, taking a budget-friendly yet well-organized road trip (virgo venus, virgo 7th house) taking a skill-building class (cooking, pottery, coding, etc.), a bookstore date where you pick books for each other, going on a quiet coffee shop date with a good discussion, visiting a museum/historical site, working on a creative project together (scrapbooking, diy home decor, etc.), spending a quiet evening at home doing puzzles/brain games (virgo mars, virgo 5th house)

over 18+ spicy bonus🔞

virgo: (virgo mars/cupido/eros/lust/amor)

someone with virgo mars, virgo cupido, virgo eros, virgo lust, and virgo amor approaches intimacy with a mix of precision, attentiveness, and sensuality. they might not seem outwardly wild at first, but behind closed doors, they are deeply invested in perfecting pleasure, ensuring that every touch, movement, and sensation is intentional. they value a strong mental connection and are highly responsive to subtle cues, making them incredibly intuitive lovers. cleanliness, control, and technique are essential—they want to master their partner’s body and take pleasure in both giving and receiving satisfaction. virgo mars has a methodical and skillful approach, ensuring that every encounter is fulfilling and satisfying. they enjoy a mix of control and service, focusing on their partner’s pleasure as much as their own. virgo cupido thrives on subtle seduction, teasing, and the build-up of tension. they love the game of attraction and are most aroused when there is an element of anticipation. virgo eros seeks perfection in intimacy, valuing detailed exploration and sensual precision. they have a refined, almost ritualistic approach, making every experience feel like a masterpiece. virgo lust enjoys controlled indulgence, balancing restraint and release. they might have a fascination with discipline and delayed gratification, savoring the anticipation before fully giving in. virgo amor ties love and devotion to intimacy, needing an emotional connection alongside physical passion. they express care through touch and are deeply attuned to their partner’s desires.

kinks you might have

intellectual foreplay (dirty talk that stimulates the mind) (virgo mars, virgo cupido, virgo eros) teasing & edging (prolonged pleasure, slow build-up), power dynamics (soft dominance, service-oriented roles), silent control (giving subtle, non-verbal commands), discipline play (controlled restraint & release) (virgo mars, virgo cupido, virgo lust) sensory play (blindfolds, temperature play, textures), oral fixation (both giving & receiving with precision), perfected technique (enjoying skillful execution of pleasure), positioning & precision (strategic movement for optimal pleasure), analytical experimentation (trying different methods to maximize pleasure) (virgo mars, virgo eros, virgo lust) obsession with detail (memorizing partner’s body & reactions), aftercare & nurturing post-intimacy rituals, clean & sensual experiences (pristine sheets, freshly showered bodies), erotic massage (using touch as a form of foreplay & connection), hypersensitivity to partner’s needs & reactions, private but intense (intimate settings over exhibitionism), ritualistic intimacy (structured foreplay, setting the perfect mood), loyalty kink (exclusive devotion to one person, deeply personal intimacy) (virgo mars, virgo eros, virgo amor) lingerie & visual appeal (aesthetic presentation matters) (virgo cupido, virgo eros, virgo lust) heightened sensitivity (breath play, light feather touches, whispered words) (virgo cupido, virgo eros, virgo amor)

all observations are done by me !!! @pearlprincess02

main masterlist

[blackjackkent]

Jaheira is Not a Deadbeat

I am, as always, deeply in love with the kids' ambient dialogue while waiting for Jaheira to come inside. And it's time for me to have Opinions.

FIG: I saw her! I swear! RION: Are you sure? Maybe it was just a laborer holding a shaggy grey mop! FIG: Be serious, Rion! Who puts braids on a mop?

FIG: She'll be here any second. Maybe she's sneaking! RION: Doubtful. We'd hear her knees cracking.

And of course my favorite:

RION: Enough, Fig. There's no point getting your hopes up. She'll be back when she's back. FIG: You don't think she will! RION: I know she will. But we'll wait a little longer, if you like.

😭😭😭😭

Rion absolutely knew perfectly well what she was supposed to do from Jaheira's instructions. She just didn't want to. She's been hanging on to the desperate belief that Jaheira was going to walk through the door and make it unnecessary - and, as it turned out, she was right.

OK, fuck it, I'm doing a post about this now. :P

Despite what the Tumblr BG3 fandom would have you believe, Jaheira is not a "deadbeat mom." Is she a parent with emotional constipation issues and way too much time at work? Sure. But so are plenty of other parents on both Toril and Earth. It's SUPER clear from the way all the kids (including Rion) talk to and about her that they LOVE her and she has been an enduring presence in their lives, and that her recent disappearance was both unusual and devastating. 

There are books she reads the kids up in the bedroom! Fig is so excited to announce she's back, indicating that the absence is not a normal occurrence! Jhessem has convinced herself they share a bloodline! Jord got to go to the market with her as a boy! These are not the circumstances of children who do not give a shit about their parent or vice versa!

The devnotes about Jord’s conversation in particular do not show a picture of a man with ill-will towards a mother who felt it customary to abandon him:

JORD: I tended to it. I just let it... thrive in its own independence. You know, same way you raised us. (Devnote: Well meant potshot at his mother, no malice in it) JAHEIRA: I raised you to be a sweet and kind boy. What happened? JORD: I watched what you did instead of listening to what you said. (Devnote: Amused, gently mocking his mother) JORD: This house has taken in a lot of children over the years. Mother dear was sometimes more commander than, well... mother dear. (Devnote: Smiling, explaining why he and Jaheira trade barbs. No criticism, just understated affection)

It is, perhaps, worth noting at this point as well that Jord - and Rion, and Fig, and even Jhessem - speak with that teasing, mocking tone towards Jaheira… but so does she - towards the people she cares most about, including you as the player. The kids are acting as they have learned, and words like this can and should easily be read as gestures of affection. And they clearly trust Jaheira enough to bring this playful rudeness to the fore without fear of it being misconstrued or turning into hostility.

And if they are like Jaheira in this way, they’re also not going to be comfortable showing the real depth of their feelings in front of you, the player character - who is fundamentally a stranger who has just walked into their house. Why would they? Jaheira clearly doesn’t; indeed, even her more serious conversation with Rion only takes place outside where even the other children aren’t listening. 

Perhaps most significantly, I truly don’t understand how anyone can interact with Tate for even a moment and think that Jaheira does not have a deep, if often unspoken, bond with the kids she raises:

JAHEIRA: I hope you were hibernating, little cub, I can’t think of another reason you wouldn’t come down to say hello. TATE: Jaheira! I d-didn’t… didn’t w-want to see if you were r-really dead. They said… JAHEIRA: Who said? TATE: Jord and Rion. They didn’t think I c-could hear… JAHEIRA: You little sneak-thief. Well, they were wrong. Look! Not dead! I just… had a few adventures.

She is so soft and gentle with him in a way that she is with no one else, a way that indicates that she knows him and how his personality is different from the others. And he in turn has clearly been utterly devastated by the idea that she might be gone.

Take, as well, the evidence provided by Minsc when he is present in these conversations! There’s plenty of evidence to indicate the degree to which Minsc is guided by Jaheira’s behavior - to the degree that a doppelganger wearing her face was the key ingredient to binding him temporarily into the Cult of the Absolute. And Minsc - far more comfortable with emotion than Jaheira, at least in some ways - is clearly very affectionate with the kids as well:

FIG: STAND ON YOUR LIVER! MINSC: It is stand and *deliver*, little Fig. Though I think I like yours better. You bellow like a true berserker!

JHESSEM: A fine day to you, saer. Are you known to this court PLAYER: Eh? JHESSEM: Ugh - play along, would you? MINSC: Lord Boo is most pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady! Word of your grace has spread far and wide among the hamster houses. (Devnote: Swooping in to preserve the child's make-believe after the player ruined it.) JHESSEM: Enchanted!

MINSC: Boo is also very well! And happy to see *you*, Rion. RION: And I him. Enough that I’ll let him keep his lumbering, sweaty steed inside.

Would Minsc have taken it upon himself to have such a comfortable relationship with these children if Jaheira did not? I doubt it. He’d be friendly, certainly, but this familiarity goes a great deal beyond that.

And as for Rion herself - it's definitely reasonable to assume that she's had a strained relationship with Jaheira as she's grown older. (I have a lot of headcanons about this for my specific worldstate canon, but even just sticking to the game canon, it definitely seems like that's the case.) But leaving aside that - can you blame her for being upset at this particular moment?

As far as Rion knows, her mom was recently emotionally devastated for an indeterminate reason. (Minsc's apparent death. None of the kids are surprised to see him arrive, so clearly none of them knew he was supposed to be dead - but also there's no way that Jaheira didn't look afterwards like someone hollowed her out from the inside.) Then, without further explanation, she disappeared for what appears to have been several months (again, clearly not standard procedure), and after weeks of no contact, sends a seven-word message indicating she is about to die.

How exactly is Rion supposed to feel at this moment? This is an incredibly emotionally fraught circumstance, and if it's precisely representative of her overall relationship with Jaheira I will eat my hat.

Also - much is made by the game, by Rion, and by the fandom about that seven-word message, but if you try to chastise Jaheira about it, she gives further context:

PLAYER: Only seven? That’s cold, Jaheira. JAHEIRA: The cleric who cast the Sending was wounded. Should I have sobbed on her shoulder?

Jaheira was caught in a no-win situation. Trapped in the Shadowlands, a terrifying ordeal all by itself, with a gaggle of Harpers she had to protect, many of whom had apparently been injured by their encounter with Ketheric Thorm. If the only cleric she had access to was wounded, this was before they reached Last Light and met Isobel. 

Jaheira had ZERO reason to hope at this point - but she also still felt her own inescapable responsibility towards the people under her command. To send a longer and more emotional message would have been to put strain on her injured comrade and also risk making it very clear that she felt the situation was hopeless. The Harpers very well might have broken and scattered, condemning themselves - and, frankly, many others, given their crucial contributions to the final Act 2 fight - to death.

And then she lives, against all her own expectations, and returns to the city. And her dialogue reflects her conflict over this fact as well: 

JAHEIRA: I have given you much reason to think that Harpers hoard secrets like precious stones. But I promise you, this was not some intrigue. Just, ah… plain and simple foolishness. As if by keeping clear of my family, I might keep them clear of the cult in turn. And if this fight were to go against us, well… they had already done their mourning. Why visit it on them twice?

She then goes on to discuss the city and her place in it - and relates it directly back to her kids as well.

JAHEIRA: I was wrong to think I could keep my children from this fight. They’re Baldurian born and bred - the only damned reason I root myself in this place. This city is a cesspit. An open sewer of the soul, that taints us with its filth and churns us out when all that is good has been stripped away. It also happens to be their home - and so it is mine. Ugh. That might be the first time I have said that out loud.

If Jaheira wanted to disappear and leave her kids to handle themselves, she would have done it a long time ago. It wouldn’t be hard; she is fully capable of vanishing into the wilderness never to be seen again - and in truth, there’s every reason to believe she would be considerably happier to do so… except that it would mean leaving her children behind. They “root” her in Baldur’s Gate despite all of her previous inclinations and everything that comes naturally to her, and everything she does is guided ultimately by the need to protect the city because it is their home.

And that, my friends, is love, a love that she shows even if she does not know how to voice it.

TLDR: Jaheira's absence in the Shadowlands was definitely not a normal occurrence, and her kids clearly love her deeply and were devastated by her apparent disappearance. That she is a woman who keeps herself far too busy with work and has no idea how to express her own strong feelings does not, has not, and never will make her a "deadbeat."

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 10

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; mention of clipping

notes; Yo everyone! Hope you’re all doing well! <3 Here’s a new chapter (it’s pretty long, btw) packed with fluff, hehe. Writing slow burn is so fun because it lets me dive deep into the characters’ stories—but let’s get this shit started right (nothing too intense, but still lol). I’m still trying to settle into a proper posting schedule, so for now, it’s once a week (even though I’d love to post the next chapters already because I’m obsessed with them hahaha). Also, I’m thinking of writing a one-shot soon, so if anyone has requests, feel free to share! Enjoy the chapter and see you soon! <333

previous ✧ next

The city was breathtaking in the fading light of the setting sun, each building bathed in warm hues of gold and amber that seemed to shimmer like something out of a dream. The streets were alive with the soft hum of evening life—merchants closing their stalls, children laughing as they chased one another down cobbled paths, and couples strolling hand in hand beneath the glow of lanterns that flickered to life as dusk settled in.

You walked a step ahead of Azriel, trying to steady yourself and brush off the strange unease that had lingered since your encounter with the healers earlier. The tension in your chest felt misplaced here, in this beautiful city where you had spent some of your most formative years. It was supposed to feel like coming home, yet the ache in your heart made you question every step. You tried to mask it, keeping your voice even and your steps steady as you spoke.

“Welcome to Solterra,” you said, your tone light but practiced. “The city’s divided into three main areas. We’ll start with the Artisans’ Quarter—that’s where most of the skilled crafters live and work. The Dawn Court is famous for its glasswork, pottery, and textiles, so you’ll see some of the best of that here.”

Azriel, walking quietly beside you, gave a small nod, his gaze scanning the streets as if he were cataloging every detail. His shadows curled at his feet but didn’t stray far, as if even they were captivated by the tranquil beauty of the city. He looked entirely at ease, which was a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions you were trying to push down.

“And after that?” he asked, his voice calm, his golden eyes flicking to meet yours.

You gestured toward the northern part of the city. “We’ll head to the Markets. They’re more chaotic but worth the visit. You can find almost anything there—spices, jewelry, rare herbs, even weapons.” You paused, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Though I doubt you’ll need those.”

Azriel raised a brow, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I think I’ll survive without adding to my collection.”

The ease in his voice and the faint humor in his expression eased some of the tension in your chest. He was behaving like nothing had happened earlier—no awkwardness, no lingering tension, just calm and steady as ever. It surprised you how much that helped, grounding you when you felt like your emotions were spiraling out of control.

“And after the Markets,” you continued, trying to match his calm tone, “we’ll end in the Gardens. They’re best seen at night when the lights from the palace reflect off the fountains.”

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than you expected before he nodded again. “Sounds perfect.”

The Artisans’ Quarter unfolded before you like a scene from a painting. Intricate mosaics adorned the walls of buildings, their vibrant colors glowing in the dim light. Glassblowers worked behind large windows, their movements graceful as they shaped molten glass into delicate forms. The scent of fresh bread and spiced tea wafted from a nearby bakery, mixing with the earthy smell of clay and paint.

“Most of these families have been here for generations,” you explained, gesturing to the shops and studios. “The skills they pass down are considered sacred. I spent so many hours wandering here when I lived in Solterra. I’d sit for hours watching the glassblowers work—it’s mesmerizing.”

Azriel listened intently, his sharp gaze taking in everything around him. “It’s... peaceful here,” he said after a moment.

You smiled softly, nodding. “It is. That’s one of the things I missed most when I left. No matter what’s happening in the world, this city always feels like it’s standing still, like nothing can touch it.”

As the two of you continued through the quarter, the tension that had been sitting heavy in your chest began to ease. Azriel’s quiet presence was surprisingly reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing, falling into the rhythm of the city and the steady cadence of his steps beside you.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets, and you turned toward the northern part of the city, leading Azriel toward the bustling Markets. The sight of the vibrant stalls and the hum of voices filled you with a sense of nostalgia, and for the first time in what felt like days, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply and let go of the thoughts that had been weighing on you.

Azriel didn’t say much, but the way his shadows softened around him and the faint smile that played on his lips told you he was enjoying himself. It made you smile in return, a genuine expression that reached your eyes as you began pointing out the different areas of the city with renewed energy. Whatever awkwardness you’d felt earlier had been replaced by something lighter, something that felt almost... normal.

The climb up the narrow, winding stairs was not for the faint of heart, but you had done it countless times before. Your steps were steady and sure, though you were keenly aware of Azriel’s presence just behind you. The sun had fully set by the time you reached the top, the last few golden rays fading into deep purples and blues that painted the horizon.

When you stepped onto the open terrace, you paused, waiting for Azriel to join you. His footsteps slowed, and when he emerged from the staircase, he stopped short. His sharp intake of breath was barely audible, but you caught it nonetheless. He stood still, his golden eyes scanning the view before him.

From this height, the entirety of Solterra stretched out like a glowing tapestry. The city lights flickered like stars in the dark, and the streets wove intricate patterns that mirrored the constellations above. The palace, with its gleaming white spires, stood at the center, its reflection shimmering faintly in the waters of the fountains and canals that crisscrossed the city. The glow of lanterns, their light soft and golden, spilled over the edges of the rooftops, casting everything in an otherworldly glow.

Azriel took a slow step forward, his shadows curling back as if to let him fully take in the scene. “It’s... stunning,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

You turned slightly, watching his reaction with a small, knowing smile. “It’s my favorite spot in the city,” you admitted, your gaze sweeping over the view. “Whenever things felt overwhelming, I’d come here. It has a way of making everything else seem... smaller. Easier to manage.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the scene before him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the distant murmur of the city below and the faint rustle of the wind. Azriel’s wings shifted slightly, catching the faint light and adding to the ethereal atmosphere of the moment.

The terrace itself was simple—stone tiles worn smooth by time, bordered by a low railing carved with intricate designs of stars and moons. Small, glowing orbs floated at the edges, casting a soft, magical light over the space. Ivy climbed up the sides of the railing, its dark green leaves adding a touch of life to the otherwise serene setting.

“It’s hard to believe places like this exist,” Azriel said finally, his tone softer than usual. “It feels... untouched.”

You glanced at him, noticing the way his usually guarded expression had softened, his features lit by the faint glow of the orbs. “That’s the beauty of Solterra,” you said gently. “Even when everything else feels chaotic, it stays the same. Like it’s frozen in time.”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the city below. There was a stillness in him, a quiet reverence that you hadn’t expected. It was rare to see him like this—unguarded, almost at peace.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he said after a while, his golden eyes meeting yours.

You gave a small shrug, your smile warm but playful. “You needed to see it. Besides, I couldn’t let you leave the Dawn Court without experiencing this view.”

He huffed a soft laugh, his shadows curling around his feet again. “You were right. It’s worth the climb.”

You let the silence settle between you again, a comfortable quiet as the two of you stood side by side, taking in the beauty of Solterra under the night sky. For the first time in a long while, the weight of your responsibilities felt a little lighter.

You rested your hands lightly on the cool stone railing, your eyes fixed on the glittering city below, the soft hum of life drifting up from Solterra. The weight of the earlier conversation with the healers lingered, no matter how much you tried to push it aside. Finally, you took a breath and broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," you said softly, your voice barely carrying over the quiet night. "For what you overheard earlier."

Azriel, who had been standing a few steps behind you, moved closer, his shadows weaving gently around him. “You don’t need to apologize,” he said, his tone steady. “If anything, I should apologize for hearing it. It wasn’t my place to intrude on something so personal.”

You turned your head slightly, offering him a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s not your fault. And besides...” Your voice trailed off as the bond hummed faintly in your chest—a painful, persistent ache that you couldn’t ignore. Shaking your head lightly, you added, “It’s nothing I haven’t faced before.”

Azriel studied you, his golden eyes unwavering. “Are you better now?” he asked, his question simple but weighted with genuine concern.

You reached up, running a hand through your hair as you exhaled slowly. Turning back to the city, you said, “Much better now. That was... centuries ago. But I suppose it’s not surprising that some healers would talk about me like that. When I arrived here, I was a mess.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Azriel interjected, his voice firmer now. His shadows curled closer to him, as if reflecting his inner tension. “It’s not normal or acceptable for anyone to speak about you that way.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, but it’s fine. Really. I’ve grown used to it, and... in some ways, they’re not wrong. Back then...” You hesitated, your gaze fixed on a distant point in the city. “When I lost my wings, I only wanted one thing. To die.”

Azriel’s entire body stilled, his shadows frozen in place as he processed your words. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he said quietly, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Not if it’s too painful.”

You glanced at him, your lips curving into a faint, almost sad smile. “It’s fine,” you replied softly. “And besides, you’ve already heard most of it.”

He didn’t argue, but the flicker of emotion in his eyes told you that he was still grappling with the weight of what you had shared. You turned back to the view, the city lights reflecting in your eyes as you gathered your thoughts.

“For a long time, I thought losing my wings was the end of everything I was,” you admitted. “It felt like I was no longer whole, like the only thing that made me... me had been ripped away."

“I left the Night Court after it happened,” you admitted, your voice quieter. “It was too hard to stay. Everything reminded me of what I’d lost. It took me months just to be able to walk properly again.”

Azriel’s brows knit together, his gaze intent on you. “Months?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “How did you manage to keep going?”

You let out a faint, humorless laugh. “I think if I’d been clipped younger, it would have been different. But by then, I’d already spent seventy years flying above Velaris and the Night Court. Losing that freedom…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It broke me in ways I didn’t even realize at first.”

His shadows shifted around him, curling gently as though reflecting his own unease. “But you came here,” Azriel prompted softly. “To the Dawn Court.”

You nodded. “Thesan and Talyen helped me through it. During my training, they gave me purpose again—something to hold onto when I couldn’t see the point of anything. And you know how it ended with Thesan.” A wistful smile touched your lips. “It took me a long time to be able to come back to the Night Court. I wasn’t sure I ever would.”

Azriel frowned slightly, his wings twitching as if in reaction to your words. “Why didn’t you stay here? If they helped you so much, why leave?”

You tilted your head, considering his question. “Because this wasn’t home,” you said simply. “The Night Court was still my home, even if it hurt to admit it at the time. And deep down, I knew I needed to face what happened. Running away might’ve been easier, but it wasn’t what I needed. I don’t have a family, the Night Court, Velaris, Madja, Illyria, they were the only thing grounding me and actually giving me a feelling that I had an attached somewhere.”

Azriel studied you for a moment, his golden eyes shadowed with something you couldn’t quite place. “Do you ever think about what could’ve been?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” you replied honestly. “But what happened shaped who I am now. And even though it’s not the life I imagined for myself, I’ve found meaning in it. I’ve found a way to be okay.”

The bond between you hummed faintly, the ache of its presence both comforting and painful. Azriel seemed to sense it too, his expression flickering with something unreadable.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the cool night air wrapping around you like a second skin. Then, as if to shift the weight of the conversation, you leaned back against the railing and offered him a small, wry smile.

“Now, enough about me,” you said, your tone lighter. “Have you talked with Rhys?”

Azriel’s jaw tensed slightly, and his shadows coiled closer. “Not yet,” he admitted. “I’m not ready to deal with that right now.”

You nodded, your gaze softening. “That’s fair. But don’t let it fester for too long, Azriel. Things left unsaid have a way of turning into walls between people.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll handle it when the time is right.”

“Good,” you said simply, letting the moment settle between you.

Azriel’s jaw tightened as the question lingered in the air. He glanced away, his shadows curling around him protectively as if to shield him from the conversation. “I haven’t spoken to Rhys yet,” he admitted, his voice low and tense. “It’s... the first time I’ve been this mad at him for so long.”

You tilted your head, your gaze searching his face. “Because of what he said?”

He nodded sharply, his wings shifting in agitation. “It wasn’t just what he said. It’s how he said it. As if... as if I’m incapable of making my own decisions. As if my feelings aren’t valid.”

Your chest ached at the pain in his voice, the rawness of emotions that he so rarely shared. “Have you thought about what you’ll say to him when you’re ready?” you asked softly.

Azriel shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “No. I haven’t even been able to think about it without... without wanting to hit something. And that’s not who I am. Rhys and I—we’ve always been brothers in every way that matters. But this time...” He trailed off, his shadows curling tighter. “This time, it feels different.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the weight of what he was saying. “It’s hard when someone you care about deeply lets you down.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his golden eyes fixed on the horizon as the light from the city below reflected in their depths. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost vulnerable. “And then there’s Elain.”

The name hung between you like a heavy cloud. You didn’t press him, sensing he needed to find his own words.

“I don’t even know what I feel anymore,” Azriel admitted, his tone laced with frustration. “When she first came here, after being dumped in the Cauldron, I was the one who helped her. I saw her at her worst—terrified, broken, unsure of everything. I wanted to protect her, to help her find her footing in this new, impossible life. I guess... I grew attached.”

You nodded, your expression neutral but your chest tightening as you listened. “Attachment can be powerful,” you offered carefully. “Especially when it’s built on moments like that.”

Azriel exhaled deeply, his shadows flickering faintly around him. “But it’s not just attachment, is it? There’s something more. Or at least, I thought there was. And yet, every time I look at her, I’m reminded that she has a mate. That no matter how I feel, she’s bound to someone else in a way I can never be.”

You leaned slightly against the railing, watching him closely. “Do you love her?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Azriel didn’t answer. His jaw worked as if trying to find the right words, and his shadows stilled, almost hesitant.

“Maybe not love, at least not anymore...” he said finally, his voice raw with honesty. “But I care about her. More than I ever thought I could. Enough that it hurts to think about letting go. And yet...” He trailed off, his wings drooping slightly. “Maybe I should. Maybe I need to. Because this... this thing between us, it’s just a reminder of what I’ll never have. What I’m not meant for.”

Your heart clenched at the pain laced in his words, the quiet resignation that seemed to settle over him like a heavy cloak. “Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting,” you said softly. “And it doesn’t mean what you felt wasn’t real or valid. But sometimes, letting go is the only way to move forward.”

Azriel’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “And what if I can’t? What if the bond... or the absence of it, keeps pulling me back?”

You offered him a small, sad smile. “Then maybe it’s not about forgetting or moving on entirely. Maybe it’s about finding a way to hold onto the parts of her that made you better, while still leaving space for yourself to grow. To heal.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his shadows curling around him as if to guard his thoughts. Then, he gave a small nod, though his expression remained conflicted. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you admitted. “It’s one of the hardest things to do. But you’ve faced worse, Azriel. You’ll find your way through this too.”

For a moment, the silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, Azriel exhaled slowly, his gaze once again drifting to the city below. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost lost to the breeze.

You didn’t respond, but the faint hum of the bond between you seemed to carry your unspoken understanding.

Your hands trembled slightly, barely noticeable, as Azriel’s words lingered in your mind. It was hard—hard to hear him talk about someone else with such care and longing, even as you tried to remind yourself that the bond between you wasn’t something he knew about, let alone wanted. Lost in your thoughts, you startled slightly when you felt a soft tug at your hair.

Glancing to the side, you saw one of Azriel’s shadows twirling a loose strand between its wispy tendrils, as though it was curious. It tickled, and despite the heaviness in your chest, a small smile broke through. “It seems your shadows have taken a liking to me,” you teased lightly, brushing the strand back.

Azriel’s brows furrowed in surprise, his gaze following the shadow as if it had acted without his permission. “They don’t usually...” he began, trailing off as another shadow curled lazily around your shoulder. He looked genuinely perplexed.

You laughed softly, the sound light against the quiet night. “Well, I don’t mind,” you said, though the sensation made you squirm a little as it tickled the back of your neck. “It’s... endearing, in a way.”

Azriel shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “They have a mind of their own sometimes,” he admitted. “But this is... new.”

You smiled, brushing the shadow away gently, and turned toward him. “Let’s get something to eat,” you offered, eager to change the tone of the evening. “I know a place nearby. It’s simple, but it’s one of my favorite spots in Solterra.”

Azriel tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “Lead the way.”

This time, you didn’t walk ahead; the two of you moved side by side, your steps falling into an easy rhythm. The city had transformed under the night’s embrace, its streets illuminated by warm golden lights. Lanterns strung above the narrow alleys swayed gently in the cool breeze, casting soft, flickering shadows against the sandstone buildings. People bustled around, vendors calling out their wares while laughter and chatter filled the air. Musicians played lively tunes on street corners, their melodies weaving through the lively hum of the crowd.

The stand you brought him to was modest—a small, well-loved cart tucked away near the edge of the marketplace. The scent of spiced meat wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of fresh bread and roasted vegetables. Azriel’s sharp gaze took in every detail, but his focus lingered on the way the vendor’s face lit up when he saw you.

“Y/N!” the man greeted warmly, his voice carrying over the din of the street. “It’s been too long. What brings you here tonight?”

You smiled, stepping closer to the stand. “You know me, I can’t stay away for too long,” you replied, the warmth in your tone genuine. “Azriel, this is Nadir. He makes the best sandwiches in Solterra.”

Nadir grinned, nodding at Azriel. “You’ve got good taste if you’re with Y/N. She’s a regular—used to come by late at night after long shifts. I always knew when she’d had a tough day.”

Azriel inclined his head politely. “It smells incredible,” he said, his shadows coiling faintly as if curious about the food.

“What do you like?” you asked Azriel, glancing over the menu scrawled on a wooden board.

“Anything,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. “I trust your judgment.”

You ordered for both of you, chatting with Nadir while he worked. The sound of sizzling meat and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables filled the space as the sandwiches came together. A few moments later, Nadir handed over the wrapped bundles with a cheerful “Enjoy!”

The two of you found a quiet spot near the gardens, a place where flowering trees lined the edge of a small fountain. The night’s quiet was punctuated by the occasional ripple of water and the faint laughter of passersby.

Azriel unwrapped his sandwich, taking a tentative bite. His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded in approval. “This is... really good,” he admitted, the faintest hint of surprise in his tone.

“I told you,” you teased, taking a bite of your own. The warmth of the spiced meat and the fresh crunch of vegetables was exactly what you needed.

At some point, Azriel glanced at you, his expression softening as his sharp eyes caught something on your cheek. Without thinking, he reached out, brushing his thumb gently across your skin to wipe away a small streak of sauce.

The touch startled you, and you froze, blinking at him. A rush of heat bloomed across your face, and you stammered, “Oh, um—thanks.”

Azriel pulled his hand back quickly, clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he murmured, his own cheeks faintly pink. “It was—there was sauce.”

You laughed, the sound a little too loud in your effort to ease the tension. “Yeah, I’m a mess when I eat these,” you joked, trying to wave it off.

The two of you settled back into a comfortable silence, the soft glow of the city lights around you making everything feel oddly peaceful. For a moment, it was as if the weight of everything—the bond, his struggles, your past—had lifted, leaving only the quiet companionship of a shared meal under the stars.

Your evenings had fallen into a quiet rhythm over the past few days. After the meetings, Azriel would find his way to your room in the palace, and the two of you would settle into an easy companionship that felt strangely natural. It had started with a simple offer of tea and had grown into these shared moments—both of you working, sometimes talking, and occasionally just enjoying the calm silence.

Your room, one of the largest in the palace, was warm and inviting. Soft golden light filtered through tall windows, casting a gentle glow over the plush rugs and intricately carved wooden furniture. The bed, draped in deep teal and gold linens, sat against one wall, while a wide desk occupied the other, covered in neatly organized stacks of notes, scrolls, and ledgers. A small sitting area near the hearth had become your favorite spot, with two armchairs and a low table perfect for tea and conversation.

Azriel’s presence in the room had become so routine that it no longer surprised you when he knocked lightly before entering. Tonight was no different.

“You’re getting predictable,” you teased as he stepped inside, carrying his reports under one arm.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in a faint smile. “I could say the same about you. Tea’s already ready, isn’t it?”

You laughed softly, gesturing to the steaming teapot and cups on the low table. “Touché. I figured you’d show up.”

He sat across from you, setting his reports aside for a moment as he poured himself a cup of tea. “Busy day?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Always,” you replied with a sigh, leaning back in your chair. “The logistics for the next round of resource exchanges are a mess. Half the courts aren’t sure what they can spare, and the other half want more than they’re willing to give.”

Azriel nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of tea. “Sounds familiar. Negotiations between the High Lords aren’t much different. Everyone wants something, but no one wants to compromise.”

You chuckled dryly. “At least with the healers, we have the same goal. It’s easier to remind them what we’re working toward. The High Lords, though...” You shook your head. “I don’t envy you.”

He gave a small shrug, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders. “It’s what I’m used to. But I imagine dealing with this,” he gestured to the neatly organized papers on your desk, “isn’t much easier.”

You followed his gaze and sighed. “Not really. It’s a lot of juggling—balancing what each court needs with what they can offer. And on top of that, making sure it all gets where it’s supposed to go.”

Azriel leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “If anyone can handle it, it’s you. I’ve seen how you manage these meetings. It’s impressive.”

The unexpected compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a flush creep up your neck. “Thank you,” you said softly, glancing down at your cup. “But it’s not just me. The other healers make it work. They’ve taught me as much as I’ve taught them.”

The room was quiet save for the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of parchment. You had been glancing at Azriel for a while, noticing the slight tension in his movements as he wrote. His fingers occasionally twitched, the pen faltering for just a second before resuming its sharp, precise strokes.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, setting your own quill down.

Azriel paused mid-sentence, looking up at you. “What do you mean?”

You gestured subtly toward his hands. “You’re struggling a bit. Does that happen often?”

He glanced at his gloved hands, flexing his fingers briefly. “The scars don’t hurt much,” he admitted. “But sometimes they make it harder to grip things properly. I usually use a cream to help, but since we’ve been here, it feels a little worse.”

“That’s not surprising,” you said with a faint smile. “The climate in the Dawn Court is much drier than Velaris.”

Azriel nodded, his expression neutral, though there was a flicker of discomfort in his golden eyes. Before he could brush the matter aside, you stood and rummaged through your things.

“What are you doing?” he asked, watching you with a mix of curiosity and exasperation.

“Hold on,” you replied, pulling out a small jar of salve you’d mixed during one of your quiet evenings. You turned back to him, holding it up triumphantly. “This will help.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to—”

You shot him a pointed look, cutting him off. “Azriel, it’s nothing. Stop being difficult,” you said, your tone teasing.

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and to your surprise, he chuckled. The sound was warm and low, and it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t help but smile back, your cheeks heating slightly.

Pulling a chair in front of him, you sat down, your knees brushing his. “May I?” you asked softly, gesturing to his hands.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. Slowly, you reached forward, peeling off his gloves with gentle care. Your breath hitched slightly at the sight of his scarred hands—marred by burns but still strong and capable.

“How did it happen?” you asked hesitantly, looking up to meet his gaze. “If you don’t mind telling me.”

Azriel’s expression didn’t change, though his eyes darkened slightly. “When I was younger, my half-brothers wanted to see what oil and fire would do,” he said, his voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of pain. “They decided my hands would be the perfect place to test it.”

Your horror must have shown on your face because he added quickly, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve learned to live with them.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you opened the jar of salve. Scooping a small amount onto your fingers, you reached for his hand, your touch feather-light. “You shouldn’t have had to learn to live with this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel didn’t respond at first, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. As your fingers gently massaged the salve into his scarred hands, it was as if the world outside the room ceased to exist. Each movement was deliberate, your touch light but firm as you worked the cream into the roughened skin, tracing over every ridge and scar with quiet reverence.

Your magic stirred softly, a faint glow emanating from your fingertips as you worked. The light was subtle, a pale shimmer that seemed to dance across his hands, sinking into the damaged tissue and soothing the strain beneath. You weren’t entirely sure if it was for him or for yourself, this act of care. But as the magic melded with the salve, you could feel the tension in his hands ease, the tightness in his skin softening under your touch.

The air between you seemed to thicken, becoming charged with something unspoken yet deeply felt. Azriel’s golden eyes followed your every movement, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as if reacting to the moment. They reached out tentatively, brushing against your arm like curious tendrils, almost mirroring the gentle care you were giving him.

Your fingers paused for a moment, resting on a particularly deep scar near the base of his thumb. You traced it lightly with your thumb, your expression unreadable. “Does this one still hurt?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel shook his head slightly, his voice low and steady. “Not physically. Not anymore.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and you didn’t press further. Instead, you resumed your work, your fingers gliding over his knuckles with a featherlight touch. The warmth of your magic pulsed faintly, and you let out a small, satisfied sigh when you saw the way his hands relaxed under your care.

The room felt smaller, quieter, as if it were holding its breath for the two of you. Azriel’s gaze never wavered, his focus locked on you with an intensity that made you acutely aware of every movement, every shared breath. The way you worked—your brow furrowed in concentration, your lips slightly parted as you focused on him—it rooted him in place, a grounding point he didn’t realize he’d been seeking.

Your touch was meticulous, almost reverent, as if you were trying to undo some of the harm etched into his skin—not just with the salve and your magic, but with the quiet care you poured into the act itself. It wasn’t just about soothing his scars; it was about showing him, in a way words never could, that he was worth this kind of gentleness.

Finally, you set the jar aside and rested your hands lightly on his, letting the warmth linger for a moment longer. When you glanced up to meet his gaze, the depth of emotion in his eyes made your chest tighten.

“Better?” you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

Azriel nodded slowly, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “Much better,” he murmured, his tone thick with something unspoken.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward—it was full of unspoken understanding, a quiet acknowledgment of the connection that had deepened between you in those stolen moments. And as you both lingered there, the faint shimmer of your magic faded into the stillness, leaving only the warmth of your touch and the steady rhythm of your breaths.

At one point, he broke the silence, his voice quiet but steady. “What about you?”

You glanced up, puzzled. “What about me?”

Azriel tilted his head, his expression softening as he studied you. “You spend so much time taking care of everyone else. Do you ever take time for yourself?”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “This,” you said, gesturing around the room, “is my time for myself. These moments... they’re enough.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. “Good,” he said softly. “You deserve that much.”

The sincerity in his voice stirred something deep inside you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to simply bask in the quiet companionship. In a life full of chaos and responsibility, this small corner of peace felt like a gift—one you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

 

Azriel arrived outside your door, punctual as ever, only to hear a frantic shuffle on the other side. He knocked lightly, waiting.

“Coming!” your voice called, muffled but rushed.

The door flew open, and there you stood, dripping wet, wrapped only in a towel. Your hair clung to your skin, and water dripped onto the floor. You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard.

“My bad—go wait inside, please,” you stammered, stepping back to let him in. “I’m so sorry—give me two seconds.”

You turned, slipping slightly on the wet floor, your arms flailing as you barely caught yourself on the doorframe. Azriel blinked, clearly fighting back a laugh, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but amused.

"Fine!" you chirped, disappearing back into your room. "Totally fine! Just... give me a minute!”

The space felt as alive as you were—vibrant and lived-in. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with books, jars of herbs, and an array of trinkets collected from various courts. Your desk was a study in organized chaos, papers and notes sprawled across its surface, mingling with teacups and a few candles. A large, open window let the morning sunlight pour in, illuminating everything in a warm glow.

Azriel took a seat on the edge of a cushioned chair, his sharp eyes scanning the room. He couldn’t help but notice the quiet hum of comfort that seemed to radiate from the space, much like its owner.

A few minutes later, you emerged, struggling with the intricate ties of your top, the fabric stubbornly refusing to cooperate. "Azriel," you called, your voice slightly frantic. "Help me out here!”

Azriel stood, stepping closer. “Sure,” he said simply, taking the ties of the top in his hands. As he moved behind you to secure it, his gaze fell on your back.

There, faint but unmistakable, were scars. They cut across your skin in jagged, silvery lines, a stark contrast against the smooth canvas of your back. He froze for the briefest moment, his breath catching. His shadows stirred restlessly, betraying his thoughts.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t let his hands falter as he tied the delicate laces with precision. But something tightened in his chest, a mix of sorrow and admiration for what you must have endured.

You, oblivious, continued fussing. “Usually, it’s Ydle who helps me with this,” you muttered.

Azriel blinked, his brow furrowing. “The bird?”

“Yes, the bird, Azriel,” you said, glancing over your shoulder with an incredulous look. “He’s actually quite good at a lot of things, you know.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Right. A lot of things.”

You turned fully, giving him a pointed look. “Stop with your nasty thoughts, Shadowsinger. Not all winged beings think with their dick, you know.”

That earned you a full, genuine laugh from Azriel, his shadows swirling around him in amusement.

"You’re late," he reminded, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, grabbing your notes and practically running around the room to gather the last of your things. "I ended up drinking with the girls last night—like, a lot—and I went to sleep about... oh, two hours ago."

Azriel raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "And now you expect to lead a meeting?"

"I’ll survive," you said, waving him off. "Let’s go, or we’ll both be late."

As the two of you left your room, Azriel couldn’t help but shake his head, a quiet chuckle escaping him. You might have been chaos incarnate that morning, but there was no denying you’d pull it together the moment you stepped into that meeting room—and he admired that more than he’d ever admit.

When you and Azriel entered the meeting room, it was clear that the tone of the day was already set. The head healers, though composed, bore an unspoken tension that hung heavy in the air. Your sharp eyes quickly took in the details—slightly rumpled clothes, dark circles under a few pairs of eyes. A quick glance at Farah and Amara confirmed your suspicion: you weren’t the only one running on minimal sleep.

“Rough night?” you murmured to Farah as you passed, taking your seat at the head of the table.

The Day Court healer offered you a tired smile, golden strands of her hair slipping from her loose braid. “You could say that. Seems the city’s festivities are hard to resist.”

Amara groaned softly, resting her elbows on the table. “Why do they schedule these meetings the morning after celebrations? We look like we’ve been dragged through the ocean.”

A few chuckles broke the tension, and even Azriel’s lips twitched faintly at the comment as he took his place near the doorway, his shadows drifting unobtrusively.

“All right,” you said, your voice firm but warm as you tapped the table lightly. “Let’s focus. We have a lot to cover, and not much time.”

The healers straightened in their seats, the atmosphere shifting into something far more serious.

As the meeting pressed on, the air in the room thickened with the weight of the topic now at hand—Koshiev’s growing influence. The earlier camaraderie and trust among the healers gave way to grim determination, each word spoken heavy with the stakes of what was to come.

Rordan from the Autumn Court began, his amber eyes burning with frustration. “Koshiev’s forces aren’t just expanding—they’re leaving devastation in their wake. Entire villages along the borders have been wiped out because of sickness that, mother above, look like they come straight from hell, and the survivors are trickling into the courts as refugees. Camps are overcrowded, and infection spreads like wildfire.”

Veras from the Winter Court leaned forward, his braided hair falling over his shoulder. “The frostbite cases we’re seeing aren’t just from the cold anymore. It’s as if something in the air itself is making the wounds worse, harder to heal. We suspect Koshiev’s forces are using some kind of dark magic, but we have no way to confirm it.”

You nodded, taking in the information with a furrowed brow. “If they’re using magic to weaponize the environment, we’ll need to prioritize protection. I can look into shielding spells that can be used alongside standard care. Farah,” you turned to the Day Court healer, “your court specializes in purification. Do you think you could develop something to counteract this?”

Farah’s golden eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It’s possible, but we’d need samples to understand what we’re dealing with. Without knowing the exact nature of this magic, we’re working blind.”

Azriel, silent until now, spoke up from where he stood at the edge of the room. His deep voice cut through the air like a blade. “I can get you the samples. If there’s something in the air or water, I’ll have my spies retrieve it.”

The room turned to Azriel, some with surprise, others with relief. You caught his eye briefly and nodded, grateful for his quick offer.

Amara from the Summer Court exhaled heavily. “Even with countermeasures, this is a problem we’ve never faced before. Koshiev’s forces are using tactics that defy every natural law we know. We need more than just defensive strategies—we need to be proactive.”

“You’re right,” you said, standing straighter. “It’s not enough to react to what Koshiev does. We need to anticipate his next moves. That means gathering intelligence—not just on his methods but on his motives. Why is he targeting specific regions? What does he gain from leaving the lands uninhabitable?”

Teylan, the healer from the Dawn Court, added, “And we need to coordinate evacuation protocols. If entire regions are to be affected, we must ensure that civilians can be moved quickly and efficiently. It’s not just about healing the injured—it’s about preventing the injuries in the first place.”

The group murmured in agreement, and you saw Azriel’s sharp gaze shift to Teylan. There was respect in his expression, though his shadows swirled slightly tighter around him, as if unsettled by the weight of the conversation.

“Let’s assign specific roles,” you suggested, your voice cutting through the growing tension. “Veras, work with Farah to develop purification methods. Amara, focus on distributing resources—we’ll need herbs, salves, and antidotes ready for immediate deployment. Rordan, can you focus on organizing supply routes and establishing safe zones within the Autumn Court?”

Each healer nodded, their expressions set with determination. You turned to Azriel. “And Azriel, if you can retrieve those samples, it will give us the edge we desperately need.”

Azriel inclined his head, his shadows flickering like flames in response. “Consider it done.”

The meeting continued with precise planning. Containment strategies, resource allocation, and magical countermeasures were all discussed and debated. Each healer brought their expertise to the table, but the weight of Koshiev’s looming threat was undeniable.

By the time the meeting concluded, the atmosphere in the room was heavy but resolute. These weren’t just plans—they were the foundation for survival, the first step in a war that would test every ounce of strength Prythian had.

As the healers began to file out for a much-needed break, Azriel lingered near you, his gaze steady and unreadable. “You’re carrying a lot on your shoulders,” he said quietly.

You met his gaze, your tired smile barely masking the exhaustion. “We all are, Azriel. But this is the work that needs to be done.”

His shadows flickered faintly, and for a moment, he looked as if he wanted to say more. But instead, he simply nodded, his silence speaking volumes.

The battle against Koshiev had already begun, and you both knew it would demand everything from everyone involved.

The meeting had finally drawn to a close, the weight of the discussions settling heavily on your shoulders. You bid farewell to the other healers, offering last-minute reassurances and final notes for the upcoming plans. As the last of them departed, you made your way back to your room, your steps slower than usual. The exhaustion from the day's intensity pulled at you, but your mind refused to quiet.

Your room greeted you with its familiar warmth and quiet elegance. You sighed, stepping inside and shedding your outer coat. Moving to the small kitchenette, you set about preparing tea. The rhythmic motions of boiling water and selecting herbs gave you a rare moment of peace.

The sound of a knock at the door broke your focus. You turned, half expecting Azriel, but instead found Thesan leaning casually against the frame, his smile warm and familiar.

“You didn’t think I’d let you retreat so easily, did you?” he teased, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

You chuckled softly, rolling your eyes. “I thought you’d be busy catching up with your court, not chasing after me.”

“Multitasking is one of my many talents,” he quipped, settling into a chair with an ease that spoke of years of friendship. His gaze swept the room, a fond glint in his eye. “Still feels like you’ve left your mark on this place. It’s alive, somehow—like you.”

You scoffed lightly, pouring two cups of tea. “You’re being dramatic again.”

He accepted the cup you handed him, his smile never faltering. “Maybe. But I’m also right.”

The lighthearted banter faded as his expression turned more serious. “You handled yourself well today. The meeting was impressive, even for you. But that’s not why I’m here.”

You hesitated, sitting down across from him. “Then why are you here, Thesan?”

“To check on you,” he replied simply. “You’ve been through a lot, Y/N. And I know you—sometimes you carry things alone when you shouldn’t.”

The words hit closer to home than you cared to admit. You stared into your tea for a moment before taking a steadying breath. “There is... something,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “Something I haven’t told anyone.”

Thesan waited patiently, his gaze unwavering. Finally, you looked up and met his eyes.

“It’s not just the war or the plans,” you admitted finally, setting your cup down. “It’s... Azriel.”

Thesan raised a brow, his curiosity piqued. “The Night Court’s spymaster? What about him?”

You inhaled deeply, the words tasting foreign as they left your lips. “He’s my mate.”

The admission hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. Thesan’s expression shifted to one of quiet understanding, his head tilting slightly as he studied you.

“And does he know?” he asked gently.

You shook your head, the weight of the secret pressing down on you. “No. And I don’t plan on telling him. He’s... attached to someone else. Elain. One of the High lady’s sister. And there’s the war, the chaos. It’s not the right time.”

“Is there ever a right time for something like this?” Thesan asked gently. “Do you... love him?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, your fingers tightening around the cup. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But being around him feels... different. Like a part of me is at peace when he’s near.”

Thesan leaned back slightly, his brow furrowed in thought. “Mates are rare, yes. But they’re not infallible. If you feel this strongly, maybe you shouldn’t dismiss it. Just... be careful.”

His advice hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Before either of you could say more, a soft knock at the door interrupted the moment. Thesan rose smoothly to answer, his calm demeanor never wavering.

Azriel stood in the doorway, his shadows curling faintly around him. His sharp eyes flicked to Thesan, a hint of surprise crossing his face. “High Lord,” he greeted, his tone polite but clipped.

Thesan smiled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Spymaster. What brings you here?”

Azriel’s gaze briefly shifted beyond him, but he couldn’t see you from where he stood. “I was going to ask Y/N if she wanted to take a walk through the city before we leave. But clearly, she’s... occupied.”

Thesan’s smile deepened, and there was a hint of something playful in his tone. “We were just catching up, but...”

Azriel nodded curtly and cut him mid sentence, stepping back. “Another time then, I don’t want to disturb you both.” he echoed, his voice neutral.

He left without another word, his shadows lingering briefly before disappearing into the hallway. Thesan watched him go, a knowing look in his eye as he closed the door and turned back to you.

“Well,” he said, his tone dry, “he’s certainly... something.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t even know what to do anymore.”

Thesan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his expression softening. “Take it one step at a time, Y/N. You’ll figure it out.”

Azriel sat on the balcony of his assigned room in the Dawn Court palace, the cool evening air brushing against his skin. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft orange and deep indigo. His shadows whispered faintly, their tones uncertain, as if they too were trying to process what he was feeling.

He hadn’t intended to overhear you with Thesan, but the sound of your laughter, followed by the soft murmur of your voices, had drawn him to the door. He had stopped himself from intruding, reminding himself that it was none of his business. Yet, the sight of Thesan’s easy smile as he stood in your doorway, the familiarity in his posture, and the casual way his hand rested on the frame had stirred something in Azriel—something sharp and unwelcome.

He knew you had a history with Thesan. He knew that Thesan had a mate. And yet, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of jealousy. The knowledge that you and Thesan had shared something once, something real and intimate, unsettled him in a way he couldn’t fully understand.

You weren’t like Mor, whose vibrant energy had captivated him for centuries. You weren’t like Elain, whose gentleness and quiet beauty had drawn him in, offering a fleeting hope for something he could never truly have.

You were you—Y/N.

There was an effortless strength in you, the way you commanded a room without raising your voice, the way you navigated delicate situations with a calmness that belied the fire in your heart. You carried yourself with grace but never hid your scars. You worked tirelessly, yet somehow always found time to smile, to offer comfort, even when you were the one most in need of it.

And that smile—Mother above, that smile. It wasn’t a demure thing meant to appease or charm; it was genuine, lighting up your face in a way that made everything around you seem brighter. Your laugh was low and warm, the kind that lingered in the air long after it faded. The way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when you were truly amused stayed with him.

He thought of the way you spoke to him—honest, unafraid to challenge him but never cruel. How you had listened to him in the clinic that night, your words carrying a weight of understanding he hadn’t found in anyone else.

Azriel exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know when it had started—this attachment to you. But he knew it had grown steadily since the moment the two of you arrived in the Dawn Court. You had drawn him in with your unwavering dedication and the quiet vulnerability you allowed to slip through your defenses.

It wasn’t like him to let someone in so easily, to let himself care so quickly. But with you, it was different.

And now, the thought of Thesan knowing you so intimately—knowing parts of you that he could only hope to uncover—gnawed at him. It wasn’t rational, he knew that. But the thought still burned.

His shadows curled tighter around him, as if trying to shield him from the onslaught of emotions. But they couldn’t muffle the truth. He had grown attached to you. Too attached. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to do about it.

Later that evening, you found yourself standing outside Azriel’s door, a faint sense of unease settling over you. You had to talk to him about organizing your departure, but something felt off. You took a deep breath and knocked softly, waiting until you heard his voice.

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside to find Azriel sitting in a chair by the window, his shadows swirling lazily around him. His face was unreadable, the sharp planes of his features cast in soft shadows from the lamp beside him. He looked up briefly as you entered, but his gaze quickly flicked back to the papers in his hands.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” you began, your voice light but careful.

He shook his head. “No. Don’t worry. What do you need?”

You hesitated for a moment, noting the slight edge to his tone. “I wanted to go over the plan for tomorrow’s departure,” you said, stepping closer. “We need to coordinate with the palace staff for supplies, and I wanted to confirm our route.”

Azriel nodded curtly, gesturing for you to sit, but he didn’t offer much more. His responses were short, his demeanor cooler than usual. You frowned, watching him as he scanned the papers in his hands.

“Is something going on?” you asked softly, leaning forward slightly in your seat.

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter around him, a sure sign of his tension. “No, everything is ok don’t worry.” he said flatly, not looking up.

You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Azriel, I’m not leaving this alone. We’re going to be stuck together for at least four hours during the flight, and I promise you—I will not stop bothering you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might brush you off entirely. But then he set the papers down and leaned back in his chair, his amber eyes locking onto yours.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Do you still have something going on with Thesan?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by the question. “What?”

He pressed on, his shadows flickering erratically. “It’s just... sometimes, even if people are mated, they still—” He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before continuing, “They still keep things with their previous partners.”

You stared at him, the words settling over you like a wave of confusion and exasperation. “Are you serious right now?”

Azriel met your gaze, his expression unreadable, but his eyes carried a flicker of vulnerability he was clearly trying to mask.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. “Azriel, do you honestly think either Nesta or Feyre would be okay with Cassian or Rhysand running off to sleep with an ex-partner? Because, no. They wouldn’t. And it’s the same here.”

His brows furrowed, and you continued, your tone softening slightly. “Thesan is a friend now, Azriel. Nothing more. I don’t want anything else, and neither does he. And his mate would probably kill me if I even consider him more than that.”

The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease slightly, though his shadows still hovered around him. He nodded once, his voice quieter now. “I... I just wanted to be sure. Not that it was an actual problem, but...”

You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh, shaking your head. “You could have just asked, you know.”

Azriel’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, his shadows finally retreating a bit. “Maybe next time, I will.”

“Good,” you replied, standing and smoothing the front of your shirt. “Now, can we get back to the actual reason I came here, or should I start worrying about more questions?”

Azriel chuckled softly, a rare sound, and gestured for you to continue. The tension between you had eased, and as you began discussing the logistics of your departure, you noticed that his gaze lingered on you just a little longer than usual.

After clearing the air, you sat up straighter, your tone turning more professional. “Now, about tomorrow’s flight. The weather reports show strong winds in the region where we flew last time, so we’ll need to make a detour.”

Azriel’s brow lifted slightly, his focus sharpening. “A detour?”

You nodded, gesturing to the small map you had brought with you. You spread it out on the desk between you, pointing to a marked path. “Instead of cutting directly through the mountains, we’ll follow the coastline for a bit. It’ll take us an extra hour, but it’s safer than risking the turbulence.”

Azriel leaned forward, his shadows quiet as he studied the map. “The sea route?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “The winds over the water should be calmer, and there’s a better chance of clear skies. I checked with the palace staff earlier—they’ve used that path before in similar conditions.”

His expression was thoughtful as he traced the route with his finger. “It’s a smart call. And the scenery will be... different.”

You chuckled softly. “Different is one way to put it. I hope you like ocean views.”

Azriel glanced at you, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I’ll take ocean views over unpredictable mountain winds any day.”

“Good,” you said with a small smile. “I’ll let the staff know to adjust the flight plan accordingly.”

He nodded, his demeanor more relaxed now. “Anything else I should know?”

You hesitated for a moment, then added, “The winds might still be a bit tricky when we’re closer to the coast, so we’ll need to stay alert. But I think we’ll manage just fine.”

Azriel’s smirk deepened. “You sound like you’ve done this a hundred times.”

You shrugged lightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “Maybe not a hundred, but I’ve healed enough Peregrins to know what I’m talking about. Trust me on this one, Shadowsinger.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his shadows flickering faintly around him before he nodded again. “I trust you.” 

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[susiephone]

i think part of why some people have a knee-jerk negative reaction to any attempt to understand the motives of fascists is because if you acknowledge that anyone can be radicalized, you have to acknowledge that anyone includes you.

we know humans are very, very suspect to groupthink, pack mentality, tribalism, and learned helplessness - an individual is smart and empathetic, a group is... not. but we also need to be in groups to survive, not just practically but emotionally. we generally don't do well on our own. so you see how this can lead to problems, especially if no one's working to keep their worst impulses in check.

i think a lot of people think they'd never fall into fascist thinking because of who they are, because they're good people, because they're built different - but it likely has more to do with who raised you, what social groups you spend your time with, how educated you are, how much exposure you got to other perspectives, and whether or not you were preyed on by someone with an agenda when you were vulnerable. it's the same with people who share that "you are not immune to propaganda" meme... while clearly thinking that they, themselves, are in fact immune to propaganda.

i don't mean to say that individuals hold no responsibility - your actions are your own, and ultimately it's up to you to not become your worst self. and it is definitely true that fascism appeals especially to people who were already bullies. but i do think we need to keep in mind why people become their worst selves, and how it is unfortunately very, very easy compared to the alternative.

anyway! if you want to learn more about how people become radicalized, i'd recommend:

Hey, Hun: Sales, Sisterhood, Supremacy, and the Other Lies Behind Multilevel Marketing by Emily Lynn Paulson (okay okay I know saying multilevel marketing companies are in any way comparable to fascism is a bit much - but the book does a great job illustrating how someone smart and empathetic, someone who by all rights should "know better" can get sucked into a cult-like environment, and why they might stick around even after realizing the situation is fucked. the book also examines the relationship between these companies and the american right.)

You're Wrong About: "Losing Your Relatives to Fox News" (does a great job explaining why people who have been radicalized are so resistant to learning any information that contradicts their worldview)

A Bit Fruity: "How Did Elon Musk Get Like This?" (has a really comprehensive timeline of Elon's journey down the alt-right pipeline)

Hype: How Scammers, Grifters, and Con Artists Are Taking Over the Internet--And Why We're Following by Gabrielle Bluestone (specifically talks about the spread of false information and scams on the internet, and touches on how this can lead to radicalization)

Who's Afraid of Gender? by Judith Butler (talks about the "anti-gender" movement, and how the movement can operate despite - or because of - all the contradictions in its messaging, and how it picks up new members)

TikTok vs Democracy (just the entire video, but there's an especially chilling bit near the end where it's demonstrated exactly how easy it is to slip into fascist rhetoric without even realizing it)

Girl Math & Girl Power: The Conservative Politics of 'Girl World' (examines the "I'm just a girl!!!" thing through the lens of its connections to conservative ideology and the tradwife thing)

White Supremacists and the Tradwives Who Love Them and its sequel 'Oppressed' by Choice: Tradwives Against Feminism (a deep dive into the tradwife movement and its intersection with white supremacy and other fascist ideology)

A Man Plagiarized My Work: Women, Money, and the Nation (a deep dive into how women's work has always been undervalued, and the reason some women are drawn to fascism)

A Bit Fruity: "How Conservatism Infiltrated Pop Culture" (an examination into why so many young people are attracted to the alt-right, and how the fuck we got here)

A Bit Fruity: "The Crunchy to Far Right Pipeline" (a deep dive into how people who consider themselves liberal and progressive can still fall down the alt-right pipeline)

there are loads more resources, so please share them in the comments!!

[syndrossi]

I made myself sad contemplating the Redfort twins having a single toy to share at the Gates of the Moon after non-Regret!Willam brought them there, so I wrote a little Resonant ficlet of Lady Lynda's arrival.

x~x~x

Allard Royce’s young wards were even sweeter than Lynda had imagined, regarding her shyly as each presented her with a handful of freshly-picked flowers from around the yard and welcomed her to the Gates of the Moon. She crouched, uncaring of the damp mud that would stain her dress—she had brought plenty with her from Gulltown—and hugged them. The boys hugged her back tightly, seeming reluctant to let go, and she kissed their cheeks.

“I am so pleased to meet you,” she said.

Jon was the dark-haired one, regarding her curiously with storm-grey eyes. As for the other—she kept her smile warm, masking her shock at his appearance. Allard had explained the situation: that Prince Daemon had dishonored Lady Royce with her sister, Elys, then abandoned their affair once she became pregnant, declaring that he had no desire for his brother the king to learn of his infidelity. Lady Royce, still wishing to protect her sister, had thus arranged a match with Lord Redfort’s uncle Corwyn, who had claimed them as his own.

But little Raymar’s hair was as pale as any Targaryen’s, his eyes a deep purple. There was not a person in the world who would believe him the product of a Redfort-Royce match. That is why they must remain here, rather than with their aunt. The thought saddened her, all the more so as the yearning in the twins’ eyes became plain.

Allard was kind to take them in, but they have been without a mother, and he has a lord’s responsibilities. She could not see a nurse anywhere within view, either.

“I have brought you something,” she said, beckoning toward the Royce armsman who had accompanied her. She had been forced to leave even her maid, Cella, behind. For the boys’ safety, Allard had insisted.

The boys were wide-eyed as the box was lugged out, each clutching at her arms. “A present?” Jon asked, his voice hushed.

“A present,” she confirmed, tapping his nose and receiving a shy smile in response.

There was a famed toy shop in the markets of Gulltown, run by a pair of toymakers from Volantis, and Lynda had not been sparing with her purse. There had been a bear doll of exceeding softness, its onyx eyes round and a cheerful smile stitched beneath its button nose, that she had purchased on sight. After, the toymaker had shown her a selection of even finer toys, many with jewels and clever springs. She had been tempted by a jeweled dragon, but the secret of the boys’ bastardry had made that a poor choice.

Instead, she had chosen a game of wooden balls and a complicated wooden frame that they could be rolled into.

Lynda had expected gasps of delight, but upon being presented with the bear toy, the children burst into tears before hugging her even more tightly than before. She patted them on their backs, concerned, but they assured her between hiccupping sobs that they loved the bear more than anything in the world. They were so taken by it that although they were delighted by the game of wooden balls, neither was willing to let go of the bear in order to investigate it.

“Thank you for the presents, Lady Lynda,” Raymar said, his voice even smaller than his brother’s.

Lynda kissed him on the temple, running a hand through his long hair. The child tensed at first, then relaxed into her, tucking his head into her side, and she proceeded to teach them what the toymaker had demonstrated to her about how to play the game. Soon, the tears were replaced with shrieks of laughter and wonder.

In no time at all, I shall have Royce babes of my own, she thought, smiling as she watched them. But she was grateful to have the opportunity to learn with Allard’s little cousins. She glanced up, finding her new husband watching them from the entrance to the holdfast. He was an overly serious man, she had found, and there was not even the hint of a smile as he watched them play.

It is a heavy burden that he carries, she reminded herself. Not only had he spent the first decade and a half of life as a bastard himself, he had been forced to take in the boys at a young age himself. Minding children that Prince Daemon does not wish known to the world is no easy task.

But it was one she would gladly help him with.

[cyberclouddream]

What You Tend to Use Social Media For

Things we tend to seek and/or share on social media. Recommend looking for Mercury first. Also, whichever sign rules over your 11th House, look for whichever house that sign naturally rules over, e.g. Cancer/4H, Sagittarius/9H, Libra/7H, Aquarius/11H.

Gemini/Mercury in the 1st House

- to show off your personality traits and quirks, what makes you interesting

- fashion updates, like outfit and style experiments

- sharing mundane daily activities

- to create a particular public image

- instant reactions to events or trending topics

- to use your humor or wit to attract followers or engagement

- creating FOMO, lmao

- to experiment with social media trends

- to post controversial topics/challenge norms

- to seek likes and comments for self-esteem boosts

Gemini/Mercury in the 2nd House

- personal finance hacks or budgeting advice

- to post luxury items or flaunt purchases

- personal value discussion, like what’s truly important to them

- for marketing research, like judging product reviews

- promoting side hustles, businesses, or services

- to hunt for discounts or offers online

- gift ideas

- investment ideas, like stocks or crypto

Gemini/Mercury in the 3rd House

- to post about happenings in the neighborhood or community

- to engage in debates

- share updates or funny stories about family members

- post poetry, short stories, or personal anecdotes

- advertise local events or gatherings

- share educational resources or articles

- to vent about everyday frustrations

- microblogging

- posting thought-provoking questions

Gemini/Mercury in the 4th House

- family updates, like gatherings or milestones

- home projects or renovations

- childhood memories, like sharing old photos and stories

- showcase local businesses or attractions, supporting community

- personal growth experiences

- family or cultural traditions

- pet updates

- to rally support for family members

- to discuss family troubles openly

Gemini/Mercury in the 5th House

- post artwork, crafts, or performances

- date night ideas, like romantic spots

- parenting chronicles, lol

- viral social media challenges

- highlight hobbies or interests

- celebrate achievements

- flirtation, online dating

- promote fun activities

- encouraging others to participate in events or projects

Gemini/Mercury in the 6th House

- how to manage stress or workload

- health hacks and wellness tips

- productivity routines

- job milestones

- fitness challenges

- volunteer opportunities

- health struggles

- day-in-the-life posts

- job market trends

Gemini/Mercury in the 7th House

- relationship status updates, like breakups or dating life

- collaborative projects

- group discussions, like conversations about issues or shared interests

- relationship advice

- event planning, like gatherings or parties

- gossiping about friends

- insights about balancing relationships and independence

- to rally support for friends in tough personal times

- asking followers for advice on relationships decisions

Gemini/Mercury in the 8th House

- sharing intimate thoughts, like fears or deep feelings

- discuss finances, like tips on managing shared resources or investments

- to explore vulnerability with intimacy and trust

- personal growth stories

- to talk about change, like life transitions and transformations

- crowdsourcing solutions

- to engage in deep conversations on profound topics

- to discuss loss, grief, and/or coping mechanisms

- to seek closure

Gemini/Mercury in the 9th House

- travel stories

- cultural insights

- education advocacy, like promoting courses or learning resources

- debating beliefs, like philosophical or political

- inspirational quotes

- global issues

- book recommendations

- sharing experiences through videos or photos

- connecting with others from diverse backgrounds

- encouraging exploration, to inspire others to step outside of comfort zones

Gemini/Mercury in the 10th House

- sharing career milestones

- networking posts, like opportunities and connections through peers

- personal branding, promoting your craft or projects

- seek career advice or industry insights

- discuss ambitions, sharing dreams and goals

- showcase participation in community

- sharing learning experiences

- work/life reflections

- to shift public perceptions, especially after setbacks

- host Q&A sessions

- mentorship opportunities or anything related to guidance/support culture

Gemini/Mercury in the 11th House

- to grow your social circle

- to join causes or charity work

- posting about community events or group outings

- share friend’s achievements and milestones

- discuss future goals, like collective ambitions and aspu

- connect with like-minded people

- to debate societal changes or movements

- to organize or participate in virtual hangouts [ like Discord, virtual worlds ]

Gemini/Mercury in the 12th House

- share personal struggles, like mental health issues or personal battles

- reflect on dreams and fantasies

- document experiences of solitude or self-discovery

- spiritual conversations, like spiritual beliefs or mystical experiences

- posting anonymously about sensitive tooics

- using creative outlets like poetry or art to convey deeper feelings

- discuss unconventional ideas

- seek support through online communities

- content related to the mysterious, like astrology or the occult

- post about reflections or meditation

[universefcb]

hector fort as ur young hubby❤️

HÉCTOR FORT AS HER YOUNG HUSBAND — HEADCANONS

→ Pairing: Hector Fort X fem!reader

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff, confort.

→ Author's note: I did it in the headcanons style, because an author received the same request as mine. So to avoid any intrigue or make the person who wrote it first uncomfortable, I decided to do it this way.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

husband!héctor ღ | The day after the wedding, Héctor woke up before you just to look at the ring on his finger and think: 'fuck, she's my wife now.' A silly smile doesn't leave his face all day.

husband!héctor ღ | He calls you 'mi esposa' in any possible context, even if it's just to ask for something simple like: 'Esposa, ¿dónde está la mantequilla?' — just to repeat the title and see you laugh. He still sometimes stumbles on the 'novia… quiero decir, esposa', but always with that adorable shy smile.

husband!héctor ღ | On the day you set up your house, you both laughed a lot while putting together the furniture, you had a slight argument about where the sofa would go, but you ended up with pizza on the living room floor, amidst open boxes, saying: 'This is our mess now.

husband!héctor ღ | who bought personalized frames with your initials and a wedding photo without even telling you. When you saw them, you almost cried — and he was super proud.

husband!héctor ღ | He loves it when you walk around the house wearing his shirt with the last name 'Fort' printed on the back. He always says, "I married the most beautiful woman in the world, for sure."

husband!héctor ღ | where every morning he gives you a kiss on the forehead before going to train and says: 'I'll be home in a hurry, love.'

husband!héctor ღ | At first, he finds it a bit strange to share everything: wardrobe, blanket, time, space. But deep down he loves knowing that you are there, every day.

husband!héctor ღ | You create a tradition: Sunday is breakfast day together without cell phones. Just the two of you, pancakes, and sleepy smiles.

husband!héctor ღ | He looks at you washing your face before bed, laughing in an oversized t-shirt, and thinks, "She's my family now." He gets emotional and hugs you out of nowhere.

husband!héctor ღ | When you receive a letter in the name of 'Mrs. Fort', he freaks out inside. And when someone calls you “the Fort couple”, he responds with that stupid pride of someone who loves someone very much.

husband!héctor ღ | Sleeping cuddled up is still a bit messy (he moves around a lot, you steal the blanket), but he says he prefers it a thousand times over sleeping alone.

husband!héctor ღ | Leaves little notes around the house like 'good luck today, my beautiful wife' or 'dinner at 8pm? just the two of us. love you.'

husband!héctor ღ | Whenever he arrives from a tiring game or training session, he goes straight to look for you, kisses you and says: “Now I'm home.”

husband!héctor ღ | He insists on carrying the heavy bags at the market, saying: “My wife doesn’t touch weights, only flowers and cuddles.” And yes, he always buys flowers too.

husband!héctor ღ | He started learning your favorite recipes in secret, just to surprise you one day with a complete dinner saying: “Today you don't touch the kitchen, just sit down and let me take care of you.”

husband!héctor ღ | He loves planning little weekend trips just for the two of them. He always makes sure to reserve a place with a beautiful view, saying: “Nothing is more beautiful than you, but let's try to compete.”

husband!héctor ღ | Who sends you a random message in the middle of the day saying: “I thought of you just now. And before too. And probably in the next five minutes again.”

husband!héctor ღ | He is amazed every time you show up at an event with him, all dressed up, holding his hand — he can't stop looking at you and whispering “mi esposa... mi reina... mi todo.” (my wife... my queen... my everything)

husband!héctor ღ | Who always ends his prayers with something like: “...and may I never forget to make my wife happy every day.”

husband!héctor ღ | He includes you in absolutely all of his future plans. He no longer says “if one day”, he says “when we”, because for him, now everything is about the two of you.

husband!héctor ღ | Even with his busy life, he never stops reminding you how lucky he was to marry you: in messages, touches, or just in that look that says it all.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789