#Filled With Limitless Outside Pressures

[betterlifeinoverall-rethabilep]

Self-love Lifestyle

Learn How To Be Loyal To Yourself In Your Society, Filled With Limitless Outside Pressures, Both Inside And Outside, Both Online And Offline! Like, Shares and Follow Please don’t forget to comment

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo doing things for his new love interests that you begged him for while you were married.

After a joint meeting between the sister schools, you overheard Suguru asking him who he was texting during the meeting.

Satoru replied, "Just letting my date know I'll be a bit late tonight since we ran long here. Todo can yap, huh?"

"Seriously!" Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.

You stood just outside the meeting room watching the corner the disappeared around. If you had to pinpoint the number one reason your marriage failed - more than clan pressure, more than the strain of being young parents, more than back to back to back missions - it would be the fact that Satoru can't communicate for shit.

Part of it wasn't his fault. His brain just didn't work like that. An inconvenient side effect of limitless is that everything makes sense in your head, but it's hard for a person with the gift to explain their thoughts to others.

So the no-call, no-shows to dinners was technically a side effect of limitless, as was his inability to articulate his feelings like an adult or the fact that he would just do things without even telling you there was a problem in the first place.

"Quit doing that with your face, brat." Sukuna emerges from the meeting room. He's out of his Ryomen form at the moment, as he usually is during meetings so that he can actually fit in his chair. "How long are you gonna let what he does affect you?"

"It doesn't!" you insist.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Imagine reminding yourself that you can't be mad at him.

You're seeing other people now, too. Hell, you've been divorced for over a decade, it's insanity that you care at all.

It's just. You never doubted his love for you. Not for a second, not even now that your marriage failed and you largely raised your son on your own.

"Mom?"

Maybe your divorce was his motivation to be better. You're not sure. But if he's capable of change, capable of being attentive and communicative, why couldn't he change for you all those years ago?

"Mom."

Could it be that you were his childhood companion and he loved you, but he was never in love with you? Was his love for you less than your love for him?

You hardly notice your son calling out to you until he springs into action. "Mom!" Sen nudges you away from the stove to turn of the burner. When did smoke fill the kitchen? The roux you were trying to make was burnt to a crisp, stuck to the pan and emanating an unpleasant smell.

Sen gently pries your hands off the handle and drops the ruined pan in the sink to soak. Then he makes sure the burner's off before turning to you with a conflicted expression.

He may have inherited a hybrid of both your and Satoru's personal brands of emotional stuntedness, but he could put two and two together between how distracted you've been and the rumors of Satoru dating again - What with it being huge news among jujutsu society (aka power hungry clans with eligible daughters.) Your son had his own complicated feelings regarding his father and as much as he'd prefer Satoru stay away from you, it hurt him to see you like this.

Though, watching you try to keep a stiff upper lip for his sake during the divorce is the reason he doesn't want his father anywhere near you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You wipe your hands on a dish towel. "I wasn't paying attention. Hang tight while I make you something else."

He could kill Satoru right now. But you wouldn't like that, so he won't.

"Mama, I--" He shuts his mouth. You've been protecting him from the details of the divorce his whole life. What did he know about comforting you? But while he may not have been able to protect you then, he can sure as hell try now.

"Mama, why don't I take you out to dinner? My treat."

Imagine that Sen decides he needs to stop having ideas.

He brought you to a local okonomiyaki that you've been going to since he was little to the point where the owners knew you well and liked to give you little extras from the kitchen. Today's treat was a side of pickled radish.

It was your happy little hideaway. Away from jujutsu and clans and curses and your broken home.

Sen insisted on cooking the okonomiyaki for you, saying that, "My treats means I'll take care of everything!" The weak smile you gave him made his heart soar.

You giggle while he jokes around and tells you about school like how Hikari fell asleep for 45 minutes out of an hour long test and still got a better score than him. Hearing about your son and his happy school days always made you feel better.

Sen was ready to give himself a pat on the back for cheering you up when he hears the front bell jungle and a woman's laughter carries over.

"Fancy places are like that, though!" the woman laughs. "They give a bite of food per plate."

Then a familiar voice replies, "Yeah, but it was good, wasn't it? And now we get to fill up at a cute place like this."

Even though he's the one facing the door and not you, the look on your face tells Sen all he needs to know. What breaks his heart is that you've sunk lower into your seat to make yourself smaller.

Sen could kill his father right now.

Hooray, angst!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[imyouslnot]

ECOS DO PASSADO.

Liana, January 19, 2024.

The morning sun filtered through the office windows, reflecting on the glass walls that surrounded the space. New York pulsed outside, a symphony of horns, hurried steps and hurried conversations. Liana, sitting at her desk, watched the city as if it were a show in which she did not want to participate. The piles of documents in front of him were a constant reminder of the expectations that pressed his delicate shoulders.

She adjusted her glasses and took a deep breath, trying to focus on another case that needed to be finalized. The phone rang, interrupting his thought. It was Clara, his assistant, with an anxious tone in her voice.

- Liana, did you see your father's email? He's waiting for an answer about the... well, you know.

Liana closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the conversation they had last week. The arranged marriage, the pressure to follow in the footsteps of the family, the life that was traced to him even before his first breath.

- I'm on my way to answer, Clara. You can leave it - he replied, trying to hide the frustration.

As soon as she hung up, Liana got lost in her thoughts again. What had started as a promising career had become a golden trap. The victories in court were overshadowed by the expectations that surrounded her. She was supposed to be the perfect daughter, the ideal wife. But deep down, there was a voice whispering: "What if there was more for you?"

The day followed, but the restlessness did not leave her. At night, when she said goodbye to another exhausting day, Liana decided to take a walk through Central Park. The fresh air and the sounds of nature temporarily removed her from the responsibilities that accompanied her.

While walking, a familiar place made her stop. A small art gallery, which happened to have been the setting for one of the most striking moments of his youth. Memories of laughter, promises whispered under the starlight, and Apollo - the rebellious artist who had captured his heart.

She hesitated at the entrance, her heart racing when she remembered her awkward smile and the way her eyes shone when he talked about her works. It was as if, suddenly, time had come back, and she saw herself again as the dreamy girl who believed in eternal loves and a limitless future.

Determined to enter, Liana pushed the glass door of the gallery. The smell of fresh paint and the soft sound of an indie music filled the space, creating a welcoming atmosphere. The walls were adorned with vibrant paintings, each telling a different story. But even among all those works, his gaze searched for one in particular - a canvas that Apollo had painted years ago, an explosion of colors that captured the essence of movement and freedom.

And then, she saw him.

Apollo was standing in a corner of the gallery, wrapped in a lively conversation with a group of artists. His black hair, now a little longer and disheveled, fell on his forehead in a carefree way. He wore a sly black T-shirt and ripped jeans, but still emanated an undeniable confidence, as if the world could not touch his essence. Liana felt a wave of nostalgia, a mixture of joy and fear. What would she tell him? What would he think of her now?

He noticed her presence before she could hide. His eyes met and, in an instant, the noise of the gallery disappeared. It was as if the world around them had vanished, leaving only the two of them. Apollo smiled, that smile that always made her feel like she was floating.

- Liana! - exclaimed, approaching with the familiarity of someone who never really moved away. - How long! You look amazing.

She forced a smile, trying to hide the confusion that invaded her. - Thank you, Apollo. You're also... well, it's still the same. Rebel artist and everything else.

He laughed, a sound that made her feel a renewed warmth inside her. - And you, the successful lawyer. I bet you're conquering the world with your complicated words and endless processes.

Liana felt a chill in her stomach, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort. They sat in a corner of the gallery, away from the agitation. The dialogue flowed naturally, as if no time had passed. They talked about life, their achievements and frustrations. Apollo shared stories of his exhibitions and the challenges of the art scene in New York, while Liana talked about the cases she defended and the pressure she felt in her career.

- Sometimes, I feel like I'm living the life that others have chosen for me - Liana confessed, looking at the floor. - My father has such clear plans for my future, and I... I just want to breathe.

Apollo watched her, his deep eyes reflecting understanding. - I understand. Society has this insidious way of shaping us, doesn't it? But you don't need to get lost. You must fight for what you want.

His words penetrated Liana like an arrow. She remembered how Apollo always encouraged her to follow her own dreams, to seek her own truth. But the life she led now seemed so distant from that young woman full of hope he had met.

- What do you want, Liana? - he asked, leaning slightly forward, as if trying to discover the deepest secrets of his soul.

She hesitated, the question reverberating inside her. What did she really want? The arranged marriage, the perfect life that her parents dreamed for her? Or something else? A whisper of freedom, a burning passion that made her feel alive again?

- I... - Liana started, but the words failed. She wanted to scream, say that she missed feeling free, being who she really was. But reality held her. The engagement ring that weighed on her finger looked like an anchor, pulling her down, away from her dreams.

Apollo noticed his conflict. - Look, I don't want to pressure you. Just... remember that life is too short to live someone else's dreams.

The conversation flowed to other topics, but the seed of doubt had been planted. Liana couldn't get rid of the feeling that something had changed inside her. The chemistry between them, which had never really disappeared, was intensifying. Every laugh, every look, every moment shared seemed to dig up feelings that she had thought she had buried forever.

Time passed quickly, and before they knew it.

[divineunderstandingsastrology]

What I’m seeing for the Sun/Jupiter conjunction in Aries:

On April 11th the sun goes into an exact conjunction with Jupiter at 2:49 PM [[PST]] 

We still have the sun in Aries giving us the essence of forward movement and the ability to manifest initiatory aspects of our destiny. It’s also a “rushed” energy, and can leave us feeling like there’s too much to tackle at once. With the Aries sun going conjunct with Jupiter there’s an expansion of new experiences and desires to be free of inhibition. The essence of self unencumbered is something to philosophize over during this great conjunction. Where would we go and what would we do if things were completely limitless? The exploration away from limits is a blessing that Jupiter can bring, especially as it aligns with The Sun - the heavenly body that aligns us with life and light, plus all of the things that fill up our selfhood and ego. 

During the sun/Jupiter conjunction we have the ruler of Aries (Mars) in Cancer, which represents our deepest sense of intuition, and utilizing it to come to some spiritual realizations (Jupiter = spirituality) regarding new things we want to have show up in our lives. Exploring the side of ourselves that’s more esoteric or difficult to define via mundane understandings can be big during this aspect. Jupiter in Aries is really a major fresh opportunity, that can change the course of our perspective and philosophy and thus change our trajectory in life - it’s  the beginning of a 12 year cycle.

 Mars in Cancer is an opportunity to take a lot of ambitious motivation from the external world and place it into the productive potential of working out old emotional patterns, emotional confusions and past trauma, as well as familial trauma and issues. It’s a point in the timeline: of understanding the roots that have been placed and really assessing whether we need re adjusting on an emotional and spiritual level before proceeding forward into more tangible/immediate results. Some form of “isolation” or introversion is needed during this transit, but it’s just enough so that we can figure out what’s going on internally. Having Mars in Cancer during the Sun/Jupiter conjunction sets the tone for the aspect as a whole: it is indicative of expansion from within, spiritual connection, and understanding around the concept of home and family, but also a sharpening of the intuitive senses, as that is also what Cancer rules. 

Mars opposite the moon 

When the sun goes into its exact partile with Jupiter on April 11th the Capricorn moon is opposite Mars. This shows me that we may feel unsettled and like we want to be bigger and bigger and bigger, even as life feels as though maybe it has to pause, to some extent. We are potentially expanding from within at a huge rate, but it feels chaotic and somewhat burdensome until we can understand where it’s all taking us. The outside world may come with pressure and concern while things rearrange themselves; it may be difficult to understand the value of spiritual insights while we have responsibilities to carry out, but it’s possible the spiritual insights will come regardless. There are things we’re ready to learn, and they are quite emotional things; understanding of those things will serve us over time, and time will pass. We will have something to show for it, even if it seems like we won’t.

[[Image made with the Dream App, by Wombo]]

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[iamineskew]

do you ever listen to a song. and suddenly everything is just okay again. there is stress, and there are deadlines, and everything is so painfully temporary. but it's okay, its okay right now. its fine. it's all so fine, right now. im happy, and i might be shaking and i might be anxious i might be avoidant but it's okay. i am full and shaking and utterly filled to the metaphorical brim with thoughts and feelings but it's okay, it's all swept painlessly to the side. there is the sound, gentle and loud and all-consuming and soft, of the piano. maybe it's not happiness, but it's content. its contentment, perhaps. its okay. it'll be okay, its okay right now, it is so very alright. not good, good is strong and stretches the dainty string of my emotions too far. i do not want to snap it, to break this moment with something so meaningful and little as a word.

My brain feels like space, it is large and vast and empty. but each little space is filled with so many little things like pressure and temperature and light and absence and memory, for everything that might have drifted into and out of that little pocket of nothing. that complicated, little drop of ink in the sea of tar. so meaningful and endless, and loving, permanent. there, now and forever, remembering each comet and dust and everything else that passed it. memories stuck like drops of crystal, leaving nothing but whispers behind. and there will be more to come, more to spill past that small splotch and all the billions and trillions of splotches around it. all of them, in your head. in my head. in everyone's head, galaxies by the billions. all present, moving at their own paces. never repeating. similar and identical comets passing by the same puddles, all in different centuries. How unique, and connected, and perfect and timeless.

I feel loving for everything that connects me and everyone and everything and, somehow all the same separates me as my own. as loving of everything, connected to it, and isolated by it. Alienated by the stars in my brain, countless and limited and in their own colours. I could travel them for months, years, decades- but life chases me. it is on my tail, it is looking and scouring through my worlds and finding me, dragging me right back to responsibility and life. It is scary, and inevitable, but for now, i am alone. I am safe, and it is okay, and the clouds of a distant gas giant paint lovely pictures against its warm blue skin. I feel myself, warm and tired, against a star that is so infinitely bigger than me. I am small, i am filled with limitless space, and one day, i can imagine myself becoming apart of the lightless space of the real world that now drowns me. But the world is out there, and i am in here, and nothing chases me for now. There is music in my ears, and light reaching my eyes, and feeling at my fingertips.

I am in recovery, and I have made progress. I am alright and okay, because I went outside today and ate food, a second meal of the day. Seconds that would usually be fanned over a few days, now within the reach of my fingertips. The supplements of vitamins and minerals I have so sorely lacked are resting on my shelf, and I am almost halfway healthy. I am not tired, I cannot quite walk, but I am better. I can certainly stand, and limp, and stumble. It is progress, and it is good, and i am happy.

The world, lipless and senseless, smiles at me, and i find happiness reflecting off my eyes. I am not ready to smile, yet, but there is something in my eyes, and i am grateful for it.

[bokutosworld]

the moment they knew | oikawa, kuroo, kita

characters: hq captains (oikawa, kuroo, kita) with gn!reader words, genre: 1k+ words, fluff hehehe warnings: none! except maybe this is not proofread lol summary: in love, there's a moment where everything falls into place and you realize that there's no one else you'd rather spend forever with. | part two (with ushijima, daichi, bokuto)

OIKAWA TOORU;

he’d once thought that love was something he’d never have time for until you came along

you were one of the most patient people he knew and he liked how he never once felt pressured about his relationship with you

he liked the immeasurable trust you had for him, as well as the limitless support you poured for his love for the sport

once he realized what life was like with you, he couldn’t bear to think what it would be like without you and that’s when he knew

Practice ran late once again for Oikawa. He sighs, burying his face on the pillow and was just about to pass out when his phone rings. Any other instance, he’d ignore it but hearing the special ringtone (the one he’d saved for you) chased away his sleepiness.

“Hey, Tooru! You actually picked up,” you greeted as soon as he answered the video call. “Were you about to go to sleep?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tries to smile, hiding his exhaustion because he knows how you tend to worry. “I was just thinking about you.”

You chuckle and the sound fills him with warmth. “I miss you. I just wanted to tell you that.”

He’s silent for a while, overwhelmed with the feeling that he missed you more than he thought. He’s unaware of how lovesick he looked through the screen so your sudden question brought him out of his stupor,

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“You know that I love you right?” You nod and he sighs of relief. “And you know that the minute I return to Japan, I’m going to ask you to marry me. Then we’d figure out together where we’re going from there but…”

He takes a peek at your smiling face on his phone, admiring your eyes that beamed of happiness. “I don’t care where you want to live, here or Japan, I'll follow you and as long as you’re with me then I’m good.”

“I’m looking forward to our future, Tooru,” you assure him. “I’m always waiting for you.”

KUROO TETSURO;

you and kuroo fit together like two peas in a pod. your personalities, though the exact opposite, complemented each other and all your friends thought there was no better match for you than kuroo (his friends realized the same too)

kuroo is usually expressive of his feelings but there was one thing he’s yet to admit

marriage was a touchy topic. he wants it. but the two of you were still in your prime years so he didn’t see any reason to rush

but that was until one day, he woke up with you on his bed and he realizes he wants mornings like these for the rest of his life

“Quit staring at me. It’s creepy.” Your sudden remark makes Kuroo burst out laughing. Opening your eyes, you see him laying on his side with his head propped on one of his hands as he looks at you.

“You have something in your eyes,” he reaches out to touch your face but you immediately cover yourself. You thought it wasn’t possible for him to laugh any louder but he does anyway as he moves to straddle you on the bed. “I’m sorry, sorry. Don’t be mad. You actually don’t have anything in your eyes.”

He pries your hands away from your face and smirks, “How is it that you already look so amazing in the morning?”

Glaring, you hit his bare chest and he tries to stop you. “Do you want anything, Kuroo?” His eyes light up at your question. Kuroo’s suddenly scrambling to get something from his drawer.

It takes him a few minutes before he’s returning to your side, sitting at the edge of the bed and shows you a small velvet box. Your heart rate picks up and you sit up instantly as he opens the item—a ring with intricately designed markings at the side, his initials and yours.

He reaches for your hand and looks at you, “This isn’t the real thing yet but I want you to know that I am serious about you. When the time is right and we’ve both settled in our careers, will you marry me?”

A promise—that’s what he wanted from you that morning. And a promise was what he got when you suddenly knocked his breath away with a kiss.

KITA SHINSUKE;

kita loved the security he felt from his relationship with you

he also loved how you take care of other people around you, putting their needs and his needs above your own

it makes him wonder what he could do for you

the answer is clear to him when he sees how well you treat his family like your own

As he stood in the kitchen entrance, Kita watches with a smile as you assisted his grandmother. His mind then begins imagining a future where he wakes up in the morning, finding you in the kitchen of your shared home. Unconsciously, the corners of his lips turn up at the thought.

Grandma Yumie catches Shinsuke lovingly staring at you and she smiles. Excusing herself, she walks over to where he was standing and ushers him outside.

“Come with me for a second.” He follows her to her bedroom where he sits down on the bed as she rummages her boxes from the drawer. He’s silent as he waits for his grandmother to settle. When she does, she sits beside Shinsuke and asks him to open his palm.

Her engagement ring sits at his open hands and his mouth falls open. “Grandma, what is this?”

“Your grandfather gave it to me.” She hooks her arms around him and brings him close, as if letting him in on a secret. “I can see that you love them.”

He smiles warmly. “I do, Grandma. I…” He hesitates but the words are sitting right at the tips of his tongue, waiting to be admitted. He couldn’t hear himself over the loud beating of his heart and he’s worried his grandma could hear it.

“When you’re ready,” she wraps her hands over Shinsuke’s. “And you’ll know when you are, give them this and start a life together. You’re good for each other and I’m glad you found the person who makes happy. That’s all I ever wished for.”

He squeezes her hands and hugs her. “I’m thankful too.”

[flickeringart]

Neptune house placements

Descriptions could be relevant for houses with the cusps in Pisces or houses that contain Pisces

1st house: This house is related to one’s sense of self, one’s sense of definition and individuality. It’s related to one’s energetic signature, to one’s way of navigating in the world. It’s a means rather than an end, a way of projecting one’s energy into existence. With Neptune here, the person’s way of being in the world is characterized by taking on the role of the victim, the martyr or the savior. Neptune is characterized by emotional receptivity and sensitivity. There’s usually a world-weariness, a feeling of being affected by life to the point of detriment. There’s an inclination to extend limitless sympathy, a penchant for taking the side of the underdog, for rooting for the misfits, the ”broken”, sick and victimized. Neptune here creates a persona that’s kind and loving but has an attachment to non-aggression – or perhaps more accurately described as aggressive surrender disguised as maturity and goodness. Paradoxically, it’s through passivity and denial of selfish needs that strength is gained with this placement. There’s usually a resistance to inflict any harm, but to be susceptible to receive it from outside of oneself. The person can only accept the role of the martyr, never an aggressor. If attacked, there’s a piling up of wrong-doings to their name, like badges of honor. Sacrifice could play a big part in the person’s life - Neptune in this house indicate a tendency to take on other people’s burdens. What bothers others concerns Neptune in the 1st, because it’s through the dissolution of personal boundaries that the person creates a sense of self. The person might not be able to pick sides, refusing to take on the pressure of facing an opponent. There’s a reluctance to BE something; good, evil, sweet, sour and anything in between. When confronting a Neptune 1st house person by pointing out their negative behaviors they’ll likely be offended but refuse to admit it. They feel that’s it an attack on reality to be anything but everything and nothing. They can’t accept a definition of themselves, unless it’s very diffuse and vague. There could be a tension in the person between asserting themselves versus containing and validating all opinions on a certain matter. The self refuses to declare a definite stance that is anything but passive.

2nd house: This house is related to the self as it relates to the body, what it can acquire for itself in terms of possessions, money and value in general. It’s a concentrated version of the 1st house, a ”coagulation” of the energy that’s being asserted in the 1st. Neptune here acts like the victim, martyr and savior as it relates to physical structure. The person could be feel incapable to earn means for survival, be frequently deprived of personal resources, having to share everything with others or being financially dependent on other people. The person could feel that everything that belongs to others in terms of material possessions is supposed to be shared, because in Neptune’s world borders and boundaries don’t exist. The person could be unable to fathom the concept of value and spend money on things without a second thought, be quick to lend money or things to other people without the requirement of return or repayment. The person might like to fill the role as an asset tank for their friends and associates, giving generously and helping people out. The person might be unusually detached from their own belongings or overly sensitive about them as to grieve the slightest scratch made to their new shiny thing. The person could despise greedy people who are reluctant to share, yet being hopelessly emotionally attached to their own resources. Money is an extension of love and the unlimited source in the person’s eyes. To withhold it would be the ultimate cruelty, but to give it away freely would hurt the ego. It would be easy to fall into the dynamic of the martyr by handing out money and then point out that no one ”gives as much as I do”. Neptune is two-faced, it favors boundlessness but suffers injustices all the same. Disappointment in what the material realm has to offer is not unlikely with this placement. Nothing is ever good enough and one always needs more. Neptune is a bottomless well that is a treasure for the boundless, but the separate self is not boundless, and it suffers the lack of objects in space to define it’s worth.

3rd house: This house is related to the self as it conceptualizes of itself mentally. Learning, simple deduction and the capacity to handle information relates to this house. It deals with the ability to relate to the immediate environment through the mental faculties. When Neptune is in this house it causes mental abstractions to be dictated by what people in the immediate environment communicate and transmit through verbal and written interaction. There’s immense receptiveness to what other people think and not think – which could result in the person being a victim to other people’s definitions of them. The self could blend and conform to the dictates of the environment, unable to break away from the suffocating labeling imposed by other people. It could be difficult to own responsibility for one’s thoughts and learning experiences – early school years could’ve been overwhelming and emotionally challenging. Too much receptiveness to the opinions and thoughts of class mates and teachers could’ve caused the person to feel burdened. Dreams of escape and solitary peace could’ve been wished for. It’s likely that the efforts extended on behalf of education and learning would’ve been experienced as futile and meaningless. It could prove impossible to receive any recognition for one’s achievements in this sphere of life. It could be that one was constantly over-looked and underrated for one’s learning capacity no matter how good or how bad it was. There’s also the possibility of psychological agony of being unable to perform as well as one was expected to in school. Learning difficulties, ”zoning out” and clouded mental faculties could be a reflection of Neptune in this house. The person might grow up to fear and love learning, always very apprehensive about the impact it might have. There would’ve been an attraction to interact and communicate with others but with the consequence of feeling drained and tired. Exaggerated empathy and a lack of self-definition in terms of mental abstractions would’ve made the person safe to others, but frustrating to interact with. Too much adaptation and flexibility in terms of self-definition would make the person obscure and passive member of the the local community.

4th house: This house is related to the self as it identifies with home, family and roots. It has to do with heritage – what is passed down through generations. It has to do with the ancestral background and the influence it has on one’s sense of self. Some say that this house relates to the father, some say the mother – it’s usually the parent that had the least overt influence. With Neptune here the sense of home is idealized, even romanticized. The person could be one in line of many gentle souls that came before, who were victims, martyrs or saviors – maybe dreamers, healers and artists. There’s always a bittersweet nature to Neptune, a feeling of wanting to surrender to bliss but fearing extinction of the separate self. Sacrifice may be a common theme of the family history, anger as the agent of the self could be made invisible in the wrapping of passivity. The less dominant parent could’ve been needy out of helplessness, whether it would’ve been out of sickness or another form of fragility. The parent could’ve been absent or unreachable, emotionally or physically. Perhaps the parent would’ve been perceived as someone with a deep resignation to life, a person without desire to fight or protect individuality. The parent could have been a helper, always giving and giving without a spare thought of him or herself. It’s not unlikely that the home environment would’ve been a specific spot of vulnerability for the person. There could be escapist tendencies, a need to make the home a safe haven to shield oneself from the outside world. There could also be a great longing for the ”perfect family” as a possible construct designed to provide redemption and healing. The dream of perfection usually never translate into reality, which could leave the person feeling disillusioned and empty. The lack of acceptance and love in the home environment hits particularly hard with this placement because it’s the one thing that is desired. The person could feel like they need to be happy with nothing as to not be selfish in this area of life, but it usually backfires into unconscious manipulative behavior. Neptune usually demands love to be the reality wherever it is present in the chart, even though death and decay may be the reality. Glamorizing and romanticizing things is Neptune’s speciality.

5th house: This house is related to self-expression, creativity, play, gambling and games, romance, and recreational activities of all kinds – including the creation children. The 5th house governs over unique talents and interests, hobbies and amusement. With Neptune here, the person uses fun as a way to escape the harshness of life. Investment in the separate self and the love it can extend and surround itself with is what this person craves – but it usually proves to disappoint sooner or later. Indulgence in personal joys could lead the person down a road of meaninglessness. There could be an inflation of self-importance that proves to be fake and insubstantial. The person with this placement could be very talented and gifted but fail to recognize it themselves or fail to receive love from other people for their specialness. They could be magnificent and wholly lovable, but forsaken in romance, ignored or overlooked. If the person has children, they could be idealized and put on a pedestal – it’s not unlikely that the person would sacrifice a lot in order to give everything to the child. To have children could be a way to redeem oneself, to set things straight and love whole-heartedly, even to the point of self-ignorance. It could also be that the person projects the image of the victim or the savior onto the child, unconsciously expecting the child to be the image of glory and magnificence. The relationship with the child could be trailed with odd proclamations of love through pain and sacrifice. This could also be true of romantic relationships. Neptune here would indicate a need to reach divinity through one’s love subjects – the more emotionally consuming and mystical the person the better. Romantic entanglements and temporary flings represent an escape valve, it gives the person a taste of ideal life that is protected from the depressing and mundane. As always with Neptune, the perfect lover is difficult to find and there might be unconscious resentment because of their incapacity to be ideal and exceptional. The same could apply to creativity – the person might feel that it provides an escape and an effortless space. Being loved for being oneself is the most important thing with this placement – to express through the heart and believe that it’s good.

6th house: This house is related to the way the self organizes and structures it’s life to make things work practically. It’s related to work, employment and physical health as well as the keeping of small animals. With Neptune here, the person has an idealized view of what it means to lead an everyday mundane existence. The effort it takes to make things work in practice would seem to be the most glorious sacrifice. This placement could indicate to a person who throws themselves into work without a second thought of themselves – but they’re usually extremely sensitive to stress and can’t cope with it well. The burden of obligations and work can pile up and affect these people’s health. The symptoms could be diffuse, difficult to diagnose and remedy. They could creep up and disappear suddenly. Neptune here could cause a person to escape into daily routines and put a lot of emphasis on doing things correctly and with humility, whether it’d be related to diet, exercise, skin care, cleaning or managing chores in general. The person could find beauty in being of service, in taking on other people’s work load, to do more than is required. This dynamic could easily lend itself to produce a martyr at the work place. The persons health is probably not very robust with this placement and anything negative that is felt emotionally could affect the body. Allergies, autoimmune diseases and the like could be prominent with this placement. On a more positive note, the person could do well with work involving alternative health, alternative healing or anything ”redeeming” related to the smooth functioning of the body. Pets and small animals could play an important part in the person’s life, being unconditionally loving and pleasant company. Pets require care, which Neptune in the 6th is very good at giving. This placements lends itself to work related to making physical existence better for sensitive, helpless creatures. What the person does on a daily basis is very important and it should be intuitively guided. It’s not advisable to over extend oneself, it’s better to trust one’s intuition and rest when it’s needed. The person might be easily incapacitated due to too much stress build-up and be forced into playing out role of the victim in this sphere of life.

7th house: This house is related to the self as it finds itself in a social context, in partnerships, business deals, marriage, open enemies and lower court matters. Planets in the 7th house are experienced through other people. Neptune here could indicate a person who seeks divine, unconditional love in other people – either through attempting to be perfectly loving oneself or through finding someone who would sacrifice everything for them. Sacrifice in relationships through partnering up with damaged, wounded or lost souls and accepting them no matter what is the kind of experience these people would crave. This can be a beautiful experience but it can backfire. The person might put up with one sided love and stay in abusive situations because they can’t bear leaving the one person that could provide redemption. In business partnership the person might get deceived or kept in the dark about important matters, end up losing on the deal, invest too much and get nothing back. The window is wide open for disillusionment as it applies to other people– the person would be prone to idealize others and expect them to be wonderful and lovely through and through. Unconscious resentment usually builds but the person can’t bear to condemn other people or make them out to be bad in any way. The person would be prone to take on the role of the martyr who carries the whole burden of the consequences of the other person’s behavior. In the case of divorce or court dealings the person could end up drawing the short straw. All experiences that has to do with formal alliances and official partnerships are glamorized and expected to provide perfection. These high expectations are bound to go down on themselves, revealing their illusory nature and leaving the person disappointed. Shattered dreams, emptiness and sorrow are to be expected. Special relationships are what this person lives for – in the person’s mind they are a rare piece of real life that contains the glow of the divine. Fairytale weddings, grand romantic gestures and promises of being with each other forever would be characteristic of Neptune in this house. In the best case, the dream lasts and the couple lives happily ever after, yet it’s rarely the case. The dream of perfection is unrealistic and usually is bought at a very expensive price – through perpetual denial and selective perception.

8th house: This house is related to emotional intimacy, to shared resources, sex, death and the occult. The 8th relates to the self as it merges with the lives of others – the 7th is about cooperation and two separate parties joining hands. This house is concerned with the psychological and emotional impact people have on each other. It relates to fixations and attachments that are violated and transformed. Everything that affects one person affects the other in the 8th house, which makes it impossible to destroy the other without destroying the self. When Neptune is here, there’s a deep longing to be one with another – to find redemption through giving up autonomy and control, to find true love through emotional entanglement. The person might feel inclined to cling to other people, to want to know their most private secrets, to penetrate into their life completely as to not be able to separate themselves from the other. There’s a wish to transform and purify through the process. Obsession and consequent disappointment might follow – the magnificence that was expected could prove to be an illusion and more of a loss than a gain. In any case, the person would be very sensitive to the power of other people – especially what they decide to do with their resources and finances. There could be promises of being taken care of financially but they might prove to be false. The person could lack emotional importance to other people albeit being hopelessly invested in the lives and well-being of others. I picture a person with Neptune in the 8th as someone being completely and involuntarily enmeshed with other people – willing to share everything of their own yet getting nothing of value back. Alternatively, the person could have an merciful savior on their side who’s need it is to maintain the polarity of the relationships in order to gain a sense of importance and meaning. Suffocating and threatening closeness could be what this person dreams of. Death could seem enticing and the ultimate holy sacrifice. To dive into emotional intimacy could be the most frightening but wonderful experience – to lose control over the self and be emotionally tied to the actions and words of certain people. Neptune in this house could indicate the whole spectrum of emotion in merging with others – there could be a feeling of being at the mercy of everyone, of being emotionally affected by the slightest move anyone makes. Death, symbolic and literal, could be perceived as a holy instance of purity, as the gateway to resurrection and restoration of perfection.

9th house: This house is related to the self as it gives it’s existence meaning and purpose. It’s related to higher education, long distance travel, publishing and spreading of knowledge, the higher courts and the law, philosophy and religion. A person with this placement could be likely to sacrifice themselves for their beliefs, to selflessly dedicate themselves to doctrine or a particular path. The person would be concerned with finding the truth, but might come to find that no religion or philosophy hold the answer or cures world-weariness permanently. It could also be that the person is drained and taken advantage of emotionally through seeking God in an experience, a person, a religion or a deity. The search for meaning might prove futile in terms of literary knowledge – the person seeks the complete experience of the divine but is prone to confuse it with illusory transitory states and confusing messages in scripture. Any philosophy based in unconditional love, forgiveness and compassion would appeal to the person. The person could feel a need to share knowledge free of charge, to ”spread the word”, to point people to the truth. Love and peace would most likely be the message, nothing short of complete bliss would be attributed to heaven. However, the attachment to sacrifice that comes with Neptune could be mixed into this message, making people equate the way to salvation with needing to go through pain, hardship and humiliation to atone for their inherent guilt. To Neptune, there’s something profoundly sinful about separation and living out a a separate self. Oneness is the ultimate truth with this planet in this house and there’s difficulty to embrace physical existence as something of value. Experiential life could be viewed as illusory and insubstantial, a dream world designed to keep the ”Son of God” seemingly separate from his source. There would be a tendency to explore the world through travel, but perhaps less in terms of gathering intellectual knowledge and more through letting the world in through the emotionally centers, feeling all of it and surrendering to the experience. Receptiveness to knowledge might make this person very wise, but it could also result in confusion and a never ending search to solve the dichotomy in life. The more the person discovers the more one is prone to spiral into states of depression and melancholy. Disillusionment as it relates to the belief in goodness could hit hard for this person, having gotten the hopes up too soon and refusing to let go of the seeming separation between goodness and badness.

10th house: This house relates to the self as a member of society. It relates to career, social status and public image. It’s also said to be related to the most dominant parent or caregiver the person had growing up. With Neptune in this house the person could seek to receive and give whole-hearted love and admiration from and to the public. It’s likely that the person would strive to achieve recognition and appreciation on a societal level. However, there could be disappointment on the point of reaching the goal, as the person realizes that the emotional value of the experience was next to nothing. The true treasure is never collected when Neptune is involved, despite all the fancy facades of success. The person might feel empty and bereft of joy, foolish for getting the hopes up. The person could appear on the public scene as a brave martyr, extending love despite one’s disappointment in quality or quantity of the appreciation reflected back at them. Life in terms of accomplishments on a material level could be substantial, or insubstantial, but the satisfaction of the soul could be no where to be found. The person’s career could involve helping other people who are suffering and are labeled as incapable of sorting their own lives out. In any case, the person would be on a mission to make society a better place through lifting the weak. This could be an unconscious attempt to help oneself and it could be very satisfying if successful. However, hidden resentment toward people who remain passive and in need of a savior could be present. Usually, the person feels like a victim deep down and wants society to acknowledge their struggle, to see their pain and relieve them of the burden to perform compensatory acts of service. This relates back to the mother or the father who would have been an emotional drain for the person and required unselfish behavior from the child. The services the child performed would’ve been expected, taken for granted or over-looked. Praise and love could’ve been part of the deal, but it would’ve been given in a way that didn’t sustain a strong ego. On the flip side, the person could’ve been treated like a precious an innocent little lamb, incapable of harming others or having evil thoughts. The parent could’ve been protective and undemanding – never acknowledging any expressions of discord or turmoil overcoming the child in order to sustain the illusory image of perfection.

11th house: This house is related to the self and it’s association with like-minded people and friends. This house also relates to hopes, dreams and wishes that wants to be actualized in the future. With Neptune here, the person might feel drawn to groups and circles of a Neptunian character. The groups could be related to healing, helping and giving freely. It could be related to advocacy for a better world, utopian society, stereotypical ”spiritual” belief systems, the reality of oneness and so on. The person could find a venue of escape through associating with friends and joining collective movements. The person would attempt to look for comfort in friendly faces, to cocoon the self through being around people with the same aspirations and desires. The person could be at risk of sacrificing their individuality on behalf of the group cause, becoming the embodiment of the group energy, adapting to the emotional climate and merging with whatever is said or thought by others. The need to experience closeness could go too far with this placement. The person could become completely ensnared in the friend group, being taken advantage of and abused by less gentle souls. The need to give unconditionally and be unreasonably forgiving of so called ”friends” would be likely with this placement. The need to be part of something ”bigger”, something that could be a shared vision or creation is desired. But, as per usual with Neptune, the experiential beauty of a thing will prove to be an illusion sooner or later. The perfection of an idea could turn out to be deceptive, the motives behind thinking or believing certain things could reveal themselves to be cruel and wicked. The friends one once trusted and saw perfection in could turn out to be deceitful and selfish. The person could go through periods of severe disillusionment and disbelief, ending up in playing out role of the poor victim who invested everything in some futile cause. Shame and guilt could arise by facing one’s littleness and vulnerability in this way. It might help if one could realize that illusion and disillusionment are two sides of the same coin and the pendulum swing might not hit as hard. The Neptunian drain is itself an illusion and to be it’s victim is just a setup – an experience designed to make the person find that which never fails. Hopes and dreams are shaky constructs and should be held in mind with sufficient detachment as to to confuse one’s own existence with something that could be unfulfilled.

12th house: This house is related to the dissolution of the self, the confiscation of autonomy, the return into oblivion, the return back to one’s source. This house relates to places like hospitals, prisons, mental asylums and places of solitary confinement. It is the domain of the unconscious and forces beyond individual control. When Neptune is in this house, the person might seek escape from worldly pressures through relinquishing conscious activity. Sleep, drugs, day-dreams, passive surrender, meditation, imagination, trance states or similar venues could be ways to access bliss and comfort. The person might feel a strong pull to abandon a physical existence and fade into the realm of the unknown. It could be that the person finds themselves in institutions where they are completely taken care of and kept away from the real world. This could be the ideal experience and the one desire that these people have – to be exempt from the struggle and fight of being an individual with defined boundaries, preferences and goals. The person would be likely to reserve the definition of the holy and good to the intangible realm. However, these people might find their own unconscious extremely threatening. Although it provides an escape from independence and personal responsibility it also means that the conscious self is thrown into circumstances that is beyond it’s perception of good and bad, right or wrong. Things just happen to the person and if there’s still a shred of personality left to put up any resistance, it could suffer and land the role of the victim, as the story goes. The person could alternatively play out the role of the savior, caring and helping people in places of isolation, consoling and comforting people who are in a state of confusion. Unconditional compassion and forgiveness of people who are incapable of coping with existence is certainly possible with this placement. Their life could be enriched by being confined or helping people in confinement – but it could also prove to be draining and depressing at times. The person would be very sensitivity to unconscious forces and could be easily overwhelmed. Blind trust is usually not recommended, but with Neptune here the person might have no other choice. The person is easily swept away by the greater whole and would derive no benefits from worrying over something that is beyond one’s separate will.

[ghostdrew22]

I’ll Always Wait For You || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader Warnings: ridiculous crap I make up for plot purposes, allusions to sex, idk crime-committing? Summary: Draco and Y/N pursue a life of crime together and what starts as an odd, professional partnership turns into a perfect romance- loosely based on Bonnie & Clyde.

WORDS : 2451

~~~

You walk into the Malfoy Manor’s ballroom with determination and a convincing smile of excitement. You know what a risk you’re taking by coming into their home under false pretenses but it’s the only way you’ll be able to get what you want and leave remotely unnoticed.

You catch a glimpse of the blonde who the ball is being thrown for and flash him a smile before immediately turning away from him and walking toward the bar. You know that he doesn’t know you, and that in retrospect it’s quite idiotic to even think that he’d notice at all when he has no idea who you are, but it’s worth a try for your plan to succeed.

You are a year older than him, and while he’d gone to Hogwarts, you were studying at Drumstrang throughout your school career. You didn’t come across each other often in your youth because your families didn’t run in the same circles- your parents were snobby, upper-middle class purebloods who looked down on muggles and death eaters alike, which meant you’d had a very minimal role in the events leading up to the wizarding war and hadn’t known much of the Malfoy’s growing up other than the snippets of information you came across in newspapers or social events.

But they’d recently caught your eye when it had come out that they possessed the ‘Diadem of Thule’- a powerful wizarding artifact that has limitless cloaking and transfiguration abilities, as well as the power to amplify a wizard’s magic- and kept it safely in a vault deep within their home that’s protected by blood magic. It’s the perfect weapon for what you want to accomplish and you’ve come here tonight to get it.

“I’ve never seen you before.” A voice behind you booms and you turn to face it with a small smile- it’s the blond Malfoy heir himself.

“Probably because I’ve never been.”

“Funny and beautiful?” He raises his eyebrows playfully at you, “Still doesn’t explain how you got in.”

You see that the banter-like tone and expression on his face haven’t disappeared so you decide to continue, “Oh but why reveal all my secrets when you’ve got the entire night to fall in love with me?”

“Fall in love with you?” He chuckles heartily and you bite your lip cheekily.

“I mean, that’s what these are for, right?” You raise your eyebrows in questioning- referring to the purpose of the balls.

He shakes his head with a laugh, “You’ve got me there.” He walks past you and toward the bar where he asks the bartender for something and comes back with two small shot glasses.

“For me?” You ask with a smile and he nods with a smirk.

“Let’s make a toast.”

“To?”

“To never attending another one of these ever again.” He chuckles and you furrow your eyebrows.

“And why’s that?”

“According to you, I won’t need to keep looking for a girl any longer.”

“Then cheers to that!” You exclaim with a laugh and knock your shot glass into his before downing the liquid with a grimace.

~~~

“Are you done? They’re coming.” You whisper back to your partner.

“Don’t rush me.” Draco grits back and you roll your eyes.

“Sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of being ambushed by muggle police officers and aurors.”

“Then you’ll be glad to know none of that will be happening today.” He replies as he makes his way over to you and kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so aggressive there, you know how I get under pressure.”

Annoying? You almost ask but bite your lip and shake your head instead while giving him a smile, “All good baby.”

“Great. Now let’s get this,” He holds up the bag of money that he just filled up, “Somewhere safe.”

“Ready when you are.” You smirk and he chuckles while pulling out the diadem and handing it to you. He takes your hand and interlocks your fingers as he starts to countdown.  “3.”

“2.” You continue.

“1.” He finishes as the sound of sirens outside of the bank erupts into the atmosphere. You grin at him and quickly whisper the counter-curse that you’d cast on the bank’s patrons to lull them asleep while you and Draco got busy- slowly they all start to regain consciousness in confusion as they each notice the two, masked figures standing before them.

You’re about to apparate the two of you out, when suddenly none other than Harry fucking Potter and his crew of fellow aurors barge into the bank’s foyer with their wands out. Before you can whisper out the words to save yourselves, Harry casts a hex that lands on Draco and renders him incapable of apparating out.

“Get out. Now.” Draco says immediately, not even bothering to face you and instead unhooking your fingers to hand you the bag.

A wave of panic encompasses you for a moment, almost as if you’ve forgotten the plan that the two of you have in place for situations like this, but it’s gone as quick as it came and you grab the bag of money out of Draco’s hands before apparating yourself out.

“Fuck!” You exclaim once you’re back in the little cottage that the two of you have in the countryside.

After that night at the Manor, eight months ago, you and Draco grew quite close. That’s if your idea of close is accidentally falling in love with your literal partner in crime. Your plan to sleep with him, swipe a dollop of his blood somehow and sneak down into the family vault the next morning to get the Diadem had failed dismally. He woke up right as you were getting dressed and told you that he knew who you were and what you were upto; Y/N L/N, the notorious bank robber that had been terrorizing London only nights before. And in some weird twist of fate, he told you that he wanted to join you.

His interest in you had only peaked when the newspapers started to gossip about a witch/wizard who was rampaging London stealing absurd amounts of cash from Muggle Banks, he couldn’t deny the flare of envy that had shot up within him at the prospect of not being the one with the genius idea. So he did what he did best; he plotted a scheme to lure you into his home so that he could propose a partnership, knowing that someone of your caliber wouldn’t be able to resist an artifact that made your magic traceless, knowing that you’d salivate at the prospect of no longer needing to live life on the run.

You refused at first, claiming that you were a solo act and he didn’t have anything to offer besides a family heirloom that you could bloody well do without considering how far you’d made it without the diadem. But he somehow convinced you, danced around your thoughts with his words and backed you up against a metaphorical wall that left you with no choice but to accept. You’d hated working with him for the first two months, the initial four robberies being horrible and close calls, but then slowly the two of you found a rhythm, a system to work together, and soon enough partners became friends and friends bubbled into lovers. Eventually he wore you down enough for you to want to run off to the countryside with him.

“Cocky bastard.” You mumble out loud with a sigh, “I should let him stay there for his stupidity.”

You laugh at the thought of Draco Malfoy being left in Harry Potter’s custody and eventually transferred into Azkaban- facing the same fate that his parents did but for a crime of much smaller cost. He would hate it. And he’d probably find a way out just to kill you for abandoning him. Yeah, leaving him there is not an option.

~~~

“Harry Potter chasing after a wizard who robs banks? You’re truly running after small dice now- talk about a downgrade from defeating the Dark Lord.”

“So I take it you’re not going to tell me who you’re working with?” Harry asks from across the interrogation table- glaring daggers into the Malfoy’s blue eyes.

“How is this confusing for you? I said, no.”

“Is it Y/N L/N? We haven’t been able to trace the magic left at the scenes back to it’s owner for a few months now, we thought that she’d gone dark and you were a copycat.” Draco scoffs at the accusation- despite the fact that he never would’ve been able to concoct the idea on his own anyway- “But maybe she’s just working with you.”

“Didn’t mummy ever tell you that no means no?” Draco furrows his eyebrows in mock sympathy, “Pestering me about the issue in order to get a yes? Sounds a bit like coercion.”

“Don’t act like I’m trying to get in your pants.” Harry rolls his eyes- having forgotten how mockingly flirtatious Draco gets when cornered.

“I never even implied that.” Draco shrugs. “But if this is how you do it then I’m concerned.”

“I’m bloody married, I don’t need to get in people’s pants.”

“Married huh? How’d you manage that?” Draco asks with a chuckle, “Show her the ring everyday until she finally decided to just marry you?”

“I didn’t coerce Ginny into marrying me.”

“That’s what he said.” Draco sing-songs in a mocking tune before licking his lips and shutting them for a moment. He looks back up suddenly with a thought, “Maybe I should give Ginny a ring and ask her.” Draco smirks mischievously and Harry grimaces at the sight.

“Fuck you, Malfoy.”

“Oh, I bet you wish you could.” Draco smirks and Harry feels himself slightly flush but clears his throat.

“This is way off base.”

“Indeed. Just wanted to catch up before we part ways.”

“Part ways?” Harry asks with a laugh, “We’re not parting ways for another few months, I’m the working officer on this case so you ought to get used to me.”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re awfully calm for someone that’s about to join his parents in Azkaban.”

Draco flinches, ever so slightly, at the mention of his parents and Azkaban, but recovers quickly and turns his head to the wall on his left- focusing very intently on it.

“Why are you looking at that wall?”

“No reason.”

“No reason?” Harry furrows his eyebrows before realization dawns on him, “Malfoy are you waiting for somethi-“

Before Harry can finish his sentence the wall has been knocked down and you’ve grabbed Draco to uncuff him from the table. “Thanks for watching him.” You say with a smile as you clasp your hand with Draco’s and apparate the two of you to the car that you’d left waiting a few streets away.

“What took you so bloody long?” He mumbles as he climbs into the car.

“I was giving you time to flirt with your old crush - you know, fulfill your schoolboy fantasies.” You reply with a smirk and he groans.

“I told you one thing!”

“I’m sorry love, I had to make at least one joke!” You exclaim back while laughing and he rolls his eyes but smiles at the sight of you.

“I missed you.”

You roll your eyes at his sentiment but smile as well, “It wasn’t even that long.”

“Any moment I’m away from you feels like forever.” He grins.

“Oh, how did you survive!” You ask mockingly and laugh- reaching over to give him a kiss on the lips finally. He melts against the feel of your lips against his own- the only reminder he has that you’re his, and he’s happy, and the two of you will always be together. You’re his only reprieve from the constant agony of being alive, from the anger at his parents that sits and wells up in his heart.

A life of crime was not what Draco imagined himself pursuing, not in the slightest, but he’d do anything to spend his life with you. The money, the cars, the houses, the fame- none of it fills him up the way that you do, just by living and breathing on planet earth. “Easy. I waited for you.”

“What?” You ask- having forgotten what you two were talking about before the kiss.

“I survived because I knew you were coming. I waited for you.”

“And what if I didn’t?” You raise your eyebrows- even though you know that you wouldn’t even dream of living without him.

“I still would’ve waited.” He smiles and kisses you again, “I’ll always wait for you.”

“I told you that you’d fall in love with me.” You say with a smirk as you turn to start the car and drive off to your next destination.

<~>

Draco would genuinely start a life of crime to spite his reputation and you can’t convince me otherwise. I sort of feel like I half-assed this one just so I could get it done but at the same time I do really like it.

Anyway, love you all

jean <3

[mypersonmyg]

me and you | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, a smidge of angst

rating: pg

wc: 1.3k

warnings: just a lil angst

summary: you ask yoongi about your future OR yoongi nearly breaks a leg in the university parking lot

a/n: evenin folks, tis the first day of drabble month! i wrote this drabble as a pairing to the ole Nom De Plume couple though it can be read as a standalone if you so choose :D

prompt 1. A - Age. Do the otp+ plan on spending their lives together? How do they imagine their relationship years from now?

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

Nom De Plume

Yoongi’s digits move agile against practiced keys, pouted lips pulling between worrying teeth. Your eyes drink him in, a cool autumn’s eve, the dancing of fireflies beneath a night left to glisten in the wake of a reflective moon. You tug loosened sleeves, sweater hugging against a chilled frame, and legs pulled to your chest with a wistful sigh. His movements continue without pause, but limitless pupils regard you with diversion as Yoongi’s lips betray a grin of unbridled warmth.

“You’re tired,” It’s a statement. His tone is endeared, but his intent teasing, earlier discourse upon the late hour leading you to the abandoned music hall to begin with. 

“I’m comfortable.” Your counter is followed by the lengthening of heavy limbs, voice strained against the prolonged stretch. Yoongi hums, followed by the flat tones of a piano half tuned. You pull your nose to a scrunch, the deafening keys appearing even more so with its echo into the hollow halls. “You’re losing your touch, Min.”

“Very funny, more like these pianos are losing theirs. I swear this place needs to put more budget into the actual instruments,” You’re aware of the serious tone, but frustration flushes puffed cheeks and you find yourself pushing from your seat to pad over to your flustered partner. 

You round slouched shoulders, arms dangling around Yoongi’s taught frame, the perfect view of his fingers prodding at sticky keys. Your lips fall to the apple of his cheek before the burying of  heavy eyes into the crook of his neck, warm from the scarf still dangling. 

“Mmmh, what are you gonna do about it?” You egg him on, arms rubbing the expanse of his sweatshirt. 

“I’m gonna take you home before I have to carry you.” He grabs hold of one of your hands, pressing soft lips to the delicate skin of your palm. He rises on converse feet not once releasing you from his steady grip, “You’re practically swaying on your feet.”

“I’m just enjoying the music.”

“I don’t hear any music, baby.”

“Your voice is music to my ears, babe.” You sing-song, following the light pull of Yoongi’s arm to the door. His groan is exasperated, followed easily by your melodious chuckle, his dark head bowing to the worn linoleum. 

Your path to the parking lot is filled with comfortable quiet, the revel in your respective company enough to fill the minute space between. The biting chill of the evening air pulls you to grasp Yoongi as close as possible, legs forced to a wobble as your steps echo against freezing concrete. 

“Do you think this will last?” Your voice is but a whisper, chords shying away from the wind not withheld by your scarf, woolen fabric itching at your neck. Yoongi hums in response, attention not all there as his gaze travels the expanse before you. “Do you think we’re gonna be together when we leave all of this behind? Or do you just see this as a school thing?”

You find your feet nearly tangled as Yoongi trips over himself. It takes but a moment for you to steady your strides, Yoongi gathering distance as he regains his footing. You’re in the midst of a car-less lot, catching your breath as Yoongi adjusts his jacket, hand brushing through his hair. 

“Are you okay?” You step forward to close the distance, hand easily finding Yoongi’s in silent tandem. He nods though his pupils are blown, you’re sure if the bottom of his face were visible the parting of his lips would give way to his bewilderment at your sudden inquiry. 

“I’m fine I just-do… do you think we won’t be together?” It’s the shift in his tone that clues you in to his wild thoughts. You’re quick to lead him to the car, the reprieve of the heated interior doing little to ease the growth of tension that has wormed between two melded souls. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You stare straight ahead, Yoongi busying with the turning of dials to warm you further. “I just...I mean we’re graduating soon and we haven’t really talked about it.”

“I didn’t know it was something that we needed to discuss.” He’s rigid and you’re mortified, an accidental hiccup in an evening otherwise untouched. Silence stretches over, your body falling victim to the itch of discomfort, the heat suddenly too much. Yoongi’s hands rest against the wheel, his breathing even and audible over the whir of the engine.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to make it a thing--”

“Yes.” Yoongi cuts through your words, not with volume, but sheer conviction. You fight the pull of fabric against your collar, turning to him with ducts threatening to spill over. Despite the words settling like golden leaves against dying greenery, you can’t help but prompt the necessity for unnecessary clarification driving you on. 

“What?”

“We’ll be together. After college and beyond this hell hole,” He chuckles at his own words, gums catching reflection under the invasion of fluorescent street lamps. “I’ve been faced with a reality without you in it and I’m positive I never want to go back to it. You say things like my voice is like a song and my smile is what keeps you going and I don’t always reciprocate but I hope you know that you’re that and so much more to me.” 

“I do, I know.” You assure, hand reaching over the center console, landing against the expanse of his thigh.

“Well, did you know that sometimes I still sit outside of the practice room? I just listen and think about how we got here, how I got lucky enough to be here.” Your head swivels barely coherent, a small gasp conjuring the tiniest cloud from the still thawing vehicle. “Or that whenever I come in for coffee and I see you standing behind that damn counter I think about the day all of this started, and then you look at me and it feels like I’ve been punched in the chest.” 

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” You squeak, still stunned at the ongoing admission. 

“You knock the breath out of me, babe. I guess that’s why I was taken by surprised because if I’m not making you feel the same way then we’ve got a pretty big problem.” 

You don’t bother trying to respond with a  thought of the intelligible, Yoongi robbing you of any possible chance the moment he began speaking. Instead your hands come to grip puffed cheeks, unaware that you aren’t the only one overpowered with raw emotion until you feel the dampness of soft skin. Your forehead pushes against his, noses meeting and breaths mingling. 

“I love you,” Is all you manage and you know that it’s enough. Know that it’s enough because of the way Yoongi’s lips press against yours in an instant. 

The pressure is late night conversations, the occasional peck befalling heated cheeks, it’s breakfast in bed as the threat of a skipped class looms. It’s a pressure that reminds you that your flow is his and his is yours, no questions asked and none needing to be answered. It fills the crevice of uncertainty that cracked unaware beneath your skin, feeding off of remedied events past.

Suddenly too much heat is not enough and Yoongi is pulling away, breath labored and hands once more against the wheel. His gaze is forward and cheeks dusted with lustful blush. He offers you only a glance, unable to hold for longer than a minute without threat of once more closing lengthened distance.

“I should get you home, you have an early class.” 

“Mmmm or you could let me stay over,” You suggest, cheeky nature about you once more. Yoongi’s grip tightens, lip pulling inwards in a contemplative gnaw. “I’ll sleep better.” 

“Hmm sleep, right.” His throat clears as he pulls from the lot. “So...are we good?”

“I was thinking that we could move to the city,” Is your response, the Yoongi smiling straight ahead, hand finding yours to once more grace with the skin of his lips. He doesn’t respond, knows the action is enough as you continue to speak and he continues to listen, affectionately offered and received with mutual adoration. 

“Whatever you want, babe, I’m in it for the long haul.”

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Polo 3

Previously on Polo

The sun was glaring; absolutely murdering the entirety of the world in the noontime shine of a clear day in the early spring. The heat couldn’t come just yet, still not allowed due to larger forces like the tilt of the planet and the distinct absence of a certain player, yet to be seen despite a not-so-covert glance at the pitch during warm ups. The entire event was going to be the largest of its kind, and it was like the world knew it, opening itself up and shining all of the kindest wishes on the sport, as a large herd of watchers made their way to find a place to watch. 

The tents were stocked with alcohol and snacks, people in hats and those who were there because they were supposed to be. But along the pitch, bleachers filled up with anyone who wanted to watch, creating an atmosphere of joy and excitement that’d been lacking at the private matches. 

There really wasn’t a reason to be there. Clarke had more than fulfilled her daughterly duty for the entire year with her increasingly frequent showings at events for both of her parents. She chalked it up to growth, and becoming a better person, to make an effort, to try her best to show her mother that she was happy for her, and to prove to her father that she was deserving of her name, even if that meant trudging through society things in lieu of his wife. 

But seeing as Kane’s opening of the Gauntlet of Polo opening day party was not her mother’s, nor was it something she felt compelled to do to represent her father, Clarke had no true reason to go other than because Kane was nice enough to invite her, and she truly had nothing else to do. 

“So where’s the hot polo playing Argentinian underwear model who recites you poetry and fucks you in stables?” 

Clarke grit her teeth before sighing and shaking her head, giving her best friend a look that should equal death, if she’d been luckier. 

“What?” Raven shrugged. “I want to get a good look at the girl that convinced you to be okay with your parents divorce. I’m sure there are over-paid therapists who would kill to know how to do it.” 

“She didn’t--”

“And made you nicer in general to your parents. And me. And your life is less chaotic now-- I’ve noticed you are volunteering. That must be some of the worlds most powerful puss--”

“Kane! Mom!” Clarke interrupted her friend’s tangent, thankfulness apparent in her voice as she found the host and hostess. 

Her mother was always beautiful, but Clarke began to see how much nicer happiness looked on her, and as much as she claimed to always love her father, there was a girlish spark that came when Abby was near Marcus. It took Clarke long enough to put aside her feelings to see it, but when she did, she couldn’t have been happier, despite the occasional bitterness about what was lost. It was Lexa’s stupid notions of love that messed with her brain and her ability to hold a grudge. 

There’d been a truce between herself and Kane, reached gently and treated very cautiously, but still, it remained. She had dinner with them just a week ago when they were in the city, and it wasn’t entirely painful. As much as she wanted to dislike Marcus Kane, she couldn’t bring herself to do it because he was just… nice. And he made Abby smile in a way that Clarke didn’t realize she hadn’t seen in a while. 

The real benefit of all of this love and joy being that while Abby got to live her best truth, it meant less comments about Clarke’s “wasted potential,” and there was a bigger focus on her art, which led to less stress with their average communications. 

“Oh, honey you made it,” Abby smiled and hugged her daughter, kissing her cheek quickly, squeezing her shoulders. “I didn’t think we’d find you in all this.” 

“Believe it or not,” Clarke explained as she accepted a quick hug from her mother’s boyfriend. “It’s easy to find the guy who owns a team in a tournament sponsored by his company.” 

“I’ve been looking and couldn’t find you.” 

“I took Raven to see the ponies.” 

“Look at that,” Kane grinned. “She’s using proper jargon already.” 

“Clarke’s given me a quick rundown, but I don’t know if I trust her expertise yet,” Raven offered after all pleasantries were exchanged. “Care to teach me, Kane?” 

“The more the merrier,” he smiled wider, like a kid in a candy store, surrounded by people who wanted to listen to him explain his favorite sport. “We better go find a good spot. It’ll start soon.” 

Raven turned and gave Clarke a wry grin before linking her arm with Kane’s as she maneuvered them through the crowd. Clarke let her mother squeeze her and follow along a few steps behind. 

“It means a lot that you’ve tried to take an interest in something that Marcus finds important,” Abby offered as they meandered along. 

“Just a good reason to be outside, and Raven loves selling rich people her programs and things,” Clarke dismissed her effort for anything benevolent as she grabbed a flute of champagne gratefully. “I’m fairly certain that’s the only reason she keeps me around.” 

“Whatever the reason. It means a lot to me. I know it wasn’t easy to find out--”

“We don’t have to do this.” 

“I know,” Abby relented. “You just never cease to amaze me is all. Marcus is important to me, and you’ve taken the time to get to know him, just like I’m sure you would when your father starts--”

“Dad won’t date anyone else.” 

The words came out a little bit too harsh, and Clarke wasn’t sure why she felt so protective of her father’s refusal to get over a broken heart. 

“He will eventually, and believe it or not, no matter how he feels about Marcus and even me right now, seeing you be open to our happiness will make it easier.” 

“I guess I’m just a saint.” 

It was meant to be a joke, but Clarke felt suddenly a little guilty. They took their seats beside Kane and Raven, and Clarke looked out on the pitch, wondering if she would be there at all if it hadn’t been for the oddest addiction she somehow developed for a stupid girl who argued with her every time she saw her. 

She might not even get to see Lexa today. She might only see her on the pitch. And would that be a waste? Should she think about this perfect stranger as often as she did and look forward to this stupid even for the past three weeks? Was she proving Lexa’s points right about lust and love and soulmates? Did she believe in something like soulmates? How could she? And what did it matter. Wasn’t this a lot to do just for sex? Very, very, very good sex, but still--

“You’re not zoning out already, are you, Clarke?” Kane smiled and waved his hand in front of her face, bringing her back to reality. 

“Just listening, making sure I remember everything.” 

Raven gave her a look. 

“Now tell me about your team. Clarke was telling me all about how skilled the one… what was her name?” 

“Lexa,” Kane offered excitedly, before Clarke could bring herself to utter the name. “She is incredibly skilled. I’ve never seen someone ride with such passion. She is so fluid, covering everything, seeing plays before they happen. And she’s got this passion in her blood for the sport. She hits hard, and takes a licking-- Are you okay?” 

Only when Kane stopped talking did Clarke realize she’d spilled her glass, letting it tilt back toward her chest as she remembered exactly how passionate and fluid and licking that Lexa had been. The cool liquid froze her chest, dripping down her front as she hurried to pat it dry. 

“Fine, fine. I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Off in another world,” he offered politely. 

“This girl has her head in the stables,” Raven joked, though only Clarke understood it. “I get now why Clarke’s so passionate about those ponies. You are a hell of a salesman, Kane.” 

“This is something that costs me money. Imagine what I can do with something I want to make money off of.” 

They shared a laugh and Clarke joined in, only half paying attention as the team was announced and she caught the now familiar jerseys making their way to the center for the start of the match. 

There was an air to the polo player, helmet on, stoic and sitting tall as she stood beside her fellow teammates, her horse still as she was. Lexa listened politely to the anthem, she listened to the announcer, but she didn’t move more than necessary. It was by a stroke of luck that she found Clarke in the crowd, though Clarke wouldn’t agree anything was lucky about it, because now she had to sit in the stands after getting the full weight of Lexa’s glance. Only slightly did Clarke notice the pull of one corner of Lexa’s mouth and the fire behind her eyes. It made her gulp. 

Lexa didn’t look away the entire time and neither did Clarke. She didn’t have to say anything. They both knew. 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was an actual match, and a hard fought one to begin the Gauntlet that would last the next few months, and Lexa ached in the most delicious kind of ways after the win. Over the next week she’d have to win five more to hoist the first cup, collect the first purse, and move onward in hopes of completing the perfect Gauntlet, winning all three cups, and collecting the bonus purse that would triple her yearly income. 

No pressure at all when trying to impress a girl who was set to inherit billions. With a B. 

Showered and cleaned up, Lexa made it to the crowds in time to catch part of the second match. The sun was dimming, fading into the trees, giving a bit of a sunset despite the lights that shined over the pitch. It was a perfect evening for polo, and Lexa felt it, still riding the high of her win and feeling the limitless possibility of the next few months. 

It didn’t hurt that she caught a certain girl’s eyes before it started and put on a show. No, Lexa didn’t think about that at all. 

There was absolutely no way she had a chance with someone like Clarke, prize purse be damned. Lexa was the person who got a taste-- who was used for the pleasure of someone who had other responsibilities. In all of her dealings with people like Kane, with people like Clarke, she knew she was an interloper; destined to be a tagalong, someone who was never quite part of their world. Those were the things that she thought about after that momentary rush of seeing Clarke-- an intense loss at never having her completely. 

She didn’t look for Clarke in the tent with the other donors because she could feel her. It would take her a moment to get back to being okay with being a plaything. It had its perks, and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, to be someone who only got a taste when that taste was delicious. Lexa was okay with the being just a fling, if only her heart would listen and not get in over its head. 

“You, in that dress,” Lexa whispered as she approached a bare back, the navy blue of the dress, dipping along spine, hanging on shoulders. “Has all of my attention.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Lexa half-smiled and grabbed a flute of champagne, handing it to the woman beside her before taking one for herself. Only then did she allow herself to look at Clarke, meeting blue eyes and lips she desperately wanted to kiss already, after exactly one second of being within her orbit. 

“It’s becoming a problem, princess. You look too distracting in everything.” 

“Maybe you should stop looking?” 

“Would you like me to stop?” 

With her words, Lexa shifted closer, and Clarke felt it. Their bodies moved around, hovering and refusing to touch though desperately wanting to feel the next. Clarke licked her lips and looked up from beneath her lashes while Lexa looked over her cheekbones as she took a sip and played with the stem of her glass. 

“It’s been three weeks. You didn’t try to find me?” 

“I’ve been busy training,” Lexa tried, unsure of if she was supposed to find Clarke. She never knew it was an option. “And I didn’t… Three weeks, and were you preparing for a Gauntlet?” 

“You were the one that was trying to convince me to fall in love with you.” 

“Or lust.” 

“Right, or lust,” Clarke nodded. “I couldn’t find you. That’d just prove you right.” 

“And we wouldn’t want me to be right, would we?” 

Despite herself, Clarke smiled, small and there. She blushed a little, right beneath her jaw, near her earlobes. Lexa gorged herself on it. 

“If you’re right, you get all of the power. I can’t give you that.” 

“But it would be great if you did. I promise to be a benevolent overlord.” 

“What if I don’t know how to be kept?” Clarke asked after a moment of quiet. It was the most honest thing she’d said in their time together. 

Lexa reached forward to touch her, finally. She ran her finger along her forearm, and she paused at Clarke’s wrist, running her thumb along the small protrusion there. She watched her fingers move against Clarke’s skin. 

“I’m good at being still. I’ve broken more wild things than you, princess.” 

As she stood there, Clarke felt Lexa’s warmth, and she wondered to which level they were speaking, because almost accidentally, she’d confessed one of her truly darkest fears, that she wasn’t one to be in love, that she didn’t know how, that she wasn’t sure she was worth being looked at like Lexa looked at her, whether it be love or lust of something between. 

“I completely mean to interrupt whatever is happening over here,” a voice rang out, oddly cheerful and not at all in line with the tone established. 

Lexa retracted her hand quickly, finishing the rest of her champagne as a result of compensating for the movement. Clarke stood up, her body language becoming alert and afraid. There was the shame, Lexa saw and pretended to ignore, of being caught with someone like her. 

“Hell of a game you played out there, Lexa,” the new woman explained as she grabbed them another round of drinks from a passing tray. 

The crowd cheered for whatever was happening on the pitch, and Lexa looked toward it in hopes of finding a reason to escape, the trance of Clarke Griffin broken for a moment. 

“And I heard all about how amazing your play was from Kane. Clarke couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, and I have to say, I get it now.” 

Lexa found her interest turning back to this shorter, nonplussed member of their group, her interest piqued as she recognized a fellow interloper, although someone who seemed to own it much better and in a way she almost envied. 

“I wasn’t--” Clarke began before taking a breath, earning a grin from her friend. “Lexa, this is Raven, my best friend dating back from elementary school, so please don’t hold it against me.” 

“I couldn’t. She seems to have such great taste if polo players,” Lexa grinned, extending her hand. “Lexa Woods. It’s a pleasure to meet you--”

“Raven,” she offered, shaking it heartily. “I’ve heard many things.” 

“All good, I hope.” 

“Mythical, some might say.” 

Clarke coughed and cleared her throat until her friend returned the hand it’d been shaking and went back to sipping her champagne. Lexa felt her chest puff a bit, and she couldn’t help it. 

“I should go make the rounds,” she finally offered as the two ancient friends glared at each other, having an entire conversation. “I’m sure Kane has some constructive criticism, and plans for the next matches. I hope I see you both around, and thank you for coming to support us.” 

“It was nice to see you again,” Clarke offered with a slight nod. 

Brazenly, Lexa leaned forward, placed her hand on the small of Clarke’s back so that her thumb could touch the bare skin of her spine. She kissed her cheek. 

“I hope you choose to find me, princess,” she whispered. “I love wild things as they are.” 

Lexa pulled away quickly and shook Raven’s hand again. 

“It was nice to meet you, Raven. I hope Kane didn’t bore you terribly.” 

“Not at all,” she returned. “I hope to come to more, if Clarke will invite me.” 

But Clarke didn’t answer, just stared at Lexa until she nodded and walked away, fading into the crowd in search of her benefactor. 

“Holy shit she’s hot up close,” Raven finally offered after a moment where Clarke downed her champagne. “Like. Insanely hot. Superhuman hot. And when she did that thing, that being so close to you but not touching you thing. Damn. And then, I think she practically was undressing you with her eyes when I walked up. I’ve never seen eyeballs look like murder, but hers were coming for me.” 

“You see what  mean, right?” 

“Yeah, you have a problem there,” her friend agreed as Clarke finally took a breath and nodded weakly. “I’d have to go for it.” 

“Yes. Without a doubt.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

Even though there was an entire week of matches for the tournament, Lexa still waited for a girl to appear, to make the move, to find her. She knew that it had to be Clarke who appeared, who made the move because she was the one who was most afraid. It was supposed to be a joke, but Lexa knew it was the most honest thing about her to admit that she was already in love with the stranger. 

She knew nothing about Clarke, not really, and yet she felt like she understood her on a cosmic level, an inherent kind of language they both spoke, that defied time. Lexa craved that poetry, and perhaps it was the works of the great romantics that she kept reading and clouding her brain with such notions, but she couldn’t help it. It seeped into her very DNA. 

The week led to the first win out of three for the Gauntlet, and Lexa hoisted the cup valiantly, happy that she was worth her weight in gold, as Kane liked to explain. And after all of it, after they made the trip home, and she made sure the stables were taken care of and schedule made for the following day, Lexa sat on the porch to her small home about five miles from the horses, and she opened a bottle of beer. 

The night was colder than the day, giving off the heat and letting the warmth disappear with the sun, but it was a clear night, the moon bright above, casting moonbeam shadows in the tall grasses and from the fence posts. She could have lived in the city, gotten a place an enjoyed the splendor of her generous paychecks, but Lexa had a need to be near her ponies and to be close to the games. She wouldn’t commute if she didn’t have to, and she wouldn’t allow herself any distractions. 

And then headlights appeared in her driveway, following the gravel up toward the converted cabin. 

She stood and tapped her beer against her thigh as she leaned against the railing, squinting into the light in hopes of figuring out who was going to bug her after a rather long week and an impressive win. 

She wasn’t in a dress. She was in an old jacket and jeans as she shoved her hands in the back pockets and made her way around the car once it turned off. It really was becoming a problem, because every time Lexa saw her, she was distracted. She really didn’t think about the car and how many questions she had about the absolutely devastating piece of machinery. 

Instead, she took another sip and smiled. 

“Congratulations,” Clarke offered. 

“Did you watch?” 

“I didn’t, but I heard.” 

“Good news travels fast.” 

Despite her initial burst of courage, Clarke paused near the stairs, looking up at the polo player, the lights from the glowing windows giving her a little bit of color. Lexa didn’t move to fix the height gap between them, instead, waiting for Clarke to make the moves. It was her porch, but it was Clarke’s rules, and she wasn’t sure she’d trained wilder things than Clarke Griffin, but she was a tamer of beasts. 

“I found you,” Clarke offered, as she took a step. 

“You did. I’m not hard to find though.” 

“I think we should applaud the effort,” Clarke grinned, stepping up another until she was just one below. “I was impressed with your win. You must be happy.” 

“I’m honestly happier that you’re here right now than the trophy.” 

“Are you going to show me your home?” 

“I don’t want to move,” Lexa offered as Clarke stood in front of her now. “I’m afraid you’ll bolt the moment I do.” 

“I showed up. I made the move,” Clarke sighed, looking at her lips. “You have to teach me the rest.” 

“Three conversations for you to fall in love with me,” she grinned, closing the distance and moving so she was touching Clarke, pressed against her front. “I can work with that.” 

“Lust.” 

“For now.”

NEXT

[ajokeformur-ray]

Don’t you DARE hide from me // Joker x Reader // soft comfort.

Summary: You feel so sad and heavy that there’s a lump lodged in your throat which is making you feel like you’re going to be sick. Joker knows your every mood, your every thought process, your everything and he knows what you need better than you do.  

Self-indulgent and self-insert gentle fluff because sometimes you just have to give yourself what you deserve. 

Word count: 3, 272.

NSFW but this GIF is what he looks like when he’s been thoroughly fucked out by you 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Sat cross legged were you on your bed, your back pressed up against the pillow upon which you rested your weary head every night. Your head was bowed, your shoulders hunched in on themselves. The emotional weight which had been on you this day was great and now you were at the day’s end, when the sun had long since sunk below the horizon and the gloomy grey Gotham sky had turned into a vast and limitless black expanse. Not punctuated was it by stars due to the polluted atmosphere of the city and you felt sick with all that you were thinking and all that you were feeling. You didn’t feel safe within yourself. Your thoughts seemed not to be your own, your emotions seemed altogether greater than you and everything was just too much. You felt so sad and so heavy that you felt nauseous. Every swallow was coupled with the acidity of bile swirling around in your stomach. You felt truly awful this night and you didn’t even have it in you to approach Joker for what you knew you needed. It was instinctive for you to distance yourself from the ones that you most loved in the world when you were feeling bad, even if you didn’t want to, and as such you hadn’t sought your Joker out.

No, you had stood up from the worn sofa almost an hour ago without saying anything to a lightly chuckling Joker, so weary and so knowing was he, and walked into the bedroom. The door had closed behind you with a quiet but firm click and you had been alone. You weren’t alone though and though the distinction was subtle, it was an important one. You were never truly alone so long as you had Joker in your life. He was entire life, your reason and your purpose, your motivation and your inspiration. He was your everything. Even so, with him being your greatest comfort, you knew that you would break if you allowed Joker to comfort you, to even come near you. You had barely allowed him to touch you this day, so badly had you been feeling that even your skin had been itching, as if to mimic the itching which was going on inside of yourself. The mind and the body were so connected, this was true, and as such if one was even a little bit off balance, so too could the other.

With your hair falling about your face, framing it like curtains, cold tears ran steadily down your cheeks. Quiet sniffles broke the silence of the room, which rang in your ears and made the pressure that was within your very being feel heavier. Oh, you needed your Joker, you needed him now more than you ever had before, at least for a while, but you felt like your limbs were made of lead. What would be the point in getting up to go get him or calling him to come over to you? You would still feel just as sick, just as sad, just as heavy. But... but you would be able to breathe again. You would feel his unconditional and undying love for you seep into the cracks of your psyche and begin to soothe your raw and bleeding wounds from the inside out, and you would feel a little bit better for it. Joker had always, always been able to make you feel better within yourself. He knew you better than you knew yourself, he knew everything that you ever needed from him from even a single glance, and there was nothing that he couldn’t or wouldn’t do for you if it meant that you were, at the very least, okay. Joker was completely devoted to you, just as you were to him. At the core of all that you did for each other was love, just love, and it was this which kept you both coming together again and again. You would always catch each other’s fall, even before the other knew that they were falling, and sometimes you even fell together.

Together.

Like a switch had just been pulled, all at once was your mind full of thoughts of all the time that you and Joker had had together in the past; all the good and the bad, all the ugly and the beautiful and everything in between. As these wonderfully maddening and alluring thoughts filled your head, your body took a natural and deep breath. More tears poured down your cheeks and you found one word crawling its way out of the pit of your stomach, up, up your throat. It lingered on the very tip of your tongue, your tongue fuzzy, weighted was it by all the love which was held within this one word. It was a word which made you smile so naturally, intertwined was it with your heartstrings and connected were they to the very corners of your lips. It was a word which gave you hope when there were no emotions to be felt, it was a word which made you get out of bed, which made you want to try. It was one word, just one, but it had the power to make or break your every day. It had the power to fill your heart with so much love that it got stuck in your throat and made you choke upon it. It had the power to make you laugh when you could only cry, to make you stop and think... to make you feel when you were only heavy and numb. It was the one word which you often spoke aloud to yourself in the dead of night when you needed some courage, something to hold onto, when you needed anything. It was the only word you could believe in on your worst days, and the one that you needed the most even on your best:

Joker.

The word left your lips so quietly that it was barely a whisper, but then you cleared your throat, raised your head to the ceiling in some sort of thanks, though you knew not whom or what you were thanking, and spoke the word borne from magic once more. “Joker.” Your body took another natural and long breath and as you exhaled, your breath shuddered and tears spilled hotter and faster down your face. They dropped off your chin and fell into your lap like rain. As you brought your head back down, finally giving in to everything that you were thinking and feeling, a sob ripped from your throat. You clapped a hand over your mouth, desperate to muffle the sounds of your distress, but it was too late. So thin were the walls in the cramped but well kept apartment, so highly attuned was Joker to his Y/N, and no matter whether you communicated to him verbally or not, Joker would always hear you. You were not feeling safe inside yourself, but you were safe with Joker and that would never ever be any different. You released a soft noise of pain and through your tears did you choke out, “I need my clown so badly.” 

“Your clown, huh?”

You jumped, your heart pounding in your head. When had Joker opened the door? The walls were so thin that if you sneezed outside the apartment on your way in, Joker could hear you from the bedroom, but you had been so outside of yourself and so lost within all that you were thinking and feeling that you hadn’t even heard him approach from the living room. How long had he been stood there? Knowing Joker and his hatred of seeing you in pain, it would have been mere seconds, but as you looked at him could you see the redness in his eyes, the way that those green oceans were overflowing with love and with concern. He was crying for you and he didn’t even know why. But it didn’t matter, not really - you were hurting and Joker couldn’t abide even the idea of that, so devoted to you and to your well being was he.

At the sight of your Joker, your breath left your lungs in another rush and you spoke his name at the same time, an exclamation of relief and of love, even with the tidal wave of sadness which crashed over your rocky shores in that moment. Joker cooed softly as he made his way over to you, crossing the room in a few easy strides. He was with you in no time at all, his hands reaching out. They curved to the slopes of your shoulders, familiar and well loved terrain which he had explored often. “Please, Joker, I - I need - “ Your breath caught in your throat again at the touch of his hand, at the sound of his voice, and tears flowed down your already damp cheeks at a faster, more temperate rate. 

Joker shushed you, the sound low and soothing. “I know, Y/N. I know.” He stepped forward so that your legs were in between his and he bent down at the waist, pulling you into that soft red material which you knew and loved so well. You threw your arms around Joker’s neck and squeezed yourself into him. Joker shifted his stance to better accommodate you, so thoughtful and so considerate was he, and he gave you the simple yet valued experience of crying yourself out in his chest. He shushed you continuously, barely stopping for breath, rocked you in his arms and pressed kisses anywhere and everywhere he could reach, as if the love within his simple but weighted affections could sink into your skin and soothe your wounds from the inside out, just as you had always done for him. You were deserving of nothing less than all of his attention and so that was what Joker would give you for as long as you needed and wanted him to. 

When your sobbing showed no sign of stopping and Joker’s back was beginning to ache from the awkward physical position which he was in, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his breath ghosting across the surface of your scalp and making you shiver, and then pulled away from you just enough so that he could look at you, so that he could really look at you. Whatever he saw only tugged more firmly at his heartstrings for did a weighted sigh escape Joker. He swept a hand through those romantic dyed green waves you loved so well, and then made his way to the other side of the bed, toeing his Oxfords off as he did so. Joker hadn’t even fully eased himself down onto the mattress before you were scooting across, needing your clown to protect you from yourself. You needed him so badly that it was only making you cry harder. Your anguish sunk deep into Joker’s ears and yanked at his heart strings.

“Easy, doll. Just breathe for me, can you do that?” Joker’s voice was stained with worry for his Y/N, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around you so that you knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that you were protected within the safety of his embrace, that Joker was there for you in all the ways that you needed him to be, that he loved you and that he would stay beside you. His hands cupped your face, his calloused thumbs stroking away your tears. Any which fell which his thumbs didn’t catch were caught by his lips, so reverent and so gentle with you was he, especially when you were feeling as terribly as you were. Joker continued to shush you but otherwise did he remain silent. He gave you no sweet nothings, he only soothed you as best as he could with his gentle touches, loving kisses, and the pleasure of his company. Both of you were independent creatures but the love which existed between you was so strong, so vast and so limitless that it brought you home to one another each and every day.

Joker stayed with you, he stayed. There was no judgement, no rush to soothe yourself or to simply stop the way that you were feeling. You were unravelling in Joker’s hold and he allowed you to use his body to hide even from yourself as he gave you the space to just be. His arms were warm and solid around you, the steady and regular beating of his heart was the lullaby which quieted your tried and tired mind. Periodically did he shush you gently when your breath caught, but it wasn’t a noise designed to tell you to stop, no. No, it was a noise designed only to comfort. You were breaking apart and Joker was holding you together with his own body as he met you with acceptance, with empathy and with love. You weren’t okay and if you being honest with yourself, as always did you at least try to be, then you knew that you wouldn’t be for a while. But that was okay; sometimes you needed to not be okay, to let yourself feel what was demanding to be felt. Just so long as you didn’t allow it to wholly crush you, just as long as you knew that once you hit rock bottom, there was only one way you could go: up. As defeated as you were, you weren’t defeated and that was a subtle but an important distinction, and one which Joker reminded you of in moments like these. 

Finally, with your eyes sore and rimmed with an angry red which matched the macabre painted smile which Joker wore so that he didn’t have to smile with his own mouth; so sick was he of hiding his true, beautiful self, with your lungs burning and your entire body exhausted, you had finally, finally cried yourself out. Joker eased himself out from under you while you lay there, staring unseeing up at the ceiling, and his resounding giggle as you whined and reached out for him, flexing your fingers in the universal motion of grabby hands, was stained with sympathy as he dashed from the room in a whirlwind of colour. You heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom and then the muted padding of socked feet on worn carpet before the sound of water came from the kitchen and then Joker was back, with a wet flannel in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“I’m here, Y/N.” Joker’s soft rasp made you open your eyes, as did the gentle setting down of the glass of water on the bedside table. He let out a soft noise of pain and of empathy as he gazed down at you, and the tears he had already shed for you had marred those deep blue triangles, which traced down his face like a mockery of his own pain, so interconnected and so intertwined with you was he. Softly, gently, Joker wiped your face over with the wet flannel. His strokes were fluid, his skin barely grazing yours as he made sure to get every single piece of your skin which he could. The sweet man even run the flannel over your ears and dipped behind them, too. When at last it was done to his satisfaction, Joker hummed and grinned smugly as he chucked the flannel, now warmed with the heat of his hand and of your face, into the dirty laundry basket. “Feel better, angel?”

You nodded and sat up as Joker handed you the glass of water - you would take care of yourself. He knew that you weren’t feeling up to it, however, and he was more than content to love on you hard enough for the two of you until you were feeling a bit more like yourself. Joker understood better than most how bad it could be sometimes and through it all, the two of you had always done your best as individuals to be there for each other. There had been times when both of you had been suffering, but your love was so strong that you had been able to find the strength to look after each other and in that were you yourselves taken care of. You had such a deep and rich love, it was bigger than your own selves and it defied all explanation... what you shared together just was and neither of you would trade it in or give it up for the world, though you would each make the opposite trade in a heartbeat. You were each other’s world, for better or for worse. As you finished the glass and Joker disappeared back into the kitchen (for the man of the house cleans up messes, he doesn’t create them, thank you very much) before he was back in a literal whirlwind of colour, so dramatic and so free was he, you realised that nothing was ever really wrong so long as you had your clown to look at you like you were the only thing he could see.

Briefly, in your leftover anxiety while Joker had been out of the room, had you considered that he would leave you to it, now that you had cried yourself out. You knew, deep within your heart, that that would never be the case and so you laid back down, safe in the knowledge that Joker was coming home to you. He was your clown blanket and it was a duty which he took seriously and always did Joker know with a single glance how you wanted him; beside you, underneath you or, in this case, above you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your legs around his waist and squeezed Joker into your body, wanting all of him to be all that you knew. Oh, but he was your whole heart. Joker wrapped his arms around you, sliding them beneath your back so that he could lift you more firmly into his chest. His body was hot against your own, you could feel the heat of him seeping through all three layers which he wore, and though you were pressed against him as tightly as you could be, it still wasn’t enough for you. You wanted more of everything and you squeezed yourself into Joker, making the man grunt low in the back of his throat under the force of just how hard you were hugging him; though of course it didn’t hurt him. You would rather die than hurt your Joker in any way, even accidentally. 

“Thank you for loving me, Joker.”

Joker hummed sleepily; he had been falling asleep on you, so comfortable was he. You felt a stab of guilt but you forced it away, knowing well as you did that Joker would be tenderly frustrated if you even thought about apologising. You were always his number one priority during any time of the day or night. His arms slid out from underneath you and he slid down your body so that he could rest his face in the warm crook of your neck, his thin painted lips pressing clumsy kisses to the flesh which he found there. He hummed again, a soft smile on his face. You shifted your hips, got more comfortable underneath your clown, and as you closed your eyes did Joker’s most important, most wholesome truth follow you into sleep:

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

For there was nowhere you could go where he would not follow.

AF/J @impulsiveclown @notyourlittledoll @astheworlddturns @fluffedstar @jokersqueenofchaos @germansarechill @tsukiakarinobara @d-dreemurr @lynnesm @sagyunaro  @docsportello @ezziesworld @flowerglitterwoman @ben-solos-writing-avenger @jokers-doll @jokershyena @arthurjokersgirl @antonija89 @lilliryth @hotpacino @obsessedandthirsty

[ayymanwtf]

im in an aesthetic writing mood which, im quite aware is nothing like my usual content but im a limitless being and you should probably accept that. please?

anyway here are the aesthetics that some of my fave mgk songs have:

FLOOR 13 — drunkenness, trembling hands covered in blood, the source of it unknown, stumbling through an abandoned psych ward of a hospital, feeling the floor beneath you move in waves, rocking from wall to wall of the narrow corridor, seeing a figure resembling the one person on your mind at the end of the hallway, white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, pushing as hard as you can on the pedal of a car, eyes glassed over, the curve of the road not being the only unstable thing, dizziness, experiencing jealousy for the first time, getting in trouble on the playground and trying to excuse your actions, vodka swirling in a crystal tumbler, you’ve lost count of how many you’ve had, sipping it and thinking its water, mysterious white powders sprinkled on glass tables, looking out the balcony of a hotel, the curtains fluttering in the evening breeze, the first moment of serenity in a while, begging for them to come back, regret

LOCO — return, amusement, superiority, seeing a person you used to know and immediately judging them on how they turned out, cracking your neck too hard and feeling it ache, liking the feeling knowing it was the first time you’d felt something in a while, the concept of exoticism, ruining someone else for your own entertainment, not caring despite knowing, the kind of sex that is derived from pure anger and resent, anger and resent for someone else, but still leaving the new person heartbroken, new beginnings and sealed endings, rekindling with your old friends, only to end it all to see the looks on their faces, a blunt laced with gold, pushing someone off you too hard and hearing them wince, internalised desperation, numbness, living life with anger and thinking its the only option

Death In My Pocket — the clouds during a sunset, experiencing grief for something you never had, reminiscence, mourning the life you could have had, a silver flute crushed under your boot, cleaning up the wounds on your knuckles yourself and remembering a time when someone else would have done this for you, stepping outside for the first time in months and feeling the sharp wind on your cheeks and still not feeling anything, running away from nothing at dawn, begging and bargaining, leaving the house on your own for the first time and witnessing things you never wished you had, diving into an icy cold lake, exhaling reflexively once your face reaches the water, feeling your lungs burn for oxygen underwater, and still not coming up until you feel them fill with liquid, wetting the shoulder of a stranger with your tears, asking why, asking why, asking why, again and again, feeling pain and wondering when the next time will be that you forget this feeling

RAP DEVIL — piano and bass chords combined, welcomed confusion, betrayal, feeling someone sit on your lap and wanting to throw them off you, repetition, de ja vu, anarchy, rebellion, standing up against bitchy old people, leaving your respect behind to do whats right, being drunk at a party and hearing all the songs around you meld and blend until everything sounds the same, someone telling you to smile more, accidentally saying the wrong thing and hurting someone’s feelings, eventually accepting and standing by your words once you find out who they truly are, refusing to ask for forgiveness, eating the rich and remembering to season them, childhood shows with creepy ulterior meanings, burying an enemy, misconceptions, idolising your father until you realise his neglect, snapping someone’s neck and feeling no guilt 

LATELY — clocks ominously ticking, reminding you of the time youre wasting, taking LSD for the first time, seeing the world swirl and mix around you, looking in the mirror after taking acid and seeing the most genuine version of you, ghosting and then sending I miss you texts to the same person, experiencing nostalgia with anger instead of contentedness, falling asleep in a cold hotel room and seeing your worst fears come to life before your eyes, empty rooms and bare faces, singular drops of blood dripping from your palms once a day, looking directly into the sun and thinking about how the moon harnesses that much light, dancing on the dance floor and mid-song feeling your social battery die and wanting to go home, asking someone to help and them leaving you on read, doing shrooms and feeling like you’re sat inside of a rapidly spinning washing machine, knowing that nothing will ever be the same and still denying that fact

el Diablo — a casino in the middle of the deserts of Nevada, Mexico at the peak of its drug war, playing poker with blank cards, upheaving the gambling table, a woman squatting in a leather mini skirt with her legs spread wide open, her cigarette dropping ashes onto the road in front of her, glowing embers on an ash tray that carried the ashes from the cigars belonging to the most powerful men of the americas, pushing a traitor against a wall and keeping them there with the grip you have on their neck, remembering where you came from and making it a big portion of your success, doing deals with the devil, the devil pitying you, abandoned hotels turned into brothels, biting the hand that feeds you, nonchalance portrayed in the most douchebag way possible, playing saxophone in high school and growing up to be the person everyone wanted to be, mob bosses hotboxing in a room full of strippers, being the authoritarian figure you always hated, being the person that people go to for permission, rising from rock bottom to the very top of the mountain, knowing all and saying none, driving in the desert and leaving dust trails to make sure everyone knows that you were here, kissing with split lips and not bothering to clean up, not just thinking youre the superior, but actually being the superior, gaining everyone’s respect AND fear, never begging but always waiting, an intelligence unmatched  

if you guys want more let me know?? idk if anyone will actually like this but I know that I had a lot of fun doing it and ill gladly do requests as well!! anyway sending my love, have a great day!! feedback is also appreciated also: @ripbrat k im tagging u but ur allowed to ignore this 10000% dont feel pressured I just thought huh mgk. OH WAIT K LIKES MGK. anyway uhhh have fun please!! 

[vobikij198]

Water Dispenser Basics: How They Work

Water allocators are a significant asset to have in both our homes and office buildings, as they make it simpler for us to obtain drinking water for the duration of the day. In any case, as valuable as these apparatuses seem to be, numerous people actually don't exactly see how these machines work to administer scrumptious and clean water. These are a portion of the diverse water container models and the rudiments of how they work to furnish you with the most excellent water conceivable. If you need for more information about your dispenser.

Filtered water Dispensers

Filtered water containers work by drawing water from a huge plastic jug guided into the top or lower part of the machine. These models regularly come furnished with warming or cooling capacities for the water. In any case, other than that, the water in the jug is now sifted and shouldn't be treated by the allocator itself. Contingent upon which administering alternative you pick, this model works by squeezing the comparing button, having the water through fever control, and emptying it into your cup.

Mounted Water Dispensers

Mounted water allocators, or drinking fountains, are models mounted in open territories, for example, parks or huge office lobbies. These allocators work by taking advantage of close by water lines that convey handled water to nearby homes and organizations and apportion it through a pressurized valve. The surge of water that it produces isn't warmed, cooled, or treated past the underlying testing done at the water treatment office. Be that as it may, these are incredible spots to stop and get a speedy beverage on your walk.

Purpose of-Use Water Dispensers

Purpose of-utilization water gadgets are the ones regularly utilized by homes and workplaces to give them helpful admittance to exceptionally separated water. Associated straightforwardly into a water line, these models furnish people with a boundless measure of water in a progression of various ways. Like filtered water distributors, they can likewise cool or warmth the water it apportions. Nonetheless, purpose of-utilization water distributors likewise have the extra advance of separating the water before it's poured.

At H2O Coolers, we accept that knowing where your water comes from is similarly as significant as drinking enough of it to keep you hydrated. This is the reason we give our clients the information on how our filtration cycle functions notwithstanding our quality ice and water container rentals in New York City. Thusly, you know precisely what you're placing into your body and how significant water is to your mend

Picking The Right Water Dispenser

A wide range of water gadgets arrive in a collection of sizes and employments.

Some are fitted for little zones like ledges or tabletops in private homes or workplaces; others are more appropriate for bigger regions like structure passages or kitchens.

You can locate some mounted water distributors outside in parks or other public places also.

Water gadgets are famous on the grounds that they add genuinely necessary comfort to an ordinary need. Everyone needs water consistently, and water containers fill that need. Picking the correct water container relies upon the need.

On the off chance that basic admittance to water is the main need, at that point a standard mounted water gadget is likely the most ideal alternative.

Whenever sifted water that can be warmed or cooled is vital then a filtered water or purpose of utilization water allocator is the better alternative.

Picking between the two would rely upon the conditions accessible. On the off chance that the distributor can without much of a stretch been snared to a fundamental water line, a state of utilization container would be a decent alternative since it can give a limitless gracefully of water.

Be that as it may, if there is no admittance to a principle water line, a filtered water container is a simple method to give clean separated water.

Choosing the requirements of the container will help when settling on a water gadget choice. Likewise, considering the size of the area can be useful in deciding the correct water allocator.

Mounted Water Dispensers are generally alluded to as drinking fountains. They are found in broad daylight places, for example, amusement parks or footpaths, in parks, or in enormous places of business.

The distributor mounts to a divider, or can be unsupported on the ground, and taps water from a current water line.

The water is administered by the client by turning a handle or squeezing a catch, which sends a surge of water until the handle or catch is delivered. The water is sent in a curved development to make drinking simple.

Commonly a drinking fountain isn't utilized to fill cups, but instead to take a brisk beverage from the container.

Mounted water containers are normally taken advantage of the civil water flexibly which implies the water isn't generally cooled, warmed, treated or sifted. So on chilly days, the water is cold and on warm days the water is warm.

In any case, some drinking fountains, similar to that in huge cooperation's, places of business, or in spots that have power accessible, do have water coolers inside to cool the drinking water preceding administering it.

Mounted water gadgets are generally the most crude of water distributors, as they typically don't have any extraordinary capacities like warming, cooling, or sifting water. Therefore, mounted allocators don't typically have numerous parts. The parts on a mounted channel are typically:

A tank-to bring water into from the fundamental line

A nozzle that sends a flood of water into the air in a curved structure to make drinking simpler.

A catch or handle that when squeezed discharges the water

A cooler or refrigerated framework if the drinking fountain is intended to cool water, Learn more.

[peachesandfiction]

Blazing Love

Pairing: Chaeyoung x Female Witch (healer) Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

The sky turned red as another blaze of fire was shot towards the village. You and Chaeyoung were surrounded by your fallen team, fighting to shield each other as death grew closer, it’s cold hands reaching for your ankles from the ground below.

You were exhausted as your magic was used so much to only end in death.

Quiet fell over the battlefield as the enemy grew closer and closer, their army a dark color against the now orange sky. You could feel the fear seeping into your bones like the tea leaves in the hot, steaming water that had fallen off the table this morning when the first explosion shook what felt like the entire universe.

You remember rushing to the bed room where you pushed Chaeyoung out of the way of a falling book shelf, papers and books flying everywhere.

Your voice had been panicked, almost squeaking as you asked, “are you alright?”

Chaeyoung had just nodded before the two of you hurried out of the house to see what was going on.

The village had broken out in terror.

Your sad eyes scanned the field now, there was no village to even be terrified. Just the two of you. You let your eyes fall onto Chaeyoung, hers were wide, but her jaw was set. It was almost as if she were ready to take on this army alone. Your hand slipped into her’s, squeezing in reassurance before pulling her further into the woods.

She stopped you for a moment, pulling her hand out of yours, “what are you doing?”

“Saving us, Chae. Look around you, we can’t take them on. I don’t want you to die.”

“So we are just going to leave,” Chaeyoung asked, her voice rising in a wave of confusion and determination.

Instead of answering her right away, you pressed your lips against hers. The taste of smoke and battle filled your lungs as you pulled away, “I don’t want to leave either, but we really need to Chae. There’s no other choice, we will just die and then there will be nothing left of the village to even save.”  

“I can stay here. Stall them,” She suggested, her tone desperate.

You shook your head, “no, Chae-” A bright ball came out of the sky, landing onto Chae’s back. Her screams filled your ears as you quickly took her into your arms, landing into the bushes near-by. Your hands pressed against the hot skin of her back, not even wanting to look as you pushed the last of your magic onto her, healing the wound as quickly as you could before you let the darkness that had begun to shadow over your sight take over.

When Chaeyoung awoke, there was the sound of wood scrapping against metal and the smell of broth filled her nose. She looked around. The room was small as a thin cloth was draped over her torn clothes. There was still a faint burning smell drafting off of them under a small open window. The scenery outside was beautiful as green bushes and colorful flowers rested under the light blue sky, “where am I,” she mumbled but then the wooden door slammed open.

A small, old lady stepped in, carrying a tray with a small bowl and cup on it. Her eyes widened at the sight of Chaeyoung awake, “good morning! You’ve been out for a long time now.”

“Who are you,” Chaeyoung asked, her instincts pushing her towards the open window, ready to escape danger, but the old woman just set the tray lightly down on the table near the bed.

She nodded, “I can see why she chose you. I am Y/N’s old master, Wander.”

“Old mater…” Chaeyoung was struck with curiosity because you had kept so much of your life hidden from her.

Wander laughed, “I guess she never talked about me. She always did keep more to herself. I told her that might end up her down fall, but I think she might have found something else that can do more damage than that.”

“What?” Ignoring Chaeyoung, Wander turned to leave, but she was stopped, “where is Y/N?”

“Follow me,” the old woman exited the room, the short train of her robe pulling behind her. The hallway was small and crowded with shelves full of bottles and colored liquids. Chaeyoung found herself trying to shrink, worried about touching any of the potions as Wander stopped in front of a blue wooden door, “here she is.”

Wander stepped out of the way, scooting past Chaeyoung and back towards the front. Chaeyoung stood in front of the door, her hand pressed against it as she took in a deep breath. She worried about what she might see.

Letting her shoulders fall, she pressed against the door, letting it gently squeal open.

Inside was a room that was similar to hers, but it was full of shelves. Some had bottles of similar colored liquids to those outside, others had jars full of unimaginable things. Chaeyoung kept her eyes off of them, looking over at your slumped figure. Your body laid haphazardly sprawled on the straw mattress, her eyes watched your chest rise and fall. She didn’t remember or even feel her body walk over to your form, her arms wrapped around you as tears covered her cheeks.

She woke up again, the sun now set, the sky dark. Her eyes felt as if they pulsed along with her heart while her head hurt. She put pressure onto her head with the palm of her hand as the other still lay on top of you, feeling your heart beat.

When the pain ceased, she rested her head on your chest, watching you, “I’m so happy you are alive.”

“I don’t know if she will be alive for much longer,” Wander’s voice came from the open door.

“What do you mean,” Chaeyoung asked, sitting up.

“When a witch, especially one that is a healer, uses up her power. She basically ceases to exist. That’s why she has been asleep this entire time. I’m sure her body is basically hibernating until her power is restored,” Wander walked more into the room, a bowl of water swooshing in her hands before she places it on a stand near-by, water splashing over the edge of it.

“I knew that she needed to rest after she exhausted her power, but I always thought it was limitless,” Chaeyoung said, playing with your hand unconsciously. Suddenly her grip tightened on your hand, “I’m sure she will wake up just fine. My girl is strong.”

“Having trained her myself, I can’t disagree with you. Y/N has been one of the most powerful witches I have ever seen, even more powerful than the duchess herself.”

Wander reached up to the shelf above her, pulling down a green and orange potion before making her way over to one of the jars across the room. She plucked out what looked like a part of a dead rat from one of them. She dropped them all into the bowl, a brilliant chartreuse colored smoke blowing from it. Wander sighed, picking up the bowl and bringing it over, but Chaeyoung stopped her, “what is that?”

“It’s to help speed up the process of her power..” she paused, “at least I hope it does, I never had to use it before.”

Chaeyoung watched as the liquid was poured between your lips. Wander didn’t say anything as she turned to walk out, but Chaeyoung called out quietly, “thank you.”

“it’s no problem dear,” Wander said, “it would be a shame to lose her.”

It was hours later when Chaeyoung finally emerged from your room and made her way over to the kitchen. Wander was bustling about, tossing potatoes up and Chaeyoung watched in wonder as they peeled on their own before floating over to the huge pot. The same happened for carrots and green onions that chopped within the air as well.

Wander, with her back still turned to Chaeyoung, asked, “are you hungry? The stew should almost be finished.”

Chaeyoung nodded, before clearing her throat, “yes, please.”

“Take a seat then darling.”

Chaeyoung sat down at the small wooden table, watching the wooden spoon in the pot turn on it own as the fire turned green. The smell of it all filling up the room and causing Chaeyoung stomach to grumble in impatience.

Distracted by her want to eat, she hadn’t even noticed Wander sitting across from her now. Chaeyoung lightly smiled at her, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Wander said nonchalantly as she snapped her fingers, and two bowls full of the stew floated over to them.

“How did you get us here? How did you find us?”

“The two of you appeared on my doorstep. I guess Y/N not only used the last of her magic to somewhat heal your back, but also teleport the two of you to safety.” Wander suddenly got up, feeling Chaeyoung’s back, “how are you feeling by the way?”

“I hardly notice the pain, Y/N is in a worse spot than I am.”

“If you saw your back, you would think otherwise. I did my best to replace skin, but I can’t do anything about the scarring that occurred.”

“I just want Y/N to wake up, I could care less about scars.”

Wander nodded as the two of them finished their soup in silence.

In the darkness of the room, Chaeyoung felt movement next to her and a groan. Her eyes fluttered open against the sleep as she looked over at you. You were shaking, your arms twitching as your head twisted from side to side. Then the shouts came, “no! Stop! Give her back! Stop! Never!”

Chaeyoung was quick to throw herself at you, running her hands down your face and along your body, “baby. My love, wake up. You’re alright.”

Your eyes shot open, falling upon the beauty of your girlfriend before your sight began to blur from tears, “Chae.”

Chaeyoung began to shush as she whispered, “you’re okay. I’m here… Wander! Hurry!”

“How do you kno-”

“I’ll tell you later. I need to know you are alright and going to stay awake.”

There was a slam and then suddenly the face of your old master was before you, her eyes searching yours. A sharp nod, “she’s alright Chaeyoung. I’ll fix her up another potion quickly.”

Chaeyoung’s body slumped as she held your hand, tears rolling down her cheeks. Your arm weakly reached up, wiping a few away before you couldn’t hold it there anymore. Chaeyoung had found her way to the crook of your neck, nuzzling into it as she whispered, “you’re okay. You’re okay.” over and over.

“Of course I am okay,” you joked, your voice weak and straining from lack of use.

“Chaeyoung, move,” your old master’s commanding voice called and then a slimy texture was crawling down your throat as you did your best to force it down. She nodded before patting your shoulder, “good.” She then turned to Chaeyoung, “keep her awake for the next twenty four hours.”

“I will. Thank you,” Chaeyoung said before pulling you up from the pillows and into her arms. “Don’t you dare ever scare me like this again.”

“Scare you,” you laughed weakly, “sure miss. I want to stall an entire army.”

Chaeyoung couldn’t even be mad as she looked into your eyes, amazed and joyful to see their beautiful color once again. She didn’t even say anything and instead, she just pressed her lips against yours, a hunger moving them as she pressed you back onto the mattress, her body reacting to your hands slowly moving over it. Her stomach as full of excited butterflies, happy that you were alive, but nervous that something can happen again. Even when she felt you try to deepen the kiss, the potion helping build strength back up into you, she pulled away. The two of you were breathing hard as she looked at you, her stare hidden to the outside world by the curtain of her hair. A grin spread across her face, “I love you.”

You answered back with a kiss, it becoming sloppy as you tried to say, “I love you” in between her lips, wanting to breath the words into her.

For the rest of the night, restless hands roamed as awakening laughs were exchanged. The joy of the two of you being alive, even if the weight of the destroyed village rested on your shoulders, for the moment you were just enjoying that the love of you life was alive and right there. That’s how you were determined to keep her, no matter what.

[sign-from-god-complex]

tonight might be my night to reminisce

Summary: Sentimentality was not a concept Logan was hugely familiar with, but there was one exception. 

Or, Logan gets emotional watching the stars and his boyfriends are there to help.

Pairing: LAMP/CALM

Warnings: Description of a panic attack (I seem to do a lot of those, huh?), dissociation, brief mention of death of a family member and general existential thinking.

A/N: The title for this one is from This Manhattan Man by The Altogether and I completely recommend their whole EP!! It’s on Bandcamp and it’s excellent; I was listening to it nonstop as I wrote this.

Tag list: @mutechild <333

AO3 Link!

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Sentimentality was not a concept Logan was hugely familiar with. He found himself to be focused mostly externally, cognisant of his surroundings and of things much more concrete than feelings. More aware of facts and numbers or of the sensation of fabrics against his skin and the warmth of others when they touched him.

There was one exception, however.

Without fail, watching the stars inspired something in him. He couldn't explain what it was. It felt like a longing for something indescribable, a homesickness for a home he'd never had, an awareness of just how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of the universe. It hurt his chest, opened up something raw and hollow inside him, and yet at the same time it was intoxicating. It was Logan's one opportunity to be purely emotional—to disregard his nature and feel, wholly and completely.

As Logan sat on the roof, the sleeves of his sweater pulled past his hands, he allowed himself to breathe.

He could hear from underneath him the sound of people just existing, each of them caught up in their lives and unaware of the others around them doing the same. There was music from a distant place that Logan couldn't exactly pinpoint, quiet and blending with the windchill as it seeped through his bones.

Time was passing, seconds ticking by, and where was he? Truly?

The nature of the universe is still and unchanging, but the nature of humanity is fluid and unstable. Progress was constantly being made, revolutions were being led, both big and small, lives were being permanently altered every second he sat up here watching the stars with a weight on his chest.

It was overwhelming, knowing that there are expectations for him. He isn't allowed to live his life among the stars, no matter how much he longs for it—no matter how much he aches to exist purely as a being of light, guiding those he loves with an unwavering hand. He doesn't know what he's doing. He's good at pretending that he does—he's excellent at it in fact—but in reality, he's lost. Living his life waiting for another chance to feel stable. Hoping for another chance to feel stable.

But, here, in this moment, he was limitless. Here he was alone and yet he was accompanied by every person who had ever lived and everyone who ever will—an infinite wonder of possibilities and certainties. The universe was spread out before his eyes and echoing in his ears.

When his grandmother died, Logan's first exposure to loss, it was something his mother had said to him. Every star is a captured soul. When they leave the earth, they travel to the sky and take up residence there—safe, secure and sure of their purpose, of their identity and of every part of their endless being. Finally at complete peace.

Logan's soul came from the stars and it would return there in time.

There were tears slipping down his face but he didn't acknowledge them. They were expected on nights like this—his one chance for emotional release without the pressure of other's gazes on his back. These moments were his and his alone; that's the way they needed to be.

Logan gazed intently at the sky, identifying the brightest stars and the ones you may miss at first glance, wishing for some distance from the city lights. Wishing for a way to see the stars as bright and clear as they deserved to be seen, yet knowing all things only exist in context. This moment is the only moment like this there was ever going to be in the history of the world. Never before and never again will Logan experience exactly this, so how could he waste it away wishing for something different?

He was hit with another wave of emotion, suddenly aware of how everything he had ever experienced was long past. His childhood was gone. His teenage years were gone. Every 'first' moment was a moment Logan would never have again. The times when he didn't have to worry about the cost of living or his future career or how he was going to survive without someone there to guide him were over.

He was wasting away his life sitting on the roof of his apartment, watching the stars and remaining stagnant.

Sobs wracked Logan's frame for just a second before he managed to once again take a breath. A heavy, shaking breath, but a breath nonetheless. He had to remind himself that this moment was fleeting—all moments were fleeting, that was the nature of existence. The world is impermanent and all he could hope to do was make his life a good one.

No matter how hard it seemed, he had to keep moving forward.

Logan slipped down from the roof, dropping onto the fire escape with a loud clanging noise which would’ve startled anyone that could hear it. Logan was too far away to react though. He climbed in through the window, landing on the living room floor though barely processing his surroundings outside of the fog filling his head.

Distantly, he could feel something warm and soft being draped around his shoulders, gentle but firm hands pulling him to the ground, a steady pressure on his body to ground him, but not overwhelm him. He could hear whispering, could hear the rustling of clothing, the quiet sound of music—one of the classical music pieces Logan had shown Roman that he didn't immediately hate.

As his mind adjusted to the change he could recognise the dim light that filled the room, recognise the cool draft from the window he'd entered through. Recognised Patton, a warm hand on his shoulder, Virgil, a solid weight on Logan's thigh and Roman kneeling above him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Recognised that he was still crying.

All at once, it was too much—the warmth and the pressure and the gaze of his boyfriends fixated on him—and he couldn't breathe. Wanting to sink back into that place where everything was fuzzy and numb but unable to find it with panic gripping every inch of his body. The blanket was torn away, hands left his skin and tears burned behind his eyes as he tried to explain but could only try his best to breathe. It felt like an insurmountable task.

Voices faded back into awareness. He could hear a quiet but steady counting and Logan recognised it immediately, pulling himself back in enough to attempt to follow along. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight—a constant rhythm, something to direct his focus to.

An indeterminate amount of time passed, the air filled with slow counting and heavy breaths and a peaceful sense of love. Logan unclenched his hands. Breathed. Opened his eyes.

The three of them were sat on the floor in a semi-circle in front of him. Patton’s eyes were wet with tears, face partially hidden away in his cat hoodie and arms wrapped around himself. Virgil watched Logan with a careful eye but made no move towards him. Roman was uncharacteristically quiet, gaze directed at the ground and brow furrowed.

Logan continued to breathe.

"What do you need, Lo?" Virgil searched his face intently. "How can we help you here?"

What did he need? He needed security. He needed a direction. He needed to know that what he was doing with his life was exactly what he needed to be doing, that he wasn't wasting away every time he took a moment to just exist. But right now though, he just needed them.

Logan stood, wobbling slightly on his feet, before speaking, "Come."

His voice was hoarse and low and the others obeyed it without question, following him to the couches and taking a seat—Patton and Virgil on the big couch and Roman in the armchair. Logan settled on the floor beneath them.

"Just... be here with me." Logan leaned back against the bottom of the couch, fitting himself in between Patton's legs. "Please."

Virgil hummed. Logan knew this was a concept he was familiar with; occasionally just existing beside another person was all the socialising Virgil was capable of, and Logan was his go-to for that type of company. He had no doubt that the other two had their experience with it though.

Patton reached down to thread his hand through Logan's hair. He had to shift his position so he could reach comfortably, pushing his legs onto Virgil's lap and pulling a cushion under his head.

"Is this okay?" he whispered.

Logan responded by leaning into his touch, and Patton smiled slightly.

"Logan," Roman began, his voice much more subdued than it normally was, "Did I ever tell you about my first camping trip?"

He shook his head and so Roman began to fill up the silence with a story. Nothing too exciting or adventurous, which was atypical of Roman's stories, so he assumed this one was saved specifically for a moment like this.

Logan let his eyes fall closed—his mind occupied by the words filling the air, the hand tracing through his hair and the calm he now feels. Here he was safe. He was the centre of the universe, the main character of his own story. It was grounding. It was exactly what he needed and it was perfect.

"I love you all," he said softly.

He'd interrupted Roman's story, but Logan doubted he really minded. There was a moment of silence before Virgil said, "We love you too, Lo."

Patton leaned down to kiss the top of Logan's head. "Every single bit of you."

"Forever and always," Roman finished and Logan could hear the fondness in his voice.

Logan wrapped himself up in the surety that provided him—in the way his boyfriends' love warmed him from the inside out—and used that to hold him tightly as he drifted off to sleep.