#I mean it's Strive so she feels a little different

[the-punforgiven]

God, ABA feels just like how she used to for me, I'm so happy

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| you're here! Word count: 5317 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig This fic on AO3

— You’re really quiet, little princess. 

König isn’t ashamed of staring at you the whole horse ride. He isn’t ashamed of touching you, his precious treasure – cupping your breasts through that pathetic excuse of a corset, trying to feel of your legs through the billions of skirts, his touches sprawling across your skin like bruises. He is a soldier in all regards – his touches are far from gentle, far from how he should behave with his bride. You feel like a piece of meat being presented for him to devour. Like an unwilling sacrifice for a benevolent god. 

— Should I scream then?

Snarkiness isn't something that the princess should have – but it's the only weapon you have, although you are not sure if you can even use it. Emperor is laughing, and it is supposed to be a good thing – you were trained to receive such reactions, like a little dog standing and doing tricks on command; you were taught to strive for smiles on the faces of others. But König doesn’t allow you to see his smile, but König laughs all the time while describing to his soldiers the things he wants to do to you. It is almost surely, that he doesn’t think you know his language – you wish you didn’t know. 

— I can give you a reason to scream. — You shall not threaten a… — I’m not threatening you, kleine Katzen. With a good time, maybe. — What are you referring to? — That I would love nothing more but to rip your skirt off and show your cunt a royal treatment, princess.

Emperor has a foul mouth, wandering eyes, and grabby hands – he behaves like a drunk man in a tavern, even though you have never once been in a tavern, and the only drunk men you barely saw were the castle guards on various celebrations. He doesn’t act like a glorious king from the romance novels – and you don’t think that you ever read a novel about a king or an emperor, not about princes and glorious knights. People with this much power don’t deserve love, they already have everything they have – so why would he kidnap you? 

You turn away from him, the obscenity of his mouth makes your whole face burn. You are trying to hide yourself in your hands, you want to grasp something like a little fan or a handkerchief – everything to sustain your dignity. You are wearing the princess’s name and you have to behave like her – even if you don’t think that she would care about how you are behaving yourself. The dread of being exposed lingers in your chest, the only thing that doesn’t allow you to scream and launch on him like a wild cat. Rules and modesty tie you down stronger than any corset could. 

Like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s trap – you steal looks at the nature around you, excited and terrified to see it for the first time – not the perfect greenery of the castle garden, but an untamed nature. You saw the city for the first time – your capital, not burned and agonized under the empire’s boot, but eerie quiet. The city doesn’t know your face, the princess was hidden, kept in the tower as a means to escape the burden of marriage proposals and possible wars for the sake of securing her beauty. Nobody here knows you for your face, and for them, it’s just the empire’s knights, a power from a country too foreign to be worried about, and a random kidnapped girl in a dissarranged dress and tears streaming down her face. 

A hand on your waist secured you in place. No matter how much you squirm and cry, try to forget all the filthy nonsense he is whispering in your ear, you are forced to listen – and you want to cry every time his face hovers over yours. His hands are touching you, too much for comfort, your are still wrapped in his cape, but it’s a very small mercy for your torn dress and fragile body. 

The road is long and short at the same time. Your kingdom was bordering one of Northern Empire territories, but it’s days away – you never once thought that having the Empire right on your border would be such a nuisance, that it would allow them to simply take whatever they want from your tiny country – the rules of politics are never applying to those in power and, unfortunately, you found out the worst way possible. The road is treacherous, with people surrounding you, with soldiers going through the beheaded country like it’s nothing. You were biting your lips the entire first day of the ride, trying not to cry – you do not want to give him the pleasure of seeing your distress, but you can’t help but sob every time he exits the cabin to yell at his soldiers or laugh at something. 

You are not tied up, they trust you too much – they all know you would not be able to run, seeing just a helpless princess, a little war trophy of their emperor. The war trophy without the war, just a doll for him to enjoy. You steal a few glances at him – his spread legs that make you wonder how the poor horse even can handle him riding it, his mighty body, and his muscular arms. He could wrestle a dragon, you think – he could lift up the whole carriage and bring you back to the capital like this. He is a cocky bastard, not even having his sword in his hand whenever you move too much – too confident that this weak princess would not be able to resist him. You don’t want to fall from the horse and so you freeze in your tracks, even when they hit a small pause on the journey.

You can’t, of course – your hands are trained to hold clothes, to braid hair and, sometimes, fetch the water buckets – but you are mostly proficient in holding books, turning pages and embroidering. You can make tea, you can support the conversation, you can faint dramatically whenever the right opportunity occurs, but the ride has been happening for a few hours already, and you fainted three times – for specific reasons, of course, but fainting now would surely be a bit too much. 

— Is little princess too tired to hold herself straight? 

König chuckles in your ear, hands pushing you against his body. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather continue your ride until you’re completely exhausted – books were never talking about how hard it is to ride a horse, that your rear would feel numb after the first hour, and your head would be bouncing on every little bump on the road. You never thought that the roads of your kingdom were so terribly maintained – and never thought it would be such a problem. 

You grit your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of confirming just how weak you are – but he stops his horse once you are not responding, a hand slides under your hips to help you get out from the damned animal. You swear to god that you will never ride this foul creature again – but the god, as always, stays silent. 

— What is it? 

— Princess isn’t used to long detours. We’d have to stop before dawn if we want to keep this a secret for now. — Could travel for a few more hours before it’s too bright.

His second-in-command is a weird man, no doubt. Tall, broad, wearing armor with tiger prints all over the metal – although you never saw a tiger in real life, only on various illustrations of the books you were reading for the Princess. He is painfully informal in a way that makes you wonder how he can keep his head on his shoulders – surely, if he’d talk this way to a king, he wouldn’t be such a profound member of the army. König only shakes his head, pointing at you as the reason to stop – as you begged him to get off this bloody thing. — I need my princess with all innards intact. Especially the soft ones.

Emperor laughs, cupping your ass through the skirts. He somehow managed to grope your softness without breaking the corsage, and you’d feel thankful for him, but the dress was ruined anyway – all the hard work of redoing it over and over, every time you had to manage to squish the princess inside of the harsh corset and billion skirts, every little detail you were thinking through together…it feels somehow suitable, to wear a destroyed dress. Fake princess deserves fake luxury, but even the modesty he allows you to have with his coat wrapped around you feels forced.

Stopping right now, when you feel numb and your legs are getting weak and squishy like that weird transparent foreign delicacy, is very considerate of him. So much so you don’t even want to acknowledge it, hoping he’d just continue to go forward until all the traces of your past are gone. You’re too tired to consider anything from escaping to even opening your eyes. Suddenly, being on a horse of this size doesn't sound like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, you realize that the horses are tall. 

— What’s wrong, princess? 

— I’m not going down.

You are sitting, frozen on top of his horse. One of your hands is keeping his coat wrapped securely around your body while the other squeezes the reins, hoping not to fall miserably to the ground. You hear soldiers laugh – the embarrassment spreads around your cheeks when you understand that a true princess would have horse riding lessons. You two never did – it would give you too much freedom, and your castle would never accommodate to large grounds of free roaming to keep a princess and her loyal maiden entertained. You can only hope they won’t think that the absence of your riding lessons would be too suspicious – and you also hope that he would just allow you to never jump down to the ground that feels horrifyingly far from you. 

— Do you wish to run with my horse? 

— Yes, your Highness. — Run, then. I’ll be waiting, little princess.

There is a laugh in his voice – you squeeze the reins and try to holster them, maybe kick the foul creature to the side so it would take the hint and start running in the direction of the nearest forest. Maybe you would get lucky, and the horse would drop you in front of the house of a kind forest witch that would take you as her student – you can cook, and you can read, so, naturally, any witch would be happy to have you as a disciple. Maybe you will get even more lucky, and the horse will kick you in the head after dropping you, finishing your misery in a tragic road accident. Not a honorable death, but a quick and interesting one. The horse remains frozen in place – just like you. König gently caresses its face, giving it something to eat – an apple, perhaps, a nice and tasty fruit, or sugar cubes, the delicacy that the princess would often indulge in but never gave you, or something of a…ah, this is it – you are starting to get jealous of his horse. Mayhaps, death is the only choice for you now. 

— I will run. 

— Of course you will. 

— Sir, should we prepare the archers? 

— Don’t know it yet. Maybe the princess escape would be too swift for them. 

You feel your whole face burn – they laugh, they all laugh, looking at you like a piece of meat, a funny joke between them. You don’t want to fall from the horse, and you don’t want to stand here either – but every time you look down at the ground that is so, so far away, you can only shake in your seat. You feel like crying once again – and this is what brings you to the edge. With a deep sigh and shaking hands, you jump down swiftly, your eyes closed and your legs getting tangled in the various skirts, dragging you down. ***

The emperor had an understanding of what he was getting into when he kidnapped a princess. Princesses, pretty and young ones especially, are mysterious creatures that should be carefully studied by the imperial scientist in order to determine how in hell they can even exist without killing themselves on something stupid three times per day. This one, however, was a crowned ruler of weird girls – sometimes throughout the journey, he was thinking about returning her to the king and choosing another one. Then he remembered that he beheaded the king – and so, the bloody dot was sealed in the history of relationships between Northern Empire and this tiny shithole in the middle of nowhere. 

Besides, the princess was too adorable to really throw her out. She is smart – for someone like her, anyway; her snarkiness combined with the primal fear of him and his men made him feel strong, more significant than before. It’s funny, in a way – König had defeated countless great warriors and spent his life turning the tiny Empire into the most powerful nation on the blonde, and yet, he never once felt this achieved as when he held the princess in his arms. The emperor never thought of marriage as a necessity, his whole magic endeavors securing that he would never have to worry about leaving an heir or having someone else to rule – but the loneliness can hit you like a royal stallion bred for the purpose of battery ramming into castle doors, and you can find yourself yearning for something that you never thought you’d want. Speaking of royal horses…

The princess is cute, the princess is dumb, and the princess is the most weird and perfect creature in the whole wide world. Makes him wonder just what was you doing in your little castle with your little servants, running around like ants under your dainty heel. You are snarky to him when you know that he is too busy to strike you and too tired to care about his opinion – he likes that about you, little yawns and feeble attempts to appear strong in front of him. He doesn’t, however, like the way you are frozen on top of his horse. He needs his wife helpless, yes, dependant on him in everything – and he also needs her to ask for help when needed, not…well, not jumping from the height of a royal horse in that stupid dress of yours. 

God, hive him strength. 

König, the ruler of the Northern Empire, biggest royal regime on the globe, thought that he overcame his anxiety when he was young, so long ago, he forgot how fast his heart can beat when the situation is going out of his control. He remembers this dreadful feeling now when that stupid brain of yours has decided that jumping from a horse is a good idea. He is fast, swift enough to catch you before you fall to the ground, and he squeezes your hips enough to hear the crack of that stupid dress construction. 

He has to stop himself from yelling. From putting you in your place and slapping you across that perfect face of yours – never the one to beat women, König feels like spanking the shit out of you now. His eyes are flashing with anxiety, and he grabs your shoulders, putting you in front of him – you can’t see his face, covered by his mask, and it’s a small grace for someone like you. He is scary when angry, nostrils flashing with rage when he thinks that you’d rather break your neck than ask him for help. 

— Made others set the camp for tonight. 

Horangi is as perfect as a knight can be – his friend, his partner in crime, one of the only ones who still can survive his temper and not be intimidated by it. He can see the worry in his eyes when König is pushing the little princess down to his hold, draping the various skirts across his hands to rip them away – and he quickly yells at the other soldiers who produced the operation, making them run in various directions to collect wood, stones and set up the tents for tonight. They have to move away from the popular roads, even though nobody in this kingdom would be strong enough to hurt them anyways – but this operation should be a secret, at least relatively, until the princess is secured as his empress, and her body is sprawled across his sheets, withering from pleasure and…

Ah, Scheisse. König cannot stay mad at her when the mere thought of her smile makes his dick twitch in his pants. He survived through horribly throbbing erection against the metal plates of his armor for the whole ride, the small mercy of not having her soft body press against him directly. It didn’t stop him from wanting more, from whispering filthy things, completely undeserving of your virtue. You are bringing him down to his knees – even an emperor is just a man when a pretty girl looks at him, and even at is age, he could feel like a young lover searching for his bride’s hand. 

Oh, but König would love something more than just your hand. 

He should be thankful to his knights for how quickly they made a tent for him to secure the dignity of the first moment between a man and his sweetheart. He usually does everything himself, not wanting to make a lady in waiting out of his knights, but he enjoys their help now – he surely won’t be able to prepare for sleep with his wild cat of a bride in his hands. You are unusually active for a princess, trying to get out of his hands, kicking him with your adorable legs, still wrapped in a ruined skirt. Perhaps you were so mad at him for destroying your dress – he gets it, knowing how sensitive ladies are about this. He’d buy you a new one right away, but, for your stupidity, you deserve to wear only his coat until they are inside the borders of the Empire. 

— Did you hit your head before I got you, princess? What were you thinking? — You told me to run. I did, Your Royal Highness. 

He pinches his nose through the mask, not believing just how arrogant you sound – he wants to push you down, to open that dumb skirt of yours and give your precious ass a few spanks before setting you down, making you sit on the ruined muscle until you’d learn your lesson. The king was definitely not punishing you enough if you still think that you can talk to your betters (and elders) like this. 

— I dared you to run. Thinking you’d accept the consequences with the dignity of a royal lady. 

— Why don’t you kill me then? For belittling your dignity. 

You look too snarky for his liking – he can see how terrified you are, little shakes of your hands and tears in your eyes. You are provoking him, picking the dragon with a stick so he’d burn you to a crisp. König knows that the customs of your kingdom value a good death over everything and just how much you’d love to fall into the grasp of a common tragedy. He also knows that he will not bury his bride before they are even married. 

It’s only natural that the emperor grasps the front of your dress, the edges of the corset you tried to tie down to save some of your dignity. The fabric rips with ridiculous ease, all the gold spent on making it runs with the speed of a thread being torn. Suddenly, your front is exposed, even the underwear is not enough to conceal your privacy. König indulges in the view of your open skin, glossy from sweat and so, so delicious in dim magical light erupting from an artificial candle. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game, that not touching you now would be his greatest accomplishment and greatest torture at the same time – your body meant to be touched, you look like a doll and like a statue, like the greatest treasure and the most desirable slut he ever laid his eyes on. 

The emperor is a man in the end – a war dog, closer to death than to the start of his life, a perfect incarnation of a horrible match to a young princess like you. Too wrathful, too arrogant, with more chips on his shoulders than the hair on your head, and yet, he holds you closely, putting you out of the torture device you are calling a dress. 

You breathe for the first time in forever, and your mouth is shaking from unspoken tears and spoken pleas. He holds himself back from cupping your face in his hands and crushing your lips in a kiss, not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because you deserve better than to be fucked on the ground of his tent without proper preparation and some relaxing oils for your body. One kiss would never be enough for him, and he hadn’t touched a woman in far too long to handle himself properly now. 

You look like you need to be ravaged – the greatest temptation König ever experienced. 

— I can do so much to you, little princess. More than you could ever imagine. 

— i’m not…n…not little. Your Highness. 

— You are, compared to me. Should be scared, not snarky. 

— I’m not snarky. 

Just for this, he loses control – your voice, shaking with tears but never losing that arrogant edge, that delicious drawl that cannot be described as something that belongs to a princess, makes him lose all of the composure he had. König had prepared himself for a lady who would fall in his arms and cry the whole night long, he prepared himself for a fierce fighter that would try to kill him immediately – but you are soft and vengeful at the same time, too weak to resist him, but not too helpless to not run his mouth. You speak before you think, and it’s an adorable quality for a princess and horrible – for an empress. good thing you would be his regent, a pretty thing like you should never be annoyed with politics and mingling. König pushes you across his lap, his free hand is tearing through various skirts, and what is left from that awful strick construction you tried to pass as a skirt support. He never understood why anyone would live through this torture – you’d look way nicer in his shirt and nothing more. Or, even better, nothing at all, chained to a bed in his bedroom until he’d think that you are tamed enough to be shown in public. 

You yelp in surprise, precious dumb thing. Just like a princess, you are not accustomed to the consequences of your own actions – you think that you can just run your mouth or do dumb things without his wrath falling upon you…and, little princess, you’re in for quite a shock. Your emperor doesn’t have enough patience for this, even though he did want you as his wife and knew what chaos it could bring. He just never thought that he’d have so much pleasure in looking at your adorable bottoms, all modest and long. Your underpants are adorably white, not stained from multiple washings, crisp and new – he feels the fabric with his fingers and almost thinks to not rip them away, just to appreciate the fine silks that went into constructing it. 

His mercy is cut short by that sweet whimper of yours. You plead with him not to touch you – like you have a saying on this. König defiled the death itself, so why would he even consider such silly things as chastity before marriage? He certainly had enough women in his bed to forbid him from ever going to heaven, and robbing you of your innocence would be a small crime against all the countless sins he already committed. 

But, he doesn’t want you to hate him – and you would, certainly, not in the fiery and passionate way he might enjoy, but a quiet, broken anger. He doesn’t want to turn this fragile thing into the broken shell of the betrothed princess, even if you need to be taught a harsh lesson – and you deserve much better than having your cunt destroyed on the harsh floor of his tent. 

— You’re lucky, little princess. 

He laughs, taking down your underpants – a harsh hand on your bottom, rough fingers that almost burn you without a glove to conceal his touches. You whimper when he lashes on the sensitive skin, stroking sensitive skin. If you knew how hard you make him, you’d run away with his horse already. 

— How am I lucky? You…you killed the king, you destroyed my country, you…

— I killed your father, yes, but I left you alive. 

— To make a show for your soldiers, I assume.. 

— If I wanted to leave you to waste, I would allow them to bounce you on their dicks a while ago. 

— How d…

— You’re lucky because you’re mine, little princess. Not going to share you with anyone. But…

— But? 

Your voice has finally gone down. he can almost taste the dread in your tone. König was burning down villages, destroyed his enemies with nothing more but a rusty sword and hatred in his heart – but he truly feels like a monster when he slaps your ass for the first time and sees your tear-filled eyes staring at him. God, he never was faithful, but hurting you feels like defiling an angel. 

And he loves every second of it. 

— You need to learn a lesson of respect, little princess.

It’s a small grace that he doesn’t make you count his slaps – he simply pushes you down, makes sure that your face is lying on his cloak, just for something soft to rely on, and gives you enough slapping to make the rest of horseriding as painful as possible. Maybe, it would teach you a lesson that if you need help, you’d have to ask him, to beg him for this – and not try to hurt yourself by doing it on your own. You’re awfully independent and resilient for the princess. 

It took him at least five strong, harsh lashes of his hand on your rear to make you cry as loud as he wanted you to. He cups your face in his palm, forcing you up his lap – and smothered your lips with a kiss. König knows he is overstepping; he wouldn’t be able to let go of you after devouring your lips like that, but he doesn’t care, at least for now. He wants to be your everything, to push every thought out of your head and fill it with himself. 

He adores the thought of being your first kiss, your first everything – you’re so inexperienced, so fragile in his hold. Never once thinking of himself as an appreciator of all the thighs dainty and artsy, he wants to worship that pout, your closed eyes, and little prayers of mercy you whisper between each kiss. Your body feels too enticing in his hands, a treasure he needs to keep all to himself. It’s a miracle he didn’t push your underwear down and took you all the way – as much as he wanted to touch you. 

König smiled when you cried into the kiss, trembling in his hold like a caged animal. Never once he thought he’d have this much fun without taking some plumpy woman on his dick, but you are full of surprises. Another five smacks on your ass left you with a bruised bottom and tear-strained, wet face. The look of misery in your eyes made him cackle – god, you were adorable. Continue like this, and he’d spend the rest of his life with you on his lap. 

— We will sleep now. The Empire borders are still days away, and you don’t look like you could handle the road right now. 

You pout, pushing yourself off his lap. Even the hard floor of the tent was better, the cold fabric made your butt sting a bit less. You still couldn’t sit straight, still miserable, with a burning feeling in the depths of your tummy – hate, perhaps, that made your hands shake and your thighs feel a bit too wet and warm for your liking. There is a knot in your lower stomach that makes you feel weird, anxious, that makes you squeeze your legs shut as you push through the pain and get your underpants on again. The soft silks of the princess’s undergarments made you feel a bit better. 

— I’d love nothing more but to run away while we’re still at my home, Butcher.

He smiles under his hood, pushing his hand on your backside. You freeze as he rolls you over, making you fit perfectly against his broad chest. He is a horrible, disgusting human being, clingy and warm around you – his bear-like hold is too strong on your limbs, making you freeze completely. 

— I’m sure you are, Liebling. And I would love to catch you and spank your rear again. 

— I will…you won’t catch me. 

— Someone will. I’ll pay handsomely to any knight or wandering hunter to bring my wife back to me. 

— I’m not y…your wife. 

— Yet. 

You turn away from him – try to, at least. He squeezes you against his chest makes you calm down in his hold like a wild cat he picked up on the side of the road. You don’t want to admit it, but he is warm, cozy, and even the harsh fabric he threw on the ground to make you a bed feels nice compared to the castle floors where you spend so much time. You still squirm, trying to find a good position to lay next to him without feeling like a toy in the hands of a grabby kid. König feels your wounded, perfect ass grinding against him – out of most of his armor, he can’t contain his erection now. Oh, how the strong emperor wished he’d have 

— Stop moving, princess. Unless you want to consummate our marriage early. 

— I’m not…I’m not moving. 

— You are squirming. Is the ground not to your liking?

— I must prefer sleeping in a grave with my papa. — Can’t promise you this…but isn’t sleeping with the Death himself would be enough? — You’re not death, your highness. A blight, maybe. Or a plague. — You’re making me blush, little princess. There is a smile in his voice. You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t say anything. Too many nights sleeping by the princess’s bedspot, always being the first one to greet her at sunrise and the last one to tell her stories before going to sleep. Like a loyal dog on the wooden floor, with a pillow under your cheek for comfort – all of her other handmaidens, precious ladies from good families, had their own quarters and rooms. 

You had a cot by her bed and her endless affection. 

Compared to this, sleeping on the floor of a rich tent with an emperor by your side isn’t as bad. You have to remind yourself that you are sleeping with a murdered, pillager, kidnapper and colonialist – you shouldn’t feel warm by his side. But, he hugs you like a lover. But, he buries his masked face in your hair and inhales your scent – sweet fragrances mixed with the blood and sweat of a long journey. 

You fall asleep in his arms before you can think of something smart to say. 

König doesn’t fall asleep until hour later – too busy looking at your precious form, wrapped so perfectly in his arms. 

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Could you do 57, 65, and 69 for Neteyam x Metkayina reader who assists tsireya and aonung in teaching the sullys but while doing so she wants to also learn their ways :) Oh! And how about Reader making traditional courting jewelry for Neteyam (after asking for help from Jake and Neytiri duhh)

#57: Validation/Affirmation/Identity, #65: Promise/Pinky Swear, #69: You Remembered

Pairing: Neteyam/Metkayina!Fem!Reader

Warnings: identity crisis, fluff, blood, time skips, near-death experience, young love

Taglist: @neteyamsl0ver @mooniequeen

A/N: I do apologize if I don't fulfill the full request since I had a similar prompt for Lo'ak and I didn't want the brothers to have similar stories. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

While Lo'ak, Kiri, and Tuk adapted and thrived in Awa'atlu, Neteyam wasn't as successful. 

As the firstborn and brought up as the once-future olo'eyktan, Neteyam was raised off of Omatikaya culture and nothing else. He was raised to be a warrior and a leader, taught by the many other leaders of his clan. Both his parents and his grandmother taught him everything they knew and more. He loved it and was passionate about his people's lifestyle, so he struggled to learn anything else, much like his mother.

Both Neytiri and her oldest felt so out of place among the Metkayina, always homesick and mourning their former lives, now changed forever. Now that Tarsem replaced Jaked as the Omatikaya's chief, Neytiri would no longer be tsahik after Mo'at and Neteyam would never become olo'eyktan. Everything he was taught, all that hard work and striving for perfection... no longer mattered. 

Neteyam felt as though he didn't belong among the reef people, but his siblings clearly weren't in the same boat. Tsireya was an excellent teacher and Lo'ak clung to every word she said. It also didn't hurt how close he had gotten with the chief's daughter to the point where he was always given one-on-one lessons with her. Once Ao'nung and Lo'ak got over their differences, they actually became good friends and Rotxo was never far behind. 

Neteyam's sisters also thrived in Awa'atlu and found friends in Rotxo, Ao'nung, and Tsireya. To none of the Sullys' surprise, Kiri was a natural swimmer and deep-diver who barely struggled with holding her breath. And while Tuk was young and inexperienced, she was still young enough to relearn how to survive and adapt to this new lifestyle. By the time she's Neteyam's age, she'll be a far more skilled Metkayina than her older brother could ever hope to be.

It was such an uncommon feeling-- for Neteyam to be the odd one out. He had always fit in with the people around him, while his siblings... not so much, but he never loved them less for it and he always tried to understand their emotions. Now, finally, he fully understood how they felt to be the outsider. 

Those thoughts always vanish, however, whenever he is in your presence. 

Adamant on teaching the Sully children alongside Tsireya, you had grown fond of Neteyam almost immediately. At first, you spent one-on-one time to help him catch up with his siblings' progress. As his teacher, Neteyam found that he was able to focus and absorb the information whenever it was just you and him. He learned how to hold his breath underwater, ride an ilu, the sign language, the tulkun songs, and it was all because of you, his savior. 

As your friendship bloomed, Neteyam opened up more about his clan and their way of life, which always piqued your interest. By the time he came to terms with his feelings for you, he also began to share his inner thoughts, how he initially felt like an outsider among the Metkayina and a little envious of his siblings since they managed to adapt so quickly. 

"That is ridiculous," you scoff good-naturedly as you sit beside him on the beach one night, "You will always be the son of Toruk Makto, but you are also one of us now. There's no shame in missing what you lost back home. Your friends, your status, and the life you loved, but that doesn't mean you can't love the new life you're starting here. There's no harm in change. Take the ocean for example."

He watches as you dip your hand into the wet sand, letting the shallow water spill into the crevice of your palm. The glowing algae once swimming in the water now swirled in your hand in a way Neteyam could only imagine pixie dust would look like based on his father's stories from Earth. 

You lift your hand up and watch as the glowing water falls through the cracks of your fingers, shimmering as it splashes back down into the ocean, "It's always changing and it never stays in one place. When the tide takes you out, you're not supposed to fight it. You have to swim alongside it or you will drift away. Do not fight change, Neteyam. Let it happen. Your brother mentioned a saying from the Sky People and I think perfectly encapsulates what I am trying to say. 'Go with the flow.'"

You weren't expecting the laugh that jostles from Neteyam's chest, but you welcomed it all the same, smiling victoriously at getting him to laugh. It was a deep sound in his throat, and he looked so free and relaxed, the sight made your stomach warm. Once he recovers, he smiles back at you, loosely and genuinely.

"Thank you, Y/n."

You nod, jutting your chin out with confidence, "Just wait. You'll be a warrior among us sooner than later, just as you are with the Omatikaya. I am sure of it."

"Pinky swear?"

Your brow ridge furrows, tilting your head in confusion, "What?"

"Oh, right," Neteyam breathes a small laugh as a thought dawns on him, "It's a human thing. Alien custom. You link your smallest fingers together to form a sacred vow-- a promise, and after that, you can't break it. It works for people with extra fingers, like Lo'ak and Kiri. Our father taught us."

He clenches one hand into a fist except for the last finger, his smallest. You stare oddly at his hand before staring down at your own, mimicking the same movement and pointing only with your smallest finger, "What happens if you break the promise?"

"... You know, I don't actually know," Neteyam sheepishly admits, bowing his head to hide the embarrassment on his face, "My father can be timid sometimes so I just never bothered to find out."

You hum but don't question it further, allowing Neteyam to lock your small fingers together. Despite the weird custom, it made your face warm to feel the heat of his body so close to yours, your fingers linked together to seal a sacred vow. 

~~~~~~~~~

As this unspoken thing progressed between you and Neteyam, the Sky People were closing in on the Sullys' location. Eventually, war came to the reef and you and the other reef children got caught up in it after following Lo'ak and his siblings to save Payakan. Things took a turn for the worse and suddenly you find yourself kneeling on a slippery rock surface before Neteyam, desperately trying to help Lo'ak as you both press your hands into the older boy's chest to stop the bleeding. The sight haunted you as Neteyam's eyes wildly looked around, appearing unable to focus on just one person as he struggled to breathe, his body going into shock. He was shivering from head to toe but not quite cold, gasping for breath even though he wasn't drowning. Even as tears blurred your vision, you didn't dare draw your hands away, stomping down the fear of losing Neteyam and instead replacing that fear with determination to save him. 

You, Lo'ak, and the human known as Spider worked as a team, following Toruk Makto's instructions and doing whatever Tsireya told you to do with her knowledge of healing. By the time Neytiri had managed to find her family in the chaos of the battlefield, the bleeding had begun to slow. Even though you had saved Neteyam a little more time, you weren't out of the woods yet. Neteyam needed real healing from Ronal and at the same time, Kiri and Tuk needed rescuing from the ship of metal the Sky People sailed on. Both Sully parents were conflicted about what they should do until you and Tsireya took control of the situation. Together, you two convinced Jake and Neytiri to go rescue their daughters while you swore to take the unconscious Neteyam back to the village. They expressed their gratitude before taking off, and then Lo'ak and Spider helped you and Tsireya get Neteyam onto an ilu. You girls took Neteyam to Ronal while the boys stayed behind, not wanting to go back until they knew Kiri and Tuk had been safely rescued. 

The rest of the Sullys returned to Awa'atlu hours later, tired but mostly unharmed and desperate to see their son and brother. To their shared relief, you and Tsireya had brought Neteyam to the tsahik just in time, and Ronal held Neytiri after the crying mother was reassured that her son would live.

It was hard for you to visit Neteyam as time went on. He had woken up a week after the Sky People were defeated, but he was constantly surrounded by his family so you didn't think your presence was needed. You didn't want to crowd him any more than he already was, constantly looked after by his loved ones while he healed. It was torture for you, knowing that he was safe but still haunted by the memory of his blood on your hands. You hadn't seen him in so long and you needed to be sure he was whole and on the way to recovery. You needed to see him with your own two eyes and so finally, you gained the courage to approach Toruk Makto and his mate.

After everything you have done for Neteyam and their family, Jake and Neytiri were more than happy to make sure you had some time alone with Neteyam to talk and catch up. They took their other children away for the afternoon and flashed you small smiles of encouragement, silently offering some good luck. 

Neteyam looked up from his cot upon hearing the sound of someone entering his family's kelku, and seemed genuinely surprised by who stood in the doorway, "Y/n?"

You faintly smile, his voice saying your name sounded like a soft lullaby you haven't heard in so long. You move over to the cot and kneel before him, scanning his face. Apart from the bandages wrapped around his chest, he looked like himself, "You look better."

You immediately flush with embarrassment when those words leave your lips and you instantly backtrack, "I mean-- I just-- I'm glad that you are on the mend."

Instead of appearing offended, Neteyam's forehead wrinkles as he peers up at you with concern in his voice, "Where have you been? I was worried."

Both happiness and shame battle in your gut, touched that he was worried about you but guilty for not seeing him sooner to ease both of your pain. You lower your voice to a whisper, bringing your hand to brush a braid out of his face, "I'm sorry. I didn't think you needed someone else at your bedside. You have so many people who love you and want to see you get better, so I wanted to give you some air to breathe. I'm sorry. I won't do that again unless you ask me."

He catches the hand you used to push aside his braid and takes your fingers in his before you can pull away, bringing your hand to rest on the side of his face. He leans into your palm, murmuring against your skin, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," you exhale shakily, tears beginning to brim in your eyes, but they were out of joy and relief, "I... I'm so happy you're awake. I have something for you."

You don't pull your hand away, wanting to keep touching Neteyam's face, his skin warm and alive beneath yours. You use your free hand to grab the item you placed on the floor beside you and hold it up for the forest boy to see. Neteyam tilts his head up to take a look and his eyes widen in shock. 

Beads carved from trees, not shells, the fiber stripped from plants on land, not from the seaweed floating underwater. All of it was woven into an intricately made armband that was clearly inspired by Omatikaya fashion. 

You place the band in Neteyam's free hand, his eyes still wide as his thumb traced over the pattern. He wets his bottom lip and blinks, still shocked while trying to form words, "What...?"

"I hope it's to your liking," you explain even as the heat rises to your face, "Your mother and father helped me make it."

Whatever you said must have been the right answer as a smile suddenly blooms on Neteyam's mouth, "It reminds me of my clan. Of home."

He could only describe whatever he was feeling in his chest as warmth and love, taking over whatever soreness he was still feeling from his wound. He looks away from the armband and peers up at you with a wordless question in his eyes. Warmth spreads in his stomach when you understand his silent question and you assist him in putting on the armband without another word. It fit perfectly on him, and it was even better knowing that you made it. 

"Thank you, ma'tìyawn. This means so much to me," his head and ears began to lower in shame, "I'm sorry I didn't make anything for you."

"It's alright," you whisper gently, swallowing a small cry that threatens to escape as you shakily exhale, "I... I would rather have you alive than a piece of jewelry."

He immediately moves to comfort you, staying on his back knowing that his mother would scold him but taking your hand in his once again and placing a kiss in the center of your palm, "Once I'm healed, I would like to ask your family for their permission to court you officially. I want to make proper jewelry for you, one that perfectly resembles your own clan."

A darker shade of blue crept over your face but you were too happy to notice, bashful yet relieved that your feelings were reciprocated, "Once you are healed, you can do so."

"And... And I want to take you back to the forests where I grew up," he admits quietly, "I want to introduce you to the Omatikaya, all my friends and family back home. I don't think we would be able to stay there because of the war, but I want to bring you for a visit."

You beam with wonder and excitement, stomach flipping at the thought of future plans being made with your young lover, "I would love to go meet your clan. We will go when there is time."

Then, you lift a hand up to him, pointing out the last finger on your hand as you confidently declare, "Pinky promise."

His expression melts into a sweet, fond smile, carefully lifting his hand up and linking your smallest fingers together, "You remembered..."

~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

[itoshiexx]

mi vida

synopsis: sae never thought someone could become his life, but that changed when you came.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 749 | warnings: established relationship, fluff

notes: welcome back to "things i wrote on a whim when my boss wasn't at the office"!! apparently i write a lot better in english without much planning, so yeah. this idea came to me based on a personal experience, since i call my boyfriend "minha vida" (which is the same for "mi vida"/"my life" in portuguese) and i never really thought i could consider someone to be my life before him.

i really really hope you like it, and i wanna thank you all so much for all the love you've given to Unworthy (but chosen), every note and follower made me super happy! <3

and also, i'm so sorry if my description of the spanish culture is not accurate and for any english mistakes!

during his time in spain, sae learned a lot of things. mainly, how to improve his soccer career even more, striving to become the best in the world after already being the best in his country. 

he was a genius, of course, so it wasn’t really hard to learn the language or get acquainted with the city of madrid, which was a lot warmer than japan — in many ways. however, it was really fucking hard to get used to the customs of the spanish people and its culture, considering it was so different from the japanese. they were extremely welcome, and sae was anything but. if anything, he was even more closed than typical japanese people. 

in spain, people were always greeting each other with a kiss on each cheek, showing off bright smiles and making conversation with strangers. friends talked loudly among each other, giving hugs and always touching somehow. the concept of personal space? totally nonexistent. in short, it was weird. 

but nothing was weirder than couples. 

the concept of love was already foreign to sae. he didn’t understand how a feeling could envelop one so much and make it forget about the rest of the world. he didn’t know how such an abstract thing, with no sense of logic whatsoever, could be so overwhelming to the point of taking one’s life completely, until all you could see, think and feel was your significant other.

most of all, he couldn’t fathom how someone could become your life. 

“te amo, mi vida,” was what he used to hear an old couple say to each other. they were the owners of sae’s favorite restaurant, a small little place in the suburbs of Madrid, and always treated him with a kindness he didn’t deemed himself worthy of. 

at first, he wasn’t able to comprehend what the sentence meant. he could barely write it on google translate to try to get its meaning, and he didn’t really care enough. though, as the time went by and sae became more fond of the couple, he eventually gathered the courage to ask the woman about it. and he was very surprised to hear the answer. 

“it means ‘i love you, my life’,” she said, smiling from ear to ear and handing a glass of salted kombucha tea to sae. it was one of the reasons he adored the place so much — it was the only restaurant he found that served his favorite drink. 

the older itoshi could only stare, dumbfounded, and mumble, “…why?”

the woman laughed at the boy’s naiveté. “why, you ask? because that’s what he is to me.” 

sae only stared in silence, too stunned to speak.

“i… i don’t understand,” he confessed. it sounded silly, and kind of pathetic, but at that moment he didn’t really care. the woman gave another smile, this time an understanding countenance, and placed her wrinkly hand on his shoulder. 

“you will understand one day, boy. and when your person comes, make sure to bring them here, right? i’d like to meet them!” 

the soccer player wanted to tell her that it would never happen. that the itoshi sae had no time for foolish things like love, and he most certainly would never love someone so much to the point of seeing them as his life. his life was soccer, and his goal was to become the best in the world. 

there was nothing else. 

oh, how he bit his tongue. 

it was at the age of twenty two when he entered the restaurant once again, and this time, not alone. you were walking by his side, with your hand intertwined in his, chatting excitedly while he just listened. a small smile was on his face, and his features were impossibly soft, in a way they only got around you. 

you, who were light in the darkness, who were comfort after a long day of practice, who was the one he loved most. you, who was the definition of home in every sense of the word. the only one that could make his heart swell so much it made it hard to breathe. 

he pulled your chair for you to sit like a true gentleman, and sat right next to you, always in need to touch you somehow. a hand was placed on your thigh while the other one opened the menu. and he turned to you, voice gentle like you could break:

“so, what would you like, mi vida?”

you, who was his life.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[moody-alcoholic]

Epilogue

It's over so here is my opportunity for a quick TED talk.

I do have idea's for some one shots in the future, so the fic won't be 'finished' but the main story is. I am also very much open to suggestions.

For now though this is the end for this fic. I want to say thank you to everyone who loved the story and followed it. To all the people who binge read it in one night. You have no idea how much it means to me.

I want to give a special thank you to @void-my-warranty for inspiring me through her work to bite the bullet and write a smut fic. If I was to dedicate this work to anyone it would be her. Thank you <3

I will write more Ghoap x reader in the future but for now I’m shifting my focus to my other work and the upcoming Johnny x Simon fic I have been working on. I always strive to improve with every work I put out there, so if you like this check out my other works they’re all a little different.

If you want more Ghoap stuff I will leave some recommendations here, there are so many talented authors out there who deserve way more love then me so go forth and enjoy!

Recommendations. A Dichotomy of Thought - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Harmless Fun - REMEMBERWREN Ghoap x reader Sundowning - losersimonriley Simon x Johnny Service Dog Johnny - void-my-warranty Ghost/Fem Reader/Soap ——————————

Summary: . Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. CW: Mentions of suicide, grieving, mentions of death.

Previous parts - masterlist - Back to the start

Enjoy <3

6 months later

You’re surprised to see Johnny is waiting for you as you exit the hospital after your shift. You throw yourself in his arms.

“I thought you weren't back till Friday?” You say kissing him.

“Price got us on an earlier flight, thought I would come and surprise you.” He says wrapping his arm round your waist.

“Where’s Simon?” You ask looking around.

“Debrief, boring admin work, he’ll be back later.” Johnny says as you walk with him.

“That mean we’ve got the flat to ourselves?” You nudge him as he leads you to the car. He chuckles.

“How’s civilian life treating you?” He asks as you both get in. You quit the military a few weeks after what happened with Jack. Price managed to pull some strings and get you honourably discharged. You joined the reserves, it felt right, keeping just a little connection. You got your old job back at the hospital, the same one you and Chloe worked in. It was nice to see old faces, and new ones too.  

“You know, same old same old. We planted that tree for Chloe. You should have been there it was lovely.” You say suddenly feeling sad. You rallied with the people from A&E who worked with Chloe and you all sponsored a tree for the patients garden.

Her family gave you her ashes. They just turned up on your door one day. You had them made into a rock, then placed it under the tree. You don’t know if that’s what she would have wanted but it felt right. Johnny’s hand rests on your thigh. 

“What about you, you must have more interesting stories then the ones I have from working 12 hours in A&E.” You say smiling and pushing the tears away. 

“Ah yes, we’ve had some adventures I’ll give you that love.” Johnny says as you drive out the car park. You let him talk the whole way, it had been a week since you’d seen them and you were desperate to spend time with them again. When you make it into the flat Simon is there. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back till late?” Johnny asked as you run into his arms.

“Price said he could handle it.” Simon says before you plant your lips on his.

“How’s civilian life?” Simon asks, you roll your eyes.

“They planted the tree for Chloe.” Johnny says from the kitchen.

“Yeah, how’d it go?” He asks, looking at you. 

“Good, I think she would have liked it.” You reply. Simon nods leading you over to the sofa as Johnny comes over with a bottle of wine and wine glasses. You cuddle up next to Simon as Johnny pours the glasses.

“What’s the latest with the Masons?” You ask. You hadn’t been keeping up with it but Simon and Johnny’s had, they’d been watching them like hawks.

“They’re in court on Monday, we’ll know more then.” Simon says. It took a month or so but finally people were formally arrested. Almost every family member who was in the military had been dishonourably discharged, and there were even talks of the Americans getting involved and also prosecuting the family.

You were warned you would need to go to court to testify, but you didn’t care. Jack killed himself, left a suicide note, seems the family was planning on pushing all the blame on him so they could try and get away with it. His note was pretty damming, it’s been big part of why they were able to get so many of his family.

They’ll lose their house, businesses everything. Most of them are looking at life in prison. You didn’t want to smile but it was good, justice and you would never have to worry about them again. You feel Johnny pull your legs up on him scooting over to sit closer to Simon. It reminded you of the first night you stayed in their flat. A bottle of wine and shitty police chaser shows.

“I reckon e’ll make it.” Johnny says sipping the wine. You turn to look at him smiling. 

“Don’t be silly Johnny.” Simon scoffs. You look up at Simon. 

"I bet he makes it." You smile looking back at the TV. Simon kisses the top of your head. You were glad they were back and back safe.

"I love you." You mumble as you hug Simon.

"Love you too." He says as Johnny's hand strokes your back. You look over at the TV. They caught the guy.

[rosenotactuallyquartz]

pearl + rose + greg

(the importance of these complex relationships, along with some very common misconceptions)

first off, no one is married

i’m surprised by how many fans, particularly on other platforms, are under the impression that rose + greg were married.

even though it was confirmed that they never got married in gem harvest. pearl also said, “we heard you like marriage, so why don’t we all marry each other!” after andy & greg argued about the fact that greg never married steven’s mother. when ruby + sapphire’s wedding happens, it’s clearly a novelty to all the gems.

i also think that rose + greg not being married is an important detail. people like to assume that their relationship was one that was completely human, fitting into all the norms of human society & using a bunch of labels. it’s as if rose was human herself, as if greg ever expected her to fit in, in any way, shape, or form (no pun intended).

their relationship was anything but conventional; that was how they wanted it to be.

their relationship was unique. there was little to no pressure or arguing. it was based on love & respect & comfort instead of rules. rules held greg back his whole life & in order to be his true self, he had to rebel against those he knew throughout his early life. of course, rose can understand not wanting rules. as seen in we need to talk, rose also gets very uncomfortable & anxious when she can’t fully understand human beings, what they expect and how they feel. so, they found an in-between, where they could relate to each other and connect as individuals, instead of forcing themselves to have an entirely human relationship or a gem relationship. their relationship was relaxed, open, and they were able to destress when they spent time together.

they’re similar people. impulsive, playful, naive at times, soft-hearted. there were things that scared him from the past, and it was clearly the same for rose. when it came to emotional conversations, there was a line that they would never cross. past that line was a lot of very, very serious conversations. the demayos, the diamonds, secrets, fears, traumas, questions about gem stuff that greg felt wary of. they strived for an equal relationship, so their issues were often mutual. if greg’s not asking for complicated details about gem relationships, he likely won’t expect rose to comprehend marriage.

image description: sketch of rose + greg by rebecca sugar. greg is smiling and blushing but looks calm, his eyes closed. rose glances back at him with a slightly mischievous yet soft smile

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

misconceptions

the assumption that rose + greg were married only worsens the many pearl + rose misunderstandings. consider this: greg + rose were married, but rose never married pearl, who she knew longer than everyone? must be unrequited. or, at least, exes (confirmed not unrequited; also, i doubt pearl + rose understand the term ex). greg + rose were married, so their relationship must have been more important than rose’s relationship with pearl. greg + rose were married, so pearl was talking about what actually happened when she said, she chose you. this assumption overlooks pearl’s self worth issues & insecurities, the true meaning behind both of you, the importance of pearl + rose’s relationship, the miscommunications, the differences between gem & human relationships.

image description: alone at sea promotional art by hilary florido. greg is about to jump into a pool with steven standing next to him in a coach outfit, with a whistle. pearl, amethyst, and rose are sitting against the wall in swimsuits. rose looks at him with admiration, amethyst is grinning, and pearl has a look of disapproval.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

pearlrose & gregrose

steven universe ships are often sorted into either “good” or “bad” categories by the fandom, which overlooks the fact that both of these relationships are… far more interesting. i wouldn’t be here if it were that simple. both relationships are comforting & beautiful & sweet & complicated & flawed & important for rose’s character. i love exploring the complexities of both, because:

"the thing that she really lacks is balance, any ability to temper her extremes. this is part of her character throughout her forms: she's always very extreme." — rebecca sugar, end of an era

rose’s two intimate relationships are with individuals who are opposites in various ways, their contrasting traits being different extremes.

pearl + rose had a lot of mutual codependency, which makes sense considering their contrasting personalities, witnessing a lot of each other’s trauma, and having shared trauma as well as intense, dark secrets. rose + greg both loved escapism, which is fitting as they are similar people who cope in similar ways, meeting after major traumas.

one of rose’s partners is overprotective, the other laidback; one is particularly serious about being told everything, and for good reason considering what she knows and what she + rose have been through. the other really, really understands not wanting to discuss painful pasts, and for good reason considering what he doesn’t know and what he’s been through.

rose forms meaningful relationships with both of them. her feelings were similar in the way that she loved them both. she related to both of them & admired both of them, too. she particularly admired pearl in a i-think-you’re-so-good-and-i’m-nothing-like-you way, because they have so many differences. she particularly related to greg, as they have so many parallels, she loves humanity, and she feels like she would be a lot like him if she were human.

both of them were comforting to rose. pearl was incredibly caring; she cared a lot about the pain that no one else could know about. she was gentle but very encouraging when it came to rose not needing to keep things from her. and if rose was sad, i’m sure she could tell. i was the one she told everything to! i can imagine pearl comforting rose, knowing what was going on without rose needing to say much. it was also comforting to rose that pearl knew about so many things she was ashamed of, but she remained on her side at all times and loved her so deeply and openly. rose had very intense emotions, & greg had a way of keeping life light which gave her a very particular kind of comfort. he would make her laugh when she wanted to cry & he would distract her whenever she was consumed by her emotions and spiraling thoughts. she loved the simplicity and it was comforting that he didn’t know about her past because they could start fresh together.

greg took pride in being accepting and supportive of everyone’s decisions, never trying to control things. it’s what he always wanted, and rose reciprocated. she supported & believed in him, which helped him heal from his childhood in a lot of ways. but, there’s also this:

"on the flip side, they enable each other. she never unpacks what scares her about her past, and neither does he” — rebecca sugar, end of an era

greg's relaxed personality & not knowing about her past made rose feel very comfortable… but almost too comfortable with hiding things. greg was happy when rose was happy, and this was very sincere. he taught her so much about humans & she ultimately decided to have steven. the love that she had for her unborn child was so strong & genuine & she trusted greg, knowing that he would be a wonderful father. i don’t even need to say anything about how much he loves steven. the issue is, she couldn’t quite understand the pain he would feel if she was no longer in his life. rose also had self hatred that was connected to pain from the past that greg didn’t know about.

in contrast, pearl knowing so much & having a history with rose made rose feel concerned about causing her stress. due to her self hatred, rose always focused on the negative aspects of herself. she couldn’t quite understand all the positive things she brought to pearl’s life, the ways that she was good for her (despite how expressive & intense pearl’s love was). don’t get me wrong, pearl’s love helped rose in so many ways, but due to lack of love for herself, rose could never quite wrap her head around why pearl adored her so much. the comfort, the closeness, the warmth, all the reasons pearl wanted to live with her forever.

with that said, she felt so much love and care from both of them. she simply felt undeserving of it because of the way she felt about herself. they all loved steven completely, rose was so excited for him to exist, and she wholeheartedly believed greg and the gems would be such important parts of steven’s life. nothing changes that.

this isn’t a one-couple-is-perfect-and-married-and-the-other-is-bad-and-unrequited situation, as some believe it is. both relationships are complex. rose was in a lot of pain resulting from personal issues, but pearl & greg both brought comfort to her in unique ways because of their differences. they now bring comfort to steven in their own, unique ways! i’m sure rose imagined that & she would be very proud of both of them.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎ ✩₊˚⋆⁺₊✧ ⋆ ☁︎

image description: sketch in black and white of greg, rose quartz, and pearl. greg looks behind him, appearing confused and he is standing up. rose and pearl are kneeling and pearl's face is in rose's hands as she looks up at her.

[akutasoda]

Could I request a PM! Dazai/Chuuya/Akutagawa x F! Reader who’s sort of like a parental figure but more of a wine aunt-type figure, I guess. She’s someone who’s blunt and rude, almost condescendingly, like she doesn’t care if she hurts someone’s feelings, but in a more “lady-like” manner. She’s someone with immaculate taste and wisdom beyond her years, so she serves as like a guardian angel of sorts just with a glass of wine and cigarette in her hands, plus she has that sort of sophistication with her mixed with a 1950’s style.

wine and wisdom

synopsis - how are they with a wine-aunt type of figure

includes - 15!dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

warnings - fem!reader, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, fluff, wc - 700

taglist - @vi-chan07

osamu dazai ★↷

↪back when he first joined the mafia, he net you within a couple of days after mori would drop him off in your presence if he had to leave. he wasn't exactly surprised that you were slightly condescending and spoke your mind with little regard.

↪in honesty, he actually preferred it when mori left him under your supervision. you're blunt nature was more than tolerable and he enjoyed watching you offend people and not care how much you're words hurt them - yet still acting very 'lady-like'

↪he absolutely admired how wise and intelligent you were across a variety of things. you always answered his questions and would sometimes give him advice which he would willingly listen to. his favourite part was when you'd openly criticise mori himself.

↪he was never a fashion person but could admit you had a very stunning taste in clothes. if you ever tried to offer him a change in clothes he'd politely decline. he also never minded that you always seemed to have a glass of wine with you.

↪when he left the port mafia, you'd probably be someone that he'd think of. however, in some reality he wouldn't leave the port mafia - then he would still look to you for advice. but in both scenarios, you would be someone he admired through his childhood.

chuuya nakahara ★↷

↪when he first saw you it was in a passing in a hallway and he immediately mistook you for kouyou. he would do a doubletake ablnd realise you were a completely different person. ironically, kouyou introduced him properly to you the following week.

↪he would still be in the first couple of weeks of being in the port mafia when he properly met you, so he was quite taken back by how blunt you were when you addressed him. not hesitating to find something about him to criticise.

↪as kouyou promised him, he got used to it - although to this day he could still be surprised by how straightforward you could be. in some way he actually admired how little you cared for how your words affected people because most of the time you were only telling the truth.

↪another thing he could admire about you was wise you were. he could come to you with any question or query and you would give him a solution or answer. your intelligence was something he strived to gain.

↪as he grew up with you around, he kind of derived his taste from you - or you atleast influenced his style. he would note that you always had immaculate sense of style, an older style but you always pulled off all your outfits.

↪when he thought back to it, he couldn't actually recall a time where he didn't see you with a glass of wine or a cigarette... even if you engaged in a battle...

ryūnosuke akutagawa ★↷

↪akutagawa mainly only got very few interactions with you when he first joined the mafia, each and every one was because dazai would seek you out and he'd follow. to him it seemed like dazai liked you and so naturally he wanted to know you.

↪it never went unnoticed to him that you always carried around a glass of wine or such but he didn't care. he aslo didn't really care for how you dressed, your sophisticated style seemed extra to him but that didn't mean he wouldn't admit it worked.

↪he could see why dazai looked up to you. your wisdom truly held no bounds and akutagawa would start copying dazai in asking you questions that you always had answers to.

↪additionally when he first met you, he felt quite insulted when you noticed him and started really letting your thoughts run wild. he quickly came to get used to how blunt and rude you could be. your condescending tone eventually becoming normal to hear.

↪even know a part of him held admiration toward you - not as much as held for dazai but it was close. to this day you still held a rude word toward anyone and had that same olden style that worked flawlessly accompanied by your glass of wine.

[lunastrophe]

BG3 Drow Lore 🕷️ Minthara's Childhood

Some thoughts on Minthy's childhood in Menzoberranzan:

🕷️ Assassination Attempt – being almost killed was likely among Minthara's earliest memories: I survived my first assassination attempt while I still suckled at my mother's breast. I tasted her blood that day. She covered my body with her own, and a blade bit deep into her chest, almost puncturing her heart.

We do not know why somebody wanted to kill her - the assassination might be orchestrated by some relative, for example, or some other person who wanted to weaken her mother's position in the family. Minthara was likely important to her (see this post).

🕷️Lessons of Early Childhood – Minthara was being raised by her mother instead of being fostered to some other relative, like it happens with less important drow children: My mother taught me to talk, to walk, and then to kill. I still hope to thank her by teaching her how to die one day. In another line, Minthara says: I had every advantage, and my mother showed me how to survive.

As a female and Baenre, Minthara was infinitely more privileged than many other drow kids in Menzoberranzan – at the same time, though, she lived under enormous pressure, striving to meet her mother's high expectations. A failure meant a punishment, and little Minthara probably quickly learnt that in her world, failures can be deadly.

🕷️ Lessons In Killing? – Minthara most likely started to learn how to survive the perils of Lolth-sworn drow society when she was still very young.

It is quite possible that she scored her first kill before actually reaching adulthood – in one of her lines, when she is asked at what age it is right to set a child upon mortal combat, she answers: The moment it can hold a blade. It may even test its resilience against some common poisons while it is still in the womb.

We do not know if her own mother was building up her resistance to poisons in such a way, but in another line, Minthara says: my mother would have poisoned her own milk to torment me. So... who knows.

🕷️ Protected And Tormented – Minthara says that there was no love between her and her mother. As an adult, she reflects that her mother protected her with one hand and tormented her with the other, and admits that her relationship with her ...may not be the best model to follow.

🕷️ End of Early Childhood – in noble drow families, sons typically start to serve the household when they are around ten years old and when they are sixteen, they are officially recognized as members of their house. During the family meeting in the chapel, they receive the house piwafwi and then their mother - or matron mother of their house - makes decisions about their education and future.

I doubt that daughters of noble drow families need to serve the household as children - but maybe after reaching a suitable age, they start to visit the family chapel, for example, to observe and learn basic duties of priestesses? In case of Minthara, it would probably mean spending some time in the huge, domed chapel of House Baenre.

🕷️ Young Baenre - noble drow girls probably have their own variant of societal rite of passage around their sixteenth birthday, celebrated more grandly than that of noble drow boys. Maybe it is also a formal ceremony in the family chapel, followed by less formal celebrations - maybe even a party? Some drow version of "sweet sixteen"?

If yes - then most likely during this ceremony it was officially announced that Minthara is to be trained as a soldier in Lolth's service. It was probably one of the most important moments in her life, especially since noble females are typically trained to be priestesses - if they want to pursue a different career, they need their matron mother's permission. House Baenre apparently recognized Minthara's talents early.

Minthara's early training lasted for several decades - until she enrolled into academy.

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[mikavlcs]

Dog Days

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: The help you need to confess to your crush winds up coming from an incredibly unlikely (and furry) source.

Warnings: ooc!wednesday, hints of bad poetry lol, bad writing, this is another very unserious story

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: the poetry part of this request kicked my ass and you can tell LMFAO. sorry it took so long (and sorry it kinda sucks), but i hope you guys enjoy!

Masterlist | Bonus

Confessing your feelings to someone you like was one of the most profound plights a person could ever face, you’ve decided.

Because to you, right now, there was no greater challenge to overcome, no finer show of courage than to look her in the eye and profess the nebulous depths of your infatuation without keeling over midsentence.

And this anxiety would be easier to conquer if the girl you had caught feelings for was a normie, or really any other outcast housed within Nevermore’s four walls.

But your crush was Wednesday Addams, and that more than justified the intense fear that came with the possibility of confessing.

For the past semester, Wednesday had been assigned to sit at your table in Botany, meaning that you two were almost always lab and project partners in that class. Throughout that time, she wasn’t exactly nice to you, but you’ve yet to be on the receiving end of her notoriously colorful threats, so you figured that put you somewhere friend-adjacent on the small girl’s relationship scale.

That made trying to confess to her no easier, however. Because she could literally just kill you if she decided it wasn’t good enough. If she decided you weren’t good enough.

You hoped knew she wouldn’t considering your short but cordial history, but she technically could.

Now despite her reputation (and the previously outlined possibility of murder), Wednesday never scared you. She certainly tried. You’d lost count of how many grisly medieval torture facts she offered up while working together, but they never had the intended effect of instilling fear into you. Not even once. The absurdity of it made you laugh more often than not.

But, while she didn’t scare you, she did intimidate you. Even now, months and a fully developed crush later, she could render you speechless with a single look.

That immediately did away with the possibility of a verbal confession since you were sure your vocal cords would cease operation before you could even properly start, leaving you staring at her like an idiot. So you were left to figure out another way. And after days of careful deliberation, you decided upon the vessel with which you would confess your feelings.

A poem.

Yes, it was stupid and cliché, but it was something you were familiar with, and you figured Wednesday might have at least some appreciation for it considering she herself was an aspiring writer. But very soon, you came face to face with a problem.

Wednesday herself constantly strived for perfection in every facet of life, so you knew that if anyone were to attempt to court her, she would be expecting no less from them as well.

Everything about this poem—diction, rhythm, rhyme, form—had to be superlative, efficient while effectively flawless.

It needed to be perfect and you just…couldn’t get it there.

Attempt after attempt wound up in your garbage, the papers overflowing out of the small pail by your desk while your hope slowly diminished with each failure. After the 27th trashed page, you knew you needed to stop and recoup.

This approach obviously wasn’t working, so you had to find a different one and to do that, you needed incentive. You needed inspiration. You needed the creative ascension that came with reading good, fresh poetry.

The only issue was that all of your poetry collections were well-worn, memorized from cover to cover. Though you could never tire of them, you knew they wouldn’t provide the spark of creativity you needed.

So you took a trip to the small bookstore in Jericho since the school library had very little in the way of poetry and picked up a few that caught your eye.

You were on your way to catch the shuttle back when you heard it.

A high-pitched yip rose from the alley you had just walked past, making you pause. Curious (and without much else to do), you stepped back to peer into the alley, and you let out a gasp.

Just down the alleyway was a small puppy, covered head to toe in gorgeous gold fur. A golden retriever, your mind helpfully supplied. He didn’t notice you, entirely too preoccupied tearing up an old newspaper to care about your gawking, but you were entranced.

And without your usual forms of impulse control (your teachers and parents) there with you, your mind was made up in an instant.

A twenty-minute trip to the local pet store saw you ready to leave town a few hundred dollars lighter and many bags heavier. You got all the essentials—food, toys, a collar and a leash, a bed, bowls, and whatnot.

All that was left was getting the dog.

Quietly approaching, you set your bags down against the mouth of the alleyway and crept closer to the puppy, careful not to startle him as he stalked a bug of some sort. Once you were within a few feet, you crouched and tore open one of the treat bags you bought. The noise got the retriever’s attention, and he stopped his pursuit to watch you, intrigued.

A soft smile made its way onto your face while you fished a treat out and held it out. It took no time at all for the pup to curiously trot over. He sniffed it for a moment, thoroughly inspecting the cookie before devouring it and looking back up at you expectantly, tail wagging furiously in the air behind him.

With a laugh, you offered him another one, then another, and another. And just like that, a friendship was formed.

The driver barely gave you a second glance when you waltzed into the shuttle with your bags and the dog, just waited for you to be seated and pulled off onto the main road. Definitely not protocol, but you imagined he wasn’t being paid nearly enough to care.

When Nevermore’s castle-like features came into view ten minutes later, you realized with a jolt that there was one thing you hadn’t accounted for: actually trying to smuggle this puppy into the school.

Given that the shuttle was already parked, you had no time for strategy. As you stepped back onto campus, your only plan was to make a mad dash for your dorm. And, after tucking the puppy inside your shirt, that’s exactly what you did. Or tried to do. You only got halfway through your journey when Yoko intercepted you in one of the halls.

“Hey! I see someone went shopping today,” she commented, giving the plethora of bags you were holding a humorous look. “Preparing for a zombie outbreak or something?”

“Something like that,” you answered, taking a step around her, but she moved with you and started matching your hurried strides.

“So, you ready for that Vampire Anatomy test tomorrow? Personally, I think I’m gonna ace it,” she smiled, fangs flashing in the overhead light. You shot her a look, because, of course, a vampire would ace that test.

You opened your mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but the pup chose that moment to show his restlessness, flailing his little limbs violently under the fabric of your shirt.

“Uh,” Yoko slowed at your side, brows drawn above her sunglasses. She pointed at your stomach, where the puppy was violently squirming. “What’s going on there?”

You glanced away, mouth opening and closing. Hard as you tried to come up with a plausible excuse, none came, so you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m pregnant.”

Poor Yoko looked positively baffled. You ran before she could say anything else.

The sprint back to your dorm was blessedly uneventful, allowing you to stumble inside with minimal issue. Thankfully, your roommate was out, so you wouldn’t need to deal with any more questions for the time being. You set the puppy down on the floor, letting him explore his new surroundings while you set his things up.

Once his bed, bowls, and toys were in place, your attention turned to another pressing issue. The pup needed a name.

Dozens of names crossed your mind in the minutes that followed, but none of them fit the energetic boy in front of you. Pondering, you watched leisurely as the retriever dragged his new leash across the floor. The sunlight pouring through the window softly bounced off his golden fur while he pranced around your room, leash still securely in his mouth.

A metaphorical light bulb clicked on and in that moment, you gave him the most beautiful, poetic name your mind graced you with.

-

“Choklit!”

The puppy in question froze and looked up at you, short tail wagging dutifully. He was already giving you his best puppy dog eyes, but you knew better than to fall for them. You moved to stand in front of him, hands on your hips.

“We’ve talked about this. Edgar Allen Poe’s collected works are not a chew toy!” You moved the book away from him, held up a blue squeaky toy in its place. “This is what you play with, got it?”

He offered you a yip in response, tail wagging a mile a minute as you handed him the bone-shaped toy. “And remember, play lightly!” you tagged on as he tumbled off his bed.

Principal Weems hesitantly allowed you to keep the puppy on the agreement that your roommate agreed to him (which she did, ecstatically) and that he not be too loud in the room. By some miracle of god, you had been able to abide by that rule for the past two weeks.

Hopefully, your luck would persist.

With him placated, you turned back to the task at hand—finishing your poem. It was coming together, a solid vision of your end goal forming. And after another ten minutes of brainstorming the last line—a woefully overdramatic would you go on a date with me? that hopefully wouldn’t get you killed in your sleep—it was finished.

You pushed back against your desk and leaned your head against the back of your chair, taking a moment to rest. Then, sitting back up, you reread the poem carefully.

A wave of inadequacy crashed into you as you ran back through the words you just wrote. Something about it just wasn’t right, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

Was the rhythm off? Were the rhymes varied enough? Outside of that, was your prose structured competently? Was the poem too much? Was it not enough? Five rereads only heeded more questions and no answers.

Frustrated, you balled the paper up and threw it behind you, already priming another paper to begin the poem anew.

The telltale pattering of paws reached your ears, turning to find Choklit nosing at the crumbled paper. With a sigh, you walked over and went to pick it up. “Sorry, bud, but my personal failures as a poet are not your toys.”

Choklit, thinking it was a game, quickly snatched the ball up in his mouth and bowed, sending light growls your way. Though you knew it wouldn’t help, you raised your hands in surrender and leaned back.

“I’m not trying to play. I just need that—” You tried to swipe it from his mouth, but he bounced backward and rushed toward the door.

At that exact moment, your roommate returned from choir practice, opening the door just in time for Choklit to run out with the paper in tow. You scrambled to your feet, edging past her into the mostly empty hallway.

“Sorry!” she yelled after you, to which you just waved.

“It’s fine! I got him,” you threw back at her just before you turned a corner in pursuit of the retriever.

You had to admit, the little guy was fast. Faster than you thought he would be (or maybe you just needed to exercise more…who knew). Bewildered students parted for you as you gave chase, giving them a quick thank you! as you kept your eyes on the golden blur ahead.

He toppled down another hallway, one you knew led to a dead end. You grinned and picked up the pace, intent on scooping him up, only to skid to a sudden stop after you turned the corner.

Because there Choklit was, sniffing around at familiar black boots while pale hands smoothed out the paper the puppy dropped before her. You were frozen, trying to figure out whether this was real or some terrible lucid dream.

Wednesday’s cold timbre inadvertently answered your question.

“I didn’t think they allowed dogs on campus,” the girl remarked, giving the puppy at her feet an inquisitive look. Your response came without thinking.

“You live with a werewolf, don’t you?” Your eyes widened. The comment was meant as a joke but could easily be interpreted as an insult. And knowing how close the two had gotten over the past few months, the last thing you wanted to do was accidentally mock Enid.

You watched Wednesday closely, but the only physical response you received was the slightest raise of her brows.

“That was almost funny.” Her words were delivered with her trademark deadpan stare, but you could hear the slightest hint of humor threaded into her neutral tone. Looking for attention, Choklit stood on his hind legs and pawed at Wednesday’s shin, giving her a clear view of the tag on his collar. The disapproval in her voice was clear as day. “You named it…Choklit?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, pulling out a grin full of confidence you absolutely did not feel. “Can’t be a literary genius all the time.”

“I’m sure,” she retorted sarcastically, holding your unsure gaze for another moment before turning back to the paper in her hand. You followed her eyes and stepped forward with a grimace.

“Sorry, that’s… you weren’t supposed to see that.” You tried to take the paper, but Wednesday stepped back, moving the paper out of your reach.

“It’s addressed to me.”

“That it is,” you conceded with a sigh, “but it was never intended to actually be delivered to you.”

Wednesday hummed. “Well, it seems your dog disagrees.” With that, she turned her attention to the poem. You were tempted to try and take it again, but you liked having your hand attached to your body, so you resisted.

Impatiently, you waited as her eyes ran along the lines slowly, your anxiousness building with every passing moment of excruciating silence until finally, she met your gaze once more.

“A few things to note,” she began, tone much too studious for the occasion. “I applaud the fact that you made the decision not to write a sonnet. They’re easily the most overblown, abominable form of poetry and I would have had to burn this if it was.”

She gave you a small nod. “Now, I will say that I’m a bit disappointed. This certainly could have been written in perfect rhyme rather than end rhyme, but since you said this wasn’t your final draft, I’m willing to give you a pass for this oversight. Mostly. And while AABB isn’t the most complex rhyme scheme, it’s just tolerable enough here to not detract from the poem as a whole.”

You gaped. She was making the same type of comments that your teachers would when they graded your assignments. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was reading off the notes from a book report and not talking about a literal love confession.

The ridiculousness of the situation pulled a wry laugh from your throat, but you were quickly silenced with a harsh glare. Once you quieted, she continued, “The biggest problem I see is that this poem is lacking in length, having only a measly 12 lines. A few more couplets would have made this feel more complete.”

“Now onto the poem itself. Though your vernacular pales in comparison to mine, I will admit that your vocabulary is surprisingly expansive considering what you named your pet.” She sent Choklit a pointed look. “Furthermore, I appreciate the use of alliteration in lines like ‘A mind molded by misery and mischief’ and ‘Down into the dark depths of a dreadfully early grave’ but feel it could’ve been utilized more throughout. The mixture of masculine and feminine rhyme is interesting, though choosing one could have aided with overall cohesion.”

You just stood and stared, silently taking in her thoughts and critiques because it was all you could do. She paused, folded the paper neatly in her hand, but still didn’t give it back to you.

“In conclusion, parts of this are noticeably undercooked, but the simple act of reading it doesn’t make me want to purge my insides. I acknowledge the effort you put forth to tailor this poem to me and my interests and will admit that being described as ‘the purest of darkness personified’ is almost flattering.”

A nervous chuckle escaped before you could quell it, but this time she allowed it, her stare remaining blank. You cleared your throat, injected some joviality into your tone. “Great, so uh…do I get an A+?”

“B-, actually,” she amended, running over the folded page with her eyes. “Maybe even a C+.”

At that point, you swore you could feel the humiliation seeping into the very essence of your being. But you were determined not to let it show, to preserve what tiny amount of dignity you had left.

“Okay, well, I’m just gonna take that back and then go vanish off the face of the Earth so we never have to see each other again.” You gave her a pained smile and reached for the paper, only for her to snatch it out of your reach with a glare.

She glanced down to Choklit, who was seemingly enjoying the drama as his eyes ping-ponged between you two, then to the paper again. Another long moment passed before she looked back at you.

“I never said no.”

You blinked a few times, confused. “What?”

“The proposition outlined at the end of the poem,” she clarified, “I never said no.”

“You…” you began to repeat but trailed off as the realization of what she was implying really began to sink in. “Wait, I—you…you can’t possibly mean…”

Growing visibly impatient, Wednesday cut off your verbal meltdown. “Meet me outside the school gates after light’s out this Saturday. I get to pick the activity.”

The unsettling smile she gave you felt like a bad omen, but you couldn’t care less, still fighting off the incredulity clouding your mind. You opened your mouth to respond but when no words came, you settled for a hurried nod.

“Good,” Wednesday peered out the window momentarily. “Now, I must be going. Eugene is expecting me. I will see you Saturday and if you’re late then you’ll be the next autopsy I perform.”

Carefully, she stepped around your puppy and walked off without another word, leaving you to ponder what the hell just happened.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to no one in particular. Again, louder this time, “Oh my god!” At the sound of your excitement, Choklit came scampering over and you bent down to meet him. He stood on his hind legs, bracing his front paws on your knee. “Did you hear that, boy? The poem actually worked!”

He gave you a yip in return, tiny tail a blur behind him. You rubbed your hand along his back, chuckling at the fervent licks your hands received in return.

Only after a student skirted past you both did you realize that you were still in the middle of a hall. You promptly scooped Choklit up with both hands and cradled him by your chest, looking down at him as you began your way back to your dorm.

“Come on, let’s go get some treats. I owe you big time, buddy.”

[unserenedreaming]

on the "Sansa being the true loner of the Starks"

I just saw a post saying that Sansa is the 'odd one out' amongst the Starks because she's surrounded by her brothers and a tomboyish sister (Arya). It is true that she is surrounded by brothers and a sister who rejects the patriarchal roles of a woman (Arya) but she is by no means a loner.

The two other named young noblewomen in Winterfell are Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel. Jeyne is the closest thing to a best friend for Sansa, while Beth is described more as a hanger-on than an actual friend. Jeyne strived to make Sansa happy, often at Arya's expense: Jeyne would often whinny like a horse or call Arya Horseface when Arya would walk by. When Mycah is unjustly killed by the Hound, Jeyne taunts Arya by telling her the Hound cut Mycah into so many little pieces that his own father assumed it was a bag of meat to eat. Jeyne Poole was the daughter of Winterfell's steward. Arya was the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. In my opinion, it is only by her close friendship with the other daughter of Lord Stark that Jeyne feels emboldened enough to make such a comment.

And then let's talk about Catelyn. There is no denying that Catelyn Stark loved each and every one of her children with the fury of a thousand suns. In fact, the older I get, the more I understand her (excluding her treatment of Jon which deserves an essay all on its own) She saw Sansa as the perfect daughter:

"Sansa was a lady at 3, always so courteous and eager to please. She will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that." These are words from Catelyn Stark about her elder daughter.

"Arya was a trial, it must be said. Half a boy and half a wolf pup. Forbid her anything and it became her heart’s desire. She had Ned’s long face, and brown hair that always looked as though a bird had been nesting in it. I despaired of ever making a lady of her. She collected scabs as other girls collected dolls, and would say anything that came into her head." These thoughts from Catelyn Stark about her younger daughter.

Sansa fit into the traditional patriarchal view of what a noble woman was supposed to be, which made her easier to manage for Catelyn. Arya does not.

The only person that Arya truly, honestly and deeply feels akin to is Jon. This is not me saying that the only person who loved Arya was Jon. Her family loved her deeply. But I am examining the POV of Arya and Sansa.

Arya loves and gets along with her siblings, but she is an outsider compared to them: they all have the red hair and blue eyes of the Tully's. Only Jon shares the looks of the Starks. This to me has always been the most obvious divide; the physical differences between Robb, Sansa, Bran, & Rickon and Jon & Arya. Jon and Arya have always relied on each other more than anyone else, pre-canon or into ADWD.

To wrap this rambling post up, I disagree that Sansa was considered an outsider/the odd one out in the Stark family. In truth, that position doesn't even belong to Arya, though she is the odd one out amongst the trueborn Starks. It belongs to Jon and Theon. Both are boys who desperately want to be Stark children but can never be, and their subsequent actions, both positive (Jon) and negative (Theon) are direct results of that desire and lack of result.

AND AGAIN, THIS IS NOT AN ATTACK ON SANSA. This is a response to a comment I saw from a (presumed by me) Stansa. Sansa absolutely deals with isolation in the series as the books goes on as a captive in Kings Landing. All the Starlkings do as they are separated across the continent and eventually Essos (Arya).

Anyways, hope this wasn't too much of a pain to read, I'm buzzed right now. Love Y'all.

[zhongrin]

| ◆ ch. vago mundo ⑊ zhongli

--⟢ ii. little dragon, big dragon |   teyvat continues to change, and nobody can stop it. but morax hopes that some things stay unchanged.

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

◇ tags ◇ fluff, rex lapis in the olden days is a (lovable) menace

◇ a/n ◇ everyone shush and hear me out!!!!!!! smol dragon!zhongli draped around your neck and purring like a cat. that's it that's the post.

"is that…"

"that improper animal… this new generation of disciples are just too full of themselves."

"the divine one is just far too lenient… i fear the young ones will continuously abuse their kindness."

rex lapis squints his eyes towards the whispers of the less fortunate souls, inwardly scoffing at the open jealousy in their words. it's your gentle touch that pulls him out of his musings, and he lightly cranes his eyes up to stare at your visage.

"this is quite a commendable feat, rex. to have such precise control over your physique… keep this up and you might even become an archon one day," you chuckle, fingers lightly tracing the small horns on the sides of his compact-sized dragon form.

he's unable to stop the instinctive purrs which are reverberating from the back of his throat, amber eyes closing in bliss as you let him curl even closer around your neck, though he takes extra care so his scales won't hurt you in the process.

"you know, a friend of yours came to find me the other day. guizhong, i think was her name? she told me about your… excursions."

the low purring immediately stops, and you hold back a laugh when you feel the little dragon shift uneasily around you.

"were those glaze lilies you gave me the other day from guizhong's little garden after all, hmm?"

".... maybe."

"oh, rex… you know how much she adores them."

"but you said you liked them the last time she showed you…"

"i do, but that doesn't mean you can filch them off guizhong's garden."

"but- she stole my treasures to give you those earrings last time, so now we're even!"

you had to laugh at that. the petty little squabbles from the younger acolytes are always one of your constant sources of entertainment, and this one is no different. you find the dynamics of this particular group amusing, and you can't deny that you might be a little biased when it comes to them. especially to the little dragon. he's witty and a little cheeky, just like all the hatchlings, but something tells you that he'll grow into an individual to be feared if he gains enough wisdom over the few hundred - or thousand, years.

you can only hope you'll be there to witness it when the time comes.

"i suppose, little wyrmling."

rex huffs, tail flopping back to your shoulder, snuggling closer around your neck.

"you didn't have to do all that, you know. i think they deserve to be angry."

morax shakes his head stubbornly as he closes the door of your bedroom behind the two of you. his hand lands on the small of your back and he leads you further into the room.

"while i have seen you making many mistakes throughout the olden times, i know you will always strive to do what you can to make up for it. i would never wish for dominion, but as long as i walk upon teyvat, there shall be no being who gets away with besmirching your name. and especially not in the nation i've cultivated to honor your very being."

you sigh at his tenacity and turn to face him instead, resting your hands on his chest and giving him your best patient smile. the hard lines on his expression smooth out, and you can feel him relax under your touch. soon enough his own hands fall back onto your waist, this time softly palming the sides of your hips, like a kitten making biscuits.

"though i'm honored, i think it's rather petty of you to go to such lengths when all they did was gossip… people have been working hard to rebuild the houses, right? an earthquake is just going to render their efforts useless…"

"ahem…. i'll admit that it wasn't my intention to react in such an… overly dramatic manner. it is my mistake. i realize now that i should have controlled myself better."

"oh, morax… this childish side of yours truly amuses me sometimes," you giggle when you sighted the reddened tips of his ears and the way he's lightly chewing his bottom lip in guilt.

sometimes you still can't believe that the rex lapis himself could be so… adorable.

"okay, enough of that! creator worship time is over! i want my dearest zhongli now, please?"

he perks up at your wish and you step back to watch him shift into his mortal form. it takes him a short few seconds, but it always fascinates you, the way he manages to do it so elegantly and the magical way his body transforms into a familiar appearance.

slender fingers absent of talons reach out towards you, and you meet him halfway, fingers interlacing as you nuzzle into his chest with a satisfied hum. zhongli's deep chuckle caresses your ears and he maneuvers the both of you towards the nearby armchair. but before he can sit down and pull you on top of him, an idea hits you and you pull away slightly to tug on his clothes.

"can i play with your hair?"

"it would be my pleasure, dear."

with a pleased grin, you grab the various cushions and blankets from the couches nearby, making a small nest-like surface on the floor instead. zhongli sits cross-legged on it as soon as you plop onto the higher chair right behind the small area you've made for him, and your fingers automatically tug off the hairpin that holds his hair down his back. you unconsciously hum a tune of ancient lullabies as you continue on to play with his long strands of brown-gold hair, and the god of contracts lets himself melt onto your hold with a contented sigh.

thousands of years may have passed, and you might have lost the memories of your olden days with him forever.

yet, as you continue to spoil him with your sweet words and comforting presence, he realizes that your love for teyvat, for him, no matter which forms and the identity he takes, has stayed true and strong even without those memories.

and zhongli realizes that it's all he could ever ask for.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @pvbbyb0y | @shipperxchaos | @crystalflygeo | @n3r0-1417 | @ciexuvia

[gremlingottoosilly]

Ik ik asks are closed but hear me out

Monster!könig and deaf!reader

Poor wifey can’t hear him correctly so he gets her a hearing aid and she uses asl with könig and he’s just trying to get used to deaf wifey…just because she’s deaf doesn’t mean she isn’t breed able 😏

-🎀🤍

(me when I can finally put ungodly hours of online research to good use) Konig who understands having problems with verbal communication - as a tentacle hybrid, he hears a bit differently from humans, and it often messes up with talking in normal settings. He is as great as a hunter while fighting - having the senses of a predator never left him without a win of any kind - but, of course, it's different when he has to work around being overstimulated, stressed and completely out of his depths - luckily, your presence is always a calming one. Luckily, it's enough for him to just feel your body and smell your skin next to his - no words needed. He was very tense about learning ASL, however - he would get you a hearing aid, the best this antiutopia can get, and he will be careful to never allow his recruit to bother his sweet little mate, but, ultimately, sign language is still a very human thing - something that he strives to destroy. You're his precious and pretty girl, but he won't hesitate to remind you of your place. You're his mate, his perfect breeding wife - but he is a monster, hybrid on top of the food chain. He might be softy and considerate with you, sometimes using written text to talk to you, and sometimes taking off his hood so you could read his lips, but he still refuses to act soft. Would murmur things that you can't hear into your ears - something about how much he likes you, how he adores his wife. You're not allowed to hear his softness. Sex is a bit awkward - he tends to get very rough with you, especially at first, and he gets even more strict when he forgets you can't hear his commands. He likes doggy style, but he would be forced to have you facing him the whole time in the limited positions - or else you won't be able to get what he wants. At least he allows you to ride him more often - if you have control over the process, you will get less reluctant about the pace and the whole ordeal. Calm mate = happy mate, as much as Konis is trying to force you to believe that he doesn't care for you.

[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

Something bothers me about Fiona/Nightfall…

Okay so in my first chair analysis post, someone reblogged it saying that Fiona/Nightfall might hate Twilight and turn on him as he and Yor get close with each other  and I can actually see it happening. Right now, it’s still less likely but it’s not impossible for her to turn rogue and here’s how the manga suggests it.

She’s the one who usually let’s her emotions guide her despite appearing emotionless, like how she almost endangered Operation Strix through visiting Twilight's home without any consent from her superiors, causing for Yor to doubt her marriage with Loid.

Sylvia, her Handler, told her not to do anything but she ignores it...

She even broke that policy among fellow agents by making an unnecessary contact with Twilight...

And in this chapter, Twilight's statement suggests that Fiona/Nightfall seems to also have a problem losing her cool, letting her emotions control her and that often gets the way in her missions.

In everything she does, what motivates her is the hope to gain Twilight’s affection.

When she does something, it wasn’t because she genuinely cares for peace and other people's sake herself. She just strives for peace because it’s what Twilight wanted. It's mostly displayed in the recent mole arc chapters.

This isn't really that necessary but it's just cringey and uncomfy to me how she says Twilight is like her little toy knife, when Twilight was never hers. I really don't like this part of her personality when she thinks she knows everything about Twilight when she knows nothing about the real him, the past him and the man he's slowly becoming.

So moving on, when it finally dawns on her that she will not ever have Twilight's affection, I don’t know what she could do.

I mean it is hinted when she’s first introduced that she’s the one who’s most likely to betray someone in the agency and it might be a judgmental comment from a hateful coworker but knowing how the plot is moving right now, I know Endo could be throwing subtle details that could mean more in the future. And who knows, she might’ve done it before. When?

Let’s go back to the exchange of Twilight and Franky during Chapter 2 when Loid is finding someone suitable to be his fake wife.

Twilight stated that most of the female operatives in their agency were wiped out during the recent spy sweeps. Female agents we're the one who are mostly wiped out and Franky mentions someone must've ratted them out to the SS.

I think, this might be a wild and far fetched theory but it's not impossible, Fiona/Nightfall was the one who ratted those female agents. Why? She might have received the information for Operation Strix, considering that all Wise agents seems to know about the Operation. She probably eliminated all female agents that might've suited to be Twilight's fake wife.

Cause if you think about, it is really practical for Wise to have the wife be a spy too, it would be really convenient for the mission. However, the candidates they think are capable of being an ideal wife and mother just get outed like that in the SS and this spy sweep just happened to be when Twilight is looking for a wife.

Nightfall might've thought, finally, she could fulfill her utmost desire to be Twilight's wife. Yet Wise has a different idea. Even if she's the only female agent left, she still isn't suitable for the role and I think Handler purposely didn't pick her knowing she has feelings for Twilight and her emotion might get the best of her, thus could compromise the mission. Handler, as a former wife and mother herself, could also think Nightfall can't do the job of a wife and especially of a mother properly. So I have this hunch that Handler purposely gave her another mission at that time so she can't complain about not being picked as Twilight's wife for Operation Strix.

Yes, Nightfall might be on the good side now because she’s helping to maintain peace and she's protecting Twilight. But her main intention why she’s doing this is so subjective and dependent that I think it would really affect her judgment in the future when she realizes reality is different from her fantasies.

[stormblessed95]

Who Thoughts and Theories

First, it's such a good song. I'm genuinely so in love with it, with Jimins vocals, with his dance, with his backup dancers. I'm so impressed with how hard he worked and all the choices he contributed to it. While this is the only song on the album that Jimin doesn't have writing credits on, he was still very much involved in every aspect of the songs creation and it was written with the feelings Jimin wished to portray. I talk briefly about what I believe the overall feelings that Jimin was trying to express in the album Muse, here:

And of course because you should refresh yourself on the song and get that extra stream in before you read....

I'll otherwise just be talking about what I think, my thoughts, my feelings and my theories about Who, the song and the MV in this post. These are of course just my opinions, coming from my perspectives. You are free to agree or disagree as much as you want.

First, I want to say that regardless of the pronouns used in the song, I don't think it has any bearing on Jimins sexuality. People (read: homophobes) cannot use this song as a way to try to say Jimin can't be queer. Not only is that nonsensical and ignoring the fact that Jimin would be closeted if he is queer. But it's also ignoring the way Jimin speaks about the song, which is solely in gender neutral terms. From the original lyrics being "you" instead of "she."

To the way he says "people" instead of "girls/women" about the scene where people walk past him as the options of who he could be looking for. Along with the fact that the billboard with a man's eyes drop right after he sings "who is my heart Waiting for?"

The way that Jimin dances with both men and women and the scene then when they come together, it's absolutely giving west side story. Which is my personal opinion. Which one of the themes of west side story is love striving to rise above the hatred.... And idk about you, but I think that can easily relate to queer love as well. But again, personal opinion only! So this BS that I know everyone rolled their eyes at with the "this proved he is straight" nonsense, is at its core.... Nonsense...

Speaking of his dance, this thread has absolutely nothing to do with what I'll talk about in this post but is so cool and FULL of Jimin appreciation and you should check it out if you want!

Jimin switched aspect ratios of film during his MV of Who. An ARMY linked together all the times he changed ratios, which you can watch here:

As well as going through multiple different types of media: television, comic strips, movie, billboards, etc. Jimin is showing us multiple different storylines within his MV. This same person from above goes into great detail about how all this can show the various details of storylines and storytelling. It's a good read, worth checking out

It's super interesting the way the words play across the screen during certain parts of the MV and how it changes the screen ratios as well. I would love an actual interpretation from Jimin or the MV director over what they actually mean or if it was just in the 90s theme with zero correlation or meanings, but I doubt we will ever get that. So all we can do is guess and make our own interpretations. Which will be affected by our own personal biases. That's the beauty of art though!

The ones I'll point out that I'll say something about are:

Play, both in the corners at times and on the little TV's around the MV

Auto calibration, with the burning wrecked car, where the words flash quickly across the screen at the bottom, right before hand too, the screen ratio had changed again too. And it changes again as he does his partner choreo with the girl

Rewind, which appears during the bridge. Right after the billboard falls and the screen ratio had changed again

And then pause at the very end before the whole screen cuts.... And then we get the end screen with the words play again, basically looping the video, and the Smeraldo Flower

So let's talk about it!

It's interesting that the video basically loops, it's really giving storytelling. Jimin being an actor basically. "Play" being inside the story for the most part. And it's interesting that those parts happen right before a lot of the partnering choreo too. Auto calibration means bringing something back into an acceptable range. Which if we relate this at all to queerness, it's absolutely giving "don't stray too far out of that closet." And it does happen right after Jimin dances with men, before dancing with the woman again. And play is back in the little TV's. It's giving, trying to be perfect and fit into expectations and be in the perfect storybook. And at the end, Jimin is left behind by all the dancers and the billboard drops at "who is my heart Waiting for" and it's clearer and clearer that it really is most likely JKs eyes. If not, it's absolutely a man's eyes and that is screaming queer energy. And even if it is just a promo of some kind, since we don't know the connection between the eyes, JK, "keep going" and AYS yet, it's WILD to put Jikook promo in this type of love song. And yet, these are the two that publicly claimed the song serendipity as theirs. So it tracks.

And when we get to rewind, it's at the same time as he is talking about "people" walking by him as potentials for his perfect match, as well as how he is not able to "match" any of the women he attempts to meet with through dance in his short walk. It is also right after that billboard with ?Jungkook? drops too. Interesting. Trying to get back into the original story perhaps? Perhaps it's not working so well?

Pause. Off. Smeraldo Flower which represents the Truth Untold.... Speaking yourself. Loving yourself. Being true to who you are..... Which is maybe not what was the perfect story that was being depicted through the MV. Who knows! But that is the end. Just to loop around and start again with Play. Where he literally tells us with Muse to "please misunderstand." Again, just interesting. And if you are following my thoughts here, you already know why that is "interesting."

It's giving closeted queer energy and it's giving I like people, not genders and it's giving love.

Which brings me to the very LAST thing I want to talk about. Sorry, I know this is already SO LONG. Jimin is singing amongst natural disasters. So did V and JK actually too. They are singing about declaring love in the middle of some kind of disaster. And I can't stop thinking about that honestly.

It's giving peak grand gesture kinda romance. It's giving intimacy found between two people in love no matter where they are or how loud the world might be around them. It's giving raw and honest declarations of intent and love type vibes. And i just love that they are into and going for that exaggerated confession scene and storybook kinda romance. It's absolutely tracks for who they are as people and the romance they've all talked about wanting too. And who else do we know who always seems to like doing grand gesture type romantic BS for someone else?

Anyway! This is the feeling that people write epic romances about. Your favorite ships? It's the same type of feeling that's inspired here. Let me try to explain this in some kinda way....

It's a trope. "Love conquers all" where it doesn't matter what life throws at you. All the trials, the tribulations, the natural disasters, the normal disasters, any and all shortcomings or failures you might face in life.... The moment of being with the one you love? Of being vulnerable and baring your soul with another person who means the world to you? Making sure they understand how much they mean to you and how much you love them? That's always going to be the most important thing and moment. That is the significance of the intimacy and the romance displayed.

It's the peak, idealistic version of the best relationship you could find yourself in. Nothing and no one matters more than the moments you create with your loved one, even in the middle of a raging horrific apocalyptic disaster ridden world.

And how sometimes, just building up to that confession can make things feel like a horrific apocalyptic disaster ridden world, until you confess. And you let those feelings out. And it's okay. All those disasters quiet down, maybe you even start to enjoy the rain. It was your emotions all along. And then you discover that hey, maybe the reason I'm feeling so calm now is actually BECAUSE of this person I love. Being with them calms my mind, brings me safety, happiness and joy.

Sometimes, in the middle of all the madness and chaos of the world... You are only minutes away from finding that moment with that person that's going to give you something infinite. Something that no natural disaster can destroy or take away from you. Something, and/or someone, so precious.

And there is something so beautiful in depicting this in their love songs. It's inspirational. As well as humorous in regards to Seven. Lol

I'll just finish this off with a link to this twitter user as this moment just came out, and it's about rebirth, but I do low-key agree with them here 😂

And anyway, that was my essay! Lol if you read all of this. Bless you and thank you! You are appreciated! A reminder that this is all just personal opinions. You are free to agree or disagree as you choose!

[chaostroberry1]

Hello! How are you? Could I have some headcanons for Loki, Apollo, Poseidon and Adam (platonically) with a human reader who likes her own body but sometimes feels bad having such small breasts? She has a somewhat small build and is very thin due to genetics (I imagine with Adam the reader being his only daughter and being surrounded by men in the family they would not be able to understand her), sometimes it makes her feel very uncomfortable when someone He asks her why she is so thin and makes similar comments. Just soft and comforting things as sometimes it's hard for me to deal with that kind of comments. Thank you!

Sure thing💕, I believe what you mean is Loki,apollo,and Poseidon are romantic w reader, while Adam is platonic with reader? Don't be afraid ask me in the inbox to change anything if it isn't what you asked for. ^^

RoR characters (platonic and romantic) with a small darling.

Characters mentioned : Apollo, Adam, Loki, Poseidon.

Loki

- he doesn't know why you're even insecure. He thinks you are mad pretty. With or without extra assets. But looking at Aphrodite, I guess he can understand why many women want big assets.

- your chest is nice, whether big or small. He likes them either way cus they're a part of you.

- whenever you're feeling down, he'll do stuff like turning into a butterfly, or do random magic tricks to make you laugh. Think of it as a way he shows you his love.

- when he sees you looking at your body, he'd rush in and try to make you feel better. Pretty sure he'd make sure his pranks are extra funny while you're around, so that he could cheer you up.

- when anyone tries asking about your body, and why you're so thin, he'd turn the question around with a "why are you so ugly?" With a mocking smile, tilting his head to the side while playing innocent. the person was left offended.

- and after that, he'd just take your hand and carry you. Floating around with you in his arms, leaving you stunned, but happy.

Apollo

- you KNOW this man. He is literally the epitome of beauty, alongside Aphrodite. We got to see how he finds beauty in basically anything that he seems beautiful.

- so seeing his own darling being insecure, bro was flabbergasted. You??? Insecure??? About your beloved body??? No way.

- I mean he wouldn't know what it's like to be insecure, c'mon, it's apollo. But seeing you in such a sad little bubble was hurtful.

- I'm sure he'd approach the situation carefully, giving so many compliments in a day, that with kisses. Cus he loves you.

- when he sees you sad, he'd be word vomiting multiple reasons why you are the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. listing down why it's a bad idea to doubt your own looks and body.

- he loves your chest, why do you feel different? He thinks they're cute.

- if anyone asks you why you're so small or thin, he'd immediately come in and sweep you off your feet, carrying you with him to his place and into his chambers.

- let him show you just how much he thinks you're beautiful.

Poseidon

- what the hell. What the absolute hell are you talking about? How on earth are you still insecure about yourself when you literally managed to bag him? That's what he'd think.

- he doesn't get why women are always striving to be as pretty as Aphrodite or something, cus uhm...why? What's wrong with having a smaller build? Or being bigger. Either way, you made him fall for you.

- did some moron make you think that way? Tell him, and he'll cut their tongue off. Does he need to go on a killing spree to make you think differenly? You are the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

- he'd be so confused as to why you look so sad. Seeing you sad would make him more pissed than normal. There had to be someone in charge of putting you in that state of mind.

- why is it such a big deal if you have a small chest? They look fine to him. Not every woman needs a big chest, what's wrong with you? Can't you see that he likes your body?

- if anyone ever asked you about your body, he'd glare holes straight into their soul. If they say anything else, then I'm sorry, but they will be meeting hades down below 😞

- and you? In his chambers. Like apollo, he'll show you just how pretty he thinks you are.

Papa Adam

- who on earth made you sad? His father protectiveness is kicking in and he's ready to kick some divine ass.

- being his only daughter, you are surrounded by mostly men in the family. Luckily, you have eve, who's there, well and ready to hug you and cook you food when you're feeling down.

- your brothers wouldn't understand since they're dudes. But when they question things about your body, Adam will interfere.

- eve had to give them a good lecture about why women have certain reasons for wanting their body to be extra. And how insecurities work for them. And since most people are morons, they wouldn't have any sort filter when it comes to asking dumb questions.

- yeah he gets it now. Your brothers are scratching their heads while he's patting your head and saying that you shouldn't be insecure about your body.

- eve will be making some good food that night, and your brothers would come up to you with berries and flowers they picked, as a way of saying sorry.

- Adam would be nodding his head in approval, "you shouldn't think about your body so much, kiddo. You have to learn to love it. Okay?"