#Unity hearing care

[unityhearingcare]

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[xichilie]

Phainon x (fem)reader

Phainon is crushing and Y/N is oblivious 🤭

Part1 PART2

The golden streets of Okhema City were alive with motion, as market vendors called out to shoppers, children darted through the crowd with sweets in hand, and musicians played cheerful tunes in the background. Amid all this, Phainon walked a few paces ahead of the group, his hands clasped behind his back, every movement calculated to look calm and composed. Internally, though, he was anything but.

“This way,” Phainon said, turning briefly to glance at Y/N. “The central market is one of Okhema’s highlights—lots of unique crafts and imports from other planets. It’s… worth a visit.”

He cleared his throat, which was already dry from nerves. Y/N wasn’t paying attention to how stiffly he moved or how his voice wavered slightly. She was too busy marveling at the intricate architecture surrounding them. Towering buildings of white stone glimmered faintly, their edges lined with gold filigree that caught the sunlight just right. Her eyes sparkled as she took it all in.

“This place is incredible!” she said, twirling to take in the sights. “You live here, Phainon? You’re so lucky.”

Phainon flushed under her bright gaze. “It’s, uh… it’s nice, I suppose.”

“Nice?” she repeated, incredulous. “It’s gorgeous! Look at that fountain!” She pointed at a marble structure adorned with carved phoenixes. Golden water trickled from their beaks, glowing faintly in the light. “Is it glowing? It’s glowing! Is it supposed to do that?”

“It represents unity,” Phainon explained, his voice quieter now. “It’s a… local tradition.”

Tribbie, walking beside Y/N, leaned toward Mydei and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “You can practically hear the crush in his voice.”

Mydei rolled his eyes. “He’s trying too hard. It’s embarrassing.”

“Give him a break!” Tribbie grinned. “He’s doing great!”

“By what standards?” Mydei deadpanned.

Phainon coughed awkwardly, pretending not to hear them. His white-gloved hand brushed against his coat, nervously adjusting the fabric as he tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him look like a complete fool. But before he could, Y/N gasped again and rushed ahead.

“Look! That vendor’s selling jewelry! I’ve never seen designs like that before,” she said, practically dragging Trailblazer along with her. The two crowded around a stall displaying shimmering necklaces and intricately designed earrings, their energy overwhelming the vendor.

Phainon followed hesitantly, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him. “Be careful,” he said, his voice soft. “Some of these pieces are delicate—”

“You’re just saying that because you’re worried she’ll trip into the stall,” Mydei muttered from behind him.

“Or knock over a stack of something,” Dan Heng added dryly.

Tribbie, meanwhile, clasped her hands together dramatically. “But wouldn’t it be so romantic if Phainon caught her in his arms? You know, like in those old love stories?”

“I’ll bet ten credits he’d faint first,” Mydei retorted.

Phainon stopped walking and turned to glare at them, his face flushed. “Could you—please—stop that?” he hissed. “It’s not—”

“Not what?” Tribbie blinked innocently. “We’re just supporting you, Phainon. That’s what friends do.”

Before Phainon could respond, a loud shout cut through the cheerful hum of the market. “Thieves!” a merchant cried, waving his arms frantically. “My stock is gone—again!”

The group turned toward the commotion as a small crowd gathered. The merchant, a balding man with a deep frown, gestured wildly at an empty display case where shiny trinkets once sat. “It’s those creatures! They’ve been sneaking into the market at night, stealing everything shiny! No one’s done anything about it!”

“Creatures?” Y/N’s eyes widened with curiosity. “What kind of creatures?”

The merchant shook his head. “Small, ghost-like things. Glowing eyes. They come from the outskirts, I think, but I don’t know how to stop them. They’ve hit half the vendors on this street!”

Y/N turned to the group, her excitement unmistakable. “We should help!”

Trailblazer grinned. “Absolutely.”

Phainon opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it when Y/N beamed at him. “You’re here to keep us safe, right, Phainon?” she asked.

He froze, his heart doing an unsteady flip. “I… well, yes, but—”

“Then it’s settled!” Y/N said, already turning back to the merchant. “We’ll get your stuff back in no time.”

Tribbie leaned toward Phainon again, whispering loudly, “You’re doing great! She’s counting on you.”

Phainon sighed, adjusting his coat again to hide his embarrassment. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered.

Mydei clapped him on the shoulder. “No kidding. But at least it’ll be entertaining.”

Dan Heng shook his head as the group began heading toward the outskirts. “Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?”

“Because it always does,” Mydei replied.

Phainon, trailing slightly behind Y/N, couldn’t help but think the same—but then Y/N glanced back at him, smiling brightly, and all his worries melted away. For now.

Phainon’s boots crunched softly on the overgrown trail as he followed the faint shimmer of the residue. The group has split up to cover more ground leaving phainon and Y/N alone,

He can still picture Tribbies giggling as she declared phainon and Y/N should team up. He kept his usual cheerful expression, his white hair catching the faint golden glow from the city behind them. The trees arched overhead, their twisted branches forming patterns that danced in the mist.

“This is such a weird place,”

Y/N commented, walking just behind him. “It feels… old. But cool. Like something out of a storybook.”

“It’s definitely unique,” Phainon replied, glancing back at her with a warm smile. “Okhema’s outskirts have a lot of history. Ancient battles, forgotten shrines, you name it. Some people find it eerie, but I think it’s—”

“Amazing?” Y/N finished for him, her voice brimming with excitement.

“Y-yeah,” he said, a bit flustered but recovering quickly. “Exactly!”

Y/N grinned. “I like how you look at things, Phainon. You always seem so… optimistic.”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” He waved a hand dramatically, his voice taking on a slightly theatrical tone. “Life’s too short to not find the good in things, you know? Even creepy glowing trails.”

That earned him a laugh from Y/N, which made him grin even wider.

As they walked, Phainon occasionally crouched to inspect the shimmering residue, his golden and blue coat flaring out dramatically behind him. Y/N watched with curiosity as he ran his fingers over the faint scratches on the stones.

“You’re really good at this tracking thing,” she said, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look.

His heart jumped into his throat. “I—I mean, it’s just something I’ve done a lot!” he stammered, his cheeks tinged with pink as he straightened too quickly, almost tripping over his own feet. “Years of practice, you know. Nothing special.”

Y/N tilted her head, oblivious to his awkwardness. “It is special. You’ve got a knack for this stuff, Phainon. I don’t think we’d even know where to start without you.”

Phainon blinked, his cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink. “R-really? You think so?”

“Of course,” she said brightly. “You’re basically leading the whole investigation. It’s impressive!”

Phainon looked away, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to suppress a goofy grin. “I mean, well, someone has to do it… but thank you!”

Before Y/N could say more, a sudden rustling sound came from the trees to their left. Phainon froze, his smile vanishing as he instinctively stepped in front of Y/N, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword.

“What was that?” Y/N whispered, her voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Stay behind me,” Phainon said, his usual playful tone replaced by a rare edge of seriousness. “It could be one of the creatures.”

They waited, the rustling growing louder. Then, with a burst of motion, something small and fast darted out of the underbrush.

“Ah!” Y/N jumped back, but Phainon had already drawn his sword in one smooth motion, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light.

“Wait,” Y/N said, squinting. “Is that… a bird?”

Sure enough, a small, scruffy bird hopped into view, its feathers ruffled and its beady eyes glaring at them like they’d just interrupted its meal. It flapped its wings once in irritation before waddling off into the bushes again.

Phainon stood there, sword still raised, staring at the spot where the bird had disappeared. Slowly, he lowered his weapon and let out a sheepish laugh. “Uh… false alarm.”

Y/N burst out laughing, clutching her sides. “Phainon, that bird looked like it was ready to fight you!”

“Well, it caught me off guard!” he defended, laughing along with her. “It could’ve been something dangerous!”

“Sure,” she teased. “A very dangerous… tiny bird.”

Phainon sighed dramatically, sheathing his sword. “Mock me if you must. But remember, I’m here to protect you from all creatures—big or small.”

“You’re doing an excellent job,” she said between giggles.

Her words, though playful, still made Phainon’s cheeks heat up again. “T-thanks,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

They continued down the trail, the shimmering residue becoming more noticeable as they approached a clearing. The mist thinned, revealing a cluster of ancient stone pillars, each one etched with faintly glowing runes.

“Whoa,” Y/N breathed, stepping closer to one of the pillars. “These look ancient. Do you think they have something to do with the creatures?”

“Possibly,” Phainon said, his voice quieter now as he examined the runes. “The outskirts are full of strange things like this. I don’t know much about their history, but these markings… they’re similar to ones I’ve seen before near Titan ruins.”

“Titan ruins?” Y/N looked at him, impressed. “things are getting more interesting, I'm glad I have you here"

Phainon blushed again, suddenly feeling like his coat was too warm. “It’s… uh, nothing, really. Just part of the job.”

“You’re way too humble,” she said, shaking her head. “Give yourself some credit, Phainon.”

Before he could respond, another sound broke through the air—this time a low, guttural growl. Both of them froze, their eyes darting toward the source of the noise.

“Well,” Phainon said, his cheerful tone faltering slightly, “I don’t think that’s a bird.”

Y/N grinned, drawing her weapon. “Finally! Some action!”

“Action?” Phainon echoed nervously, his hand moving to his sword again. “What kind of action are we talking about here?"

The low growl turned into a rumble, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. Emerging from the shadows of the ancient stone pillars were creatures that looked like they were chiseled straight from the earth itself. Their bodies were made of jagged stone, glowing cracks spreading across their limbs like molten veins. Their heads were featureless save for the hollow, blazing orange orbs that seemed to serve as eyes.

“Okay, now that’s definitely not a bird,” Phainon muttered, unsheathing his sword in one swift motion.

“Phainon,” Y/N said with a grin, her own blade already drawn and gleaming. “You’ve fought these things before, right?”

“Uh… sure!” he said, his usual confidence slightly wavering as the creatures lumbered closer. “They’re slow, but don’t let them corner you. Aim for the cracks—they’re weak points!”

“Got it,” she replied, shifting into a ready stance.

Before Phainon could say anything else, one of the creatures lunged forward with surprising speed, its rocky fist slamming into the ground where Y/N had been standing a split second earlier. She darted to the side with the grace of a dancer, her blade flashing as she struck at the glowing crack along the creature’s arm.

The impact sent a spray of sparks flying, and the creature roared in pain, stumbling back. Y/N didn’t let up. She pivoted on her heel, slicing upward in a clean arc that severed part of the monster’s arm.

Phainon blinked, momentarily frozen as he watched her. “W-wow…” he mumbled, then quickly shook himself out of it when another creature charged at him.

“Focus, Phainon!” Y/N called, sidestepping another attack with ease.

“Right! Focus! I’m totally focused!” he yelled, leaping into action.

Phainon parried a heavy blow from his opponent, his sword ringing loudly as it clashed with the stone creature’s fist. He danced backward, grinning as he feinted to the left before delivering a precise strike to its glowing chest. The creature groaned and crumbled into a pile of rubble.

“Not bad!” Y/N called over her shoulder, slashing through another monster with an impressive flurry of strikes.

“Not bad?” Phainon repeated, his golden-retriever energy kicking into overdrive as he sliced through a smaller creature trying to flank him. “I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at this!”

As if to prove his point, he spun dramatically, striking the creature’s chest in one fluid motion. The monster staggered and collapsed, but in his enthusiasm, Phainon misjudged the swing and nearly tripped over its remains.

Y/N laughed, glancing back at him. “Careful, ‘Amazing.’ Don’t let your feet betray you.”

Phainon straightened, cheeks burning. “That was just… strategy! I wanted it to think I was vulnerable.”

“Sure you did.”

Another creature roared and lunged toward Y/N, its massive fists slamming down in an attempt to crush her. She jumped back, then forward, using the momentum to propel herself up onto the creature’s arm. In one fluid motion, she ran up its shoulder, her sword gleaming as she drove it down into the crack in its neck.

The monster let out a guttural sound before crumbling beneath her, its glowing eyes dimming. Y/N landed lightly on her feet, flicking her sword to the side to shake off the dust.

Phainon gaped. “Okay, that… that was amazing.”

Y/N turned to him, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Thanks,” she said with a casual smile, as if she hadn’t just dismantled a walking pile of stone like it was nothing. “Your turn.”

Before Phainon could respond, the largest of the creatures emerged from the shadows, its molten veins pulsing with an ominous glow. It was twice the size of the others, its fists like boulders and its eyes blazing with fury.

Phainon gulped. “Alright. Big guy. No problem.”

Y/N smirked. “Want me to handle it?”

“No, no!” he said quickly, stepping forward and twirling his sword. “I’ve got this! Watch and learn!”

The creature roared, charging at him like an avalanche. Phainon dodged to the side at the last second, slashing at the cracks along its side. Sparks flew, but the beast didn’t falter. It swung its massive arm, forcing Phainon to duck and roll out of the way.

“You’re doing great!” Y/N called, clearly enjoying herself.

“I’m trying not to die!” Phainon shouted back, though his grin was still plastered on his face.

He darted around the creature, his movements quick and agile. With a sharp leap, he managed to climb onto its back, his sword glowing faintly as he struck at the cracks near its neck. The creature howled, thrashing violently to shake him off.

“Hang on, Phainon!” Y/N called, readying herself to step in if needed.

“I’ve got it!” he yelled, though his grip on the creature’s jagged surface was less than reassuring. With one final strike, his blade sank deep into the glowing crack, and the monster let out a deafening roar before collapsing to the ground.

Phainon rolled off just in time, landing in an ungraceful heap. He quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing the dirt off his coat as if nothing had happened.

“See?” he said, turning to Y/N with a triumphant smile. “Told you I had it.”

Y/N laughed, walking over to him. “I’ll admit it—you were pretty impressive.”

Phainon’s grin faltered for half a second as her words sank in, and the familiar warmth crept up his neck. “I… uh… really? You think so?”

“Of course,” she said with a bright smile. “You took down the big guy all on your own. Not bad at all.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Oh, it was nothing, really. Just, you know… part of the job.”

“Sure,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re too humble, Phainon. Own it.”

He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Tribbie’s voice echoing through the mist.

“Guys? Did you leave anything for us, or are we just cleaning up rubble over here?”

Y/N and Phainon exchanged a glance before bursting into laughter.

“Let’s regroup,” Y/N said, sheathing her sword.

Phainon nodded, his smile softening as he followed her back toward the others, his heart still pounding—but not from the fight.

The group reconvened in a small clearing not far from the crumbled remains of the stone creatures. The mist had thinned, and the faint hum of energy from the ancient pillars seemed to fade, leaving a tense silence in its wake.

Tribbie had already set up a makeshift picnic on a large, flat stone, her red hair glowing faintly under the filtered sunlight. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she waved the others over.

“Perfect timing! I brought snacks!” Tribbie chirped, pulling out a variety of treats from her impossibly small bag. “You know what makes monster fighting better? Food!”

Dan Heng stood nearby, arms crossed and expression unreadable as always, but he glanced toward the food with mild interest. Trailblazer, however, was already sitting down, grabbing one of Tribbie’s sandwiches.

“Oh, come on,” Tribbie pouted, slapping Trailblazer’s hand away. “Wait until everyone’s seated, you greedy gremlin!”

Y/N chuckled as she and Phainon approached. “Looks like we’re just in time.”

Phainon, as usual, was all smiles. “Tribbie, you’re a lifesaver! I don’t suppose you have anything sweet in there?”

“Of course I do,” she replied with a grin. “But only if you tell me how many monsters you crushed today.”

“Crushed?” Phainon placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Tribbie, I don’t crush monsters—I defeat them with style and precision.”

“Oh, excuse me, ‘Mr. Style and Precision.’ Sit down before I take it all back.”

Everyone chuckled as they settled in, the tension from the fight dissipating in the warmth of camaraderie. Y/N sat beside Phainon, who was still grinning from Tribbie’s teasing.

As the group began eating, Y/N noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Phainon was trying—and failing—to hide a wince as he reached for a piece of bread.

“Phainon,” Y/N said, her tone shifting from playful to concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong!” he said quickly, straightening up like a guilty child caught sneaking cookies. “Why would you think anything’s wrong?”

Y/N didn’t buy it for a second. Her eyes dropped to his arm, where a faint tear in his sleeve revealed a nasty scrape along his forearm. The edges of the wound were smeared with dust and a faint trace of glowing residue.

“Phainon,” she said again, this time more firmly. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing!” he insisted, waving her off. “Barely a scratch. You should’ve seen the other guy!”

Y/N gave him a pointed look, crossing her arms. “That’s not a scratch, and you know it. Let me see.”

“It’s really not that ba—”

“Phainon.” Her voice left no room for argument.

He hesitated, his golden-retriever energy momentarily dampened by the sheer force of her determination. With a sheepish smile, he extended his arm. “Fine, fine. But I’m telling you, I’ve had worse.”

Y/N ignored his protests, pulling a small first-aid kit from her bag. She crouched beside him, carefully examining the wound. “You’re lucky it’s not deeper. This residue looks like it might irritate the skin. Hold still.”

Phainon sat stiffly as Y/N cleaned the wound with surprising gentleness. Her focus was entirely on her work, her touch steady and sure.

“You don’t have to fuss over me, you know,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“I’m not fussing,” she replied without looking up. “I’m making sure you don’t get an infection. There’s a difference.”

He laughed nervously, trying not to notice how close she was. Her hair brushed against his shoulder as she leaned in to wrap a bandage around his arm.

“There,” she said after a moment, tying the bandage securely. “All done."

Phainon looked down at his arm, then back at her. “Thanks, Y/N. Really.”

She smiled at him, and before he could say more, she reached up and ruffled his hair.

“You did so good out there,” she said warmly. “I mean it. You were amazing.”

Phainon froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The words “you did so good” echoed in his head like a mantra, and the way she said it—so genuine, so casual—completely disarmed him.

“I—uh—well—” he stammered, his face rapidly turning as red as Tribbie’s hair.

Tribbie, who had been watching the whole scene out of the corner of her eye, nudged Trailblazer with a knowing grin. “Look at him. Poor guy doesn’t know what hit him.”

Trailblazer smirked but stayed quiet, munching on a piece of bread. Dan Heng sighed, his expression as neutral as ever, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Oblivious to the growing amusement of their companions, Y/N stood up and stretched. “Alright, everyone ready to get moving? I think we’re on the right track!”

Phainon, still sitting there with his hair slightly mussed and his face glowing, finally managed a weak nod. “Y-yeah. Let’s go.”

As the group packed up and prepared to continue their journey, Tribbie leaned over to Phainon with a sly grin. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I think you’re doing great, Mr. Style and Precision.”

Phainon groaned, covering his face with his hand. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Nope,” she said cheerfully, skipping ahead to join Y/N.

And despite his embarrassment, Phainon couldn’t stop smiling.

_______________________________________

A.N . First, I didn't plan on making a part 2 because I didn't expect people to actually like it that much, but I'm happy you guys enjoy it l, I'll try to make this little love story interesting ♡

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: The ☆Glow-Up☆ 2024 Has Planned For you

♠︎ “At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. 

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✧ Pile One ✧ (queen of cups, 5oC rev., 10oC, the chariot, the magician, 4oS)

Release.

➣ The central theme of this glow-up is inner fulfillment. You are on a journey of true self-love. The queen of cups is sitting proudly at the front of the spread. Major water energy here. You are unraveling emotional trauma down to your roots and reevaluating past attachments and burdens with the six of cups.

➣ I picture floodgates opening, allowing all of the pent-up emotional turmoil to release and finally free you on a deep psychophysiological level. You released something, an attachment or mindset that was set in motion during your formative years that was hindering your ability to hold compassion for yourself.

➣ Shuffling my music, "Daddy Issues" by the Neighbourhood came on. I also saw the hierophant while shuffling the cards. You experienced a lot of undervaluing and emotional neglect in your home. Emotions in your home were taboo and possibly even punished.

➣ I feel like the people around you growing up, were either always dissatisfied with you in some way or made you feel small. Since this is a group reading, it is hard to word this without excluding a large chunk of the audience, but some of you grew up in a home situation where any form of outward self-love or expression was met with a lot of negativity and ridicule. 

➣ This forced you into hiding your true self which groomed you into a mental space full of self-criticism and doubt. In your mind, you were unwanted or inherently broken in some way and deserved less. The way you were treated created deep emotional wounds in your young psyche which made it hard to feel satisfaction within yourself or with the outer world.

➣ With the five of cups, I get the sense that you had felt you were in a desert and unable to fill any of your cups so to speak. Baby, that’s coming to an end. The ten of cups is at the center of your spread with a big ass RAINBOW touching corner to corner. The drought is over. The dark days are over. The sun is shining and you can taste hope again. 

➣ On this self-love journey, you are currently grieving (releasing) a degraded perception of yourself along with any beliefs that inhibit you from feeling good about your character.

➣ You are realizing just how enough you are and flushing out all of the poison that was crammed in your head about being inadequate. You are freeing yourself from the chains of feeling unworthy of a good life.

➣ You will find true beauty in every corner of you. Beauty in your laugh, beauty in how you dance, beauty in how you take care of yourself, beauty in what you care about, inner beauty that cannot be taken from you or scaled down. You will nurture your inner world, thus adding color to your outer world.

➣ During this major life-changing period, your view of reality will flip in a way you never thought imaginable. Life will feel worth living again. Your music will move you more and the swift pass of wind will invigorate you with new ideas for creative projects that will propel you forward to lifelong prosperity.

➣ I’m hearing 🎵 “… I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so, I'm so proud of you” from Make Me Proud by Drake. Congratulations babe, you just broke a fucking karmic cycle. 10 of cups, following the 5 of cups??? You have graduated from a dark knight of the soul and are now approaching new, abundant energy.

➣ The universe is proud of you. Your ancestors are proud of you. Your inner child is proud of you. Your God(s) is proud of you. All of the cells in your body are proud of you. You have released something cosmically within you. Please hug yourself and have a good cry because you are doing something you never believed you could. Your hopes and dreams are unfolding.

➣ Get ready to make your daydream your reality.  With the chariot, you’re prepping to TAKE AWWFF BABY. The release of this blockage has raised your energetic vibration and is ushering bountiful opportunities into your life, new passions, new ideas, and new connections. 

➣ Your newfound faith in yourself is going to give you the courage to go out and experience life. Most importantly you will find satisfaction in the mundane. Every frame of your day will be brighter and feel better. You have gone from 5 empty cups to an eternally flowing fountain. Take the time to thank yourself for all of the hard work you put in to get here. 

➣ Advice: Extend yourself grace. During this period, you will have enlightening moments that will unlock pieces of the puzzle surrounding your trauma and a lot more will make sense and become easier to process. 

➣ However, as the flawed humans we are, we tend to make sense of something and then turn around and beat ourselves up for not realizing it sooner. Or, minimizing our pain and criticizing our past selves for not doing more about it because hindsight truly is a dirty dawg. No that is not how it works. 

➣ That’s like when you were in school and the teacher would start bullying you for not understanding a subject. YOU HAVE A DEGREE??? I’m fourteen?? Of course, you can say it's simple when you have already “graduated” and learned from it, not when you’re in the middle of experiencing it.  You gained clarity during this tower moment and can now see the bigger picture and liberate yourself. 

➣ Younger you fought to make your way through the fog and deserves grace because you would not be here today without your younger self’s perseverance. Forgive yourself for the time it took to get here and see the beauty in your evolution throughout the journey.

➣ Also, drink plenty of water and get rest!! It’s Pisces season, and a Pisces new moon is coming too. Most of your trauma will unravel while you’re unconscious. Please get plenty of rest and hydrate. This pile has Cancer/4th house energy written all over it. Mother yourself during this period. Clean your room, make your favorite foods, watch cheesy movies, and splurge on special skin care. Pamper yourself. okay I'm done. KISSES.

"My consciousness has outgrown this vessel"

✧ Pile Two ✧ (4ofS, the tower, the wheel of fortune, the emperor, the lovers, judgment, 7ofW, ace of wands)

Life's gotta always be messing with me (you wanna see the light) Can't they chill and let me be free? (So do I) Can't I take away all this pain? (You wanna see the light) I try to every night, all in vain, in vain

Justice.

➣ I asked for a song to explain the central theme of your reading and I got "Freak on a Leash" by Korn. I get the feel that one of the main struggles of your life path is unfair judgment. People are quick to create a false narrative of you and run off with it.

➣ If you read my last PAC, “What is most alluring about you”, you may have chosen pile 2 or 3. With the seven of wands, you are constantly under attack.

➣ Take what resonates but I see a few scenarios. People may be quick to paint you as a bad person without getting to know you. Your public reputation was heavily influenced by rumors from people who intentionally wanted you to be disliked. People will take something small, blow it out of proportion, and try to impose it as a character flaw. Oh, you don’t eat the crust on your sandwich? How wasteful! There are starving kids out there, you’re so inconsiderate!! and then everyone else in the room who claims to not like you (but are truly your biggest fans) are oooing, ahhing, and egging that hating ass bitch on. 

➣ I’m seeing a bus. You may have been betrayed and thrown under the bus a few times before. This is the pile of my Lilith placements. Your power is your ability to garner attention, both good and bad. You attract a lot of envy. The ugliest emotion, in my opinion. It’s partners in crime with greed. 

➣ For some of you, I am getting the message that all of this underserved hate has sent you into a dark mental space and driven you to take an attempt on your life. And if you like my messages or my readings please believe me when I say this,

 I know you are meant for greatness. I picked up on your energy and you found this reading for a reason. Just like the Universe and everything within it, we go through cycles. And I know this is a long, painful cycle but it will come to an end and you will get out of this darkness. From the bottom of my heart, I feel your importance and I am happy you are here to share this moment with me. Keep swimming, I support you, the Universe supports you. The sun is rising and is offering you a new beginning.

➣ In this dark period in your life, the negative attention may have outweighed the good. I see a theme of being outcasted and isolated. Severe bullying. For some, even abuse. Like pile one, you have gone into hermit mode and isolated yourself from the unfair judgment of the world. 

➣ But head up muffin, the scales are balancing, and the wheel of judgment is turning in your favor. Following the wheel of fortune, you got the fucking emperor!!! You will come out of this on top. The people who kicked you while you were down will have to swallow their pride and kneel to shine your shoes while you sit rightfully on the throne. The public scrutiny you face needs to balance itself out karmically.

➣ Think Megan Thee Stallion. I won’t bring up any of her business, but if you've been keeping up with social media, there is a good chance you are well aware of it. That woman has gone through the unimaginable, one traumatic event following the other all while facing an obscene amount of public scrutiny. She had to go into solitary and off the internet to rebuild her life. But guess what??? MY GIRL STAYS ON TOP>>>>> After all the bullshit she endured, she’s coming out on the top of the charts, brand deals with major conglomerates, she is the people’s princess.

➣ That’s going to be you. You have dealt with a lot of injustice in your life, now you’re coming out of your “rehabilitation” and all of the people who spent the better half of their day attempting to tear you down will have to watch your rise like a phoenix and fucking weep.

➣ People were constantly taking from you , now the universe (whatever you want) is preparing to give you the power to replace what you have lost tenfold. Ace of wands, I see that life is handing you the metaphorical talking stick. The king stick. You are being blessed with a flame in your belly (activated solar plexus chakra) and the chance to completely reinvent yourself. 

➣ There is a lot of king and authority messages here, the ball is in your court. You are being released from the shackles of public perception and these next few months will be filled with inspiration and willpower to prove everybody wrong and showcase your strength.  I feel like a good chunk of this group will get chances to be in positions of authority or importance. 

➣ This is going to sound silly but I got this exaggerated imagery of a mean person calling you poor and ugly but the next year you drive past them in a Bugatti with their sugar boo in the passenger seat. HELLOOOO.

➣ With the lovers, I see you are coming in union with what is rightfully yours. In the grand scheme of cosmic law, you are owed good fortune and it is on its way. With the tower, I see an explosion and people fleeing. You’re going to pop out stronger than ever and that’s going to scare people cause whatever superiority they got from painting you as inferior is going to blow away and their true scummy nature is going to be seen. 

➣ After this, there may even be people who pretend to be your friends and claim they supported you all along. Have faith in your discernment. I have faith in your discernment. It will all be okay pookie.

➣ Advice: Just keep swimmin' my love. <3

"The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth."

✧ Pile Three ✧ (queen of wands, knight of pentacles, 6oC, page of pentacles, 10oW, 3oW, the hermit)

It's in the reach of my arms The span of my hips, The stride of my step, The curl of my lips. I'm a woman Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Awaken.

➣ Regardless if you’re a woman, a man, somewhere in between, or none of the above, you are approaching a newfound understanding of your sexuality. For some of you, it is a full-blown sexual awakening. 

➣ Some people here are realizing their sex appeal, others are coming to terms with their lack of sexual attraction, some are learning what they like in sex and what they’re attracted to. Yes bae, all of it; the whole spectrum of sexual exploration is here.

➣ There is an emphasis on attraction to yourself. You will see a huge shift in your physical appearance. Yes, your style will change but the main reason for this glow up is because you shifted the perception of yourself into a higher light. You’re allowing yourself to feel desirable and embracing the aspects of yourself you once shunned. 

➣You will carry yourself in a higher regard and this will open doors for you. Look into the mirror and give yourself a nice smack on the ass. Your self-esteem is sexy.

➣ Pile one is on a watery emotional self-love journey, this pile is all about fire and finding out where sexuality and passionate relations fit into your life. 5th house (flings, passions, hobbies), 8th house (sex and rebirth), 9th house (adventure, connecting with your soul tribe).

➣ I asked for a song to tie up this message in a cute little bow and I got the 639 HZ frequency. This is the frequency of love, radiation, and positive energy. It is the frequency of the heart. The heart chakra is opening significantly during this glow-up.

➣ You are opening yourself to adventure and sending a high vibe out into the ether. I see a sunflower and the queen of wands is decked out in bright yellow, you are stepping into the spotlight and attracting a lot of attention. I would say Venusian attention because the aura here is very romantic and collaborative. It's like the universe is spraying you with extremely magnetic pheromones and having opportunities run at you.

➣ You are going to get a lot of offers. Love offers, career offers, party invitations, you’re going to be involved with exclusive circles. You are realizing your self-worth and now you’re attracting things and people who also see value in you.

➣ This isn’t going to resonate with everyone, but I sense that for a few of you, there is going to be a reconnection with a past lover or a past friend from your childhood (or just the past in general). I also sense a theme of using your attractiveness and people’s attraction to you to your benefit. Somehow monetize your appeal. 

➣ It is like you finally released your ugly duckling mentality and you woke up and went, “WOAH, what can I do with this???” Lmao you discovered you’re an undercover member of the pretty privilege club.

➣ Yeah, with the page of pentacles and the ten of wands, I’m seeing an entire life path open up for you. Your passion and fiery energy will get you places, and you’ll go on adventures exploring your opportunities with that. Some of you will even become spicy content creators or do some risque sex work. Orrrrrr just venture into a career path you weren’t courageous enough to do before. 

➣ You’re a giant magnet energetically right now (I mean c’mon, 639 HZ???) you’re attracting a lot of romantic suitors. But watch out, they’re not all good suitors.

➣ I pulled another card and got Justice in reverse. Some people will try to get over on you. Also, the person on the justice card looked strangely untrustworthy when I flipped it over. Once again, practice your discernment.

➣ Your romantic and passionate life is taking off and it's going to be extremely exciting, especially if you are coming out of a period of stagnancy. However, with the 3 of wands and the hermit, the cards remind you to remain centered and plan bigger. Your passion, attractiveness, and sexuality will amount to more than hookups and shallow relationships if you invest in yourself wisely.

➣ You are unlocking an advantage you have in this lifetime. Open yourself to career endeavors, social networking, and creating a strong foundation for your talents and hobbies. Yes, date and have fun but don’t spend all of your energy in one place. Your attention and your energy are your greatest currencies.

➣ To expand on the hermit, I need to emphasize you are going to be getting a LOT of attention soon (I’m getting Sun-conjunct-Venus energy, is that in your natal chart or is there a transit with Venus right now or something?). You will receive more eyes on you than average and this might overwhelm you and push you into hermit mode.

➣ That is okay, let life flow. During those moments to yourself, dream big because you have the power to pull your dreams into your reality.  You will meet lifelong friends during this period. I am sensing a power trio for some of you. 

➣ Advice: To wrap up, we all know attractiveness is social currency, and you are coming into a great deal of social wealth baby. But please spend it wisely and do not lose yourself in the crowd. Keep up with your self-work and take introspective breaks away from people so you can figure out how to best utilize this awakening for you. 

➣ You look really good in red currently. Red hair. Red lips. Red clothes. Red jewelry. The color red is bringing you a lot of abundance. Okay bye. MUAH. <3

"I said mom, I am a rich man."

✧ Pile Four ✧ (page of swords, knight of cups, wheel of fortune, temperance, 7oP, the devil rev.)

Ascension.

➣ OMG I’m so sorry, I wrote a novel for the other piles but this one is going to be short. Maybe you were drawn to another pile mainly and this is your secondary pile. BUT IT’S SHORT BECAUSE ITS FUCKING AWESOME. 

➣ The song I channeled for you was named “Elniño Prodigo” and I want to say the artist is Love Record but I'm not too sure. This means child prodigy. When I was laying out your cards, I got this sense of anticipation and impatience. Theeeennn BOOM the wheel of fortune, temperance, and the seven of pentacles smack me in the face.

➣ Oh me oh my, you are chilling in the universe’s womb just BAKIN’ being prepped for a complete rebirth. You are a prodigy, you are not meant to live an ordinary life, you are being prepared for a unique journey. I know this is going to sound hard to believe because I feel like with this pile, a large portion of your life was spent in waiting.

➣ Do you feel like you are a late bloomer? If so, trust me, it is for a reason. Whatever you build in this lifetime will be built slowly and have a solid foundation because your legacy is meant to withstand the test of time and last long after you leave this Earth. This period you’ve spent waiting is you getting your ducks in a row and sowing your seeds for the next evolution of you. I said something like this in my last pac, if that's you, heyyyyyyy i’m glad your energy stuck around, i love it.

➣ Do you have Pisces or 12th House placements mixed with Saturn significance? Whatever this glow-up exactly holds for your future is a secret. It’s the universe’s divine surprise to you. I did not get any energy detailing exact events, just something big in the works behind the scenes is making its way to you. 

➣If you’re reading this pick a card there’s a good chance you’re spiritually attuned and can feel this cosmic shift happening. Something about your energy is so excited. I imagine a hyper dog being held back by a leash because it's not quite time yet.

➣ If you’re in a period where you’re not seeing any life progression and it's causing you anxiety, relax, you are on the right track and you are where you need to be. You have not wasted time, time really isn’t even fucking real. Everything is moving slowly for a reason. 

➣In this “boring” period you are meant to tap into your inner world and curate what you want your life to look like. Create vision boards, imagine your future hobbies, involve things that mentally stimulate you, keep the spark of curiosity in your life, and nurture your inner dreamer. 

➣ You are connecting with your sensitivity at this time, finding the sweet spot where your mind and heart meet, and letting it fuel your zeal for life. Get these thoughts on paper. Journal them, draw them, sing it, and call this energy into the 3D. Your life is about to have a complete 180. Maintain faith.

➣ You’re seeing a lot of synchronicities currently. Animal synchronicities and repeating numbers(111,444,222,1144,1414). You’ll find strangely personal messages in music and media. Maybe you’re seeing shapes repetitively pop up around you in your environment, like stars or eyes. 

➣ Patience is a life lesson for this pile, there is a lesson to be learned in the stillness of your life. You are mentally restless right now, slow your body down and try out parasympathetic regulation techniques to calm your racing thoughts. Go swimming, take a class, try out a new hobby. In this “womb” era, enjoy your last moments of stillness because your life turns up a notch. I’m not even getting rebirth, I’m getting BIRTH. No matter your age, your life is truly beginning in this new season.

➣ Advice: I see a lot of clouds. I see angel symbolism. You’re ascending. You’re shedding old skin, letting go of dead weight, and you’re growing wings, getting ready to experience life to the fullest. Maintain hope that your life will pick up pace and become exciting again. 

➣ Find peace in this waiting period. Listen to bird sounds!!! They are going to calm your mind and elevate you emotionally. You’re growing your wings and getting ready to take off like a bird, you should learn from the best. Okay, I love you, the universe loves you, MUAH <3.

"Your sim has gone stir-crazy!"

watching tumblr shit on my images in real time is just...

On a lighter note, I know some of these piles are heavy, I posted my first reading two days ago, and the support I received has brought so much joy into my life. I love doing this, if you like this me doing this, I'll do this forever. I am eternally grateful for all of you likes, reblogs, and comments <3

Also, some of these piles are connected, feel free to poke around and pick up on messages spread out for you. okay, I'm done. kisses! MUAH

[specialagentartemis]

godddddd i have disliked becky chambers' work since long way to a small angry planet and I agree that that fish scene is SO much of what is wrong with contemporary SFF especially queer SFF. refreshing take, great review, thank you. would love to hear what authors or works you think of as the antidote to that sensibility.

The thing is, I enjoyed The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet when I first read it - it was a fun, light adventure, clearly a debut novel but I was excited to see where Chambers would go from there. And I actually really do think the sequel, A Closed and Common Orbit, was good! It did interesting things with AI personhood and identity.

... and then Chambers just kinda. Did not get better. She settled into a groove and has a set number of ideas that I feel like she hasn't broken out of, creatively. And they I M O kind of rest on an assumption that "human nature" = "how people act in suburban California."

As an antidote to that sensibility, I'd say... books where people have a real interrelationship with the land they inhabit, a sense of being present, and reciprocal obligations to that land; books that recognize that some things can never be taken back once done; books with well-drawn characters, where people have strong opinions deeply informed by their circumstances, that can't always be easily reconciled with others, and won't be brushed aside; books where these character choices matter, they impact each other, they cannot be easily gotten over, because people have obligations to each other and not-acting is a choice too.

And it's only fair that after all day of being a Hater I should rec some books I really did like.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke - A man lives alone in an infinite House, over an equally infinite ocean. Captures the feeling that I think Monk & Robot was aiming for. Breathtaking beauty, wonder at the world, philosophy of truth, all that good stuff, and actually sticks the landing. The main character's love, attention, and care to his fantasy environment shows through in every page. (Fantasy, short novel)

Imperial Radch by Ann Leckie - An AI, the one fragment remaining of a destroyed imperial spaceship, is on a quest for revenge. Leckie gets cultural differences and multiculturalism, and conversely, what the imposition of a homogeneous culture in the name of unity means. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

Machineries of Empire by Yoon Ha Lee - An army captain's insubordination is punished by giving her a near-impossible mission: to take down a rebelling, heretical sect holing up in a space fortress and defying imperial power. She gets a long dead brain-ghost of a notorious criminal downloaded into her head to help. Very, very good at making you feel like every doomed soldier was a person with a past, with a family, with feelings, with hopes and dreams and frustrations and favorites and preferences and reasons to live, right before they brutally die in a space war. Also very much about the imposition of homogeneity of culture as a force of imperialism. (Space sci-fi, novel trilogy)

The Fortunate Fall by Cameron Reed - Maya Andreyevna is a VR journalist in high-tech dystopian future Russia, and she decides to investigate the truth that the government doesn't want her to. She might die trying. It's fine. Also has digital brain-sharing, this time in a gay way. It's bleak. It's sad. It feels real. Not making a choice is a choice. Backing out is a choice. And choices have consequences. Choices reverberate through history. About responsibility. (Cyberpunk, novel)

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez - Nia Imani is a spaceship captain, a woman out of time, a woman running from her past, and accidentally adopts a boy who has a strange power that could change the galaxy. Spaceship crew-as-found-family in the most heartbreaking of ways. Also about choices, how the choices you make and refuse to make shape you and shape the world around you. How the world is always changing around you, how the world does not stay still when you're gone, and when you come back you're the same but the world has moved on around you. About how relationships aren't always forever, and that doesn't mean they weren't important. About responsibility to others. It's a slow, sad book and does not let anyone rest on their laurels, ever. There is no end of history here. Everything is always changing, on large scales and small, and leaving you behind. (Space sci-fi, novel)

Dungeon Meshi / Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui - A D&D style fantasy dungeon crawl that stops to think deeply about why there are so many dungeons full of monsters and treasure just hanging around. Here because it's an example of an author thinking through her worldbuilding a lot, and it mattering. Also because of the characters' respect for the animals they are are killing and eating, their lives and their place in the ecosystem, and the ways that humans both fuck up ecosystems with extraction and tourism, but also the ways that you can have reciprocal relationships of responsibility and care with the ecosystem you live in, even if it's considered a dangerous one. (Fantasy, manga series)

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang and How Long 'Til Black Future Month by N. K. Jemisin and Everyone on the Moon is Essential Personnel by Julian K. Jarboe - Short story anthologies that were SO good and SO weird and rewired the way I think. If you want the kind of stuff that is like, the opposite of easy-to-digest feel-good pap, these short stories will get into your brain and make you consider stuff and look at the world from new angles. Most of them aren't particularly upbeat, but there's a lot of variety in the moods.

"Homecoming is Just Another Word for the Sublimation of the Self," "Calf Cleaving in the Benthic Black," and "Termination Stories for the Cyberpunk Dystopia Protagonist" by Isabel J. Kim - Short stories, sci-fi mostly, that twist around in my head and make me think. Kim is very good at that. Also about choices and not-making-choices, about going and staying, about taking the easy route or the hard one, about controlling the narrative.

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells - Security robot with guns in its arms hacks itself free from its oppressive company, mostly wants to half-ass its job but gets sucked into drama, intrigue, and caring against its better judgement. This is on here because 1) I love it 2) I feel like it does for me what cozy sff so frequently fails to do - it makes me feel seen and comforted. It's hopeful and compassionate and about personal growth and finding community and finding one's place in the world, without brushing aside all problems or acting like "everybody effortlessly just gets along" is a meaningful proposal. also 3) because it is one of the few times I have yet seen characters from a hippie, pacifistic, eco-friendly, welcoming, utopian society actually act like people. The humans from Preservation are friendly, helpful, and motivated by truth and justice and compassion, because they come from a friendly, just, compassionate society, and they still actually act like real human beings with different personalities and conflicting opinions and poor reactions to stress and anger and frustration and fear and the whole range of human emotions rather than bland niceness. Also 4) I love it (space sci-fi, novella series mostly)

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 5: Naga/Lamia [Elemental Sacrifices Part 1/4]

I am fashionably late and since this story was supposed to come out on my birthday I switched the prompts since we all know Nagas are my roman empire, hehe >:3

Also this is part 1 of 4 of a little mini-series happening in this Monstober Challenge, and I will lovingly call it the Elemental Sacrifices. I know we already had a sacrifice before, but what if—hear me out—we have 4 more? Yes, I thought that was a good idea too, glad we agree :D

(They are not much related aside from the concept, but they are in the same universe, so maybe there's some potential for future ideas! :D)

Prompt: Day 6: Naga/Lamia | Scales // Wrapping around // Poisonous Warnings: Yandere, AFAB!Reader, Sexual Actions (Dub-Con, Use of Aphrodisiac, Drinking said Aphrodisiac and getting it stabbed into your arm, Deep Kissing, Accidentally cutting your own tongue, Fingering), Violence (Biting with fangs, Description of (meager) fighting, Cutting the enemy, Blood mention), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Light self-degradation, Long Post

The tradition had always existed.

From the moment you were born, you were told about the sacrifices made to the four gods, which took place twice a century. The four tribes would unite in peace and unity for this month of reverence, choosing their sacrifices carefully and laying down their weapons to organize and strategize the ceremonies so that no god would feel aggrieved. It was a wonder that people that worshipped different things, lived by different means, and usually clashed like hot and cold, light and shadow, could work together meaningfully to pay their respects, assure that everyone would continue to be in the favor of the different gods that roamed the lands you lived on.

And yet, somehow, it had always worked out.

"There, almost done," your mother mumbled, curling your still-damp hair around her finger so it would frame your face. You clenched your fists in your lap as you sat in front of the mirror, unable to even look at yourself without retching. 20 years ago, when you were told the stories for the first time, no one had assumed you'd be the one to be sacrificed in the next ceremony. No one informed you that your days were numbered, your purpose to be nothing but monster fodder.

Because that's what they were, monsters, nothing more, nothing less.

A two-headed snake, an ancient tree, a tentacled beast, and a fire-spewing reptile with wings—those were the four monsters you and the other tribes worshipped with offerings and sacrifices. All your life, you practiced the mindful handling of the teachings, learning how to hunt, fight, and serve your god. But even so, just because you were born the child of the leader, you were going to be discarded by your own people, and your hatred was as fiery as the vulcanos that surrounded your homeland.

"I heard the water tribe sends their most wonderful singer this year, too."

It was a frail attempt at small talk, and you couldn't care less about how pleased your mother sounded as she told you about the other sacrifices. The other poor souls that probably wanted nothing more than to run away about now. You had hidden your tears very well with your head hung low, but you couldn't imagine the other sacrifices felt any less miserable as you did.

You had plans for the future, plans that involved leading this tribe and creating a family sometime. Maybe participate in a war with the other tribes and show off the prowess of the fire tribe leader's oldest child. It was in the nature of your people to be strong and powerful, as was the exceptional artistry of the water people.

"And the earthclan sends another one of their scholars. I don't understand why they think the nature gods would like all these people hiding with their noses in their books, but I'm sure they have their reason for choosing them. Oh, but the wind people are also sending their ruler's child, just like you!"

A tone of pride swung in her voice as she continued arranging vividly red flowers like a crown in your head, pulling at strands of your hair to wrap them into the stems so they'd hold. "And yet, you'll make the prettiest sacrifice of them all. You'll make us all so proud!"

Inside of you, a war broke loose. A war you knew you couldn't win as you knelt on the floor of your childhood home, the place you always thought safest in all of the lands, yet it was no longer the place you'd return to after this expedition. All your good deeds and all your achievements were for naught because when the announcement was sent out that the sacrifice was going to be held that year, it ended your life instantly.

A part of you knew it could happen. Although you never wished this fate on anyone, you had always hoped for a sibling, born or adopted into your family, that could take this responsibility from you ever since you learned of it. Other tribes voted. They chose by luck or by skill at the time of sacrifice. But not yours. Yours had traditions, which meant the leader's strongest family member would go to the gods and ask for their blessings. Get eaten in exchange for a promise of safety and prosperity that the monsters could easily break on a whim. Returning would mean the blessing failed, so that wasn't an option. If you couldn't appease them alive, you would do it with your death. The ultimate sacrifice.

"Now, you're perfect. Look at you, my pretty child."

Pushing her fingertips into the underside of your jaw, your mother forced you to look up into the mirrors. Tears tumbled from your eyes as your head snapped upwards to avoid the discomfort of her nagging touch, and you watched her expression fall in her reflection. Not from sorrow, mind you, but anger.

"This is your duty," she reminded you. "Now that you have grown up and proved your worth, you should feel honored to be chosen."

You bit your tongue, swallowing the disrespect you wanted to voice. You couldn't care less about the sacrifice, about gaining the ire of some monster that some old people had decided to worship. About your mother's opinion or that of anyone else!

Deep inside you, you were afraid. Fear, first and foremost, had always been your teacher. It showed you the boundaries of your abilities and pushed you to perform deeds beyond your capabilities in times of need. It wasn't something to be ashamed of or scolded for; it was natural and normal.

But right behind it was anger. Anger at this tradition, anger at your family, and anger at the monsters for demanding lives in exchange for peace. Gods they called themselves, but there was nothing godly about how they conducted their demands. They were cowards with a taste for human blood, and instead of fighting and being slain by those humans, they demanded sacrifices to satisfy their hunger.

And there was nothing you could do to save yourself.

If you rebelled, you'd be dragged out by your limbs and hair, even if that destroyed the work they put into prettying you up. Who needed to be pretty when they'd be eaten alive? Still, as a warrior at heart, you couldn't imagine a greater shame than to force your friends to bring you to that dreadful sacrificial space, even if they might think it was for the greater good. If you had to go out, you wanted to do so with your head held high, no matter how foolish that pride of yours was. It was better than to put your unfair death entirely into the hands of others.

If you were going to be a martyr, then you'd at least die fighting until your last breath.

---

"That's far enough," you announced, coming to a halt at the edge of the lush green forest you used to hunt in. Before you, vulcanic stone spread in dark hues as far as you could see. Ash filled the air, mixed with the taste of metal and fire. Nothing grew on the stone ground, it was as welcoming as a death threat. Veins of red broke through the stone, leading to pools of lava that was cooking beneath the stone surface, the air simmering from the heat that immediately greeted you, coating your skin in a sheen of sweat. Once you had found the duality of this place beautiful. Now you dreaded it, hands curled into fists as you took slow, steady breaths to calm yourself.

"I wish to face the gods myself."

"Go forth then. Make us proud," your father expressed, resting his hand on your shoulder. A simple squeeze was all you got, and much like your mother who hugged you before your departure, their gestures were too brief to be any comfort. You wondered how they could have possibly come to terms so quickly with losing their own child when you, the one to be sacrificed, were struggling with your fear and pride.

Every step on the hot floor was like a stab of a knife in your back. The hunting party that had accompanied you watched as you continued your journey towards the sacrificial space the ancestors had created, their gazes like whips that spurred you on. But they didn't linger. Since they didn't have to tie you down on the altar, they had no reason to watch the gruesome death of their own kind, knowing that either way, you weren't going to return. You knew the way back to your village like the inside of your pocket, years of roaming the jungles teaching you how to go home. But they'd kill you before you cursed the village with your failure to be sacrificed. Merciless, cold. You were no longer a part of them. You were a meager part of the tradition now.

However, the way to the altar was actually more of a challenge than going home. You had only been there once as a child, laying flowers down for your uncle, who had been the last sacrifice years before your birth. Your father may have called him your uncle, but it turned out he was an adopted orphan who ended up paying for his dedication to your family much later. Your father seemed unsympathetic towards him, but it dawned on you that he must have never been close to this brother of his, probably knowing the fate that awaited him.

You never knew your uncle, but back then, you had been proud of him, too.

That day was also the first time your father explained the traditions and the importance of keeping them up. How much honor it brought to your family and how many lives it saved to lose one person. You wondered why, after he taught you so many skills, worked so hard to make you a respected member of your tribe, and loved you like a father would, he could so easily send you to your death. But it slowly dawned on you what kind of person your father was. One that didn't truly cared for his "family", only for his own pride and gains. And you had been so easily fooled as to believe him all this time.

It took you much longer than you remembered, but eventually, you reached the grounds your ancestors had created for this spectacle. It was close to the foot of the volcano, an altar erected from the stone sprouting from the ground with nothing else present in this wasteland. The heat had increased substantially over time, every breath burning in your lungs, your eyes dry, and your feet chafed from walking over the smoldering stone for so long. Dread was no longer a constant companion as acceptance slowly crept into your mind. You had seen the bones of many humans on the way to this place. Apparently, not everyone had been so lucky to have made it this far, either the environment or the monster killing them before they reached the altar. Or maybe themselves, now that you thought about it.

The sight of the raised altar forced a shuddering breath out of your lungs, the stinging sensation barely enough to distract you from the blaring truth. You were going to die. One way or another, you would. Touching the side of your leg, you felt the leather holster beneath your dress. The dagger you sneaked would probably not be enough to kill the monster, if there ever was one. Still, if you could inflict some damage to it, perhaps your tribe would one day snap out of the trance that it was this immortal threat that your ancestors appeased by offering their own children to it. Maybe they'd see the wounds and realize they didn't have to cower in fear of it, and thus, maybe your sacrifice would not be in vain.

Brushing your hand over the warm stone, you felt an untypical cold shudder run down your spine, knowing it was meant to be your deathbed. You wondered how many before you had laid here, waiting for the monster to come. How many had prayed, hoped, and begged to be saved, and how many had fought and struggled like you were going to. Following in their footsteps now, you knew they did what they thought was their best. That was the greatest honor you could bestow on them.

You hoisted yourself up, struggling to climb on top of the massive stone slab, before you sat close to the edge and stretched out your legs, feeling the burned and chafed soles of your feet crack as they finally got some rest. Hissing, you were confronted with the pain, yet you only sighed, swiping your hands over your face to free you of the sweat that was desperately trying to cool you down. Even if you were used to the warmer temperature of your home, it was nothing against the volcanic heat, and you almost admired it for burning for so long, never bothered by anyone. The air was as heavy as your soul felt, trapped in your body and scared to the heavens.

Imagining the snake did very little to soothe your mind, but you still tried to prepare for the shock its sight undoubtedly would be. You imagined a snake as tall as a building, with two heads splitting apart at one end. Heads with sharp fangs and venom dripping out of their mouths, eyes that ate you up before their maw even got close to you. It would slither over the ground, nimble, avoiding the lava pools, but too large to hide behind the wasteland it reigned over. Bloodlust urging it on as it smelled the sweet fragrance of the flowers on your head, which were delighted to bloom in the warm temperatures. A green tail? Brown? Perhaps a little of both? Maybe its scales were dark red like all the blood it drank from the sacrifices.

"Look at that, they do sacrifice their own kind."

Deep in thought, the heat probably having gone to your head, you hadn't noticed the chafing sound that slithered closer from behind. Only when someone suddenly spoke did your mind alert you of the danger, and you jumped down from the altar, swiftly spinning around and bracing yourself. One hand hovered over your dagger beneath your dress, and the other arm stayed defensively in front of you. With the distance you managed to jump and the massive altar separating you from the monster, you were at a surprising advantage, and it felt good to have the upper hand.

Your eyes widened at the sight of two men standing behind the altar, one of them leaning down on the stone surface right next to where you had sat. In contrast, the other stood straight with his arms behind his back, but both watched you with burning intensity. Immediately, you noticed their similar appearances, the light grey hair falling from their heads, bound by braids, and still with countless strands falling over their exposed chests. Their eyes were like marbles, reflecting the different colors of the area in them, elongated pupils slightly vibrating as they fixated over and over on you. But what really put you off was their size. Their legs must have been easily as tall as the altar, and that was no size a normal human should have had.

"Mother never told us sacrifices were this cute."

The man leaning on the table rolled over on his side, his hair splaying all over the altar in waves. And yet, even while moving, his gaze never trailed off—but yours did. You let out a horrified gasp as the scaled tail of a snake buckled and arched to accommodate the man's movements, and with a surprised jolt, he reared upwards, exposing even more of the tail that started at his hips.

A moment of silence washed over you three, and you felt incredibly exposed and stared down by two pairs of eyes as if they were pinning you into place. Willing you to not move a muscle, to be eaten without putting up a fight. No one said anything before the startled man laughed out loudly, shaking his head and holding his belly before slapping his free hand attention-seekingly against his companion's arm.

"That scared me," he chuckled. "I've never heard that kind of sound before."

The other man let out a hum of agreement, nodding his head before looking back at you. You were at a clear disadvantage, unsure where to look first and who to focus on, as you were outnumbered by the two. The one that kept talking was smaller than the other, although this could have been the heat playing tricks on you. Both were muscular, but he was less refined than his almost-twin. You wagered you could take him on if there wasn't a scaley tail winding from his hips. That would be additional weight you couldn't topple, no matter how much you playfighted the other hunters and warriors of your tribe, which sometimes outdid you in terms of weight and size.

The quieter one, on the other hand, had the typical looks of a working man in the village: big arms coming from a strong back and toned muscles that the woman would drool over, while the other seemed fit and nimble. But your eyes unwillingly focused on the tail as the two scaled the altar, moving forward oddly in sync until it became clear why.

Their two strands of tails flowed together between them into one massive one.

It was mesmerizing, you had to admit, the scales an iridescent white. But whenever the tail moved, it took on the hues of the land, grey and red, only to return to their original color as it wound itself. You were awestruck and panicked at the same time, as the tail seemed to be neverending, wrapping around the altar, finding hold on the stony ground that even your feet struggled with. Fear filled you as you watched their slithering movements, the mistake in your thinking now glaringly clear: The monster existed, and it had come for you.

"Y-You're the monster!" you screamed, and the smaller one of the two scrunched up his nose, taking offense. The white scales swept over the altar, landing in the space between you and the stone with a heavy thud. His body was barely shaken by the impact, so perfectly in balance with itself despite their unnatural split into two different entities, and the seriousness of the situation rained down on you like their sharp gazes as you realized there would be no chance of you overpowering either of them.

Even with their connection, they spread out too far to reach both simultaneously. They could still move independently, even if their range was limited to what their body could give. But even without them rearing up on the tail, they were almost two heads taller than you were. They knew their body better than anyone, and you didn't doubt they had some tricks up their non-existing sleeves to best you.

Biting your lip, you finally slipped your hand beneath your dress, never letting the monster—monsters—out of your sight. To your surprise, you watched their gazes slip to where you raised the fabric, observing you with curious intention, their split tongues slipping out from their lips, tasting the air as they ogled at your exposed thigh.

Your hand curled around the grip of your dagger, and the moment you pulled it from its holster, the snakes lept forward. There was no time to be proud of yourself, but your reaction was immaculate. You jumped back just in time to avert the nimble one's grabby hands, even drawing blood as your blade slit open the skin between his thumb and pointer finger.

However, as fast as you dealt with one of the snakes, you couldn't recover quickly enough to avoid the second pair of hands. Much like you anticipated, their range was too extensive to fight both of them at once, and although you ducked beneath one hand of the stronger monster, his second hand latched on, right in your hair. You watched as the red petals of the flower crown loosened and swayed in the air like a sad veil of defeat.

Your head was yanked back, and you acted quickly, directing the knife towards the unprotected free shoulder, somewhere that would hurt. Somewhere that would leave a visible scar and show everyone that these monsters could be injured. But a bloody grip around your wrist prevented you from pushing the dagger into the creature's partially scaled bodies, your hopes crumbling into ash.

"You good?" the more muscular man asked, and the other clicked his tongue in annoyance while you flailed and struggled in their grip. Your free hand was useless as you couldn't even reach forward enough, and so were your legs as you stood on your tiptoes while they yanked you around.

The latter lifted the hand that was holding your wrist to his mouth, licking up the blood that spilled from the cut on his as he maintained eye contact. You bared your teeth in both pain and defiance, not showing any of the miserable fear and panic you felt inside. You didn't manage to do what you came here for, and you felt the power surging through their bodies just from their hands on you. The failure gnawed at your determination, the fight as good as lost.

"We're not monsters," he hissed, glowering at you, although it looked more like a pout. "But you sure are quick on your feet."

Their comments should not have caused your heart to swell with pride, but hearing it from the monster you swore to hurt in exchange for your life did feel good.

"Surely you wish you'd have gotten an easier meal, monster! But I won't go down until I have shown everyone that you can be wounded and defeated! That you will bleed if the people unite! There will be no more sacrifices once they've seen what I did to you!"

"We're not monsters!" they repeated in unison before exchanging a brief glance with each other.

"Well, I won't call you god and beg for your mercy!" you spat, and the lips of the snake with your hand in his grip curled into a grin.

"Are you sure about that?"

With his blood coating your hand, he raised it way over your head, causing you to gasp as your whole body strained to accommodate the movement. His hand slipped upwards, a few fingers holding you in place, while some snaked between your palm and the knife in your grasp, prying your hold from it inch by inch. You let out a soft whine as the leather grip was torn from you and watched the metal clatter to the ground.

But you didn't have the time to mourn the loss of your only weapon, not when your arm was bent backward. Immediately, your free hand shot up, trying to dig your nails into the fingers wrapped around your wrist still.

That was your greatest mistake. With his free hand, the quiet monster immediately reached for both of yours, wrapping them in his palm as quickly as their tail could around your body.

You were kept on your tiptoes as you felt the scales of said tail slither over your skin. Creeping beneath your soles and running up your ankles, squeezing the flesh of your shins firmly together before wrapping around each thigh individually. You kicked and squirmed, but their tail was almost as unrelenting as their hands, and you involuntarily winced as your wrists were squeezed together as if tied by a rope.

"It's true we are not the monster you're trying to defeat," the leaner one claimed again, licking his wound like an injured animal.

"That's our mother," his brother explained curtly, and your head whirled around to him, the questions etched into your face.

"Look at us; we're only half the snake she is."

With an exasperated huff, you looked back and forth between the two, reeling at the revelation. "That's not possible! You... you are a snake with two heads. It's exactly as it's told in our stories!"

"They're not wrong..."

"I mean, she is a literal snake with two heads. And she's gigantic. You should be glad she didn't find you first, or you'd be even less than a small snack for her."

"And our dad is human. Like you."

You must have looked rightfully befuddled as the two went back and forth on their explanation, but once they were done, you could only gulp, unsure what to make of the situation. "So... you're not the monster that demands sacrifices?"

"No."

"Not really."

"Then..." It was hard to form the words that zapped through your mind, your mouth suddenly feeling dry again as the adrenaline sifted from your blood flow. Nothing could rationalize this situation, and you were still strung up by their hands and tail. This almost felt too good to be true, so you had to take your chance as long as you could. "You'll let me go?"

A moment of silence hung over all three of your heads before the brothers slowly ripped their gazes off you to exchange sly smirks. You wobbled as their body—and by extension, yours—set into motion, slithering back to the altar until you were sat down, your back forced to rest on the stone like a lamb to slaughter, hands hanging over the edge above your head and legs still wrapped by their tail.

"Oh, you can't just leave," the lean one purred, coming up from below you and planting his clawed hands firmly on either side of your arms. "The nights get so cold, and the days are so lonely with our mom busy occupying our dad. She never lets us play with him or come back to our home. Won't you keep us company for a while longer? I'm sure you can teach us some things, and we can teach you."

The other settled on the opposite side, still holding your hands in place as he grunted in agreement. You felt the bile rise in your throat as one touch slipped below your line of sight, claw-like nails raking up your thigh and moving beneath your dress. Their intentions got more apparent as the fabric was gripped from above, too, slowly, sensually raising over your skin until the hip strap of your underwear was revealed.

In a last-ditch effort, you tried to struggle once more, legs tugging upwards and kicking at the ever-winding tail while your hands twisted in their hold, causing it to crush down onto your bones even more. That wasn't how you wanted to go down; it wasn't the fight to death you thought you'd have!

"End me, then. Get it over with," you yelled out, laying your head to the side and closing your eyes, the reality too hard to face. Sooner or later, you'd die anyway, and if this were the things you'd have to endure, you'd rather be dead. It wasn't the kind of sacrifice you wanted to be, one defiled and molested before you'd be killed, so you'd rather be dead than witness it.

"Hush now," someone murmured, and you felt a hand sweep underneath your chin, turning your head forward again before tugging it up and over the altar's edge. Your eyes snapped open as your instincts kicked in, but as you opened your mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by another.

A tongue slipped between your opened lips before you could close them, slashing around inside harshly and clogging your throat. There was too much to take, and you gulped down the wetness it brought, sloshing it everywhere to the point it dripped from your lips, running down your face that immediately heated up beneath the fluid. It tasted sweet and even when you wanted to stop, you couldn't, gulping down all that was given to you.

Your body began to relax while you felt a hand drive down the front of your torso, brushing an entire palm over your breast and getting stuck on your nipple. You jolted, a pang of electricity flying to your head and down your spine, your back arching as you couldn't understand what was going on anymore. You had never felt this sensitive before, and as the hand continued to roam from one side to the other, finding the budding nip beneath your dress and twisting it, you let out an unholy moan into the mouth of the monster, your own tongue lashing upwards until it got caught on a sharp fang. Despite not feeling it, you were pretty sure your tongue was ripped open, but even more of the sweet-tasting, addictive stuff dripped from the fang, gushing into your mouth. You gobbled it up, considering you had nothing to drink throughout your journey, and your mind was not getting enough of the taste.

"Considering how quickly you got hooked on our mating fluids, I'd not be surprised if you do end up calling us gods when we're done with you."

You barely heard the voice of the curious onlooker beyond your line of sight, your mind wholly crazed by the liquid that coated all of your mouth and senses. It took almost more work to extract the monster's tongue from your throat than it had putting it inside. Your head followed it upwards, unwilling to part while the drool kept dripping down onto your face.

As you were freed of the kiss, a shameful, miserable sigh of disappointment escaped you, and you barely regained the ability to reply, "Never," in response to what the snake had said. That caused both of them to chuckle, and the sound sent a core-clenching, spine-tingling warmth throughout your body. Your lips quivering as your mind begged for more of that deep rumble cursing through their bodies.

"We'll see about that," the monster from below mumbled as he raked his claws over your thigh. Immediately, you were jolting upwards in their hold, caught between pain and pleasure as he lightly scabbed your skin. It was a small revenge for his own wound, and the scratches burned deliciously as they welcomed the hot air all around you two. "You're already so wet for us."

"It's called sweat," you mewled defiantly, the sound of your voice not befitting your sarcasm. You clenched your legs together, but it was a vain effort with the tail still stuck above your knees, easily prying them open by driving upwards. The scales rubbing over your skin didn't help your misery at all, and you wanted to throw your head against a solid wall with how dizzy and needy you felt. It wasn't you on that altar, but a very distorted version of you, one that wanted to be fucked silly even though what you really wanted was a good fight.

The two laughed at your comment, and you moaned in annoyance at the electricity that sapped through you at the sound of their voices. Your head fell back over the edge, and you came face to face with the more muscular one of the brothers as he lowered himself to your eye level. His eyes raked over your face, then up to your exposed neck just waiting to be bit.

"You're so cute," he mumbled, split tongue darting out again, tasting the air. Your pussy clenched as you wished for that tongue back in your throat or, even better, caressing your quivering folds below that were begging for something to fill their loneliness. The experience was new to you, as you had never wanted intimacy like this with anyone before. You had been so focused on your goals and diligently upholding your parents' rules and traditions that you never craved anyone, but especially not these two beasts.

"I'm not cute," you mewled, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you felt the sharp claws hover above your abdomen, gently stroking the skin below your navel from side to side, your core clenching even harder with pure, undiluted desire. But when the fingers slipped beneath the rim of your underwear, you moaned as you expected them to dip into the wet mess that lay just beneath, the expectation almost enough to send you over the edge.

"Oh, yeah?" the snake-man grinned, and you felt one finger press into your slit, your folds welcoming it warmly and with a shudder going through your body. You quaked in pleasure, eyes blown wide open, and the two fangs of the monster were all more prevalent as his lips split into a toothy smile. "So cute," he doubled down, pulling your arms taut until your body stretched to the last of its capabilities.

With his lips gently brushing against your forearm, you were wholly unprepared for the sharp pain as he dug his fangs deep into your skin. But the shriek quickly turned into a moan, your hips grinding against the finger probing at your entrance as more of the aphrodisiac went straight into your bloodstream. You watched the dark fluid drip off your arm, causing even more heat to spread where it flowed, and you were mercilessly whining as you couldn't move your hips nearly enough to satisfy your needs.

"Please," you snapped upwards, staring at the creature settled on top of the altar next to you, leisurely rubbing his hand along your pussy.

"There goes the begging," he reminded you, and you bit your lip to the point of hurting yourself.

Fuck, that wasn't what you wanted to say. It wasn't how you wanted to die, you never intended to let it get this far. Pathetic, pathetic, absolutely pathetic. You were a fucking warrior, you fought threats and hunted prey, you were not going to surrender to them—

"Fuck!" you gasped out loud this time as one digit slipped inside you. You felt it hook inside your pussy, slowly dragging out despite being clung to firmly by your insides. All the faster did he push it inside again, every joint that buried inside you made you arch your back and rejoice. You nearly avoided being scratched open inside, purely by how slick your pussy and his hand were by now, more fluids gushing out as he pulled his finger from you again and again.

Simultaneously, another digit curled down, fondling the heated folds until it pressed down on your clit, forcing a mewl from you. Fangs tore out of your skin, but you barely noticed as the two fingers united, taking up more space inside of you and scissoring your walls apart until you felt your pussy gaping and drooling obscenely.

"I'll not... submit," you stammered between bated breaths. "I'll not... be your plaything."

"And we wouldn't want it any other way," they chimed in unison, exchanging a satisfied glance before grinning.

"Mom always said to look out for the feisty ones."

"We just didn't think you'd come to meet us so soon."

"Or that you'd be this fun to play with."

Your whole body shuddered as both fingers were pulled out of your terribly needy hole. Your breath was almost non-existent, the lack of air only stimulating you more as you heard the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy letting go of the monster's fingers. A hand slipped beneath your head, helping you to hold it up as you watched the leaner brother lifting his pointer and middle finger to his face, split tongue lapping out to taste your slick pulling strings in the gaps while maintaining eye contact with you all throughout it.

"They're perfect," he purred as he looked up, stretching his arm towards his brother, who leaned forward to have his taste of you from his brother's fingers.

"Damn, that's sweet," he commented too on your fluids, licking them from his lips as he looked down at you in a mix of surprise and awe.

"And so pretty, too."

You felt their eyes in the same way their claws had raked over your body. Hungrily, with the intention to harm you. And yet, your hole kept gaping, needing more stimulation, wanting more. You were the pitiful prey you kept denying you were, but it seemed that in their eyes, you were so much more than that.

"Our little fighter," the one at your side murmured, stretching upwards to hover beside your face.

"Are you not even finishing what you started?" you spit, your venom not nearly as effective when your voice sounded as if you were drugged and disgruntled.

"Oh, I will, little fighter. We're going to make sure you can take us before spreading you on our cocks and make you cry out in pleasure until you call us "god". But before that, you have to be good and let us take you to our nest. Bonding will take so much time, and you are much too vulnerable out here."

"Fuck you," you grunted, trying to elbow him, but your arm barely moved.

"Keep it up," he grinned. "Wouldn't want you to give up too easily. Breaking you in is part of the fun."

"You're a fucking monster after all."

The snakes hummed thoughtfully as you were finally pulled off the table. Instead of being dragged by your arms or wrapped in their tail, however, you were slung over the bigger brother's shoulder, feeling his hand immediately settle beneath your asscheek, not so subtly poking at your pussy with his claw.

"Let me go!" you demanded weakly, your sore hands pounding pitifully into his shoulder.

"And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," the leaner brother answered.

"Mother told us you can't go back anyway," the one carrying you added, throwing salt into the wound. They were right, but that didn't mean you'd go down so easily, even if your legs were still quivering and your head throbbing with need. "They'll kill you on sight, won't they? And then they'll return you to the altar so we can eat you."

A hand clasped around your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks as your head was lifted to face the leaner brother. "You know we prefer a different taste," he grinned, and you felt your anger rise again together with the shame of his implication. Collecting your saliva and some of the residues of the aphrodisiac, you spit them into his face, not caring whatsoever what that meant for you.

The snake-man scrunched up his face, quickly wiping it away. "Save your drool," he snarled, and you grinned victoriously despite the clasp he held your face in.

But as if on cue, a large palm flattened against your ass, and you jolted forward on the shoulder, eyes blown wide open as you gasped. You couldn't believe it as the wave of pleasure finally crashed into your rockfest resolution, your toes curling upwards and your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you harder than even the slap had.

"Oh, god," you whispered breathlessly while riding the high of pleasure and shame as you felt your juices leaking even through your panties, dripping and running down the body of the other stronger brother.

"Seems like you finally get it, sacrifice," the guy in front of you noted, brushing his thumb over your lips, which opened automatically to his beckoning.

"Let's go, brother," he urged. "Seems our little fighter needs just a bit more convincing as to why they'll love being ours. I can't wait to make their belly swell with our clutch, just like Mother has always told us."

"We're lucky we found a mate so quickly," the other agreed, and you let out a defeated huff, no more words to counter them with coming to your dazed thoughts.

Their tail set into motion, scales slithering over stone, while your mind drifted off, the aphrodisiac having too much of a hold on your conscience for you to be rid of it quickly. You were going to be taken by the monsters, and if you thought you were helpless before, your body now barely felt like it belonged to you. It was as if you weren't its master anymore, but that drug and those snakes were. You could only shiver, even though the air was getting hotter the closer you three got to the volcano, wondering if you at least fulfilled your duty as a sacrifice.

And when that duty would finally end.

[mikkies]

「 EVEN AS WE GROW, MY LOVE NEVER FLICKERS. 」

Mayor Thaniyel x GN! Reader

warnings: none!

notes: I mixed up present and interpretation of past Mayor Thaniyel. But it's just hints 🤭

Your relationship with Thaniyel is one of quiet companionship and mutual respect. Both of you have lived long enough to appreciate the small, meaningful moments in life.

There’s an unspoken bond between you, where words often aren’t needed. A shared look or a gentle touch says more than conversation ever could.

Despite his reliance on a cane, Thaniyel loves taking slow, peaceful walks with you. The two of you are a familiar sight to the townsfolk, walking arm in arm as the sun sets over the city he governs.

He sometimes pauses to point out changes in the town, saying, “I’d never have noticed that without you here with me.”

Thaniyel is a man of subtle gestures: resting his hand over yours, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, or squeezing your arm gently as a sign of reassurance.

 

He’s not overly verbal with his affection, but when he does say “I love you,” it’s in a soft, almost reverent tone, as if he’s still amazed by the depth of his feelings.

You and Thaniyel often reminisce about your younger days, trading stories and finding joy in discovering parallels between your lives.

He adores hearing about your adventures and always listens intently, occasionally adding his own witty or heartfelt comments.

You’re his quiet rock during the challenges of governing Turitopulis. Whether he’s dealing with political conflicts or trying to manage his strained relationship with Brad (Griefer), your presence calms him.

Thaniyel often seeks your advice, and your wisdom reassures him that he’s on the right path.

On days when his age catches up with him, you’re there to remind him to rest and take care of himself. Likewise, he does the same for you, often insisting, “Let me do that; you’ve done enough for today.”

You’ve both perfected the art of taking care of each other in small, thoughtful ways—leaving a favorite book on the nightstand, brewing tea, or making sure the other has their coat before heading out.

Thaniyel loves the simplicity of shared moments: tending to a small garden, enjoying a warm meal together, or watching the rain fall from the porch.

He often says, “I never realized how beautiful the little things could be—until you showed me.”

Though Thaniyel often appears sad, you’ve managed to bring out a lighter side of him. Your playful teasing and sharp humor catch him off guard, and his rare chuckles are music to your ears.

“You’re the only one who can make me laugh like that,” he admits, his expression softening as he looks at you.

Thaniyel admires your strength and independence, often saying it’s one of the qualities he loves most about you.

 

While he’s always there to support you, he never tries to overstep, understanding that you’ve lived a full life on your own before him. 

Both of you care deeply about the town, and your love becomes an example of harmony and unity for the community.

Together, you’re seen as a beacon of wisdom and compassion—a power couple, even in your elder years.

You gently remind Thaniyel to stay patient with his son, encouraging him to reach out even when it feels hopeless.

Sometimes, Brad jokingly calls you his “bonus parent,” which secretly brings Thaniyel great joy. He sees you as the glue holding his family together.

For both of you, being together is like finding home after years of wandering. There’s a comfort in knowing you’ve found someone who understands you completely.

Thaniyel often takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing gentle circles as he whispers, “I didn’t think I’d find this kind of love again—but I’m grateful I did.”

[ocearinaa]

FIRST CHOICE | B . BLAKE

summary : since you can remember, you’ve always been a last choice to everyone, never allowing yourself to get close to anyone. that is until someone comes in a changes every with a simple action and words.

warning : smut (piv, public—they’re out in the open)

word count : 3.8K

You always felt like a second choice—no, not even second. The last option. When nothing else worked, you were the last person to be sought out. Forever and always. It was your fate, your destiny. Over time, you grew used to it, allowed it to be a part of you, despite the distaste it would always leave in your mouth whenever people asked for your help, knowing why they were here.

And now, you’re on the ground. The air felt refreshing, new, not recycled. Trees were endless, the water sparkled in the shining sun that casted long shadows on the ground. It was beautiful, breathtaking. A whole new world and it was all yours.

Well, not completely yours.

Grounders were a threat, the biggest threat yet. Constantly seeking your camp out, hunting you like you were wild animals they could eat. It was tortuous.

But unity day took all that pressure and fear away. A day to relax.

You weren’t alone, your only friends being Monty and Jasper. Not the best influences, but no one in camp really was—you were all criminals, all seemingly untrustworthy. But those two were the only two you let hold your life in their hands. Not the best with weapons or combat, but they never let you feel like a last resort to them.

Jasper was urging you to have some moonshine, his grin wide and reaching his eyes, his dark brown irises glistening under the pale moon.

“Have some,” he said, his voice urgent as he held a cup with liquid inside. “It’s unity day, and we’re on earth! Celebrate.”

A small sigh escapes you, and you can’t help the small smile that spreads over your lips. You finally take the cup from him and bring it to your lips, taking a sip. The alcohol burns down your throat, warm and scorching. But there’s a sweet and bitter taste that makes it bearable.

Jasper and Monty cheer at you, large grins both covering their faces and you laugh—actually laugh. You had been so worried about Earth, the grounds, surviving, not allowing yourself a break and now you were being forced to have one.

And it felt so good.

Time ticked by, people got drunk. You had excused yourself from your friends, hearing their protests. You were relaxed, body not rigid, mind not tense. Your feet led you to the lake, the same lake you visited on your first day. It looked even more stunning with the moon reflecting against the glass-like liquid.

You sat on the ground, legs drawn to your chest and arms wrapped firmly around them. Your gaze was trained on the scenery, on the open space around you. Here, you weren’t a last option, you didn’t need to be an option. Nature took you in as its own, allowed you these beautiful sights whenever you wanted.

The night was young, beautifully so. A sight that felt so intimately yours.

The sound of branches snapping brought you back to reality, your head turning around toward the sound in an instant. Your body went tense, shoulders tight, your eyes narrowing to see through the dark.

That’s when you see him. Bellamy Blake.

Your body relaxes ever so slightly, a small sigh of relief escaping you as he nears where you sat on the ground.

“Did I scare you?” He asked, his tone mocking, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You sneaked up on me in the dark, of course you did.” You answer with a firm tone, your gaze moving away from him and back to vast water.

He chuckled from behind, low but not unkind. He was a power that couldn’t be reckoned with. A being who held strength and courage all in one, never wavering or faltering under anyone’s gaze. A strong leader who cared.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

You turn your head once more, finding him sat next to you. His legs stretched out in front of him, hands placed on the ground to keep his back straight. His gaze wasn’t on yours, rather the moon. And even from your position, you could see how it reflected in his irises.

“Yeah…” you finally say in all but a whisper, turning your gaze to the moon yourself.

A full circle, shining brightly in the sky and offering its light for the dark night the enveloped the sky. It truly was the most beautiful thing ever, even from space, seeing the moon on Earth was impossible to be compared to. Holding so much beauty and meaning, like its entire existence was for one thing.

To bring light even in the darkest times.

“You often come to the lake by yourself?” Bellamy’s voice broke the silence first, a deep rumble yet it held a sense of kindness to it.

Strange, you thought, he’s usually so stern.

You look to him, and this time he’s already looking at you. Your heart skips a beat for a moment, his gaze is intense and heavy, something that is impossible to ignore. You nod as a response and he smiles. He actually smiles.

“I see why,” he says, looking to the water, “it’s peaceful here.”

It was like a secret hideout, somewhere only you knew about. No one ever came here, it was only you, but Bellamy now knew about it, and something about him knowing didn’t make you uncomfortable.

“You think the air alone is comforting?” You ask, head tilting as your lips turn up into a small grin. “The water is even more so.”

Bellamy smirks at you, his brow raised in curiosity. “Are you trying to see my shirtless, princess?”

The nickname has fell so easily from his lips, like it was perfectly made for you. But it was the suggestion of his words that made you pause. You hadn’t meant it in that way, had you? You just wanted to let him in on a secret.

Your silence only amused Bellamy further, his smirk growing ever so slightly, a light hum escaping his lips. Before you know it, he’s pulling his shirt off and discarding it somewhere. Then, he’s working on removing his pants, socks, shoes. Everything until he’s in nothing but his boxers.

You don’t mean to stare, but you do. He’s like a magnet, a force you can’t avoid. He’s built like a warrior, despite being nothing but a janitor on the Ark. His body toned, defined muscles, scars from battles on the ground. It’s only when he speaks do you look up.

“It’s rude to stare you know.”

You swallow, blinking a few times, willing your mind to not wander. But it’s hard when he’s standing there, his body practically calling to you. You mutter an apology and he chuckles, he doesn’t need one. He’s cocky, and he knows he’s attractive. A dangerous combination.

“Join me.”

It’s not an offer, it’s a command.

It’s a command you can’t reject.

You don’t think while stripping, reduced to nothing but your bra and underwear. Now he’s staring. His eyes travel head to toe, taking in all of you—drinking in every inch like he has tasted water in days.

“It’s rude to stare.” You comment, repeating his previous words.

Bellamy doesn’t care, he takes his time to look back up into your eyes, a devilish glint in his eyes. He takes a step closer, as much as you probably should move back, you don’t.

“Can you blame me, pretty?”

A new name. Another name to make your mind twist with thoughts, filled with images. You swallow. Was this another case of being a last resort? Had he flirted with every girl in camp for release and grew bored or been rejected?

You shake the thoughts off, remembering Monty’s words.

“You’ll be someone’s first choice.”

You allow your body to relax, rolling your eyes as a response. “Get in the water.”

You turn, taking steps toward the water. Your feet hit first, and you continue further until the water reaches the middle of your stomach. Your entire lower body is submerged, cold and relaxing water splashing against your body.

And then, there’s a presence in front of you. You hadn’t realised your eyes had been closed, but they open to be met with Bellamy’s gaze already on yours. He doesn’t look stern, he doesn’t look like a leader in this moment. He simply looks like a man admiring something close to a goddess.

He’s admiring you.

The thought has your heart pounding harshly against your chest, your pulse quickening in your ear. You’re sure he can hear the racing beat of your heart, that it may have torn from your chest and right into his hands.

But it hasn’t.

“The water is nice.” He says, his voice far too calm in comparison to your body that feels like it’s aflame right now.

You can only manage a nod, every word failing you in that very moment. The world felt still, like it had stopped spinning for a moment. It felt like it belonged to you, allowing you the choice of what happened—your very own game of sorts.

But this isn’t a game. Bellamy isn’t a choice.

He’s a want, a need. A desire.

“What are you thinking about, princess?”

Bellamy’s voice is lower, it sounds closer. And it’s only then do you realise your eyes have closed again. You open them, to find he’s leaned closer, his lips had been right against your ear. So very close. What were you thinking? You didn’t even know yourself.

Him.

He’d plagued your every thought, with one simple interaction. It was almost pathetic. You spent your life avoiding feelings like this, not allowing yourself to get close, in fear of being someone’s last choice. Yet here you were, allowing yourself to fall. And for once, you weren’t sure if you wanted to be saved.

He moves closer, the water swaying between you. His hands find their way to your waist, his head leaning down to be mere inches from yours. Now you’re sure he can hear your rapid heart, maybe even see the thoughts that course through your mind.

A smirk graces his lips, you thought he might’ve spoke and had been too lost in thoughts to register the words, but he had been silent. The moon illuminated every perfect feature on his face, he looked perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. A sinful being.

“You know,” he says, and you instantly catch the voice echoing in your ears. “I’ve seen you from afar, all alone. Why’s such a pretty being never sworn by desperate men?”

You pause, almost falter under his intense gaze and words. Almost. It felt like dagger, thought it was an accusation. It was a question, one that came from pure curiosity and speculation and nothing more.

But how does one so simply say they had always been the last choice? Never seen in the crowd of first choices. It’s unknown, a harsh feeling that’s been embedded to your entire being.

“I’m not their first choice.”

Bellamy falters. The smirk disappearing far too quickly from his lips, the intense gaze he always wore shifting to something softer. Pity, maybe. But it didn’t feel like just that. It felt deeper, something more than just feeling bad.

“You’re my first choice.”

The world felt like it had stilled, motionless around you. His gaze is still locked on yours, still watching any move or reaction you give, like a predator watching his prey. But it’s not harsh or intense, not forcing, it’s gentle. Like he’s gently coaxing more information from you.

“What?” You splutter, unsure if you had even heard him correctly or if it had been a cruel joke your ears played.

“You heard me, princess,” he says, a chuckle escaping him.

His arms wrap more firmly around your waist, pulling you closer to him. And you let him. Because maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe Monty was right, maybe you were his first choice.

The words fail you once more, unable to form a coherent sentence even in your mind. Far too fogged with his words replaying over like a broken record. Bellamy doesn’t speak either, he just keeps his gaze trained on you, like out of all nature surrounding you, you’re still the only thing worth looking at.

“You don’t believe me?”

He almost sounds hurt, but the understanding in his tone is more prominent. You only nod, confirming his suspicions. Instead of looking defeated or walking away, he smiles. A genuine smile like the one you saw previously.

“Want me to prove it?”

You pause, your body stilling as if the water had became ice around you. You only stare at him with wide eyes. Prove it. You rack your brain for logicality, to prove he was simply lying and playing her. But there was no deception in his eyes, and Bellamy Blake was a truthful man.

Sometimes, the truth was dangerous. But right now, you craved the truth.

You nod for a response again, and that’s all the confirmation Bellamy needs before crashing his lips against yours. You expected him to start gentle, but his kiss is desperate, passionate, like he’s been holding back far too long and can’t contain himself and his desire any longer.

Your eyes flutter closed, your body relaxes as his presses his every muscle against your body—his skin a warm contrast to the cold water and night air. A welcome heat. Your arms wrap around his neck, one hand moving to tangle in his hair.

Any doubts are thrown to the wind, any second guesses of what you are gone.

All you know and care about is his taste, how his lips feel against yours. How intoxicating the man before you is.

You’re addicted, and he’s the drug.

His hands moved to the backs of your thighs, hoisting your body up with ease as if you were nothing but a feather to him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your head tipping to the side as his tongue drags along your bottom lip and within an instant, you grant him access.

His tongue explores you, a low groan vibrating against your lips as if the taste of you satisfies him. You’re loosing all sanity, needing him like the air you breathe, how you need food and water.

He pulls away first, leaving you missing the feel of his lips on yours.

“We should get out the water at least.”

His words are true, but you don’t want to wait. And you definitely can’t walk into camp in nothing but your underwear. Bellamy practically senses your disappointment, a cocky smirk curling into his lips. You expect some snarky comment, but are met with none.

“You promise to be quiet?”

Is he suggesting you do it here? In the vast open nature? The sun is low beyond the horizon, the moon taking its place. It’s late, most people wouldn’t dare venture the woods this late, this dark—plus, they were far too distracted with getting drunk to care what was beyond their camp.

You nod. But actions aren’t enough this time.

“Promise.”

Bellamy smiled at you, like he abandoned the cocky smirk to only smile for you. He carries you out the water, and your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest in anticipation. His words echo in your mind; “you’re my first choice.”

He sets you carefully on the ground, settling between your legs with his hands either side of your head to keep his weight up, and not crush you. You stare up at him, unblinking, and he only meets your gaze. So soft, so unlike what he wants to do.

“You sure you want this?” He asks, voice anything but a whisper.

“I do,” you confirm, a small smile gracing your lips.

That’s all he needs, all he needs to stop holding back, to take what he so desperately wants. In a moments time, his lips are back on yours, it’s not as desperate but it’s intimate, passionate—like he’s trying to spill his every emotion into one kiss. Your arms snake around his neck and pull him closer, not caring as his weight is flush against you.

He pulls back, you think that’s it, but his lips trail from your jaw to your neck. They start as soft kisses against your skin, then his teeth graze the sensitive flesh on your neck, causing a small gasp to escape you. Bellamy doesn’t stop, he pushes further, biting and sucking in that very same spot, leaving dark marks across your skin so visibly to everyone.

And he doesn’t care, neither do you. You want—need—people to know your his, that he never chose you last, show what could’ve been.

“I would really love to take this slow, princess,” he murmurs against your skin, you can feel the vibrations of his voice against you, “but I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”

You bring your gaze back to him, words not falling. Sure, you’re completely alone, but you can’t wait much longer either, he’s got you trapped under a spell. One you don’t want to break free off.

You smile at him, one hand moving from around the back of his neck and down his torso until you reach the waistband of his boxers. You see his breathing hitch, his eyes trailing your every move.

“Don’t hold back. Don’t wait any longer.”

Your words are like a promise, or an encouragement—Bellamy isn’t sure. But it’s enough for his hands to practically tear your panties off, a gasp escaping you as the cold night air hits your core, sending shivers up your spine.

Your fingers curl around the waistband, tugging them down, your eyes never leaving his face—he’s smirking again, like he’s not sure whether to smile or smirk around you, he almost looks proud. Of what? You don’t know.

He kicks the fabric off, his hands now parting your legs for better access. The tip of his cock pokes your entrance and yet another gasp leaves your parted lips. He’s teasing you after saying he can’t wait, slowly moving the tip up and down your slit.

“Bellamy,” the words are breathless, pleading, “please… don’t tease.”

No words, no reaction. No warning.

He pushes in, a mix of being gentle and being rough. A moan escape you and you quickly cover your mouth to muffle the sounds. Bellamy’s brows are knitted together and he grabs your wrist, firm but gentle and moves it.

“Come on, princess,” he muses, annoyingly cocky, “I know you can be quiet without using your hand.”

A thrust. Then nothing.

“You can be so quiet in quiet, but now I’m inside you, you struggle.”

His words feel degrading, harsh but so affectionate. You let out a shaky breath, your hips bucking up needing to feel him hit every inch inside you. He only chuckles, his hands back on your waist and forcing you still.

“Too big.” You whine out.

He tilts his head, smirking once more like he takes enjoyment—pleasure—in seeing you struggle to take him and be quiet.

“Be a good girl, be quiet.”

You manage a nod, and he finally moves. Every thrust rhythmic, slow and gradually speeding up, becoming faster, harder, purposeful. Your head leans back against the ground, eyes flutter close and Bellamy allows you to not watch—he has plenty more chances to make you watch.

He grips your waist tighter, near hard enough to leave bruises—he wants you to be quiet and yet he’s leaving evidence of your time together. He thrusts harder, deeper, hitting the perfect spot. You want to moan out, scream but you can’t and you know it.

“Bellamy,” you breathe out, ensuring your words are nothing but a breathless whisper for only him to hear.

He groans, low and quiet. His head hangs low, you’re not sure if his eyes are closed or if he’s watching how intimately you two are connected right now—both are enough to make you shiver with pleasure.

He doesn’t respond to your calling of his name, simply keeping his fast and relentless speed. The air is filled with labourer breathes and the soft sound of skin slapping against skin—like he’s trying to stay quiet but holding back is far too hard of a challenge.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and leaving your own marks on him, your own evidence of this moment. A memory that feels more than some pleasurable act.

“Say it,” you whisper.

Bellamy lifts his head, eyes filled with desire and yet a hint of confusion. “Say what?”

“What you said earlier.”

He smiles, nodding. “You’re my first choice. In every world, every time. You’re the one I want.”

A shaky, quiet moan escapes you and he doesn’t try tell you to be quiet—your sounds edging him on to the brink of falling, and he doesn’t want to be saved. He speeds up, if that’s even possible anymore, your jaw hangs as if though it’s not even attached to you anymore. He’s rough, needy, everything you didn’t expect.

Your lips move to speak, but nothing leaves you. He fills the blank for you.

“Close?”

You nod, legs shaking and his hand roams over one of your thighs as if to ease it for you. He doesn’t slow though, doesn’t become gentler, remaining the same pace and roughness. You lips a parted, it doesn’t even sound like you’re breathing anymore. Your mind blanks, empty of anything other than the blissful feeling of him moving in and out of you at a brutal speed.

It feels like a tidal wave washes other you as you feel your release. Rough but so good, so smooth. Your legs shake, vibrating like the world is shaking beneath you. Bellamy groans once more, unable to contain how you’re making him feel.

“Didn’t wait for me?”

Somehow he’s able to tease you even while his own impending release. You finally open your eyes to look at him, he only smirks at you as he continues, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, his move becoming sloppy even though he’s trying to remain the same—and you know, he’s close.

And then you feel it. Warm, filling your every inch. Coating your insides white. He slows, before coming to a stop. He drops on top of you and let out a breath.

“You’re heavy, you know?” You finally speak, tone teasing yet even just as breathless as before.

“Oh shush.”

You both lay there, silence surrounding you. Until you hear a branch break—it’s far but close enough to cause discomfort.

“We should get dressed.”

You nod, letting him help you put your clothes back on. You can still feel his liquid leaking, soaking your panties. And it felt far too good. You look to him, nuzzled to his chest as you calm your body from the high.

“The moon is beautiful isn’t it?” He says, you remember him saying before all this.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, brows furrowed like he’s gone mad.

“You’ve already said that.”

“You don’t know what it means?”

You stare at him, then shake your head. It’s like he’s purposely speaking in riddles, trying to make you go more insane than you already are. He chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’m saying I love you.”

You look at him, really look at him this time. It feels too soon to say it back but the feeling that floods through your body is enough to make you second guess.

“I love you too, Bellamy.”

[wordsrums]

the implication that the only yellow members who care about tr!ros are LoSA basically leaves out tr!foolish as the sole member who doesn’t care about her when that is empirically not true. tr!foolish does care about her and he goes out of his way to make sure she knows she is important and valued within the kingdom. The thing is like THE THING is that tr!foolish is an immortal who has lost pretty much everyone he has every formed an actual attachment and care for that’s why that conversation he has with !bad is that people “come and they go” because THEY DO for them at least and it’s easier to build a reputation, an image a facade really that you care for no one and your only true relationship (of any manner) is with fucking !BADBOYHALO who basically lives for making your life miserable who thrives off being your personal contrarian who is also in !ros’s ear and yes he also has a soft spot for her but that will never take precedent over simply annoying and being an inconvenience to !foolish and i dont understand how someone can hear the conversations had today where !foolish continuously stepped up for !ros and defended her from pretty much everyone including her own self destructive behavior (while she may have had a reason to kill lucas it wasn’t a good idea to make a new enemy so quickly) like HE CARES ABOUT HER he knows she’s the heart of kingdom but he is its leader and he can’t always be making decisions with her personal comfort in mind although he can try to soften the blow alike he did with the !pili2 convo (and that’s a whole other can of worms godspeed). and he is silly and he will make decisions you will not agree with he will act with chaos in mind and laugh problems away but that doesn’t negate the fact that at the core of it all he cares. ultimately yellow is a mess but as we saw during the end event and the ball so is every other faction and yellow seem to have the most functioning unity they are like a realistic family in the sense that your communication is often garbage your belief in other is shaky but when it matters you can count on each other.

[maeshelix]

If Ordis ever does get a new body,

If he ever takes up the Ordan name again,

I want him to be completely unchanged in our prescence.

By which I mean, I want the mission staring Ordis to be a horror mystery all throughout. Starting with all Ordis voicelines ceasing, only a note left in your inbox by Ordis, stating that he "needs to take care of buisness", indicating where he last was.

You go to the first location and it's empty. Corpses litter the stage. Bisected and dissected haphazardly. There are messages carved into the walls in blood. Piles of organs sporting chunks of useless armor decorate every broken terminal and every shattered structure.

This remains the same every stage you go. Of every faction in the game. Grineer. Corpus. Infested. Sentient. Even Narmer cultists interrupt their endless "unity" to scream as one.

Ordis carves a bloody swath through the Origin System. And he carves it near effortlessly.

Finally, you and (in a perfect universe) Lotus track him down as he's in the middle of another bloodbath.

What his form looks like doesn't matter. I mean, it does. Would prefer if he looked cool. But what ultimately matters is that he looks dangerous.

Big and bulky, slim and fast, coated in sharper yet sharper implements or completely bare, maybe his head still resembles his owl body, maybe it resembles what Ordan once looked like. Maybe it's pure machine. Maybe it's organic. Maybe it's both.

Whatever the case, he is dangerous, he is cruel, he is in the middle of implanting a Grineer onto his blade. Like Artorias from Dark Souls during his boss intro.

And then he turns to you. Eyes dark and vicious. Thirsty for blood.

The look of a furious god-killer.

And his first words to you, upon noticing you, after a beat, are such.

"Oh Operator! My sincerest apologies I was not expecting to find you hear! Though I probably should have expected it, on second thought."

And then he acts normal around you. Completely normal. Like Ordis always has. Complete with his voice still glitching out and spouting violent things despite his best efforts.

You never fight him, you never even get the chance to try. In fact, he becomes like a spector, or like Stalker during the Belly of the Beast event. Assisting you on occasion and making the reoccuring mission much easier when he does. The mission itself focuses on some new unethical experiment of the Orokin previously unexplored. Or on what Erra/Pazuul's goals are, or on The Indifference.

The details don't matter to me. What matters is that your mini death machine now has a macro death machine he can be in when he needs to/is feeling human dysphoric.

[blushlambs]

more of patrick’s controversially young college gf!! (18+) (part one) (🌀)

patrick had never been a believer in spirituality; it simply wasn't his thing. but that night he met her.. something inside him shifted. it was as if their souls had entwined. as their bodies connected, he could almost sense her divine essence merging with his, a profound unity that defied logical explanation. the intensity of this sudden infliction of confusion had patrick’s mind reeling. he had never felt like this for anyone before.. let alone a girl in her early twenties.

he found himself thinking about her constantly, her presence haunting his thoughts and dreams. It wasn't just a physical connection; it was as if she had awakened something dormant within him, a yearning for something more profound and meaningful. he caught himself eagerly checking for her texts each morning, he found himself smiling at every new photo and replaying every audio message just to hear her voice. he was captivated by her in a way that surpassed infatuation; it was a deep affection that left him feeling vulnerable.

on tour, he resorted to sleeping in his car again so he could spend his savings on gas to visit her as much as he physically could. to him, every sacrifice was worth it just to catch that look of admiration in her eyes when she spotted him in the hallway of her dorm. the warmth of her embrace, coupled with the innocent smile that typically graced her face made it all worthwhile in his mind.

“hi baby, miss me?” he teased, dropping his bags to lift her effortlessly, her legs draping around his waist. “you gotta stop coming here without warning me!” she protested playfully, wrapping her arms around his neck. “why’s that? got a little boyfriend i don’t know about?” a mischievous grin spread across his face as he held her close, savoring the warmth of her embrace and the familiar scent of her presence. “never.”

they tended to spend most of their time together in isolation, restricting themselves to the comfort of her dorm room. despite their deep connection, she knew how people on campus felt about her and patrick. words spoken in passing, questioning their age difference or the unconventional nature of their relationship, lingered in her mind. he could care less.

they hadn’t fucked since that night at the bar. patrick made sure she understood they were making love. he’d spend countless hours worshipping her, lapping at her little pussy while he jerked himself raw, out of sight. he reveled in the moments when she surrendered to him completely, her body arching and her breath hitching with every touch, every whisper of his name on her lips. her pleasure became his obsession.

of course, patrick wasn’t an innocent man. deep down, something primal inside him urged him to shove his fingers in her mouth and have her tearing up as he shoved his thick cock inside her little asshole. he craved the sensation of her nails digging into his back, leaving it bloody and torn from the force of her passion. he wanted bite marks on his shoulders as evidence that he shut her up. yet, something held him back. despite his intense desires, he genuinely cared about her.

that's why he found himself in missionary, biting his lip to refrain from confessing his love to her. that’s why he was holding her hand as she looked up at him with dilated pupils, mouth gaping slightly as soft whimpers left her lips. he knew it was pathetic, knows young patrick would be laughing in his face, mocking him for being love sick. yet, one thing remained unchanged between him and his younger self: he was always going to cum inside.

[notlongtolove]

the earth was made for lovers

they say paris is the city of love. quantico, virginia? not so much. a smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. it’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: day in the life of bau!reader and bf spencer on a day off, just domestic fluff... spencer reid best bf ever agenda

word count: 2.3k

note: not even gonna lie this has almost nothing to do with the linked poem other than it being romance related i just read that line and my brain ran wild with it n e ways happy end of year everyone <3

a line: It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain. - emily dickinson

They say Paris is the city of love. Quantico, Virginia? Not so much. A smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. It’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

Even the way you and Spencer met was decidedly unremarkable. A simple, predictable statistic—Work. No serendipitous meeting in a dusty bookshop or a fateful grab for the last box of cereal. Just proximity, shared interests, and time. Not exactly the makings of a Nicholas Sparks screenplay.

Your first date—if you could even call it that—A stakeout for the Reynolds case, which, in Spencer’s mind, seamlessly doubled as an outing, though you’d argued against it. It eventually evolved into coffee at a quiet café, a stroll through the park, and a chaste kiss on your doorstep. The weeks that followed had brought more kisses, more quiet moments, till it all became wonderfully familiar.

Now, you’re walking hand in hand, the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath your steps.

“We should go to Venice this summer,” you say, your fingers laced with his.

“Venice?” he echoes, tilting his head.

“Mhm. The city of love,” you muse fondly. 

“That’s Paris, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, for the unimaginative and basic. Think prosecco on gondolas, Spence.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you get a pay raise I didn’t hear about?”

You turn to meet him with a deadpan stare, leaning back against the cold metal pole of the bus stop. Spencer shifts, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest instead. To anyone else, it’s a sweet, tender, gesture of affection. And it is, mostly. But you of all people know Spencer likes having you close just as much as he likes keeping you from resting against questionable surfaces.

“Kidding honey,” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “Just let’s run it by Hotch before we start packing hm?”

A breeze cuts through the air, eliciting a shiver from you. Without missing a beat, Spencer shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. If this had been your third date, you might have flushed, awkwardly protesting that you didn’t need it. But after two years, you’ve come to learn that Spencer Reid’s intelligence rivals his stubbornness when it comes to taking care of you. So you accept it without a word.

You accept the scarf, too, when he wraps it around your neck, tucking the ends neatly beneath the lapels of his coat. Your willing acceptance earns you a kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by one to your lips, soft and lingering.

When the bus arrives, you board first—always. There’s one seat left but you decline it, offering it to someone else instead. You’re both content standing, his arm steady as it holds the rail, yours slipping around his waist. You lean into him ever so slightly, your head resting just below his shoulder.

“Aw, we should’ve stopped by the bakery,” you sigh, eyes looking longingly out the window as the bus takes a slow turn past it.

Spencer leans across you, his hand already pressing the stop button. “We can walk back,” he says, his tone casual, though he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten instantly.

The bus comes to a gentle halt eventually, and his hand finds yours as you step off together. The sidewalk is narrow, but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Up ahead, the intersection is quiet, and with no cars in sight, he instinctively steps onto the road, letting you take the sidewalk to yourself, his hand never leaving yours.

As you walk, your hand dips into your bag, fingers sifting through an assortment of small objects before pulling out a wired earpiece. With one hand, you do your best to unravel it, then hand one side to Spencer.

“S’not that long of a walk, honey,” Spencer says, though he takes his side of the earpiece anyway. 

“I know,” you reply, slipping the other side into your ear. “But the weather’s so nice.”

“Says the one in two coats and my scarf.” You nudge him lightly, elbow brushing his arm as you move to select a song from your shared playlist. Spencer nods approvingly when a Turnover song starts playing. “I like this one.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, letting out a contented sigh as you slip your phone back into your bag, your hands swinging gently between you. Spencer considers telling you about Turnover’s musical evolution—their shift away from emo and punk rock roots. But the thought fades when he sees you quietly humming along, smiling to himself at the sight. 

The aroma of fresh pastries wafts toward you from a block away, the bakery coming into view soon after. Your steps quicken instinctively, with Spencer keeping pace. “Inside or outside?” He asks as you approach.

Normally, you’d both opt for the cozy outdoor seating, but the earlier chill has thickened, and the sky is now overcast with a looming promise of rain. You sigh dramatically as you begin to coil the earpiece in your hand, “Don’t think we have much of a choice, honey.” Spencer meets your exaggerated pout with an equally exaggerated sad smile before pulling the door open for you.

It’s quiet inside, save for the soft clinking of cutlery from a table where two elderly women chat over tea. Spencer moves behind you, helping you shrug out of his coat and scarf before draping them neatly over the back of a chair. You make your way to the counter, eyes scanning the rows of baked goods lined up. 

“Three for $10 on cupcakes today,” the cashier offers warmly. 

“Ooh, one chocolate please,” you say, without hesitation. Spencer’s favourite. 

“And one blueberry,” Spencer says. Your favourite, of course. 

His eyes flick to you, a subtle tilt of his head, and you know exactly what he’s waiting for. Banana—a close second on your list, almost guaranteed to make the cut.

You pause, pretending to deliberate, “We’ll take a red velvet,” you declare finally, and Spencer’s lips quirk upward. His other favorite.

After a small debate over who’s paying—Spencer, of course; he’d sooner recite the entirety of The Canterbury Tales backward than let you pay while he’s around—you shuffle back to your table, cupcakes in your hand and the faintest hint of triumph in his grin.

“You know where else has really good cupcakes?” you say as you set the box down between you, already digging in. 

He arches a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“Venice.”

Spencer snorts, barely stifling a laugh. “Ah yes, Venice, La Serenissima, renowned across the globe for its cupcakes.”

“You mock me Spencer Reid, but seriously,” you say with indignation, wagging your finger at him for emphasis. “I was looking at flights last night and—”

“You were looking at flights?” he cuts in, leaning across the table. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away a smudge of blueberry frosting you hadn't noticed. You shift, instinctively leaning into his touch.

“They’ve got some really good deals right now,” you press on, undeterred, as you tear your blueberry cupcake neatly in half, holding out the piece to him. 

“I mean, I guess we could,” Spencer says thoughtfully, handing you half of his chocolate cupcake in return.

“Really?” Your face lights up.

“But,” he adds, pausing for effect as he takes a bite, “we’d have to talk to Hotch first.”

You huff theatrically as you make a point of finishing the rest of your cupcake in one exaggerated bite. 

Not long after, the cupcakes are gone, their crumbs swept aside, and the first light drizzle begins to spatter against the bakery window. Spencer is quick to help you into your coat, though this time you insist you don’t need his as well. He eyes you, clearly skeptical before relents and shrugs on his own coat.

“Not that cold anymore,” you insist, but he doesn’t let you fight him when he wraps his scarf around your neck, tucking it in once more. You can’t help but smile at the gesture.

Having Spencer Reid as a boyfriend means being over-prepared for every possible scenario, a fact proven moments later when you pull an umbrella from your bag—the very one he had slipped in earlier that morning.

Outside, the rain is light but persistent, it’s raindrops dotting the pavement in tiny patterns. You wait under the awning as Spencer opens the umbrella, holding his arm out for you to take. Truthfully, you are cold, colder than you’d like to admit, but you know Spencer too well. Whenever you share an umbrella, he always overcompensates, always angling it just so to keep you entirely dry. By the time you get home, one side of his coat is perpetually a shade darker, soaked from the rain, while you remain dry to the touch.

You hook your arm through his, leaning into him as you walk. 

“So, you’ll talk to Hotch on Monday?” you prompt, glancing up at him with a hopeful smile.

“Me? You’re the one itching to cruise around on gondolas.”

“Yeah, but he likes you more,” you counter, “you’ve known him for ages,” drawing out the last word dramatically.

“You joined the team four months after me.”

“Please?” You know full well he’s already on the verge of giving in.

“Fine,” he sighs, relenting, though the smile on his lips betrays him. 

You press a delighted kiss to his shoulder. “Best boyfriend ever.”

The walk home is peaceful, the quiet only broken by one brief moment of excitement when you swore you saw a kitten dart under the hood of a parked car. Spencer humoured you, standing and holding the umbrella patiently over you as you crouched to peek under the vehicle, only to find nothing but shadows. 

At your building, he shakes the umbrella off before closing it, careful not to drip water on the lobby floor. You trail behind him up the stairs, your pace slowed by the stiffness of your boots. By the time you reach your door, you’re already leaning against the frame, tugging fruitlessly at the zipper on one of them.

“I can’t wait until we’re in Venice and out of this shitty weather,” you huff, fiddling with the stubborn zip.

Spencer chuckles softly, bemused. “Uh-huh,” he says, kneeling without a second thought. His fingers find the zipper, pulling it smoothly downward in one practised motion. “Up,” he prompts, tapping your ankle lightly. You shift your weight, lifting your foot so he can slide the boot off. The moment it’s free, his hands move to the other boot, tugging at the zipper while you steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’d think for $80, they’d have mastered the art of waterproof footwear,” he quips, straightening up and setting your boots neatly by the door. His coat follows a moment later, draped on the hook in your living room.

The opening is too good to pass up. “You know where they make the best boots?”

Spencer glances at you, already catching on, “Touché darling”. He shakes his head in amused resignation. “Tea?” he offers, moving toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Yes, please,” you reply, kicking off your socks and padding after him. You hop onto the counter, your favourite perch, and swing your legs idly as he sets the kettle on the stove.

“Venice actually has surprisingly good tea,” he says, pulling open the cabinet to grab the mugs—yours with a faint crack along the rim that you refuse to part with, (despite his repeated, that’s really dangerous, honey, warnings) and his, adorned with a fading illustration of the periodic table. 

“You’re joking,” you laugh as he sets the mugs on the counter beside you before his arms cage you in, one on either side.

“I’m serious, the first Western record of tea? Venice. Everybody knows Italy’s famous for its coffee, but tea has its place too.” 

You hum in faux contemplation as your arms loop around his neck. “How very fascinating,” you reply, punctuating your words with light kisses along his jaw. You can feel him smile against your cheek as he continues his impromptu lecture, but his words falter when your hands slide up to brush the damp curls from his forehead.

His lips find the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that send you into a fit of giggles. “Spence,” you squeal, half-protesting as he nuzzles into your skin, his stubble tickling in just the right way. In your laughter, your arm brushes the counter, sending your mug tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.

Both of you startle at the sound, Spencer’s reflexes kicking in as he immediately pulls you closer. “Shit. I’m sorry, honey.” Spencer’s eyes dart from you to the shattered ceramic on the floor. “Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” you assure him, shaking your head. “Are you?”

He exhales, relieved, brushing his hands gently over your legs checking as if to make sure. “I’m fine, too. Just... don’t move, okay? It’s really sharp.”

You glance down at the scattered remains of your beloved mug, shoulders sagging slightly, the disappointment evident.

Spencer’s hand finds yours again, squeezing lightly as he flashes you a soft, reassuring smile. “S’okay, baby. You know where else they make really good mugs?” And you’re in a fit of laughter again. 

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Hotch isn’t exactly thrilled about any PTO requests longer than two weeks—especially when it means losing two of his agents, and for an entire summer at that. 

So, the summer doesn’t take you far after all. There’s no lovelock bridge, no prosecco sipped by moonlit canals. But there are cramped buses with too few seats, where you’d rather stand pressed together than sit apart. There are rain-soaked evenings, huddled close under an umbrella that never quite does its job of keeping both of you dry—though you’d argue that’s more on Spencer. 

Quantico, Virginia, might not be the Eiffel Tower or a gondola gliding along a Venetian canal, but it is where Spencer first held your hand in a coffee breakroom after a scolding that left you blinking back tears, where you spent an entire evening sorting his books into new shelves after you got your own place together.

All in all, you’ve come to find that you quite like it here. It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: humming by turnover pretty boy by the neighbourhood

[emdashbitch]

so everyone is raving about how the Thunderbolts feel as if they really care about each other and are friends unlike the og Avengers who felt like colleagues... but I keep thinking how Sam, Joaquín and Isaiah, who btw were announced as the New Avengers first (yet didn't get an acknowledgement tweet from the ogs...despite Sam being the only character among both groups who was ever an official Avenger) have been bringing that energy since 2021

"they heal each other and accept each others' bad and good- they relate to each other- it's about the trauma bond" just tell me you watched tfatws and cabnw with your eyes closed and ear plugs in

bc we have Isaiah onto Sam (fear under the anger that the same will happen to him and Eli as was done to Isaiah-- and Sam in turn having many fears and reservations seemingly enforced by finding out and hearing how Isaiah has been treated and what that means for him in this high pressure mantle his best friend gave him, and by how the world has too by proving that they only respected Steve when he wasn't picking Sam as the CA legacy), Sam onto Joaquín (the Falcon mantle, the dangers, Riley...), and Joaquín reflecting the same fears and worries Sam is feeling while also being one of the only characters to represent or even hint at what the Five Years were really like (from a youth in a country that's been discouraging any unity with his birth country, unlike the idealised Flag Smashers who, I feel very importantly for context, stemmed from an EU-based commune: one world one people is easier to say when your nations have already been in a free roam union for 30+ years)... Then we see these men smiling and laughing together in a hopeful shot of them all gearing up for a future as Avengers/Avenger-adjacent in Isaiah's case

I'm just asking why didn't I see any of this same energy when BNW came out and we got a strong feeling of found family between them (it's not about whether they have family outside of their unit either, bc many of the Thunderbolts also have outside family)

[regnumveritatis]

'Loyalty and Sensibility watch the challenge of Hermes'.

In what is perhaps a perfect symbolism of their respective patronages, Guidance did not show fervent passion to Reason upon their meeting at the birth of the Athenide twins. Unlike Truth, who famously fell in love at first glance with Loyalty and lost his right to press her suit in the bird race within a year, Guidance seemingly preferred the friendship of both fountain daughters as they worked together for decades: Hermes would often accompany the twins on their psychopomp duties with great enthusiasm as they played music to ease the dead into calm. What surprised Olympus (but not the mortals as they knew his generous disposition) was when he took things a step further with Arsinoe Athenide as she recruited him to her mission of helping as many forsaken children as possible.

In events now called 'the courting of Wit and Common Sense', Hermes tied her rule of clemency to his own asylum at Arcadia whilst searching the world for the finest materials to don Arsinoe's temple, prompting parents with hard to care for children to seek out his aid for their special needs. He brought slabs of lilac colored marble for her temple columns from Troy to showcase her prestige as Atlantean royalty and silence claims that her temple would be as comely as her pig-faced cripples (said claimant was turned into a rooster then cooked as dinner to the children), silver to cover the expenses of her charges that he claimed was paying back his debt to her for nurturing his son Pan after the godling was rejected by Dryope, and large emeralds that were carved into figures for her pediment. Despite the fine quality of said gifts, Arsinoe's first and only public kiss to the god came unexpectedly as she caught him teaching the basis of what we now call sign language to her deaf children which he created to fasten communication for them. His trickster nature present as he marveled over the ways his own shepherds could use it to insult their landlords disguised as meaningless hand gestures. Upon hearing from her wards what the language entailed, the goddess was overcome with joy and leaped into his arms, which resulted in their kissing before the young audience. Furious, Athena demanded Hermes never kiss her daughter again, to which he requested the opportunity to win her hand, stating his sincere wish for their honorable union. He also asked Poseidon for his approval in marriage, highlighting the natural unity of their godly domains and promising lifelong fidelity. Both parents agreed to let him face a challenge of Athena's own making with the condition he never pursued her romantically should he fail, leading to the famous theft by the octopus.

Here we see the twins as spectators to Hermes's trial: Arsinoe eagerly points out the hawk of her beloved to her sister and is already dressed in crocus tinted gold to celebrate their union. Next to her, Perse dons red in recognition of the unavoidable transition coming regardless of the outcome. The goddess of loyalty wears pansies on her breast in remembrance of her own star-crossed lover Apollo, eyes cast in solemnity as she hopes her sister has better luck with her suitor.

The real painting name is 'Gallo-Roman Women' by Lawrence Alma Tadema, made in 1865.

[belit0]

I’m unsure if you’re open to requests/ideas at the moment so feel free to ignore!

I recently fell back into Naruto & your writings & headcanons are just so good to fuel my dopamine drive 🤭 I was curious about how madara, tobirama, & hashirama might react/engage with an arranged marriage partner who is kinda like a spider equivalent to the aburame clan? Her clan has primarily been silk merchants who provide some of the best fabric for shinobi clothing & it’s only in this marriage that they find out it’s spider silk🕷️

(i know spiders aren’t everyone’s thing so if it’s not yours no worries! just curious of your interpretations🖤)

Welcome to this Uchiha corner, where we revere these idiots, their madness, and their unhealthy obsession with burning things!!

Madara

Madara never cared for politics that didn’t serve his war efforts—until now. The moment he hears of the arrangement, his first instinct is to reject it. An outsider? From a merchant clan? He has no patience for trivialities. But the moment he learns of the true nature of (Y/N)’s clan, interest flickers behind those sharp, crimson eyes.

Spider silk—stronger than steel, more versatile than any fabric known to shinobi, a hidden weapon woven into something as delicate as silk. It’s genius.

Still, Madara does not simply accept things.

When he meets (Y/N), he is composed, unreadable. He watches, listens, but says little—until she speaks, until she moves, until he realizes just how deeply her clan has hidden its strength. She is not weak. She is something else entirely.

It is on the wedding night, as he runs his fingers over the silk of her robes, only to realize it is woven with threads not meant just for beauty—but for defense, for strategy—that he finally smirks.

–So that’s what you are.– His voice is low, approval laced in the words. –You trap before you strike. I can respect that.–

And when she smirks back, unafraid of him, he decides—perhaps this marriage isn’t a loss, after all.

Tobirama

Tobirama’s first reaction is immediate: No.

An arranged marriage is nothing but a chain. A tie to someone he does not know, does not trust. He loathes the idea of being bound by politics, especially to a clan so secretive. A clan of silk merchants? What use is that to a warrior?

But then he investigates.

And what he finds changes everything.

Spider silk—flexible, near-indestructible, woven into the very fabric of the shinobi world. Shinobi uniforms, armor underlays, specialized bindings—all things that have relied on (Y/N)’s clan without even knowing it.

And (Y/N) herself? A woman who moves with careful calculation, a presence that is neither loud nor weak, but clever, sharp—like a web unseen until it is too late.

On their wedding night, as he traces the hem of her undergarments—feeling the near-invisible strength of the silk—his keen mind clicks the final piece into place.

–How long have you been weaving your influence into the world without anyone noticing?– His voice is quiet, intrigued despite himself.

(Y/N) only tilts her head, that knowing look in her eyes. –Long enough to catch even you in it, apparently.–

Tobirama exhales through his nose, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. –Hn. We’ll see about that.–

And suddenly, the marriage does not seem so trapping after all.

Hashirama

Unlike the others, Hashirama’s first reaction isn’t rejection—it’s curiosity.

An arranged marriage? Strange, but not unheard of. He has never considered marriage for himself, too swept up in dreams of peace and unity, but he understands the why behind it.

And then he meets her.

(Y/N) is nothing like he expected. She is not fragile, despite her connection to something as delicate as silk. She is not meek, despite her clan’s quiet presence in the world. She is... endlessly fascinating.

The way she moves—silent, graceful, yet deliberate—reminds him of something just out of reach, something unseen until she wants to be seen.

And when he finds out about the spiders? About the silk that is not just fabric, but a craft honed over generations, a secret strength no one has truly understood?

He is delighted.

On their wedding night, he cannot help but reach for her robe, slowly, fingers grazing the silk with an almost childlike wonder.

–So soft... but strong.– He looks up at her, warmth in his expression. –Like you.–

(Y/N) blinks, caught off guard, before smiling.

Hashirama does not care for power like Madara. Does not see webs of strategy like Tobirama. But what he does see—what he feels—is something just as powerful.

A connection, woven with threads neither of them expected.

And perhaps, just perhaps, it is a bond that might hold stronger than any silk.

[heavenlybodies333]

Purity Alliance - D.M.

!warning!minorsdni, drug/alcohol use, reckless driving

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x you

The Malfoy Manor was a cathedral of wealth, towering and pristine, its walls whispering of old magic and older power. The candlelight flickers against the polished mahogany table, glinting off the delicate crystal glasses filled with deep red wine. Your family had been invited for an evening of diplomatic pleasantries. You knew what this dinner was supposed to be—a well-mannered meeting between two of the most powerful pureblood families, the beginning of an alliance that had been in the works for generations. Your parents had made it very clear: you were to be poised, polite, and every bit the perfect daughter they had raised. The Malfoys expected a young lady of refinement.

Your black dress clung too tightly to your body, stiff and restrictive, chosen not for you but for the appearance your parents wanted to present tonight. You sat with your hands in your lap, fingers pressing into the silky fabric, barely listening as the conversation droned on around you.

They had been in discussions for weeks—alliances, politics, power. You understood none of it, nor did you care to. All you knew was that you had been summoned to sit prettily, an accessory to your father’s words, a symbol of pureblood unity. The room smells of expensive cigars, aged whiskey, and narcissism. Your father speaks in measured tones discussing something in deep thought with Lucius. Draco sits across from you, posture as perfect as ever, dressed in a tailored black suit that fits him like sin. Platinum hair slicked back, the candlelight catches on the sharp angles of his face. He looks cold, detached—exactly as you expected.

He hasn’t looked at you once.

It wasn’t until Lucius cleared his throat that your head snapped up. “I believe we have matters to discuss privately,” he said, voice smooth and authoritative. “Draco, why don’t you take our guest and ensure she has a pleasant evening?”

His mother smiled, cool and practiced. “Make sure she enjoys herself, darling.” There was a weight in those words, an expectation. You were supposed to be entertained, and he was supposed to behave.

Draco rose smoothly, holding out a arm in an almost mocking display of chivalry. “Shall we?”

Holding back an eye roll you ignore his hand as your mother smiles at you, a silent warning in her angry eyes. Behave.

Draco’s hand hovered near your back as he led you from the dining room. The second the doors shut behind you, sealing your parents in with their secrets, you sighed, rolling your shoulders.

“So,” you muttered. “How are you supposed to entertain me?”

Draco turned his head, the corners of his lips curling into something almost amused. “I suppose that depends on what you consider entertaining.”

You scoffed. “What, are we going to sit in the parlor and drink tea while you lecture me on pureblood etiquette?”

His eyes darkened slightly. “Not quite.” With a tilt of his head, he led you toward his car. You follow him out of the manor, past the pristine marble steps and grandiose fountain, the night air crisp against your skin. The Malfoy estate is as cold and imposing as its inhabitants, but the sleek black car parked in the driveway is anything but. Right as Draco clicks the key fob you did something that caught him entirely off guard.

Reaching behind, you pulled at the zipper of your dress, and let the heavy black fabric fall, revealing the silk slip dress underneath—thin straps, clinging to your body, a direct rebellion against everything you had been forced to wear tonight.

Draco paused mid-step. His eyes dragged over you, slow, appreciative, consuming.

“Problem?” you asked, innocently smiling.

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Not at all.” He stepped around the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, but not before muttering, just loud enough for you to hear, “Fuckin’ hell.” Satisfaction curled in your stomach as you walked over, opening the passenger door. You hesitated for only a second before doing the same. The leather is cool against your thighs, the air thick with the lingering scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne—something distinctly Draco.

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, head tilted slightly as he glanced at you. “You always this much of a tease, or is tonight special?”

You smirked, leaning back, stretching your legs just enough for the hem of your dress to rise. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be a problem, aren’t you?”

You giggle, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Eyes on the road Malfoy.”

He doesn’t wait. The engine roars to life, as he shifts the car gear. You barely have time to reach for your seatbelt before he’s peeling out of the driveway. The car shot forward, tires screeching against pavement, the wind whipping through your hair as he pushed the speed past reckless. Your pulse quickened, but not from fear.

Fuck.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Draco taunted, flicking ash from his cigarette.

You scoffed, reaching for the glass bottle of firewhiskey between your legs, taking a long pull before leaning back against the seat. “Scared of what? You driving like a fucking maniac?”

He laughed, the sound dark and rich. “I’d say ‘like a maniac’ is a bit harsh. More like… liberated.”

The Draco Malfoy you had been introduced to earlier in the evening—the one who had kissed your hand with perfect etiquette and spoke in carefully measured words—was nowhere to be found. And the you who had smiled charmingly at his parents, nodding when spoken to, was long gone too.

This was not what your parents had in mind.

This was not what his parents had in mind.

But Merlin, it felt incredible.

Draco takes a sharp turn, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. He looks… different. He looks reckless. Alive.

Honestly he looks really fucking hot.

You throw your head back, laughing, the sound echoing out the window. You feel good, euphoric, like the world is spinning too fast but you don’t care. Draco watching you from the corner of his eye, something dark and hungry in his gaze.

His hand slides from the gearshift to your thigh. Your breath catches as his fingers press against the bare skin, cold against the heat of your body. You don’t push him away. You should. But you don’t.

Instead, you shift, turning your body toward him, your dress slipping further up your legs you might as well be wearing next to nothing. His hand tightens.

Your breath is uneven, chest rising and falling as the night air whips through the open window.

You should be terrified—Draco is driving too fast, one hand gripping the wheel, the other on your thigh, his knuckles pale from the force of it. But fear doesn’t come.

Excitement does.

It courses through your veins, a high more potent than the alcohol buzzing in your system. You don’t recognize yourself, this reckless girl in the passenger seat of a sleek, dark car, letting Draco Malfoy touch her, letting him look at her like that.

You shift, the silk of your slip dress clinging to your skin moving even higher up your body. His gaze flickers downward, just for a moment, but long enough for the car to swerve slightly. He corrects it effortlessly, smirking.

“Fuck, princess. You trying to get us killed?”

Your lips curl, fingers grazing the inside of his wrist where it rests against your thigh. He tenses.

“Maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up.”

A laugh, deep and rich. “Oh, I can keep up.”

The car speeds up, the world blurring around you as he pushes it past the legal limit. You don’t care. The wind whips through your hair as Draco accelerates, the hum of the engine vibrating beneath your seat. The silk slip clings to you, the fabric cool against overheated skin.

Every nerve in your body is lit up, electric. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the drugs. Maybe it’s just him.

Draco shifts gears, his free hand dangerously close to your thigh. The other grips the wheel with practiced ease, his rings catching in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. The roads blur into dark, winding streaks, and you let your head fall back against the seat, exhaling slowly.

“This what you had in mind when our parents sent us off to have a nice time?” His voice is amused, teasing.

You smirk. “Not exactly. But I don’t hear you complaining.”

His fingers gripping your thigh enough to send a shiver down your spine. He’s watching you from the corner of his eye, pupils blown wide from whatever he took before dinner. You’re sure yours look the same.

You reach for the cigarette tucked behind his ear, placing it between your lips before leaning over, waiting. He watches you for a moment, then smirks, flicking his lighter to life. The flame dances, reflecting in his silver blue eyes as he brings it close.

You inhale, the smoke filling your lungs, your fingers grazing his wrist again.

“Your parents would kill you if they saw you like this,” he laughs.

You blow the smoke toward the open window, smiling. “Yours would have a heart attack.”

Draco’s fingers flex against your thigh, His lips part slightly, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches you exhale. “I think they’d be more concerned with what you’ve got under that dress.”

His hands slide under your slip dress, fingers searing against your thighs as he pushes the fabric up, fingers tracing higher, higher—

He inhaled sharply, as a smirk pressed against your lips. “No fucking panties, princess?”

You bite your bottom lip locking eyes with him. Neither of you realizes he’s swerved onto oncoming traffic—a loud horn interrupts you, headlights burning into the car’s interior like flash beams.

Your breath catches in your throat, "Fuck," he mutters, running a hand through his platinum hair. He exhales sharply, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's suppressing a grin. "You're out of your fucking mind," dragging his thumb up the inside of your thigh. "You’re the one driving," you counter.

This was not what his parents had in mind when they told him to show you a good time. It sure as hell wasn’t what yours had in mind either. You were supposed to be refined, poised—a perfect pureblood princess molded for an alliance. Instead, you're high off your fucking mind, fingers trailing up Draco’s arm, "You like this," you murmur, voice thick with amusement, with challenge.

His grip tightens. "Like what?"

"Not being perfect for once." You drag your nails lightly over his forearm again, watching the way his muscles jump beneath your touch. "Not being what they expect you to be."

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, his foot presses harder against the gas, it should terrify you, the speed, the recklessness. But it doesn’t. It feels like flying.

"You're bloody insane," Draco mutters, but there’s something like admiration in his tone, something hot and dark that makes your stomach tighten.

"You should slow down," you tease, eyes flickering over to him. "Or what will mummy and daddy think?"

Draco scoffs, tipping his head back in a short laugh before flashing you a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Fuck them."

You grin. "Fuck them."

Without thinking, without hesitating, you push yourself up, half out the window, hands braced against the car door as you tip your head back and laugh.

Draco’s hand wrapped around your thigh, firm, possessive, a silent tether keeping you from losing yourself completely. His fingers dig into your skin, branding you with his touch, but it only makes you lean further out the window. "You’re going to kill yourself," he shouts but he doesn’t pull you back. He just holds you tighter, knuckles white, jaw clenched.

"Wouldn’t be the worst way to go," you throw back, reckless, teasing.

Draco’s grip tightens, his palm burning against your bare skin. "Not fucking happening, princess."

He yanks you back inside, your back slamming against the embossed seats. "You’ve got a death wish," he rasps. Rolling your eyes you grab onto his arm as his lands back onto your thigh. He doesn’t let go and neither do you.

His voice was low, almost drowned out by the hum of the engine, but you hear it. Feel it. “You like this, don’t you?” throwing your observation from earlier back into your face.

The way he says it—half accusation, half something else—makes your pulse kick up again.

“Yeah. I do.”

Draco exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head, hands flexing against the leather wheel.

“Fucking hell.”

Then he floors it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: I ordered manacled as a bday gift to myself it’s coming right in time before, I’m so excited to read it finally I can’t wait. ALSO huge huge so to my darling @shyamanuensis for helping me edit 💋

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀ ᴄʀᴇᴅ: @ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ

MASTERLIST

[captainfantasticalright]

Crowley’s Mayfair flat design (concept art) for season 1 was inspired by an art installation in the Royal Academy of Arts called “Sensing Spaces”; in particular this piece from Grafton architects.

This installation “aimed to evoke the experience of contemporary architecture within a neoclassical environment”. Especially the light “coming in” from overhead was the most important aspect.

Most poignant of all was to recreate the light sensation of both moon and sun simultaneously.

The spatial qualities of light and shadow shaped the installation by Yvonne Farrell and Shelley McNamara of Irish firm Grafton Architects. The architects suspended large wooden structures from the ceilings of two galleries to recreate the experiences of both sun and moonlight.

The structures by Grafton Architects, founded by Shelley McNamara and Yvonne Farrell, hover above Gallery IX and the Lecture Room, suspended from the roof lights above. In order to create a strong spatial tension between adjacent rooms and to set up different lighting scenarios, two dramatically different compositions have been made. Choosing only to work with the roof lights, both installations feature a series of suspended surfaces and forms that manipulate the light and reshape the space in two entirely different ways; one as an exploration of lightness, with what is referred to as a waterfall of light, and the other being the exact opposite, exploring weight, containment and the formation of carved-out space. In the Lecture Room, a series of dark, brooding and apparently massive solid forms obscure most of the existing ceiling and roof light, articulated by two relatively small, high-level ‘apertures’ or openings of light. In contrast to this, Gallery IX features nine blades, suspended in alignment with the gallery’s exposed trusses to reflect a balance of natural and artificial light filtered through the exposed roof light. While both installations drop down within the galleries to create an implied headroom of 2.5 metres within the 8.5-metre-high spaces, two entirely different relationships are established between the floor and the light. In the Lecture Room, the installation intensifies the perception of distance between the floor and the light, while in Gallery IX the hanging blades bring proximity and unity. By quoting American architect Louis I. Kahn’s statement that ‘to hear a sound is to see a space’, Grafton Architects allude to a consistent ambition in their work to make space tangible. As they put it, they seek to ‘make as much nothing as possible’, and to structure space through the careful orchestration of the passage of light and movement through the void. In response to what they refer to as an ‘amazing generosity of space’ within the Main Galleries of the Royal Academy, their installations set out to radically transform each visitor’s perception of the familiar. As such, between Gallery IX and the Lecture Room the architects have created two distinctly different scenarios which, when experienced side-by-side, set up a powerful spatial duality and tension that reinforces the qualities of the existing rooms while radically transforming them into something new. (for a complete 360 view of the rooms)

‘As well as enabling us to find greater pleasure in the spaces we inhabit, this exhibition will perhaps heighten our awareness of the sensory realm of architecture and thereby encourage the creation of a more rewarding built environment.’

From Michael Ralph: Crowley’s flat was the first piece of concept art he did before booking the job, and it stayed the same. He sent in seven pieces of concept art before he went for an interview, and four of them stayed exactly as they were – nothing changed from his original instinct. The idea of the apartment was for it to be almost a cement tomb but with a very high ceiling (hanging in mid-air) so there was a sense of light coming in from a very high level.

And just a piece I want to highlight: "manipulate the light and reshape the space in two entirely different ways; one as an exploration of lightness, with what is referred to as a waterfall of light, and the other being the exact opposite, exploring weight, containment and the formation of carved-out space."

In a way, the flat has always possessed a bit of light and shadow, something reflected in Aziraphale and Crowley's own essences.