#but the movement guide should be the same regardless

[brokenmenswhore]

red riding hood | aemond targaryen

request from dms!

pairing: modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond no-shows picking you up for a halloween party, causing you to walk through the woods alone to get there. you suddenly get the sense that you’re being followed.

warnings: CONSENSUAL-NONCONSENSUAL (MDNI 18+), smut, slight knife play

────── ☾ ──────

You had been waiting two and a half hours for Aemond to arrive, meaning you were officially late to Aegon’s annual Halloween party. You weren’t one to arrive early, but two and a half hours was already two and a half hours after the fashionably late time your boyfriend was supposed to fetch you.

You called his sister, Heleana, to see if maybe she knew where he was.

“Stark! What’s up?” she answered, clearly already buzzed.

“Have you seen Aemond?” you questioned, growing impatient.

“Thought he was with you?” she responded with another question. She saw the expression on your face, giving away that he was indeed not with you. “He should show up soon, Y/N. Is there anything you need?”

“No, I’m okay, thank you, Hel. I’ll see you soon,” you smiled, ending the call.

You decided to say fuck it. If he wouldn’t come get you, you could find your way on your own.

You had snuck through the woods to the Targaryen house a few times to see Aemond late at night, but you typically had Aemond on the other end of the phone guiding you. You had false confidence that you had done this enough to know the way by heart.

You walked further and further into the woods, your Red Riding Hood costume snagging on a few branches laying on the ground. You kept your red hood up, hoping it would help you blend in with the night easier. You realized you officially had no idea if you were going in the correct direction. All trees looked the same, and you weren’t even sure what the proper direction to turn around was.

You continued on regardless, determined to make it there yourself, when you began to hear the creaking of leaves under shoes behind you. With each step you took, it sounded as if there was one being taken a few feet behind you. You paused for a moment, contemplating your options, before you began sprinting.

You ran as fast as you could, weaving through the mess of trees as the noise behind you grew louder and louder. It was hopeless from the beginning, as the hooded assailant slammed your front into a tree, your back pressed into their chest.

You tried to writhe your way out of their grasp, but a strong hand pulled off your hood, a small, sharp blade pressed to the side of your neck.

The person behind you didn’t say a word, he just pushed your cloak up, hands finding their way to the garters you had on either thigh. One hand ran up to the strings of the corset right below your breasts, untying them enough to give your breasts more flexibility of movement.

Your skirt barely covered you, most of the costume coverage coming from the cape that was now pushed up above your skirt.

You continued to squirm, but the person behind you was too strong, and the blade against your neck was very real and very sharp.

He moved your underwear to the side, leaving your cunt exposed, and the head of his cock poked at your entrance. You didn’t even notice him take the time to free himself from his pants.

You gasped as he entered you in one thrust, his entire length bottoming out inside of you, forcing you roughly against the tree. Your body scraped against the bark again and again as he thrust up into you, snapping his hips at a violent pace.

His hand dropped his dagger, moving to the back of your head and gripping your hair into a ponytail, holding your head against the tree so you couldn’t turn around, while the other hand gripped your waist, holding you in place.

You moaned and whined at the harsh pace, tears beginning to form in your eyes as you tried to brace yourself against the tree with your hands. He didn’t like that.

He grabbed your hands, placing them behind your back, his pace never faltering. You cried out as the only thing holding your body against the tree now was your torso and your face, the sensation of the bark stinging as he pushed roughly in and out of you.

“Fuck!” you cried out, sniffling as tears continued to stream down your face.

Your hands still behind your back, he pulled out of you, pulling you off of the tree and forcing your body down to the ground, your front landing roughly on fallen leaves, dirt, and grass. You knew it would make your costume dirty, but you couldn’t do anything about it. You had no choice.

His teeth grazed the garter on your right thigh, biting and snapping it back down. He moved his mouth upwards until he was kissing in between your shoulder blades, his cock reentering you and immediately moving in and out at the same ruthless pace it just had been.

“P-please,” you pleaded, but you didn’t know if you were begging for him to stop or for release.

At your words, he shoved your face further into the dirt, signaling for you to shut up and take what he was giving you.

He fucked you hard, your skirt bouncing slightly around your waist with each thrust. You tried to push yourself up on all fours, and he let you, but not without a hand in your hair to keep you from turning your head around.

Every so often he groaned or growled, but wouldn’t speak to you, only letting out a carnal noise almost involuntarily.

Your walls started to convulse around him, squeezing him as you chased your high. When your climax finally came, he continued to fuck you through it, not even caring about the chance of overstimulation as he only worried about his pleasure.

His pace quickened even further, hips snapping into you faster than you thought possible as you milked him, is high hitting him quickly at the sensation. The overstimulation had you shaking, your high threatening to hit again from the feeling of it all. He kept your head still until he began to soften, pulling out and moving your underwear back in place, not caring about the sticky mess between your legs.

You rolled over, laying on your back on the ground. He stood up, offering you a hand to help you do the same. He pulled you up and you began to brush yourself off, but you were unsteady. You nearly fell, but he caught you, holding onto your waist to avoid your weakness taking over.

“Fucking hell, Aemond,” you sighed, pulling a leaf out of your hair.

He chuckled. “Was I too rough? Are you alright?”

You could tell he was concerned. “I’m alright” you assured him, “just a little wobbly.”

“When you told me you wanted to spice things up with tag in the woods, I thought that meant you could at least run a little faster,” Aemond teased, your mouth dropping open in offense.

“I’m fast,” you pouted, pulling your hood back up over your head, “maybe I was running slow on purpose.”

“Do you still want to go to the party?” Aemond asked as you stayed clinging onto him, your legs unsteady and shaking.

“Can you just call Aegon and tell them I’m sick?”

Aemond nodded and kissed your temple. “Of course. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know where we are,” you admitted.

“Oh come on,” Aemond laughed lifting your legs up so he was fully carrying you, headed out of the words back toward your house.

────── ☾ ──────

tags: @slytherincursebreaker

[taking-thyme]

🌅 Lucifer Deity Guide 🌅

Note: This is inspired by both my own experiences with Lucifer and the information I read on @scarletarosa's blog and her devotional guide to him. Please go read that one too!!

The divine rebel, Lucifer is the light of truth and divine wisdom; an ancient light which shines through the darkness, representing illumination. He is the driving force of innovation, liberation and transformation. According to Scarletarosa, who actively works with Lucifer and was told this by him, he was the first-born god of the Universe created by the supreme deity, the Source. He is so incredibly ancient and beautiful. Lilith was created to be his counterpart, the Queen of Heaven. However, Jehovah took the throne of heaven from Lucifer and cast him and his followers into hell. Most of them lost their connection to heaven and their energy became dark and intense. Jehovah claimed the throne of heaven and set himself up as the one true god, manipulating humans into betraying their original deities. Thus, Lucifer became the King of Hell and has been scorned by Christians for millenia. 

God of: Illumination, Light, Darkness, Change, Rebirth, Challenges, Innovation, Logic, Truth, Knowledge, Wisdom, Strategy, Persuasion, Revolution, Luxury, Pleasure, Freedom, The Arts and The Morning Star (“Morning Star” is another name for the planet Venus)

Symbols: Sigil of Lucifer, The Morning Star, Violins and Fiddles (instruments traditionally associated with him)

Plants and Trees: Rose, Belladonna, Mulberry, Patchouli, Myrrh, Min, Tobacco, Marigold, Lilies, Hyacinth, Sage

Crystals: Amethyst, Black Obsidian, Onyx, Garnet, Selenite, Rose Quartz

Animals: Black Animals in general, Dragons, Snakes, Owls, Eagles, Ravens, Crows, Rams, Foxes, Pigs,  Bats, Rats, Moths, Swans

Incense: Rose, Frankincense, Patchouli, Myrrh

Colors: Black, Red, Silver, Emerald Green, Gold

Tarot: The Devil

Planets: The Morning Star, Venus

Day: Monday and Friday

Consort: Lilith

Children: Naema, Aetherea and many others

How was he traditionally worshipped?

There is not much to say about how Lucifer was historically worshiped seeing as he wasn’t worshiped at all for a large chunk of human history. He seems to have been worked with in some capacity according to the Gesta Treverorum, written in 1231, which is where we first see the term Luciferian being used to refer to his worship. This was by a woman named Lucardis for a religious circle, who was said to lament to Lucifer in private and prayed to him. However, the term Luciferians was later applied to basically any groups Christians didn’t like and wanted to fight, as one might expect. However, the modern Luciferian movement also sheds light on how Lucifer is worshiped. For Luciferians, enlightenment is the ultimate goal. Their basic principles highlight truth, freedom of will and fulfilling one’s ultimate potential, and encourage the same in all of us. Traditional dogma is shunned because Luciferians believe that humans do not need deities or the threat of eternal punishment to know what is good and the right thing to do. All ideas are to be tested before being accepted, and even then one should remain critical because knowledge is fluid and ever-changing. Regardless of whether Luciferians view Lucifer as a deity or an archetype, he is a representation of ultimate illumination and exploration in the name of personal growth. 

Epithets

Phanes

The Morning Star

Light-bringer

The First-born

Prince of Darkness

Son of Morning

The Glory of Morning

Lord of the Lunar Sphere

The First Light

Offerings

Red Wine, Whiskey (especially Jack Daniels), Champagne, Pomegranate Juice, Black Tea (especially earl grey), Chocolate (especially dark chocolate), Cooked Goat Meat, Venison, Apples, Pomegranates, Honey, Good Quality Cigars, Tobacco, Daggers and Swords, Silver Rings, Emeralds and Emerald Jewelry, Goat Horns, Black Feathers, Seductive Colognes, Red Roses, Dead Roses, Crow Skulls, Bone Dice, Devotional Poetry and Artwork, Classical Music (especially violin)

Devotional Acts

Acts of self-improvement, spiritual awakening and evolution, knowledge-seeking and dedication to spirituality ; Shadow Work ; Working to overcome your ego to become wiser ; Defending those in need ; Working to better yourself without being too self critical ; Fighting against tyranny and bigotry whenever you encounter it

Altar Decorations

Black or Red Candles, Snake and Dragon Figurines, His sigil, Roses, Fancy Chess Boards and Playing Cards, Silver Jewlery and ornaments, Black feathers, Goat horns

Appearance

For me Lucifer usually appears as a tall light-skinned man with long fiery red hair (so red it looks like it’s been dyed), a sophisticated face with a killer jawline, passionate eyes and dressed in a fancy black suit. From all my experiences with him and what I’ve heard from other followers, it seems Lucifer and most demons dress in full suits and tuxedos. 

Personality

Lucifer is nothing if not charming. He’s a protector first and foremost - one that always works to help you better yourself, but a protector nonetheless. He feels like a protective older brother taking care of you while your parents are away. He is a very complex entity, deeply wise and eloquent. He is more serious than one might expect for a demon given their popular depictions in our culture as chaotic forces of evil, but Lucifer is full of courage and love. I often feel him with me even when I’m not doing things related to him. He is proud of his follower’s accomplishments and congratulates them on a job well done, though he also reminds them that the job is never truly over. Growth is constant. Lucifer is the epitome of growth, blunt and gentle at the same time, telling you what you need to do and giving you space to figure out how to do it. 

Lucifer values resilience, the pursuit of self-betterment, intellectualism, courage, open-mindedness and responsibility in individuals and wants to see his followers develop these qualities. He is constantly rooting for you to reach your full potential. He won’t hold your hand the entire way, but he will help you take steps in the right direction. Lucifer, like all deities, is different for everyone and will adjust his approach depending on your needs.

^ The Sigil of Lucifer

[bunbitti]

Hello! Could I request a Sunday x halovian reader who has clipped wings? (Can be platonic or romantic)

Clipped.

:))

romantic-ish?

~800 words

tw: do clipped wings on a halovian count as mutilation? Also, Sunday being Sunday the control freak he is and pulling some strings behind your back

You were one of few Halovians that had more than just a halo. There were the Oak siblings, of course, who had both head wings and back wings, but not many others. 

Your wings were clipped. Not that a Halovian could fly (beyond the wings that would need to be massive to carry a person’s weight, the rest of their bodies were similar to a normal human’s, and therefore unfit for aerial movement), but every time you looked down at your wings, you felt a bit trapped. Regardless of whether it was done for ‘medical’ reasons or for anything else, it didn’t change the connotations. 

You weren’t meant to fly on your own, let alone succeed. Always working long hours doing the same thing, no change to your schedule, let alone improvement. Barely any time for yourself after chores, meals, and sleep. 

Your wings were always clipped whenever they molted. Again, again, again. You could never escape from it. You just wanted to give up at this point.

Your wings didn’t look right when in their resting position around your torso. Didn’t feel right, either. Feeling the flat, unnatural edge made you cringe. Even flapping them in the air felt viscerally wrong. You often held your hands near your waist as though to cover them up and pull the attention away from them, even if nobody was actually paying attention. 

That was when you met Sunday. Ever the charismatic Oak Family head, he was sometimes walking around to make sure things in the Land of the Dreams were working properly. 

He’d found you at your job in the Moment of Daybreak, weaving products that would be sold to the wealthiest of customers, all for the support of the Harmonious system that ran Penacony. He’d been passing by, making small-talk and greeting people to see how their jobs were going and if he should make any managerial changes to make their lives easier, but you looked down and noticed his raven-blue back wings neatly wrapped around his torso under his blazer. 

They were clipped. Instinctively, you wrapped your own back wings tighter around yourself, but it only drew his attention. 

His eyes followed your gaze to his own wings, then moved over to yours, which were far more harshly clipped than his own. At least at first glance, his looked relatively normal. Most outsiders didn’t know enough Halovians that had their wings out of their clothes to notice, and either way, his wings looked like a vest on top of his usual turtleneck. 

You missed the flicker of shock and pity in his eyes when he saw your clipped wings. 

In fact, he acted like nothing happened at all, and so you brushed it off. Maybe he hadn’t seen it. But you’d already gotten attached to the man countless levels in the Family hierarchy above you, making up wild stories in your head about how maybe he was also trapped in some way. 

However, you found yourself bumping into him gradually more often, almost so gradually that you hadn’t noticed. Not until you told some friends (were they friends? Or just acquaintances?) for the fifth time in a week that you met Sunday again, and they told you that nobody runs into the Oak Family head that often. 

Huh. 

Oh, well. Maybe he just likes you a bit. 

He invited you to private meals once in a while, under some excuse of wanting to reward members of the Family so they would be motivated to continue supporting the Harmony. Even he knew that a monotonous, exhausting life would eventually wear people out beyond what any motivation could provide. You didn’t need to know that you were the only Family member being ‘rewarded’. 

It was at those times that his wings were out instead of folded tightly around his waist. When he greeted you at the door and guided you inside, one wing would be lightly pressed against your back to usher you in, just as his hand rested on your upper back. 

His wings brushed against yours more times than you could count. Eventually, you were comfortable enough to let your own wings unfold, and returned the gesture. To touch wings, for Halovians, was something reserved only for the closest and dearest to a person. 

It was a while before you noticed you hadn’t been pressured to have your wings clipped, never realizing that it was because of Sunday’s influence. By the next molt, which tended to be very slow for Halovians, your wings were back to their full glory. 

The next time you shared a dinner with Sunday, you decided to be bold and put your wings behind his back to pull him close and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“—!”

— — — — — — — 

You awoke abruptly from a sweet dream that was supposed to last forever. 

There were supposed to be 7 rest days in a week.

The Dreampool is wet. 

You look down at your wings. 

Clipped.

[daisystwistedgarden]

a/n: watched sleeping beauty for the first time today and had this idea

you've met him before.

you can feel it coming-- only once, the first time, had you ever been caught off guard. you always find yourself in the same forest clearing. the small chitters of animals accompany the gently sway of the trees. the sky is sunny, but you can never quite see the sun from where you stand. wandering too far into the hazy gray ether on the edge of the open glade led your feet back to the same spot where you found yourself originally.

the birds sing their song. you, too, find yourself humming along. the words are foreign to your mind, but not your tongue, as you utter a tune too familiar to be unknown entirely.

i know you, i walked with you once upon a dream...

you tend to busy yourself with whatever seems most enticing. boredom seldom finds you here, regardless of how many times you open your eyes to find the same tree line sprawled out before you. the animals here do not seem to fear you as they would in the world you know-- instead, they weave between your steps and follow your movements with a grace too easy to be natural. fear seldom finds you here, either.

i know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam...

your voice continues to carry through the trees, no matter how quiet you find your words. neither do they seem to waver when you realize you're not truly alone.

yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem...

most days, he joins you in ways that keep him hidden from your sight. a deep baritone voice melds with yours as you recite lyrics you can't quite predict-- a figure's shadow lingers just foggy edge of the glen. vivid green eyes peer from between the leaves of a nearby treetop while you crouch to pluck ripe berries fresh from the bush. you're always careful to watch for the thorns you can't see. on the days you find yourself swept up in some invisible music, captured in an aimless waltz, you feel a presence behind you guiding you through the steps with a poise ingrained in each blade of grass, each pleasant breeze and each leaf clinging to every branch.

the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. the strange baritone is closer now. smooth. too smooth. an icy cold blooms across the side of your neck, glacial in the same way the palms of your hands begin to stiffen from an unfamiliar drop in temperature. you turn to look behind you and catch a glint of silky raven hair and a sallow, sickly flash of skin fading into something dark and tall reaching towards the sky.

you awaken out of breath, heart pounding as you stare into the darkness. your bedsheets feel cold, almost untouched, around your body. the fan in the corner hums its same tune night after night. everything is as it should be.

from the window, you spot a pair of glowing green eyes. swirling, vivid, hypnotizing you to rise from the safety of your bed and march towards the unknown. yet... it's not quite unfamiliar, is it? no, you know those eyes. you've seen them before.

once upon a dream.

[bonefall]

I’m rereading Po3 and despite its flaws I really enjoyed the introduction to the three. Jaykit isn’t mentioned to be blind in the first few chapters and instead they chose to show how much MORE capable he is compared to his littermates; until at the end of chapter 3, he brings up his blindness on his own. It makes forcing him to be a medicine cat SO much more frustrating because it really feels like they’re setting him up to be a warrior and choose his own fate (note i haven’t finished the reread this is just my first impression)

I like how you seem to take that path in BB regardless! It makes his arc so much more enjoyable

His arc in canon is super frustrating because he's such an independent character who clearly wants to make his own decisions in life, but then he just gets shoved into the medcat den. I LIKE that he ultimately goes there and that he enjoys it; but it was still really fucked up that they stripped away his autonomy in the process.

Re: they are not real, they are writing choices. Taking away the choices a disabled character can make over their own life, forcing them into a celibate nun role, and then going "awwwww dont worry see? he likes it! This was the best thing for him :)" was fucked up.

And imo it didn't have to be that way! You wouldn't have to go the FULL route I did with big changes, he could just be more involved in the descision to stop being a warrior apprentice and it would be fine. Minor change that would make a world of difference.

I do also have to interject to say though... blindness should really not be an extremely severe impairment for a ThunderClan cat.

I'm dead serious.

Whiskers are built-in sensors that tell you the exact position of everything within several inches of your head, ears swerve to pick up sound, and the jacobson's organ provides a sense of smell so keen that I have an entire Clanmew expansion draft because I needed to make WORDS describing the power of this sense that humans do not have. I cannot stress enough how delicate their other senses are, felines do not rely on their sight like primates do

ThunderClan lives in a mixed-oak woodland, where sight is already often obscured by foliage, objects are close together (for whiskers to feel), and nearly every movement makes noise against the leaf litter. RiverClan and (moor-running) WindClan cats would have a harder time with this disability than Thunder or Shadow.

Cat sight SUCKS to begin with. It sucks BADDD. They don't have color vision, they're significantly nearsighted, and they can't track up-and-down movements well. WC doesn't write realistic cats (more like small fuzzy people really) and I also work with more humanesque eyesight, but the only thing Jay should really lose is an ability to rapidly track a small animal swerving fast. Blind cats are often still excellent hunters in spite of that!

So it's an extra big waste that they railroaded him into a position he didn't choose, saying he couldn't be a warrior. This is the perfect disability to write, if you want to explore how ableism can impact the characters in this society who ARE legitimately still capable of nearly full independence, but still need to find accommodations for what they can't do.

In the same arc they're doing the dumb Cinder Reincarnation Plotline, no less!! Where SHE is also feeling like she has no choice over her "destiny," and gets a conflict over a potentially disabling injury

"Oh nooo if cinderpaw breaks her leg she wont be a warrior!"

"What the f-- Im Jaypaw and im reporting live from the scene where a Category 1 Idiot Moment is taking place. Woman breaks leg, suddenly everyone believes she is a horse, more at 11."

One of these days I should really make "herb guides" just covering how various sensory disabilities impact the lives of Clan cats and some tips for writing them as warriors, especially between Clans. Stuff you wouldn't usually consider, like how much noise deaf cats tend to make, how RiverClan would get a ton of sinus infections and lose their sense of smell, being blind in Sky vs Thunder, etc.

[dearieshima]

━the god fraud━☂☄

☄. *. ⋆ and so it was, in the soldier's death, he found a love, that took his breath. he passed away, with a smile serene, for he knew his love, would always be

☄. *. ⋆ mortal warrior!k.bakugou x goddess of death!reader, death/happy end, comfort, fluff, greek mythology au

THIS MAN IS A FRAUD.

A god fraud.

It was a source of laughter for your blessed companions,

"The number of lives he has taken exceeds yours, Y/N." Kaminari, the God of mischief laughed like he had done to the local when he turned his wife into a donkey. "Perhaps you should consider retiring."

Which you did not. Even though you were put on hold by a rage-fueled mortal wielding a generational sword, you still had the inviolable responsibility of guiding the soldiers' souls he'd released into Aizawa's lair.

Besides, all mortals must die regardless of the circumstances. His death is inevitable as the ones he lay on the ground.

So you'll lend him the role of cessation for a while, like a father lending a sharpened sword to his son and instilling the belief that he is an indomitable warrior. You'll let him believe that he is unmatched and immortal forever.

But when that time comes, when that boy finally pokes his eye out with that sword, you'll be there to re-establish your role as death and steal Bakugou Katsuki's final breath.

KNOWN AS A MAN WHO accusingly took more lives than the goddess of death herself, Katsuki has both chased and retreated from the cold grip of death.

With every throat he slit, a chest he punctured, an arm he separated from its host, he delivers his promise to kill for the one that he loves and his people worship.

Which, for the unfortunate case of a mortal like himself, is you.

Death.

He's attracted death.

And death is attracted to him.

Everywhere he travels, there's death. He brings death for death to see death.

Because you are a vision of serene tranquility and peacefulness. You have a calming presence that eases the pain and suffering of those around you.

Your eyes are deep and dark, yet warm and compassionate. Your skin is smooth and flawless, as if untouched by the harsh realities of life.

You are dressed in a gown of black silk that shimmers in the moonlight, and your movements are graceful and fluid as if you were dancing to the silent melody of groaning men inching on the threshold of death.

And as you approach, goners can sense a gentle breeze, carrying the fragrance of roses and lilies.

But Katsuki smells the faint scent of those roses and lilies from a safe distance as he watches you beckon with a gentle hand to invite those who are ready to leave the world and join you in the afterlife.

Because just like any mortal who fears the unknown, Katsuki is afraid of dying.

Which is quite strange for a man who indulges in the death of others.

But it's human to wonder if he'll be treated the same (or even better) as the bodies that lay around him- if he'll be touched with hands as cold as the heart of a blizzard or hands warm like sand in the morning dew.

So for now, he'll patiently be impatient as he gets the sweet rift of roses and lilies from far away.

THERE COMES A DAY THAT everybody looks forward to.

It might be the delivery of new life.

It might be a day when you and a significant other celebrate accomplishments.

Or it might be a holiday.

And fortunately for Katsuki's rivals, that day has come.

The delivery of death.

His death.

A death that's taken rain check after rain check...

Until now.

Katsuki is laid on his back, the sword still punctuated in his loyal heart that works even on its deathbed to provide blood for the rest of his body, blood that'll never reach its desired place and instead dye the grass red below him.

He probably has thirty seconds left in him.

Anybody would've died the second the sword entered their chest, but because katsuki was strong and careful of what to eat, he lasted longer.

Painfully longer.

But Katsuki gratefully uses twenty-two seconds to reflect on his life.

He was a good man, Katsuki pulls himself to finally agree, wasting twelve seconds of the precious time he has left, he killed to protect.

Katsuki was at least glad he was left in a position where he could see the night sky. He had heard that the star, a star his people named Evënus, shined brighter than the others on the day of his birth.

And while he didn't get the chance to witness it, he sees it now, shining brighter than the others near the constellation Scorpius.

He spends two more seconds just staring at Evënus.

Will your hands be warm? He wonders for just a second.

He then feels his head being elevated and placed on a soft and comfortable surface.

Then, those eyes, deep and dark, yet warm and compassionate, that he had come to both love and fear, blocked his view from the sky.

He was now knocking on death's door.

Or, just laying on death's thighs, scented as if they were just running threw a rose and lily field.

Without thinking (his brain may be draining out of blood), he opens his mouth,

"Goddess, before I go, I want ta' confess something to you. I love you. I have came to accept death, 'cause I knew that in your embrace, I would find eternal peace and love."

26.

You reply, your fingers swimming in the blonde tufts of his hair, feeding onto his forever slumber,

"warrior, your words are kind, but you mistake the nature of my embrace. I do not offer love or peace to those who come to me. I offer only the end of life, the release from pain and suffering, and the return to the cycle of existence. Death is not something to be loved or feared, but simply accepted as a natural part of life."

27.

Katsuki nuzzles into your touch, his words becoming limited, "'m love you."

28.

You reply, a smile gracing you lips- gracing him,

"Your words are sweet, warrior, but they are also a distraction from the truth. Death is not a lover or a friend, but a force of nature, like the wind or the rain. It comes when it must, and it takes what it will. You cannot bargain with-"

29.

Katsuki repeats, cutting you off. You fill his head with so many words, but he comes out with three that share one syllable, "'m love you."

30.

"Your love is a gift, warrior, but it is also a burden. Do not cling to it too tightly, or it will become a weight that drags you down into darkness. Remember that death is not an end, but a transition."

You wait for a response, and after a few seconds and his eyes shut close, you think that he'd already kicked the bucket.

But his final breath brushes against your bare tights, "'m love you."

A few instances pass by and you determine Bakugou Katsuki, your imposer, and admirer has finally passed. All you had to do now is snap the strings that tether his soul to his body.

But first, you kiss his forehead, the niche of bare skin between his eyebrow.

Then, a foggy outline of Katsuki, dressed the same way he died, sits up from your tights as if he was just getting out of bed.

You revealed a hand to him as you got up.

"Don't be afraid. I'll help you cross the barrier."

You've helped Katsuki cross the barrier dozens of lifetimes. You don't think he's afraid anymore because while living Katsuki doesn't remember, his soul remembers you, and all the encounters you've made in his past life.

And though you tell him to give up, chase someone who he can grow old or die with him, he remains persistent.

He wraps his hand around yours, but not before he plants a kiss on top of it.

And you've grown to anticipate his next encounter.

You press a kiss into his cheek,

"we'll meet again Katsuki, I'll be waiting."

TWELVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR YEARS LATER, Katsuki still can't get off the thrill of being close to death, which is why he became a perfect pro-hero.

Somehow, he feels more connected to being close to death than experiencing the lifts of being alive.

It's as if someone is waiting for him on the other side,

And he is too.

[colderdrafts]

13 – A disturbance

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. TW for gore and violence. First Previous Next

Dimly lit tunnels passes by you in a blur as you walk, unseen forces tugging at you to keep moving. So far, you’ve passed by the path to collect water, the living room, the library, the sleeping quarters - deeper and deeper into the depths of Dren's extensive and confusing home. Eventually, you find yourself at the entrance of tunnels you’ve yet to travel.

You lantern does not do much to illuminate what lies beyond this point. It's like staring into a void. While Dren has vigilantly made sure the tunnels you most frequent remains lit, other tunnels leading to and from those places are not. Still, the agitated anxious energy will not leave you.

I need to move.

You take a few tentative steps forward. The need does not diminish. Is the air colder here? Or are you just nervous?

What a silly thought. There's nothing to be scared of down here.

You press on, and soon, you find yourself accompanied by darkness.

Well, the dark, at least, you correct yourself, throwing an annoyed thought the harpy’s way.

You're not too worried about getting lost, knowing Dren will instinctively know where you are and can come guide you back. Still, there's something eerie about venturing alone into the unfamiliar dark tunnels, with only a lantern to guide you. The deafening silence down here still gets to you at times. It’s just so achingly empty.

Perhaps it's something one can get used to. After all, Dren still lives here, doesn’t he? But even if it is a spider thing, you can't fathom it's very pleasant.

The dark stretches before you, and you feel a little better the further you go, trying to keep track of the turns you make.

You come by yet another small stream that floats gently through the tunnel you’re in, carved out so it gently trinkles along the side of the wall. Neatly out of the main path, yet still serving as a guide. Perhaps it’ll lead you somewhere, and it should at least be easy enough to track back. You watch the swirling patterns carved into the wall as you follow the small stream, listening to the calm flow of water that fills the otherwise heavy stillness.

Several indents in the web above you signals there’s tunnels leading up too. Seems Dren has thoroughly connected to this part of the cave as well. You’d probably be able to reach up and climb them if you really wanted to. That is, if the thread he’s spun here isn’t that sticky stuff he uses for traps. You’d not want to be tangled in one of those again.

You gingerly reach out toward the ceiling to test it, when a very, very subtle sound of movement somewhere to your right catches your attention.

Movement? Down here? That can’t be right.

Nothing but you should be alive this far down, should it?

This must be your mind playing tricks. Your brain just wants to fill out the quiet with something. Regardless, goosebumps appear on your skin. With them, comes the continued need to move.

“Fine, I’m going,” you mutter to no one in annoyance. Why are your hands suddenly so clammy? The parasite inside you churns with worry at the thought of hostility, though not in the way of Morgan’s presence bearing down on you. So where is this sudden burst of anxiety coming from?

A muffled sound like rock hitting dirt disturbs your train of thought. It came from the same direction.

You frown. Perhaps you should follow your instinct here. If anything, to prove to yourself everything’s fine.

You quickly pull down the cover of the lantern, leaving you in the complete dark, but with your hand on the wall you feel your way forward towards the sound.

There’s a small indent on the wall, and feeling around it, you find there's a tunnel leading up, thankfully closer to the ground where you can reach it. The sounds might have come from somewhere within.

You quietly lift yourself up. It's not far, and soon you're standing in a slightly smaller tunnel. It goes upwards. From here, you can hear it much better. The movement turns to quiet muttering. Unfamiliar voices. Up ahead, you see the faintest light source.

Your heartbeat quickens. You're definitely not alone.

Your fears confirmed, you sneak forward as quietly as you can, the soft padding of your feet on the dirt below. Something’s wrong. You stare at the swirling patterns there, finding some comfort knowing you're still in touch with a highly efficient defense system. But why hasn't it set of the one who usually monitors it?

You reach the end of the smaller tunnel, the faint lights shining from within illuminating the walls and floor. Interestingly, in this spot, Dren has apparently decided to cover every surface in a soft padding of web. You carefully peek around the corner with bated breath.

Oh.

It would seem you've found out where Dren hides his eggs.

You're looking into a small enclave covered in web from ceiling to ground. In the middle is a small cluster of three orange, oval eggs about the size of soccer-balls, covered in a protective layer of webbing. It takes second for you to register the utter defenselessness of them. How much you've just imposed on the sanctity of their hidden room.

If not for the light piercing the dark you just came from, you'd never have found them. You glance further into the room, and find its source. Your blood runs cold.

Three hooded figures are standing at the opposite end of the alcove, eyeing the eggs and quietly whispering in foreign noises to each other. One of them moves their head, and you catch a glimpse of blueish tinted scales of their skin. You grit your teeth, realizing what's happening.

They're snatchers. There's no doubt about it.

Behind them, there is a small open hole in the wall, barely big enough to fit an adult human through.

So that's how they did it. Your grip on the lantern tightens, wondering if these are the same thieves that made way with the rest of Dren's children. And finding a need to plant a solid fist in each of their faces, as it seems they're about to finish the job. Nasty little things.

What should you do?

If you start yelling for Dren they'll undoubtedly find you, and you can easily picture what could happen: You get attacked, and they haul ass out of there, snatching whatever they can carry quickly and make away.

It risks the arachnid losing the rest of his offspring. You don't want to know how he'd react to that. You can hardly bear leaving him even with his family still alive.

You should at least try to warn him.

Soundlessly, you run your fingers through the soft webs to find the carvings on the wall, finding the strong, silky warning thread within. You shake it vigorously. Some of the webbing breaks off and sticks to your hand, but you don't have time to worry about that right now, picking out another one and shaking that one too for good measure.

Simultaneously, the snatchers start moving.

One of them steps extremely carefully toward the eggs. In the light from their lantern, you spot that it has covered its feet in web, and carefully moves so that no other part of its body touches it.

Huh. Clever.

You shake the web again. If Dren doesn't feel it, he's going to lose them. You bite back a loud protest yell as the thief slowly reaches toward one of the defenseless orbs on the floor.

It would appear you need to make a decision. You need to move.

At this rate, Dren will never make it in time before they're gone. And you're not going to stand idly by and witness a kidnapping without at least trying to intervene. You'll have to buy their parent some time. You brace yourself for potentially one of the most stupidly risky acts you've performed in your life.

"Leave them!" you bellow suddenly, and fling yourself toward the snatcher closest to the eggs.

Element of surprise on your side, a gnarly startled screech escapes the creature, and it immediately stumbles backwards towards its fellows, and out of your way.

You quickly jump forward and stand in front of the eggs protectively, shielding them from the offenders with your arms out in an awkward position.

It's quiet a moment. The snatchers stare at you, and up close now you recognize one of them as the red one who spotted you back at the marketplace. Their yellow eyes once again stare into yours.

They bare their teeth at you and hiss something, guttural words you can’t make sense of.

The other two step out to flank you, and suddenly the sharp ends of a pair of spears are pointed at you.

You ball your fists to keep your hands from shaking.

"I'm not letting you take them," you hiss back, relying on a bubbling protective anger to keep you grounded. "I've already called for the parent. You should get out of here while you still can."

You're bluffing, and frankly you don't even know if these creatures can understand you. But you don't get any option to find out as the red one snarls something else. In a split second, the blue one on their left lunges at you, spear at the ready.

You instinctively throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging the tip of the wooden weapon. However, you've left the eggs exposed when doing so.

The other two immediately take advantage and close in on them, while the blue one focuses on keeping you occupied.

You grab two handfuls of web from your position close to the wall and pull with all your might. It comes off with a soft ripping noise, and you quickly hurl it at your blue assailant.

The blue one rambles angrily, probably in no kind terms telling you to knock it off, tearing the sticky threads off their body. They hiss, and jab forward, stabbing at you again. You jump sideways, but the creature is quick to reassess their aim. The weapon connects with the tissue in your shoulder and you grunt in pain, feeling warm blood trickle down your arm.

The other two have meanwhile managed to pick up one of the eggs each. You don’t have time to intervene with the blue one still coming at you.

In an act of desperation you swing your lantern at them, hitting them over the head with a loud clonk. The glass shatters, sharp splinters flying across the room. The blue one staggers back, dazed and now bleeding.

You take the opportunity and step forward, shoving your uninjured shoulder into their side. They're smaller than you, and trips and falls, further disturbing the webbing below.

You manage to snatch up their discarded spear, and rush ahead to cut the thieves off, blocking the small hole that makes the exit. You point it at the two fleeing with one egg each.

"Put them down!" you demand.

The two others stop momentarily, hissing at you, but while your focus was on them, the blue one has recovered. You feel a scaled arm locking around you and catching you in a headlock. You're roughly pulled backwards, losing your grip on the spear. The other two waste no time hurrying toward the exit with their prices.

The one furthest behind does not get that far. A flash of black snatches it clean off the ground, squealing.

Their red companion turns in time to watch a pair of long, hairy and pitch black spider’s legs slowly appearing from the opening of the alcove, having grappled their friend uncomfortably tight around the stomach.

Dren fully enters the room, his imposing presence suddenly making the small room feel much smaller. He's holding the snatcher with his front legs, and they're kicking and snarling in his grip, desperately struggling to escape. The egg lands on the soft webbing below with a soft bump, thankfully unharmed, and Dren quickly uses another leg to pull it behind him to safety.

Then he let's out a disgusted huff, and rapidly slams the snatcher into the ground. Following the movement is a loud crunch.

You hear bone snapping with the force of the impact, and the snatcher squeals in agony.

Dren carelessly lifts the screaming creature, and smashes them against the floor again. Their pained cries echoes through the otherwise deadly silence of the cave.

You can do nothing but stare.

Drens lifts the snatcher, and knocks them against the floor again.

And again.

And again.

Three more times, until the squealing snatcher goes silent save for a wet gurgling wheeze, their body reduced to a broken pile of bones and meat.

A cold sweat breaks out as your entire body shudders, distraught from the horrific sight.

How long until he cracks, and simply kills you?

The grip on your head lessens in favor of gripping around your upper body tightly, and you hear a small whine from the blue snatcher holding you captive. It feels like it now focuses more on using you as a meat shield rather than trapping you.

Dren looks up from the ruined carcass below him and his eyes dart between the one holding you, and the one holding his second egg, eerily quiet with and odd stoic expression. Fresh blood drips from his carapace, his mandibles clicking in contemplation, like wondering who he should sink his fangs into next.

No one dares move.

You suddenly understand why an insect freezes in the presence of a predator, fearful of what any slight disturbance in the air would set off. It's like he's an arrow nocked on a bow, ready to release at any moment, and you pray to anyone who might be listening that you're not its target.

You suddenly feel something sharp poking your side and let out a small gasp. Not a millisecond later, you let out a yell as a large spiders body is suddenly towering over you, there in a flash. The blue snatcher’s grip on you vanishes in an instant as it flies upwards, dropping a knife that falls to the webbed ground with a soft thud.

You stumble forward, landing clumsily on your knees and palms in the sticky webbing below. All around you there is movement as Dren paces around, his lower body above you. There's an uncanny wet tearing noise, and you suddenly see droplets of blood falling on the floor as yet another squealing egg-thief is efficiently silenced.

You hear footsteps, as the last of the snatchers, the red one, makes a beeline for the small exit, sprinting across the alcove with one egg in each arm.

Dren's entire body springs to attention as he moves above you, pointing in the direction of the last thief. He dashes toward it, carelessly throwing the now disfigured body he was holding aside. They splatter against the wall with a squelch, leaving blood stains behind as they join their dead comrade.

The last snatcher barely manages to leap through the opening before Dren tramples them flat.

"NO!" Dren roars, and starts pushing his legs into the opening, too big to fit through. "NO!"

His enraged outburst echoes through the cave as he claws at the opening in the wall, trying to make it bigger so he can give chase.

You sit up and stare at him, feeling your heart galloping, a stench of blood and sweat in the air. Your eyes dart to the two mangled corpses carelessly thrown to the ground, and you find it odd. How were these lumps of meat two people just mere seconds ago? The final egg lies motionless on the floor close to them, vulnerable and harmless. The very beginning of this whole conflict.

What will they be capable when they grow up?

You look back to Dren, your answer, your companion and protector, watching him completely loose himself along the safety of his last eggs.

There's an odd sort of clarity in your mind then, watching this unfold. Like being inside the eye of a storm.

Something in the way Dren tears through his home without a care of ruining what he has spend so long building, in between his wheezes and snarling, you're reminded of what he is in this moment. Despite having witnessed him tearing two people apart in seconds flat, despite the bloody scene and ruthless violence - right now, he's just a parent, desperately trying to avoid any harm coming to his children.

You can feel it. You can sense the pain and fear fueling his wrath, and you find it links to something you share with him. Something inside you pops, a sudden burst of anger demands you take action.

Dren won’t fit through that hole. But you will.

Quickly, you find yourself on your feet, picking up the discarded spear and rushing toward the custodian to help.

"Move!" you yell at Dren, and he doesn't hear you at all, still feverishly ripping whole chunks out of the wall. "Out of the way!"

You push past the flurry of movement that is his legs, and shiver when they grace across your back when you interrupt, but thankfully no further - seems he's still coherent enough not to squash you - so you quickly slip inside the opening to chase down the red thief. The arachnid’s distressed shouting and hissing continues behind you, and you hear him call your name.

You see the light-source up ahead and sprint toward the snatcher, even though you're not really sure what you're going to do if you catch it. The tunnel is narrow and you need to duck your head under roots traveling across the ceiling. The snatcher is quick, but you find yourself at an even pace, even catching up. It carrying two eggs might have given you an advantage in movement.

The snatcher stops up ahead close to a small ladder presumably leading outside. Carefully but quickly, the red one puts the eggs into a basket waiting on the ground next to it. You intercept them there, spear at the ready.

"Give them back!" you yell.

The red snatcher stares up at you in surprise, and meets your threat with a hiss. They take a heavy step forward.

You don't let up. You angrily jab the spear at Red again to force them further back, and away from the eggs.

They snarl at you this time, two long fangs glinting in the dim lantern light as their hands open and closes, considering their options. With their hood back, you notice the red scales covering their head are torn in places. Their yellow eyes are blown wide open, and their nostrils are flaring.

They're afraid.

As they should be.

"Run now, and you may get out of here alive," you spit, trying your words while they're still reluctant to fight. "Get the hell out of dodge before the spider figures out the tunnel has another entrance point."

You're still not sure if the thing even understands you. But they look between you and the basket containing their price, and then glances back the way where a certain large predator has his mind currently set to 'brutally murderous'.

The snatcher takes a few steps backwards, watching you. When you make no move, they turn on their heel, and dashes toward the ladder, leaving the eggs and lantern behind. They glance back at you one last time, before rapidly ascending it into the darkness outside, and out of view.

You keep watch for a few seconds, giving the snatcher time to cover some ground before daring to look away from the opening.

Once certain they've gone, you hurriedly open the basket, and look over the eggs.

They're still orange, slightly translucent, and, most importantly, uninjured. On top of the tough membrane, you see what seems to be an outline of legs. You breathe a heavy sigh of relief, carefully putting a hand on one of them. It’s pleasantly warm.

There's a strange sort of intimacy in staring at these fragile little creatures. After all, Dren's trusted no one to see them, not even you.

This is Dren’s children you’re looking at. And you've just saved their lives.

Carefully, your reach down to scoop them up in your arms.

"Holy shit, do not drop them, do not drop them.." you urgently whisper to yourself as you do, anxious you might accidentally do just that.

The warmth emanating from them is familiar, and you hold them close to your chest, carefully making your way back down the tunnel. The weight of them in your arms brings an odd sense of calm to you, despite the haphazard situation.

A brief gust of wind stops you, however, and you glance back at the hole above the ladder.

You almost feel a pull, calling you towards it.

What a bad time to be interrupted. But you could just go and leave everything behind to be somewhere else, couldn't you?

All these emotions, all of this trouble, the blood and violence, everything you'll need to fix when you get back home. You don't have to do any of it.

It's almost tempting to climb up, if just for a few seconds. Just escape to the outside and feel free of it all.

Escape? You stop and ponder on your own train of thought. That would require I'm a captive.

You look down at the two vulnerable orbs nestled safely in your arms.

No. Something else inside you says. These are more important right now.

You trudge back down the tunnel, ignoring the thing inside you squirming in protest.

Dren has meanwhile managed to turn the opening of the snatcher tunnel into mulch. He's still going at it when you return, now completely silent save for the noise of dirt being ripped apart.

The sight reminds you of the potential danger from this whole confrontation. Dren's current state of mind, and the full view of his powerful legs violently reducing the wall to nothing, is not helping matters. Suddenly, you don’t feel much like a savior. You feel more like a rat hiding inside a crack in the wall, while the cat tries to furiously claw its way towards it.

You step in place for a moment, unsure.

"Dren?" you call out eventually, hesitant.

And the movement halts. You can hear him panting from the effort, tense and awaiting your next words with panicked anticipation.

Your throat is dry. "I- I have them. They're okay.”

Dren’s legs slowly retreat and his head and torso appears in the tunnel entrance. He leans down to peer through it at you.

All his pitch black eyes are wide open and his mandibles are flaring, but something in his expression shifts when he spots you holding his eggs close as to not drop them. Fear? Anger? Desperation? You can't read him at all.

You take a wary step back.

“Please,” he rasps quickly when you do so, and very, very slowly reaches his bloodied hands toward you. Inviting you in with open arms. “Please. Come here.”

There's something eerily familiar in the way he says that, his voice gently rolling through your mind, urging, compelling you, in a way he hasn't done before.

The cold sweat prickling your skin at the feeling makes you reluctant to follow the instruction. Yet, another part quite would like to, would like to indeed, you can trust him and get closer, he’s safe, you know he’s safe- You shake it off, unsure if he's of sound mind to not grab and tear you apart the second you're within reach. Just like he did the previous creature who held his eggs.

Dren swallows, obviously struggling to not continue his rampage to just get them back, to just reach you, to take control of what happens to what is his - armed with the patience of an experienced predator he takes a deep breath, grounding himself as to not startle you further, lest you take flight.

"Please," he says softly, normally, waving his hands in a beckoning motion.

You realize the amount of power you hold over him right now. If you wanted, you could turn on your heel and walk away. You could name a price. You could throw the eggs on the ground and trample them flat, and he would be powerless to stop you.

But you don't. These eggs are innocent and vulnerable, and in front of you stands a sure-fire way to ensure that nothing will happen to them.

You still see Dren there despite the terror. You recognize his patience and fiercely protective nature, that’s been there with you every step of the way. Now, once again, working to keep everything he cares about safe.

You slowly make your way toward him. He’s staring at you almost like in a trance.

You had prepared to hand the eggs over once you reached him, but Dren slowly moves back, allowing you to pass through the carnage that used to be an entry point. Just watching with wide eyes. You’re not exactly sure what he expects you to do. But he hasn't stopped you, so you keep going.

You step across the alcove, and carefully place the eggs back to their right place in the middle of the room. Dren comes up next to you, and places the third next to them. In silence, he starts gently wrapping some of the ruined webbing over them again with his front legs. You move back to give him space to fuss over them.

You've barely taken a step before he rapidly turns, and suddenly lunges towards you. With his arms, he snatches you clean off the ground.

You can't hold back a small scream as you're suddenly in the air - this is it, I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm so so dead - which Dren completely ignores, as he forcibly squeezes you against his torso in a bone-crushing embrace.

Your face is flattened against his fur-covered shoulder, your arms sprawled to the side in shock, legs dangling uselessly over the ground. You hardly dare breathe, not that the force currently pressuring your ribs allows for much lung expansion anyway.

Dren buries his face in the crook of your neck.

He's shaking.

"Thank you," he breathes, clutching you a bit tighter. "Thank you."

You dangle awkwardly in his arms, trying to calm your racing pulse, taking shuddering breaths. Oh. It would appear this is gratitude.

Gingerly, not really knowing what else to do, you wrap your arms around him in turn, and he shudders when you do so. He shifts then, and you feel yourself being leaned backwards, settled on his pedipalps. Your backside is leaning against the web-covered eggs, and his front legs curl around them, holding both you and them in place.

He holds you like that for a while. You let him cling to you, while he works through whatever it is he needs to work through to calm down after this experience.

You don't dare glance toward the mutilated corpses currently concealed behind the furred shoulder, your face is pressing against. You ignore the stains of crimson littering the space. There's nothing you can really say, so you settle for running your fingers through the hairs on the back of Dren’s neck in a soothing manner. A soft chitter suggests he likes it when you do that, at least.

"It's alright," you mutter softly, testing the waters. "They're safe."

"Safe," he repeats, nodding against your shoulder. “Safe.”

There’s a pause, and then Dren readjusts his hold a bit. You feel him tense, like preparing for an impact. He sucks in a breath before he speaks.

“Give me the winter,” he blurts hurriedly. Like he needed to get it out before it was too late. “Just the winter.”

You try to lean back and get a look at him, but his grip won’t let you move an inch away - as if he's afraid to let you go.

“What..?” you try as softly as you can. He’s getting agitated.

“Just until they hatch, until they can fend for themselves,” Dren elaborates, rushed words leaving him like rapid fire. “I’ll help you get back home, I promise, whatever you need, I'll do it. Just – please stay. Act as my sentry. Give me the winter.”

Supposedly it makes sense he would do this now, of all times. It would seem this is what it took to finally break him.

You lean further into him, if anything to silently let him know you're not just going up in thin air, so maybe his death-grip on you lessens a bit.

You sigh. "That's - but Dren, you know I'm not-"

"You're perfect," he states firmly, cutting you off. The tips of his fangs brush over your neck as he speaks. "You kept watch and called for me when it was needed - risked yourself to defend my young, despite them not being your responsibility - you've already done more than I could ever ask. I have no right, I know that, but I can't - If I lose anyone else-" he trails off in his rambling. "Please. Give me the winter."

It's not like you're actually much in a position to say 'no', but you don't really get the feeling Dren is thinking about that right now. Like your refusal means you're going to slip through his fingers, and vanish in an instant. As if he's not the one holding your only known key home. As if he's not perfectly capable of keeping you trapped here, if he so did desire.

But maybe his conviction in this ultimately being your choice means something - maybe that actually means everything.

You sense the remaining vulnerable eggs pressing against your backside, a faint reminder of what you did tonight. It seems it's wasn't really you who needed to move.

You’re already connected to them, aren’t you? How could you possibly leave everything behind? Not now. Not after all of this.

What's a few months of darkness as a price for keeping everyone you care about alive?

"Okay," you whisper, clutching him back. You can feel a pressure growing around you, like you’ve just used your entire body to pick up something heavy. It’s warm. "Okay, you can have my winter."

"I will let you go," Dren assures you firmly, speaking through his teeth. "It will hurt, I know it will, for both of us, but I vow to you, when all this is over, when we're all safe-"

"I know," you placate. "I trust you."

Dren breathes out, and with it leaves the tension in his body. He finally leans back to look at you again, and there are tears in black eyes. Carefully, gently, his hands reaches up to cup your face. You stare at him like you did earlier this very day and, once again, he effortlessly draws you in.

Because looking at him like this is nice. It’s really, really nice. You’re being enveloped in a warm blanket, soothing all worry you’ve ever had. You can feel a pull from him, coaxing you closer, something gently wrapping around you. Of course this will work, of course you’re in good hands here, of course Dren knows what’s best -

A sudden piercing pain shoots through you in retaliation, and you gasp, severing eye contact and instinctively trying to curl up to protect yourself. It's no use. The pain strikes your core, like a gun was fired from within. Something inside you heavily disagrees.

Dren hisses at the interruption and deftly pulls you to him again, like a futile attempt to shield you with his body. You can feel his formerly calm energy clouded in a protective fury, zeroing in on the interloper, surrounding it, grabbing it, strangling it.

You cry out. You can’t help it. The parasite’s pain is as much yours as it is its, and the agony is unbearable. It feels like your chest is being crushed, like your ribs can shatter and destroy your innards at any moment.

“I know, Sweetness, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, shh,” Dren soothes you, holding you against him with a hand over the back of your neck, keeping his grip on the parasite and angrily thwarting it.

It feels like forever you're in this pure world of pain, at some point you may have started begging for it to stop, only wishing dearly for everything to turn quiet, for it to be over. You can faintly hear reassurances and apologies in the foggy cloud of your consciousness, and something, someone, peers into your mind, feeling for a thread intertwining with the very core of your being.

Then, there’s a small release of pressure, like when you’ve finished tying the knot of a shoelace. At the end, you let it go, sitting neat and comfortably tight.

And then the pain is gone.

It’s like the hook trapping the fish suddenly disappearing from the fight. The struggle is over, leaving the fishing line there, suspended in the flowing water. Useless.

Dren’s breath is warm on your neck as he chitters and purrs to calm you, pedipalps and arms around you like both of his halves are checking on you at once. You just hold on to him, feeling an immense relief coursing through your body. The pressure is gone, leaving you sore, and completely exhausted. Vulnerable.

And you can feel him. Really, feel him.

Dren is everywhere around you, inside you, his energy twisting and turning in a strange dance. He’s happy. So, so happy. The overflowing emotion is infectious, and you struggle to hold in an odd strangled laugh full of sobs.

And it dawns on you now what you’ve just agreed to. What you’ve just accepted into your life. And, if what you’ve learned from the harpy is true, you’ve just acquired the qualifications for your new job as a sentry.

[owlyflufff]

Keiji always knew Koutaoru has a gentle touch.

He isn't foreign to the callouses and marks that etched along his partner's fingers. His high school years informed him much that his star could send spike after spike relentlessly, the sound resonating throughout a gym, arena even if Bokuto was eager enough. There on the sidelines he'd look over to see Bokuto sending in the most obnoxious high five, wishing the unfortunate soul that would be on the receiving end of Bokuto's "pat" to the back a get well soon and seen how enthusiastic Bokuto's every movements have been over the years he's known him.

However, Keiji knows just how gentle Koutarou's touch had always been.

For those very same hands were the ones that welcomed him warmly when he first joined Fukurodani's volleyball team. Those same eager movements so easily passed and shared food to him from his bento box. Such hands offered him kindness Keiji didn't think he should hold when his thoughts started to overrun him.

They wrapped bandages around his fingers from careless mistakes and hasty injuries, they hugged his own fingers tight and offered warmth when Akaashi's own fingers were surrounded in cold. Such movements held him close when he sobbed, fingers interlaced as the curtains closed on their last match and they offered their goodbye to the court.

If Keiji can trace along his skin, he could trace the fondest memory of Bokuto quietly reaching for his hands, looking him in the eyes and telling him the most earnest words with the stars being their only witness, an earnest I love you.

By then Koutarou's touch had only grown more gentle, stolen touches underneath the table during group dinners, merely sitting side by side a bench or finding comfort in sharing a bed and finding rest in each other's presence.

Keiji always knew Koutaoru has a gentle touch.

And as he watched from the distance, there is something to be said about how small and fragile a young child's hand could be as it reached out for Koutarou's own. The little kid jumped and hollered, bouncing as it requested for Koutarou to teach him how to spike once more. If anything Koutarou was surrounded by numerous children, all running and prodding to learn volleyball that their eagerness almost had Koutarou being swept up in their tidal wave of unbridled energy.

A reflection of who Koutarou once was, a reflection of who Koutarou still is regardless of all the years that have passed.

It makes Keiji laugh.

It makes Keiji smile.

It makes Keiji cry, almost.

He watches on as Koutarou eagerly but carefully guides those children, positioning their arms and rubbing their heads over a successful spike, hands so full of care and love that Keiji could never feel so deserving of it even now.

Keiji always knew Koutarou has a gentle touch, and in turn he wants to offer all those in kind. Offer his support, his care, his love really to the man that had left him speechless since day one. To the man who still leaves him speechless with all the children he's surrounded by.

And as Keiji stands up from the bleachers and makes his way over to Koutarou and the kids, there's he would offer Koutarou his own gentle touch, with one hand holding Koutarou's own and the other holding a ring from behind with the promise of forever.

[anakinsthot]

[KICKS THE DOOR IN]

hi yes hello! I'd like to request praise + dancing [and for absolute challenge points, should it spark joy; playing with hair]

ty 💜

I don't remember what list this is from 🫣 anyway have 600 words of pre-relationship obikin

-

Obi-Wan watched the class of padawans with amusement. There was a senate ball coming up, and a number of Jedi had been invited as guests. Mostly those who had mediated planetary disputes for the Senate. Their padawans, regardless of their actual help in said mediations, were also invited.

Which led to this: Anakin Skywalker, nineteen years old, had been invited to a ball and needed to learn how to dance. Obi-Wan had offered to teach him but Anakin had stubbornly refused his help, opting to attend one of the classes offered in temple instead.

It was funny, Obi-Wan thought, that someone who was normally preternaturally graceful suddenly seemed to have two left feet when asked to put their hands on another being and move to a beat.

He waited quietly in the balcony above the gym that had been commandeered for tonight’s dance class. Eventually the Master teaching had either imparted all the knowledge he’d wished to for the day or gave up and dismissed the group. Obi-Wan couldn’t quite tell. About 20% of the class was as bad as Anakin, 70% were passable if not graceful, and the final 10% looked to require no instruction at all.

As the padawans started to trickle out Obi-Wan tugged on the bond he shared with Anakin, drawing his attention to the balcony where Obi-Wan hid in the shadows.

Anakin waved off the group who’d asked him to join them for dinner, giving some excuse that Obi-Wan couldn’t hear. They left quickly enough. Once the gym was clear of anyone except him and Anakin, Obi-Wan leapt down from the balcony, landing lightly on the wooden floor.

“Did you watch the whole time?” Anakin’s voice was sullen as he asked, but the red on his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment.

“Long enough to see you trip over your own feet,” Obi-Wan told him with a smile. “You hardly stood out though. I thought that poor togruta was going to fall on his ass more than once.”

That brought a glimmer of a smile to Anakin’s face. “Nash can’t seem to keep a tempo, he ends up tangled with his partner when he’s a beat ahead of or behind them.”

Obi-Wan moved to the music player and selected a song that hadn’t been played during class. “Would you like to take up my offer to help you now?”

Anakin groaned but took Obi-Wan’s hand. “We didn’t practice with this music.”

Obi-Wan arranged them so that they were in the first pose of the dance Anakin’s class had been attempting. “It’s the same steps you were learning. Just with a song you might have actually heard before, not one that was popular seventy years ago.” Anakin laughed and some of the tension held in his tight shoulders dispelled.

They started out tentatively. Anakin was trying to keep distance between them and as a result had trouble feeling the movements Obi-Wan tried to guide him into with gentle pulls and pushes.

“Look at me, padawan,” Obi-Wan said. He ran a hand up the back of Anakin’s neck, fingers twisting into the short ponytail there and gently but firmly tilting Anakin’s head up until they made eye contact. “You can’t be afraid to touch your partner. You must be in tune with each other, able to feel where the other is going to be before they’re there.”

Anakin nodded shortly. His cheeks were a flaming red but he did as instructed. The hand at Obi-Wan’s waist tightened and the one on his shoulder pressed more firmly into Obi-Wan. Slowly, their steps became more and more in sync until they were moving around the floor in perfect harmony with the music.

“Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured softly. He tugged on Anakin’s hair one more time. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

[esthermika]

So as part of a deal with @cheriepleasantries I promised that if she posted about hacking I would post about some advanced Celeste movement tech. She did, so here's that post.

Minor spoilers for Celeste here. Nothing about the story will be discussed but I will go over some more complex movement from chapters 8 (specifically the C Side) and 9 (Farewell) which are technically optional content.

Also I used a screenshot from AverageImposter's amazing Mechanics YOU Need to Speedrun Celeste (Beginner's Guide) video. Check him out if you are serious about speedrunning this game, his videos are some of the best on this subject! Also the Celeste fandom wiki is great resource to check out as well!

Basics of Celeste

Celeste is a precision platformer where you control Madeline over a series of 9 chapters in a journey of self-discovery, anxiety attacks, pink hair and a lot of strawberries.

Madeline is your typical platformer protagonist. She can jump and climb walls, but she also has a special ability to dash in all 8 directions, regardless of whether she's in the air or on the ground.

These are your basic movement options and are the foundational building blocks for more advanced techniques. In this particular post we will take an in-depth look at how exactly dashes work, down to the frames.

The Stuff You Learn Normally

Now let's get into the good stuff. Specifically hypers and wavedashes. You learn about these in chapter 8 The Core's C Side and in chapter 9 Farewell.

Hypers

Hypers (also called hyper dashes) are introduced at the beginning of chapter 9's C-Side and are preformed by dashing down-diagonally while on the ground and pressing jump soon after. This technique gives you the vertical momentum of the jump and the horizontal momentum of the dash at the cost of consuming your dash. On top of all that Madeline gets a 1.25x speed boost when she hypers.

Hypers are super useful for moving horizontal distances quickly and crossing gaps efficiently.

There's also supers (aka super dashes) which are the exact same concept as a hyper (dash + jump) but you instead dash horizontally instead of down-diagonally. This gives you less distance, but earns you more height.

Wavedashes

So remember hypers? You should, you literally just read about them. I'm concerned for you. Well here is a very similar technique. Introducing wavedashes!!!! The game straight up has a pointpoint explaining this so here:

Now you might notice that this very similar to a hyper! It's just done in mid air. Why is that important? Well, it let's you regain your dash. (notice the red hair meaning Madeline can still dash)

THIS IS A MASSIVE DEAL!!!

This essentially gives you 2 dashes and let's go super fast! Crucial technique for speedrunners.

The game also explains why you can't seem to do it. The actual explanation is more complex than this... but we'll get into that later on...

And that's basically it... or rather it would be... if we played by the rules >:3.

Extending On What We've Learned

Now we are getting into the stuff the game doesn't teach you. We've officially entered the world of dark Celeste speed tech. I promise it's not as intimidating as it seems ;p

So you know how hypers/supers don't give Madeline her dash back? Well... what if they did?

Extending hypers and supers

Back when we learned about wavedashes, I said the reason you got your dash back is because the wavedash is preformed midair while hypers/supers are done on the ground. I lied. That's not the real reason why. To understand what is really happening we need to delve deeper into how Madeline's dash really works.

Here's a quote from the developers:

The way it works is pretty straightforward. When you hit the dash button, she flips into a separate ‘dash’ state. A timer is set, her hair turns blue, and she’s given a set velocity in the direction you were holding when you hit the button. The timer then starts counting. For .15 seconds you have no control over Madeline, but then the game gradually gives control back while also decreasing her velocity until you have full control again and her normal state is reinstated. It’s all over in well under a second.

Let's break this down. They mention a timer is set when Madeline dashes. This timer has several functions but the most important one is that it prevents you from regaining your dash if less then 5 frames have passed since it started. 5 frames is about 0.08 seconds since Celeste runs at a constant 60 fps. This is the real reason hypers/supers don't give you your dash back but wavedashes do! We'll comeback to this in a bit.

Next they mention that you don't have control of Madeline for .15 seconds after dashing. This is only half true. You don't have control over her movement, but you can still jump and grab! If you jump mid dash, you perform a hyper/super and Madeline's dash ends immediately. This is also the time period when she's unaffected by gravity. The rest of the information is all correct and unambiguous.

But wait! The only thing preventing us from getting our dash back after a hyper/super is a timer? Can't we just wait it out?

Yes we can!

This is called an extended hyper. It's called "extended" because we have to wait out the 5 frame timer before pressing jump. The same concept also applies to supers, in this case called extended supers!

This is, mechanically speaking, the same exact thing as a wavedash!

Some extra notes on extending hypers/supers:

The jump can be performed at any point after the 5 frame timer expires and before the dash ends (a dash ends around when Madeline starts getting affected by gravity again).

You can use coyote time (a small time frame after Madeline leaves the ground when she can still jump) to extend hypers/supers! Just make sure to still be on the ground for the 5 frames!

An extended hyper/super can also be performed by touching the ground mid dash or even in mid air (like a wavedash!)

Extending hypers/supers let's you chain them together. So you can extended hyper into another extended hyper! Just like with wave dashes!

Again wavedashes are just fancy extended hypers!

Also did you notice the pun in this section's title? :3

Phew! That was a lot! Feel free to take a break because we are about the get into the weird stuff!

Bunny Hop Hypers and Cornerboosts

We are in the final stretch don't worry! I know those words sound scary but it's ok. I'll hold your hand so you don't feel afraid :)

Bunny Hop Hypers

So to explain bunny hop hypers we need to learn to bunny hop first. It's a term you probably heard before from other games, but in Celeste it simply means 'jumping as soon as possible and for as short of a time as possible' usually being a 1-frame jump, where you press the jump button then release it on the next frame.

Why is this useful? So, remember how dashes start out really fast and get slower as the dash comes to an end? Well, jumps preserve some of Madeline's horizontal momentum. Letting us keep top-hyper speeds for longer! This is important because normally when you extended hyper you only get hyper speed after you jump. With a bunny hop hyper, you get hyper speed the entire time!

Now let's finally see a bunny hop hyper in action:

See that wasn't so bad!

All joking aside, if you are having trouble replicating the tricks I discuss, don't worry! This stuff will just get better with practice! A few months ago I couldn't do bunny hop hypers and now I can manage them pretty consistently. It's all about practice and determination!

Before moving on, I wanna say that bunny hop hypers are rare in Celeste speedrunning, at least not as common as extended hypers. They require a lot of specific conditions to be optimal, where as extended hypers can be done just about anywhere! You'll most often see bunny hop hypers in mods rather than normal gameplay.

Now, on to the last trick I wanna show off!

Cornerboosts

This one is a doozy and also the only grab related trick I'll discuss here. Maybe in the future I can talk about overclocking and neutral climb jumps :3

So what's a corner boost? It's a super difficult way to either build up speed or skip entire sections of gameplay of course :D and unlike bunny hop hypers, cornerboosts are used all over speedrunning! So you better get used to them :)

Explaining how exactly they work is difficult and this post is long enough as is, so let's just see how to perform one:

The most important part here is step 1. Madeline needs to be at a very precise position vertically relative to the wall for this trick to work. Try aiming for Madeline's chin to match the top of the wall. Also you might notice the green bar. That's Madeline's stamina (the stuff you consume when climbing). I'm using a mod to demonstrate that doing this trick costs some stamina.

Cornerboosts don't have to be preformed with a horizontal dash, they can also be done with diagonal dashes, but the timing is more strict.

As I said cornerboosts are used all over the speedrun, both to build up a lot of speed in combination with other tech and to skip certain sections. If you wanna see the real power cornerboosts can provide, check out this video of the last checkpoint in chapter 2 and try to count how many cornerboosts are performed. Good luck ;3

Putting All That Into Practice

So. That was a lot. But I have one small challenge for you left. Watch the following clip and try to figure out which strategies where used.

Pause and rewind as many times as needed before reading the next section. Try and play along ok ;p

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no cheating >:(

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Did you guess: bunny hop hyper into an up-diagonal dash into a cornerboost? If so then you're a massive nerd and I love you!

By the way, this is the (to my knowledge) fastest strat to clear this room in chapter 1.

Hope you had fun reading all that and that you ended up learning something :) If anything is unclear then just read it again cause I don't make mistakes.

If this gets me the attention I so desperately crave I might do another one of these things! No promises tho ;3

Also have strawb for reading all that <3

[dmagedgoods]

Owlcatober Day 12 - Song: Late-night tune

He doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes from his sleep. Not morning, surely, the room lies in silken darkness. Has he been disturbed by a dream? No – he realizes slowly –, something more pleasurable ... And it has not stopped. The melody dances through the air, melancholic, poignant, aching, and yet beautiful. Drawn closer to the music by curiosity, he leaves the bed while putting on his light, flowing dressing gown. The cold of the marble underneath his naked feet merges into the softness of thick carpets, then elegant parquet when he leaves their sleeping room, passes a corridor and enters the spacious parlor. There he stands, his muscular back to him, his violin perched carefully on his shoulder, and his cheek against the valuable wood. His body sways slowly with the tune, his arm moves gracefully but with vigor. He guides the bow with skill and passion while his fingers – his beautiful, long fingers adorned by golden rings – catch onto the strings. He stands mesmerized, barely breathing. But somehow his arrival has aroused Salvadore’s attention. He is tilting his head, his bow leaves the strings of his violin, and the instrument falls silent. “I woke you.” “And how lucky I am that you did.” He gives him a smile – warm and vivid, without holding back the deep affection he feels. “I couldn’t sleep,” Salvadore explains himself regardless, and starts to put the violin back in its case. “My apologies. I didn’t think I was this loud.” “Don’t,” Daeran steps towards him and stops him in his movement. “Play some more for me, will you?” A moment of thought crosses those sharp features before a little smile appears on his lips. He has the urge to press his own against it, and he knows the gesture would be eagerly appreciated and reciprocated, yet he denies himself the tempting pleasure. And Salvadore begins to play anew. This melody runs differently than the one before. It begins slowly but soon ascends into something that quickens his heartbeat, it surrounds them both, and he sinks into the tune and into the picture alike. His hair falls to his forehead, the way he never allows in public, and his concentrated gaze softens when his eyes meet his and melt into an expression he can only describe as … devotion. Heavens and hells and all planes in between and beyond, what did this man do to him? Eventually, much too soon, the song stops. The smile returns to Salvadore’s face. “You watch so intently,” he comments, and amusement finds its way into his words. “As though you’d learn it off my fingertips.” “Don’t be ridiculous. I was merely observing and complimented myself on my fortunate choices. I didn’t pay much attention during my own violin lessons,” he lies, “But as long as I keep you around, I’ll get all the pleasure with none of the work. – Or the hassle of finding musicians willing and capable to entertain me in the middle of the night.” “You could play a record.” “That’s hardly the same.” Salvadore chuckles. “Maybe I should teach you then. What if I’m not around for a while? And I admit I’m curious what you still remember.” “Not a lot,” he answers casually. Another lie. Meanwhile, he walks closer until he’s chest to chest with the man who makes his heart race so fast that he must feel it through the thin fabric of his dressing gown and his own silken shirt. “But maybe I’ll let you.” His lips brush Salvadore’s shoulder with the lightest graze. “– Maybe I’ll allow you to show off your remarkable talents and become my music teacher. Your oversized ego would like that, wouldn’t it?” Salvadore’s lips against his mouth keep him from uttering another word. He recognizes the faint taste of mint and then only heat, only him, and all the burning passion of his demanding tongue, his possessive hands, and his hard body that presses against his own. When he pulls away, he breathes hard. They both do. “You are kissing your students? Should a teacher exploit their power in such outrageous ways?”

“I firmly believe it will work on you,” Salvadore answers, his voice quiet and low. “And if you turn out to be willing to learn, I may consider a reward you may find even more outrageous. Just the way you like it.”

[azrielgreen]

Hey, I was just wondering how you stay motivated to write. I used to be really good at creative writing in school, but I fell off with it and don’t feel I’m half as good as I was. I have some amazing ideas in my head but fear I can’t execute them that well. Or I start something and have no will to finish! Does it come naturally to you? Do you find it hard to stay on task some days? Thanks.

Hi, thank you for this important question. I think so many of us struggle with this and it's really important to share in it.

Firstly, I believe that energy is cyclical. It waxes and wanes. We have to respect the times when we can't do as much as we could the week before, the month before even. Creative writing requires creative inspiration, hence why writing can feel so easy when you're newly inspired by a hyperfixation. All energy ebbs and flows, though, so there absolutely will be times you need a gentle break to indulge in things you love again. If you plant seeds in the same nutrient-depleted soil over and over again, what grows there will be void of minerals and vitamins.

When you find yourself starting new stories (because that feels SO GOOD) but being unable to finish them, you know you're running low on creative sustenance. You can only go so far and what's worse, your brain - a dopamine hungry thing - will notice that you get a little rush when you start something new, but get nothing much from forcing yourself to push on with it and it will annoyingly guide you towards that kind of thing unless given balance.

Looking after yourself and romanticising your process as much as is ✨HUMANLY POSSIBLE✨ and even beyond is always what I recommend. When writing starts to feel like work, get away from it. Take a break, find new songs, watch new movies, write other stuff, weird new stuff that's just for you. Move your furniture around, make a candle, go for a swim, but don't write for a week at least. Then come back to your desk, light some candles, make a new playlist, let the air in and go absolutely fucking wild.

This is what I do. I make a huge fuss of my process, I treat myself to little things before I sit to write, I make the house nice, I check off errands first (this is actually very helpful too - the uncluttered mind), and I light candles, play Debussy and drink my tea while holding onto the fucking JOY that will come from "that scene" I have planned in my head.

Doing this a little bit every day helps build momentum. I don't push myself as hard as I did before, but I do write every day (outside of monthly breaks), in one way or another and I make it a beautiful indulgent process rather than a harsh grind. Writing everyday, even just 200 words, helps get movement and momentum flowing, helps build your confidence again and above all, prevents burnout. Taking breaks is essential too as I said. I have creativity days where I do new things, open myself up wide to the universe and it's on those days I usually realise how easy it is to close myself off and hold tight to the feeling of "writing felt good before, it felt good again, it's all I need". Writing isn't enough, comments and kudos aren't enough and they should never become what it's all about. If you write ONLY for those things, you'll live in a perpetual state of stress, insecurity and disappointment because those things will fade regardless.

Write for yourself. Make it a process you look forward to. Go wild, have fun, indulge, explore, stay open, look after your body and your mind and let your spirit touch nature once a day. Don't let other people dictate how you spend your energy and above all, please, don't compare yourself to others.

This is what I do.

All my love to you.

Az.

💜💜💜

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

word count: 4.8k

ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 19: Intrusion

Gwen

If staring worked like water, eroding ceilings over time until they discolor and eventually collapse, I’d be covered in drywall and looking into the eleventh floor by now.

For three nights, all I do is stare. I fall in and out of sleep when even the brightest burn of anger dies down to an amber, but worry is quick to bring me back, stoking the flames. I usually wake with a soft gasp, or a twitch of my arm, as if I’m subconsciously shocked to feel as afflicted as I do.

I had said too much. I could have just told Joel that this was unacceptable, and he needed to inform me of every new development. That was true. But I didn’t expect to take it as…a betrayal. The thought makes me pinch my eyes closed. It means I trust Joel enough to have expectations for him, and that means I let my own feelings take hold for far too long. He was here on a job. I was teetering on the edge of admitting things about him, and about the corporation, that I had never dared utter out loud. I let my anger guide my words, and it’s a small blessing that’s all that came out.

The annoying thing is, after three nights of ruminating, I now found what Joel did endearing. Overstepping? Absolutely. But endearing nonetheless. And what’s more is, he admitted it. He apologized, even. It hadn’t been even a week since the package arrived before he told me, and knowing how stressed he’s seemed at every event with my friends, the fact that he wanted me to go…and the fact that he noticed it was something I needed... It felt like he cared about me beyond just blocking someone from my path.

Now, while I pretend to sleep, I try not to think about how much he could care, and if it was the same way I did. Joel probably had that level of compassion towards every client. I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, thinking I was somehow different or special. And even though it was my decision, I’m starting to regret not speaking to him these past few days. Maybe I should apologize in the morning. I could get him a coffee or something as a peace offering—

CRASH!

Glass shatters in the living room.

I’m not sure what it sounds like, to hear glass shattering in the living room from where I’m laying, until this very moment. I can’t think of what else that noise could be. I rack my brain of possible alternatives, coming up short in less than a few seconds. Rolling over, I yank my phone free from the charger, texting Joel immediately.

Me: Brandy

Not even a second later, he’s typing back.

Joel: Lock your door. Don’t come out until I say.

My heart pounds in my ears, and I move as quickly and quietly as I can to the doorway. I try to turn the lock slowly, so the clicking doesn’t ring out. Regardless, I still cringe as the lock slips into place.

A second crash sounds from the living room, and I cover my mouth to hide a small cry.

I hear Joel’s door open, though it’s quiet in comparison. I wish I could postpone the ringing in my ears so I could hear what’s happening in the living room, but I know there’s no more glass breaking right now. I don’t hear any voices either, just the soft padding of Joel’s stride down the hall. I find myself holding my breath, knowing that by now he must be able to see whoever is inside.

What if it’s a whole team of people against him?

I text Amari.

Me: 911 send help

Still, I hear nothing. What if they bound his mouth? Or they knocked him unconscious and didn’t let him hit the floor?

I’m startled when I hear erratic, quickened breathing, but I quickly realize it’s me. I cover my mouth, hoping it will stifle the hyperventilation.

Amari: on our way

My hands are shaking so badly I’m afraid I might drop my phone. Should I stay here by the doorway? Do I hide in the closet? I feel like any movement I make will be heard, and could encourage them to come seeking.

The silence is too loud, too noxious. Tears prick in my eyes. An image of Joel being beaten and bloody clouds my mind. I grab for the doorknob, hesitating.

Trust your instincts.

He had said it during our training session. I know he told me not to leave, but I couldn’t let him get hurt. And my instincts were screaming at me to move. With my still-shaking hands, I grab a marble bookend off of my dresser, gripping it until my knuckles turn white. I place my phone on the ground near the doorway, turning it on to record. If anything happens…at least there will be that evidence. Two more sharp inhales, and I unlock the door, hurling myself into the hallway, sprinting down to the living room.

The bookend is held high, ready to bring it down upon someone’s head, and I frantically search left and right for Joel. I notice two small lumps on the ground, but no people. No Joel.

Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump.

All I hear is my heartbeat roaring as I continue to scan the living room. But there’s nothing. I take a step forward, noticing how one of the curtains flutters—

“Don’t move!” Someone bellows, making me scream. I turn, hosting the bookend higher, preparing to give them hell.

But it’s Joel. Just Joel. Standing by the kitchen island, a broom in his hand.

“There’s glass. Don’t take another step.” He commands, rushing to the nearby hall closet to pull out my gym shoes. He makes quick work of bringing them over to me, offering his shoulder for me to lean against as he bends down to help me slip them on.

“Where are they?” I whisper.

Joel gingerly tries to take the bookend away from me, but I resist. “No one broke in,” he says.

“Then why didn’t you call me? Why are the lights off?”

“Because I think whoever did this is still outside. You need to back up, for your own safety.”

In that deep, commanding voice, I listen to him. I back up until I’m standing at the edge of the hallway. Through the dark, I try to assess what he’s talking about. Joel follows my gaze, pointing to the two separate lumps on the ground.

“They’re bricks. Someone threw them through the window.”

That explains why the curtain is moving on its own. And with my senses beginning to regulate, it also explains the cold breeze I start to register on my skin.

“Can we turn on the light?” I hate how small my voice sounds, but not enough to keep me from asking.

“No,” Joel moves in front of the window, peering at the roof of the building next door. “If they’re trying to target you, turning on the lights just puts this game on easy mode. Another reason you should’ve listened to me when I told you to stay put!”

“Oh,” I breathe, shifting in my sneakers. He sounds angry.

No, not angry—livid.

Joel doesn’t say another word as he sweeps the glass closest to me, shifting it back to the window.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my pajama shorts. “Why didn’t the alarm go off?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles, putting the broom down.

“I–I texted Amari.”

For some reason, this makes him shift his attention to me. “That’s good.”

“They should—should be here, soon.” I put the bookend down on the floor next to me.

He stares at me for another moment, before he speaks in a slightly softer tone, despite his rage-filled eyes. “You should go pack a bag. We’ll leave as soon as they get here.”

I turn back to my room without so much as a nod.

I start in the bathroom, gathering my makeup and toiletries, before grabbing a weekender out of my closet. I’m not sure if this is just for the night, so I pack two extra dresses for work just in case. After everything is zipped up, it occurs to me that I should change into something other than a silky sleep set. My hands haven’t stopped shaking as I slip into a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater.

I overhear Joel approving Amari and the team to come up in the elevator. I don’t want to go out and face them. I don’t want to hear the possible explanations, or the chatter of security measures I don’t quite understand.

Bricks? On the tenth floor? That feels impossible. This whole night feels impossible. I shove my hands in my pockets as I leave my room, not wanting anyone else to know the effect of this chaos.

Thankfully, with the entire crew here, Joel feels it’s safe enough to turn the lights back on. That alone provides a bit of comfort to my tightening chest. Amari stalks over to me as soon as he sees me.

“Miss Russell. You’re unharmed?”

“Yes. I’m…fine.”

“Good,” he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, glancing around at the seven men inspecting my apartment.

They’re inspecting everything. Every crevasse, even those that have nothing to do with the windows. One of the men is leaning towards the bricks, and I follow his gaze. Looking down, I notice long pieces of rope tied around both bricks, with a white paper wrapped around the one closest to me.

“You’re shitting me.” I hiss, creeping toward the brick. This captures nearly all of their attention, as many pairs of surprised eyes turn my way. Three of them try to stop me, but Joel is the one who gets to me first, wrapping a gentle hand around the crook of my elbow.

“There are shards everywhere. What do you need?”

“There’s a fucking note. There’s a damn note attached to the fucking brick!” I point at the ground, my voice wobbling. Joel’s eyes widen slightly.

“Okay,” he says in a voice that may be reserved for negotiation tactics. “Let me get it.”

My eyes drop down to the floor and I nod.

Amari steps forward, his hand outstretched. “There could be fingerprints. We shouldn’t touch it yet.”

Joel looks from my face to Amari’s. “Someone get me a glove.”

“Joel, just in case—”

“Amari,” that same commanding tone is back. “She deserves to know.” Joel gives me the smallest of nods, and I hope my expression conveys my gratitude. After last week, I know he’s trying to make amends. But honestly, that hiccup is the last thing on my mind right now. Jace, one of the security members, hands Joel a glove and he immediately grabs the note.

Joel glances at me, a silent permission to read the note out loud. Whatever he sees on my face, it allows him to continue.

“My warnings are as earnest as my gifts. You should be in charge of the company. Go after what you really want. Like me.” Joel reads it as monotone as possible, and still, a shiver runs down my back. He’s watching me carefully, and I just want out. I need to get out of here.

“What’s the point?” I say softly. “Why would anyone care about that? They want me to, what, force my father to retire? Just so they know specifically what floor I’m on? They already know where I live.” My voice cracks again on the last word, and I just clear my throat, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. No one in the room responds to my questions. Not that they would have any of the answers.

“We should go. You need to sleep, and there’s no reason the security system should have been silent with two broken windows.” Joel moves to my side, taking the bag off of my shoulder. I don’t protest. My eyelids are heavy despite my quickened heart and sweaty palms. What time is it?

I glance into my kitchen, and the oven reads exactly twelve o'clock. I would have thought it was later, after laying awake for so long. But I suppose time passes differently when those types of thoughts are keeping you up. As much as I didn’t want to think about what my feelings for Joel are, I would give anything to go back to an hour ago when that was my biggest concern. Trying to figure out what he means to me is far less frightening than worrying about his safety.

I look at the solemn faces scattered around my living room. Some pretending to work, some obviously waiting for me to leave so they can start. I nod at Joel before turning to Amari.

“No one should hear of this. No one on the board, no one outside this room.” Not only would attention from the press exacerbate the issue, I also didn’t need anyone on the board looking at me like I was weak.

Amari looks apologetic. “I sent word to your father. No one beyond him will hear of it. You have my word.”

I don’t have the energy to feel disappointment. “Okay.”

Joel guides me toward the elevator, and Jace and Carlos follow us inside.

“It would be wise to tighten security measures, just for tonight.” Joel says low enough that they don’t hear it. “They’re going to help me escort you.”

“Okay,” I repeat, my tone drained for any emotion.

I’m not surprised that we pull up to my father’s house. Even if we doubled our security, it wouldn’t make sense to go somewhere unfamiliar tonight. The small blessing is that my father is in China for the next week. I thought I was lucky just getting out of the weekly dinner, but this is an additional bonus in the middle of an awful night.

Carlos asks if I want him to wake Melissa to make me something. I shake my head, ensuring Joel was in tow before making my way up the stairs. Jace and Carlos stay in the foyer, double checking that the house is armed as we leave them behind. I check again to make sure Joel is behind me as I round the corner of the hallway. He’s watching me, as always, but he doesn’t say anything. At my door, I hesitate.

“Do you want your privacy? I can leave before you…” he trails off, obviously confused. Why would I need privacy just to open my bedroom door?

“No,” my voice comes out as a whisper. I step inside, but I find myself turning around again. I feel…fear. Fear that he won’t be there. That if I don’t keep my eyes on him, he’ll disappear.

“I’ll be right outside,” Joel leans forward, dropping my bag inside the room.

I wring my hands, staring at our feet. I can’t close the door. I can’t be alone, and even more so, I can’t have him be alone. The image that clouded my head tonight, thinking someone had hurt him—

“Why didn’t you listen?” He asks softly. “You could have been hurt. Miss Russell, if someone were there, you could have been—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Now isn’t the time. You need sleep.”

“So do you,” I say. His pained, weary eyes meet mine. “Please don’t stay outside.” Panic runs cold through my arms, in disbelief of what I’m saying.

“You’d prefer for me to stay in one of the guest rooms?”

“No,” I shake my head rapidly, “Can you stay with me? Please.”

Joel swallows audibly, taking a second to glance behind me at the room. Then he gives me a curt, professional nod. “Of course.”

He picks up the bag again, walking past me to set it on one of the chairs instead.

“I think…I think I’m going to shower.” I unzip the bag and reach for my toiletries.

“Shower?” He glances down at his watch. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

What? It took less than a half hour for us to get over here. My oven must be wrong…

“I’m just…cold. My hands,” I hold them out, no longer embarrassed for Joel to see them shake. His eyebrows thread together watching them quiver.

“Okay. I’ll be here.” He takes a seat in one of the chairs. I practically sprint for the bathroom, wanting the steam to expel the dread from my pores as soon as possible. I lock the door behind me for added protection.

Once I'm under the water, it does help to ease some of my tension. But even when I decide to wash my hair, it’s still not distracting enough. Where at my own apartment, I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to be taken out of there, I now feel wired. Like it’s a necessity for me to stay awake, and to will my mind to focus on other things. If I try to sleep, what will happen? If I close my eyes or think too long, I just see Joel again, bloody and injured on my living room rug.

I take an extra few minutes to lather up my body, trying to wash away this new buzz running through me. After the shower, I take an equal amount of time using lotion for the same reason. But the buzz becomes an itch, and I can’t think of a way to scratch it. Part of what I’m feeling is relief. There was a split second tonight where I thought Joel had been seriously hurt, and in my mind, he was unconscious. Unable to move. I knew he was angry with me for defying his order, but I would be far too angry with myself if I hadn’t done it. And the relief I feel now overtakes any remaining feeling of panic, though it demands further distraction to keep the panic at bay. I want to run towards that relief, but I’ve completed every distraction I can in this room. And that’s when I become incredibly aware of the fact that Joel is right outside the door, safe.

Safe and… alone…in my bedroom.

As I wrap myself up in a robe, I still feel that there is an itch needing to be scratched. A need for relief that I can hold, something tangible that confirms he’s truly alright. And I can think of only one way to honor this relief. Only one way to provide a distraction.

Exiting out of the bathroom, Joel stands, averting his gaze when he sees I’m only wearing a robe. With his eyes on the door, I start to cross over to him.

“Miss Russell, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you. I know that this has been a long night—-”

Standing chest to chest with him, his face is bewildered as I grab the back of his neck with both hands, pulling him down to my lips.

I kiss him harshly. Desperately. Pulling him as close to me as I can manage, though I can’t seem to get him close enough. His hands fly to my hips, holding me against him. I sigh, realizing how terribly I’ve wanted him to touch me for god knows how long. I wish the robe wasn’t so thick so I could feel his calloused hands against my skin. And he smells so good.

But his lips…he’s barely kissing me back. Not even a moment later, as if someone jolted him, he grabs my hands, pulling them away from his neck. He holds them in front of his chest, creating a barricade between us.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low.

“Yes,” I practically whine, “I am.” I try to pull out of his grasp, but he shakes his head.

“You’re still shaking. You may be in shock.” Joel’s chest is heaving, assessing my face like he’s looking for injury.

At that, rejection hits me in the gut, and I feel my cheeks turn a deep shade of red. I try to pull away again, now feeling the panic resurface.

What have I done? He doesn’t want that. He works for my father, for fuck’s sake. Now I might lose him anyway.

“Hey,” Joel whispers, tugging my hands closer to his chest now. “You’re okay.”

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me…” I shake my head over and over as Joel shushes me. “That was so inappropriate. I’m sorry, I’m just glad you’re—alright.” I hiccup, and tears are dangerously close to spilling over now.

“You’re okay,” Joel repeats, now pulling me flush against his chest. He continues to shush me softly, one of his hands wrapping around my waist and one smoothing my hair. I don’t hug him back, exactly. One of my arms rests awkwardly against his, and the other hangs at my side. I don’t have the energy to determine what I should do after a slip up this bad. He might quit. He spoke of relationships at that Halloween party, and how they interfere with the job. I am the job, and I’ve completely disrespected his boundaries.

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” his chest rumbles against my ear as he talks. “Relax. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

The softness of his words ends up pushing a few tears over the edge, and I’m grateful he can’t see them. Thank god I decided to wash my hair, as now it provides coverage for my tenuity.

I’m not sure how long he holds me like this, but eventually, he asks if I think I can lay down for a while, and I nod into his t-shirt. I feel my chest tighten again as I crawl into bed, and I realize that he’s sitting in one of the chairs again, letting his head fall back to at least pretend to sleep. I try my best not to let the distance bother me, but I can feel my heartbeat fighting back, climbing to regain the insane rhythm it had before.

“Um,” I clear my throat, taking another breath before I continue. “Do you think you could sleep over here?”

I feel like a child. Lost and inconsolable over something that was, for now, solved. There was no reason to worry about losing him right now. No reason to be afraid in this room. But that feeling of loss is prevalent throughout my body, and I had thought we were safe at my apartment too.

Joel’s face is unreadable, staring back at me.

“I promise not to kiss you again,” I say, making my voice as normal as possible, attempting to add some humor to it. After another moment, this does make him crack the smallest of smiles. Every muscle in my body loosens as I see him get up from the chair and make his way over to the bed.

He lays on top of the blankets, which I should have anticipated. He couldn’t be further away from me, otherwise he would be on the floor, but he still decided to lay down facing me. I give him a tiny smile.

“I know you’re like, a trained killer or something, but I don’t care. If you tell anyone about me asking that, I will actually kill you.”

He chuckles enough to shake the bed a little, and my smile grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After a few moments, I whisper, “I am really sorry, Mr. Miller. I shouldn’t have touched you—”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He shifts his body, angling away from me slightly.

“Okay…but if you want to report it, or change assignments, I understand.”

Joel just shakes his head, letting his eyes close for a minute. “I don’t want that, Miss Russell. I appreciate it but… no.”

“Alright. Then I promise not to touch you again without your permission.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward before he hides it with a cough.

“Likewise.”

Likewise? He didn’t even return the kiss…But it doesn't matter. He’s probably trying to make me feel better, as usual.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” He asks.

“I’ll do it,” I say, reaching for the remote next to me. I leave on one desk lamp in the corner of the room. I don’t need any of the furniture turning into humanoid shapes in the dark.

I stare at the ceiling for several minutes. It could have been hours, but the light outside is still pitch black. I can hear Joel’s steady breathing, but I know he isn’t asleep. Every so often, I feel his eyes peering over at me. After a long while, the weight of the night destroys my defenses, and I dare to ask.

“Why would a stalker want me to become CEO?”

I feel the eyes on the side of my face again. “They’ve probably put you on a pedestal. They want to see you succeed,” he says factually. I’m silent long enough for him to continue. “Do you want to be CEO?”

“Yes,” I answer without thinking, “But most people don’t want me to be.”

The bed shifts beside me, and now Joel’s whole body is turned to face me again. “Why would you say that?”

That question, this conversation…is something I haven’t dared speak about to anyone. Not even my friends. I trust Joel with my life, but not with this. This was worth more than just my life. I turn toward him before responding. I want to be able to gauge exactly how he reacts to what I’m about to say.

“I…did something, a few months ago. I’m not sure who in Russell Corp knows. If anyone knows. But I think you were hired to watch and report, not to protect,” I take a long inhale, phrasing my words just right, “I think there are people in the company who want to make sure I keep my mouth shut. I thought you were hired to do that.”

His eyebrows crease, his brown eyes searching mine in the dim light.

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I nod. “It seems that way. But…I don’t trust anyone with this, Mr. Miller. No one else knows what I know. And I don’t know enough to trust your reason for being here.” It feels slightly absurd not to trust him after tonight especially. I thought someone was in my home, and I trusted Joel to take care of it. He moved without thinking. He put himself in harm’s way on a daily basis for me and the people I care about. Regardless of what he gets paid, it’s evident that he cares. But even with all of that knowledge between us both, he doesn’t look offended by my words.

“I’m from Texas.”

I stifle a laugh. “And that’s supposed to make you trustworthy?”

“You said you didn’t know enough about me. You don’t have to tell me anything now, or trust me now, for that matter. But if it would help…ask me anything you want to know.” His eyes are so sincere, his voice so gentle, that a small part of me would cry again if I let it.

“Do you have a family?” The question comes out without a filter, but I don’t care. I have wondered that before, and I would actually like to know.

“Of my own? No. My parents are gone, but I have a brother, Tommy. He lives in Texas, too.”

“Does he have a twang like you?”

It was a genuine question, but it makes him laugh. “You think I have a twang?”

“You do have a twang. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

It’s far too dark, and far too late, and I know I’m probably imagining things at this point. But I swear, Joel’s cheeks deepen with embarrassment.

“In that case, I suppose he does.”

“I suppose he does,” I mimic him, exaggerating his accent tenfold. Joel chuckles, shaking his head against his pillow. “What? You know I’m right.”

“I know that you’re loopy. That’s what I know. Any other questions?”

I think for a moment. “Who taught you to play guitar?”

“No one, really. I’m self-taught.”

“Ah. I should have guessed.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. You’re…utilitarian. Independent, I guess. You seem like the type to teach yourself things.”

“I thought I was the observant one,” he says with a smile.

“Not the only observant one, is what I believe I said.” I unsuccessfully stifle a yawn as I say it.

“Not the only tired one, either. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I let out a long, unrestrained yawn now, “I should let you sleep.”

He shushes me again. “Stop apologizing. Just close your eyes.”

I want to tell him not to tell me what to do. But his voice is so soothing, and listening to the sound of his breathing next to me is the most calm I’ve felt all night. Truthfully, it’s the most calm I’ve felt in weeks.

Sleep finds me, and carries me away with ease.

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

[sapphic-woes]

A/N: I dunno honestly just like. You likey whamen but you godly woman oh no :C

_____________

The candles are blown out. Only a few servants walk the palace halls. The air is frigid. 

You don't like it. 

Nature itself is hostile to your misdeeds. No–heaven is–and it's staring down at your soul with contempt.

You let it. It's fitting.

It's irredeemable, to let debauchery enter his holy palace. To allow yourself to be tainted by it. Would the people you rule over honor you, if they learn of your deception? If they know how willing you are for her?

That you would throw away an eternity of salvation for a moment of her touch.

She has ruined me. The door clicks. It opens and swiftly shuts. Your weak heart is an endless drum, it beats faster with every moment her eyes rest on you.

Eivor. Resistance is futile in the face of your hunger. It aches. It claws. Have worldly desires always been so strong? Had your foundation always been so weak?

Like sinking sand, you're melting into her presence. At this point, your fear that all she must do is ask. For the harvest of your lands. The riches of your people. A piece of your flesh. 

The entirety of your body is an offering to her. No, it's tithing–it's payment for the freedom she gives each night. In return, you beg her to grasp your uncertainty in her hands. To crush it all away and leave only the bliss you feel under her touch. 

What was the price? Should she hold a dagger to your chest, you'd help guide it to your heart.

You don't tell her that.

You're still in the center of the room, as you always were whenever she came, growing suffocated under the bitter cold. You could have stayed under your blankets and waited. Certainly, she would have liked that.

But you're too restless to simply wait, haunted by guilt and tempting desire, and no amount of scripture was capable of satisfying the latter.

None, of course, but her very own.

"My Queen." The title rolls off her tongue, and it is blasphemy sweetly hiding poison. You must turn your eyes away. A lingering thought plagues you.  It's too weak to make you comply, yet too strong to outright deny. Regardless of the way Eivor addresses you, your indecisive movements didn't come off as royalty.  

Have I ever wanted something so badly? A tentative step feels like walking on thin ice. Have I ever been so afraid of that very same thing? Eivor was everything you yearned for, yet she was also someone you always told yourself to run away from. 

So why aren't I running right now?

"I…Eivor…" Words fail you. Emotions prevail. The ache in your heart is cruel. Perhaps deserving. Yet a selfish part of you wishes her to free you from it. 

How long must I simply endure?

You are tired of this sacrifice. 

"Come here, love." Her voice is soft. Gentle. She never fails to understand. She never fails to wait.

She knows the pieces carved out of you. She knows how intimidating it is to put them back in place. She doesn't mind helping.

"I've missed you too." She says what you dare not speak aloud, blue eyes bright with overflowing warmth. She drops down on one knee, arms open wide and fingers curling in a beckoning motion. She never treats you like a queen. Rather, Eivor spoils you rotten. 

It looks so safe, that space between her arms, and before you know it you're closing the gap between you two in a needy kiss.

Oh. It was rapture. Her unholiness. 

Where she touches you, there's glory–sweet and crisp as blessed honey. Calloused fingertips trace over your body. They're worn from battle yet soothing as she holds you. Her breathless laugh tickles your neck, and the sensation is something golden. 

She's here, alive and breathing. She's showering you with her love, clearing away the fear in your heart. You see the sun in her eyes, basking in the presence of her hands. 

You swear she is the essence of creation. How else could you change so much because of a single woman? With every press of her lips and stroke of her hand, the fear melts and is replaced by joy. What kind of bliss is this?

You don't know, and doubt you ever will–but you're more than happy to accept it. You want to be made new in her. You want your holy shackles broken beyond repair. You want to know the real you. Has heaven ever been so easy to touch? Perhaps it always had been, and you were simply looking in the wrong places.

[hindahoney]

I'm a conservative conversion student with a mikveh date of 08/07 and I wish I was excited but it just feels hollow. I've been at this for 7 years on my own, and 1 year with a rabbi. He had me take a class (that was far to beginner for me, which I mentioned to him and he said “I don’t want you wasting your time on this class if you’re not getting anything from it… well see you in class”) and we've only met individually like 4 times - we've literally talked for less than an hour total. Our last meeting was 5 minutes and consisted of “so do you want go to the mikveh soon?”. It’s been my call this whole way, he hasn’t expressed any opinion or really guided me anywhere. He hasn’t really gauged where I’m at at all, no “how many times a day are you praying?” or “how did you celebrate shavuos?” etc. It just feels so frustrating. I would convert modox if I could but my fiance is not jewish and I'm not asking him to convert. I just feel like I haven't learned anything and I haven’t been challenged at all through this process. It just rubs me the wrong way because this should be hard, some people should get a no, and we should be pushed. Sorry for venting, I’m just feeling really down about this whole thing.

I know how frustrating this must be for you, and I agree that it should be hard and some people should be told no. At my university's Hillel, the rabbi there has an "introduction to judaism" class that meets for one hour a week for eighteen weeks and at the end of it if you get a good grade they just ask if you want to convert and if you do, you get a mikveh date (This class had no testing, and was based entirely on if you just showed up). I was talking about this with the rabbi and asked if they'd ever turned someone away, or if they had ever had someone go to the beit din and determine the person was not yet ready, and they said no, not in all twenty years they had done this class. I knew someone in this class so I asked for the syllabus and reading list, and it was incredibly lack-luster and didn't explain a lot of core concepts of Jewish observance or history (Obviously, how can you learn 4,000 years of history in 18 hours?), did not require you to read the Torah, or to learn any Hebrew at all. The class didn't teach prayers for different occasions, nor did it touch on bible stories and characters. These were supposedly conservative conversions.

I'm not saying "Oh reform and conservative conversions are always bad because theyre not observant etc etc" because I don't believe that, and if an orthodox rabbi did the same thing I would also think it wasn't good enough. What I AM saying is, regardless of whatever movement the person is converting to, they deserve to have a good and thorough education, enough to be able to determine it fits with their wants, needs, and lifestyle. They deserve to know what they're getting into, and are really (in my opinion) owed time, attention, dedication, and care by their sponsoring rabbi. You deserve to have a rabbi who cares enough to make the course more challenging or complex for your needs, and who is willing to make time to meet with you outside of class. You deserve to know about the mitzvot you're going to be saddled with after you convert, because it's not like you can just de-convert, and you should be educated on the various halachic interpretations to decide which one fits for you. You should be thoroughly educated on Jewish history so you understand the people and culture you are joining, and the burden (and blessing) you are putting on your own shoulders by being a part of the Jewish people. To do any less is a disservice to you.

You have two options, the way I see it. You can either complete this conversion, which will be relatively simple from how it sounds, and you will officially be recognized as a Jew by both conservative and reform movements. This will allow you to go on Birthright and other similar programs (internships, educational trips, job offers to Israel, etc) and opens the door for you to go to a seminary or yeshiva that accepts conservative conversions. If you aren't satisfied still, you can try to do another conversion through modox. Or, you can forego the conservative conversion and seek out a modox rabbi instead.

[mischiefmaker615]

Maid to Honor (Loki Love Story Ch.7)

"The world doesn't exist when I'm with you.. Rose..''

Rose looked behind her slowly after she entered her room, her heart rate beating fast as she saw Loki standing there in the door way, the outside light giving him a mysterious looking silhouette. His hands gripped the door frame on either side of him, his body leaning as if he were holding himself back from moving forward as she turned to face him fully from where she stood in the center of the room.

''Loki.. you both and I know how this works..''

''what would be the risk?'' Loki asked, his voice hiding a desperate tone as he kept his voice down. ''you were sent here to rehabilitate me and that is it correct?.. a friend helping a friend..''

''and what this friend wants is impossible..'' Rose's voice got low as she looked down to the floor, which instantly made him slowly move forward until he was standing before her again. A finger gently raised her chin so she was looking at him and his eyes softly asked to continue her thought. ''..Fury.. SHIELD.. everyone.. the way they see you.. the past.. they would try to..''

''..Rose. regardless of what other people think, how they see me as a monster because of the past.. isn't this rehabilitation suppose to change all that and what people see?'' Loki asked softly and her eyes returned to him, his thumb gently stroking just below her bottom lip. ''if they don't.. then it doesn't concern me.. and it shouldn't concern you.. who cares what the Midgardians think? People judge others every day, it shouldn't stop one from enjoying life...''

Rose's eyes searched his as a hand gently came up and rested on his wrist, the same hand that stroked her beautiful skin with his eyes locked on hers. ''..but Fury-''

''is just another Midgardian like all the others, just.. with more of a position at your organization.. but your personal life and your work life should remain separate-''

''this is my work life-.. this is an assignment.. to help you..''

''so I'm just a job?''

''no-.. but.. he can remove me from this place.. and I might not see you again..'' the very thought made her turn away from him, her back towards him as she studied the floor.

Loki searched her, although all he saw was her back and flowing wings. He let the silence sit for just a moment, before he took a bold step forward, his shoulders ducking under her wings as his arms wrapped around her waist ever so slowly with his chin on her shoulder, his height having to slightly accommodate to hers. He didn't say anything yet as he waited, before he then felt her body relax against him, her back pressed against his chest, her wings relaxing onto his shoulders from their current position and her hands coming up to rest against his.

''if I get this job.. we won't have to worry about that..'' he reminded, knowing that was secretly the point she wouldn't admit to getting him to work at SHIELD. He knew it wasn't exactly for outside rehabilitation, it was to keep them together, and they both knew it.

He kept his movements slow, his face turning to hers as he kissed softly right below her ear and moved down to her neck, covering as much skin as he had current access to as he prepared himself to stop when she said something. Again, she didn't.

Rose bit her lip as she felt her eyes close, her head leaning back to his shoulder as he kissed the side of her neck, her head rolling slowly to the side to give him more access and her hands gripped his slightly at the sensitivity. One of his hands slide slowly against her waist and back behind her where he then began running a gentle hand up and down her feathers, his fingers curling every now again when they were brought down her long appendage.

''Rose..'' his lips whispered against her skin, dancing against her flesh and licking as he went along. He slowly pulled back for only a moment, his hands guiding her hips so she would turn so she was now facing him and his lips returned to now the opposite side of her neck.

Her hands wrapped around him as her fingers gripped at his attire, harder whenever he found that certain spot and gasped when he left a love bite on her collarbone.

Upon hearing her sweet sound that left her lips, Loki pulled back with a small smirk on his lips but his eyes were gentle and caring. His hands gently cupped her face and his eyes glanced down at her beautiful lips, asking.

Rose gently gripped his wrists as she stared up at him, her eyes glancing at his lips as well before she surprised him, slowly moving forward so her hips pressed against his as her lips did the same with his own.

Loki moaned in her mouth as he leaned forward to deepen the kiss, aroused at her bold and surprising first move that he didn't hesitate to let it go to waste. His thumbs gently stroked her cheeks as her hands gently moved up to tangle her fingers in his hair. He gently bit her bottom lip as his hands traveled down her waist and around, gently giving her ass a squeeze as he stepped forward, moving more into her before he had her forced to back up, legs hitting the edge of the bed before she fell backward with him instantly on top of her with his lips right back on hers.

Rose gasped at the action, accidently granting him access to her mouth where she didn't exactly mind as his tongue explored and massaged hers. Her fingers worked his hair and her body seemed to tense when his erection was made known when he laid himself on top of her, groaning in pleaser as her body seemed to fit him like a glove.

He felt the way her body tensed though and he moved himself onto his forearms to gaze down at her, his forehead against hers as she looked at him with her glassy eyes. ''Rose.. darling.. I can't tell you how much I want you to feel the same for me as I do towards you.. but I promise I will not force anything..'' his voice was low to almost a whisper as he stayed still, a resting position just between her legs that she kept spread and her body still.

Her expression flashed a small hint on confusion and then love as a smile pulled at her lips and she rested a hand against his cheek as he looked down at her ''..i do Loki.. I feel exactly the same...'' she slowly raised a hand up where it stayed steady and relaxed. ''I'm not a liar.''

Loki couldn't help but laugh at her reference towards his true or false question and took her hand in his, kissing her palm before his lips returned to hers, his body doing its best not to crush her but pressed himself down against her as much as possible to feel her. His hands took hers gently as he pinned them together above her head with one while the other used one finger to glide down her neck, trace her collar bone and go down with a slow stop.

Rose bit his bottom lip and gave a small nod, letting him know to go ahead before his hand instantly grasped one of her mounds over her shirt. Even then his thumb found her nipple and rubbed gently circles, making her back arch and her head raise.

Loki instantly started kissing her jawline, biting her neck gently but enough to leave a mark before he forced himself up and swattle her, his hands moving fast to grip the end of her shirt before it was up and over in one smooth motion, the buttons in the back that helped accommodate her wings came scattering off.

Her bashfulness was adorable as her cheeks reddened and her hands began to raise to conceal herself in her lacy black bra, which Loki looked at hungrily and his hands gently took hers ''Rose.. you are nothing more than a goddess..'' he promised and slowly waved a hand over his chest before he was nothing but in his boxers.

Him being almost naked as well made her feel better and she slowly ran her hands over his abs, gliding up his chest as he leaned down again to capture her lips. He couldn't hold back now...it was too late. he kissed her neck roughly as a hand slid behind her back and skillfully unhooked her bra with one hand. It to was tossed behind him in history. He slowly parted her lips, smiling at the adorable blush that returned to her cheeks but she didn't conceal this time as he looked down at her. ''gods Rose..'' he breathed as he took in the breath taking sight of her.

She's never felt this nervous before and her heart beat was off the chart as his hands moved everywhere; from her chest to her hair to her wings, her eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy and she felt her own hips moving forward to his and felt herself tighten and long to rid of her emptiness inside herself, waiting for him.

Loki smirked as he felt her buck her hips and he pressed himself down on her to keep her from moving much. ''patience darling, I'm not done with you yet..'' he purred as he moved his mouth to her chest, his tongue flicking and swirling as her hands wrapped themselves around him, feeling the muscles of his back as they glided over his skin. The way she moaned in pleasure was enough to grind his hips against hers and it soon became enough where he had to move himself to the end of the bed before he would go mad. His hands gripped the ends of her pants just by her ankles and with one good pull, they were sliding off and behind him. She was beautiful and drove him crazy in various ways where he needed more. He couldn't help himself, he was diving in and had no intention of coming out.

"I can see it in your eyes and body language you want it as bad as I do...'' he moaned as he slowly crawled back on top of her, her arms not even hesitating to wrap around him and pull him close so he was kissing her once again. Her hips pressed up against his erection that screamed for attention, but Loki made sure to control himself a bit long, a hand lacing their fingers together at the side of them while his other hand traveled to her matching panties.

She lightly nibbled the bottom of his lip as her other hand tangled itself in his air, earning a low grown before she felt her panties being yanked and snapped off in one go. Before she had time to react, his hand was on her love spot in an instant, causing her to moan and throw her head back, gripping his hair as he pleasured her.

His fingers moved in tight circles, finding how she was practically already dripping from him and it made him moan in her mouth, deepening the kiss and his hand gripped hers. Her hips moved and worked with his hand as he felt her body arch against him at her build up and he instantly bit down in the crook of her neck, causing her to yelp and her fingers dragged across his skin. He then took the opportunity to slip a digit in, causing her hips to buck and moan with a smirk against her skin before he began sucking at her collarbone.

His finger pumped into her slickness before he added another one, making sure to take his time at first before he would add speed with every pump. His fingers curled whenever they were about to pull out and just before she thought they would, he would bury them back up to his knuckles. His process repeated while his lips moved from her lips, neck and chest all in a repetitive process that had her mind racing and not even having the chance to focus.

Her walls began to clench around him, hips bucking as her fingers gripped around him, panting as she looked up at him almost pleading. Just as she felt her eyes flutter shut, he slowed his movements before pulling his digits out entirely, making her whin as she looked up at him with confusion.

Redness met her cheeks as he leaned back and pulled out his member ''patience darling, I'm going to make you cum with this first..'' he whispered, his eyes almost dark with hunger as he pounced right back on top of her, his lips pressing against hers before he buried his face in her neck. She held onto him as she felt him move so his tip was just poking at her entrance and she made sure to spread wide for him, her heart rate taking speed again with nervousness and anticipation. ''its alright love, I'll take my time with you..'' he whispered before he slowly moved himself in, barely and stopped. Once he felt he panting regulate, he added a little more and paused, more and paused. Soon he was all the way in her and he strained, letting her adjust to his size by staying still. As soon as he felt her grip loosen against him, he gently slide out to the tip before moving back inside, beginning with slow pumps for her.

''gods Rose.. you're so tight....'' He groaned in please as he stayed with slow thrusts, panting with her as she looked up at him in pleasure, her eyes glassy as her hands gripped his forearms.

''go ahead..'' she breathed, back arching and they both moaned when he rubbed up against her g spot.

Loki took a deep breath as she gave him the go-ahead before his thrusts became faster, rougher as he moved himself from tip then all the way up to the hilt with each slam. Her grip tightened as if to hold on as she began calling his name, making him move faster and his thrusts became rougher. She was slick and tight around him and the way she looked up at him made him want to cum right then and there. His hand moved to her clit at the same time as him thrusting, catching her off guard before he had her screaming his name.

His mouth crashed onto hers once he felt her walls tighten and flutter, her hold almost a death grip as she bucked and came, just as he had and stopped with himself buried deep inside her. He gasped as he reached his high, letting himself fill her before his strength let him collapse on top of her, quickly catching himself by his forearms so he wouldn't crush her and gently lowered himself instead as her arms didn't hesitate to engulf him.

They both panted, their heart beats almost in unison as they laid pressed up against each other. After a moment he slowly pulled out, Rose instantly missing the feeling of him there before he laid beside her where she took the opportunity to curl up next to him. He held her in his arms, pulling her gently so she was laying closer against his side and him on his back, looking up at the ceiling as they both came down and their breathing soon regulated. Rose slowly turned her face over to him who opened his eyes upon doing so as if he knew she was going to say something. ''Loki..''

He didn't let her. He instantly got up, faced her and took her hips so she got pulled forward with her legs on either side of him. His eyes had that hungry look in his eyes again, lustful, and up and down her body as she propped herself up on his elbows with slight hesitation in wonder of what he was doing. ''L-Loki-''

''I said I was going to make you come with this first..'' he smirked and took a knee between her legs. ''I'm going to make sure you don't leave this bed until you have been completely satisfied. Thoroughly.''