#fallen through you part of it but there’s a part of THIS poem which i did not include that talks about the late light / has already happened

[crossbackpoke-check]

"This extra space next to me belongs to you. I know where I end now. I won't get lost." -- shoot me (metaphorically) and leave me for dead (metaphorically) why won't you. To make this about Dylan and maybe it's about Connor, maybe it's about Brinksy, maybe it's about any journeyman in the NHL. My brain screamed Chris Driedger and his memorable (to me) Players' Tribune article:

And how can you mention Dylan and Zach (Za-ach, the way Dylan says it) without me having a breakdown about them? You simply can't. And for the younger dudes, maybe it's a little Bords/Briss, not yet steady in The Show, a little bit of distance, a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately... and then a blurry insta story in Vegas. Just like old times but somewhere else. Maybe it's not the same bed, maybe it's not the same set of forks, but maybe it's the principle of the thing.

Anyway, goodbye. Sorry for this, your tag walls make me break out in imagined scenarios.

Much love. xxx

please never be sorry for sending me messages <3 i love reading them i love getting them i think they’re beautiful and i love them i’m!!!!! [🥹💕🦋🫧✨💘😭 <- the best approximation of what my heart is doing]

ok NOW i am taking this step by step because every narrative here kicked me straight in the knees (metaphorically) i am w e e p i n g (literally): i knew tangentially about chris driedger going to seattle but i had never read his players’ tribune love letter to seattle & all i can say is oh. oh. and with the part about trains delayed but still being right on time—

sometimes a dream is a truth your heart knows long before you do. the space that the city and the team made for him (“you’d be the only guy on the team”)🗣️🗣️🗣️ !!! but the way that chris talks about needing to put in the work & leo not letting him quit,,, that’s chris filling up the teakettle with twice as much water, crowding one side of the bed (falling asleep against a bus window dreaming), becoming unburdened by the idea of not being their guy, not having the fallback being their draft pick to content and settle himself with. that’s chris betting on a future. that’s the train coming down the tracks, right on time.

(i am feeling unhinged about it)

SECOND. i know i was the one that said zach and dylan to start so technically i brought this on myself but also i have been ktfo by the mere mention of the way that dylan says zach’s name different from everyone else, stealing an extra breath, stealing as much time as he can get with him, which reminded me of a poem i just read:

The Need Is So Great, Jim Moore

^^^dylan still in love with zach even as he’s leaving, can feel himself losing him, and taking every sliver of the love in his smile that he can get. even if he knows zach doesn’t still feel the same way he’s drawing out the long goodbye & saying i love you in a thousand ways without ever saying it out loud (“i have been asking for a time but in ways that have no words” because he doesn’t want to ask too much, to ask for love) in the hope that zach will say it back OKAY I’M LEAVING i can’t do this

that was a lie because THREE. “maybe it’s the principle of the thing” please insert the most ungodly screech how could you just (lovingly) come in straight with the steel chair and bean me upside the head with that l i n e i think this story has the potential for such tragedy in it but also the most tender domestic longing because bords & briss have known each other for a long time (i think) and guys do sometimes lose themselves when they first get to the nhl.

it’s a big scene, you’re with big name guys, you’re finally doing the thing you always dreamed about, you’re no longer necessarily the best because everyone’s the best, you’re not sure how you fit in, you can get lost in the glitz and the glamor of it but you can also literally get lost in it, the slog of the season and getting caught up and down between teams and leagues and endless airports and buses and travel and ice rinks, losing your phone (accidental) and having new people hound you for quotes and fame and connection so you lose your phone (on purpose) and i think where i’m trying to go is: this could play out as the tragedy of borde going to the california coastline and briss shipping off to the vegas strip and both of them getting a little lost.

maybe there’s someone else, maybe i am steadfastly not thinking about “a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately” as either a summer of them pretending things are ok after a year of barely speaking and now being completely different people they never were before OR a summer of them trying to pretend like they can forget about each other because maybe they didn’t think their relationship was the same thing, is all, when they were or weren’t together. maybe it’s nobody’s fault but for the fact that they were scared and tired and lonely trying to make it in the big times and didn’t know how to show it. and then borde shows up with takeout and plastic forks in vegas and it’s december and nothing like winter in ann arbor and still they fill up all the empty spaces in each other with the things they didn’t know they’d miss until they were gone and this is the real thing, not whatever they were trying too hard to be, to recreate their own nostalgia for the love in their memories. it’s the principle of the thing, is all, to always be true to the love they have right now & not what they think it should be.

sorry that i wrote you kind of an essay of an answer but i had so so so many thoughts because your ask was so lovely so thank you for sending it to me (you are always welcome to!! i love your imagined scenarios!!! cannot even explain how much!!!) & thank you for taking the time to read my walls of tags :))) <3

[neoarchipelago]

And they were Roommates (Part 17)

A/N: So here it is ... hum... yeah there you go

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT? ADULT? 18+ F!reader

The way back home was long. It took 24h for the extraction to be ready. You had been feeling exhausted. Price and Simon had been checked up by the doctor on base. Soap had been keeping an eye on you and had also forced you to be checked by the doc, who had clearly told you you needed rest, food and water. Simon had kept you close to him at all times and you hadn't complained a single second. 

You were glad to be able to fly home with everyone. Absolutely everyone. You had fallen asleep on Simon's shoulder in the plane back. The boys were thrilled, the plane wasn't their usual military plane for once, the comfort was amazing to them after almost two months on the field. 

Hopkins had greeted everyone upon arrival. He had eyed you worriedly, and you quickly realized you'd have a lot of paperwork and meetings to attend to in the next few days. He nodded your way, telling you to rest. 

Finally heading home felt like a dream. Like a haze. For a second, you were scared it wasn't real. That you'd wake up and he'd be gone. You glanced at him, in the driver's seat, brows furrowed behind the mask as Soap gaz and Konig were chatting in the back. 

Once home, you had dropped your gear on the floor in the living room. The boys were jumping around, happy to be home. You sighed, closing your eyes. Arms wrapped around your stomach, a strong body behind you. 

"Come on. Let's go draw you a bath." He said. 

"Simon.. you're one who almost got killed. You… got tortured-" 

"Hey hey.." he hushed, turning you around. 

"I've gone through worse. Much worse. This is nothing. I'm worried about you. If you want to help me, please be a good girl and let me take care of you. That's all I want to do right now." He argued. 

You smiled a bit, tired eyes never leaving him. 

"Fine… but you're taking that bath with me…" you murmured. 

He chuckled, before nodding. 

"Sergeant. Go rest. We're going to as well. We'll order something to eat a bit later on." He ordered the boys.

Soap nodded, Konig and Gaz too as they all went their separate ways. 

You walked up, hand in hand with Simon, Riley's little paws tapping on the floor. He tried to make you walk into your room but you immediately pulled him to his. The bed was still a mess. He noticed. Riley jumped on the bed taking his usual place. 

"I see you've both made yourselves at home." He teased. 

You froze. For a second you wondered if he was angry. 

"I'm.. sorry.. I-" 

He frowned. He pulled on his mask, taking it off. God you had missed his face..that man was so handsome. He gazed at you with worry in his eyes. 

"Baby, are you alright?" He asked. 

You didn't know what to answer. Four days. Four days was all it took to completely shatter your world. You had gone through the full spectrum of emotions in four days. 

You opened your mouth unsure of what to say. You bit your lip. No. You shook your head no, feeling the wave of exhaustion, relief and so much more fall on you. You cried. And he held you. The sweet nothings falling to your ears like poems from ancient times. He wiped your tears, dropping kisses to your cheeks and nose, he sat down on the bed, pulling you to his lap, letting you cry out your pain. 

You held him, time freezing on the spot. This, was all you wanted. You had begged and hoped all possible strength out of this world that he was alive. You didn't know which god you had to kneel to, or which divine energy answered your prayers but you were eternally grateful. His hands caressed your hair, making sure to not pull on the tangled mess they had quickly became in a short span of time. 

He rose after long minutes, holding you as he walked to the bathroom. He sat you down on the counter, wiping away the remaining tears. He kissed you deeply before heading to the bathtub, letting the water run after checking the temperature. You watched him. His muscles, his movements, his hands. You wanted to die with the imprint of his form behind your eyelids. You wanted to tell him. To confess all the love and adoration you had for him. 

He walked to you, pulling on your shirt to start undressing you. Every touch on your skin made you want to pull him close and never let go. The little shivers, goosebumps. He lifted you up without a single effort to remove your pants and panties. You gasped when he put you back down, the cold stone surprising you. He chuckled, kissing you again. 

He was about to walk away when you wrapped your legs around his waist. His gaze darkened instantly. You reached for the hem of his tactical shirt. He let you remove it, eyes looking into your soul. 

"Let me take care of you too…" you whispered. 

He nodded slowly. You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. You could see his skin ravished in goosebumps as your fingers, in featherlight touches, brushed over his navel. You removed the pants, he helped you, pulling them down and stepping out of them. He was starting to get hard and you smiled softly. 

"You have too much power over me little bunny…" he whispered. 

You grabbed his face softly, kissing the corner of his lips. 

"Let's get into the tub before it overflows…" you sighed. 

He picked you up as you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist. He stepped into the large tub slowly dropping to sit down. The warm water on your skin felt amazing. He reached for the faucet, turning off the water. Picking up one of the various products from the shelf, you took some Buble bath, but he stopped you. 

"Not yet." 

You frowned. He grabbed your hand, fingers intertwining with yours to make you let go of the bottle. He brought both of your hands to his lips, lips brushing each of your knuckles in little kisses. You closed your eyes, letting him kiss every inch of you if that's what he wanted. Lips caressed yours, kisses filled with promises and silent confessions. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your hands get lost in his hair. 

His hands rubbed your back, up to the nape of your neck, down to your lower back. It felt hot. At this point you didn't know if it was the water or his skin that made you feel so warm. 

"Simon…" you whimpered. 

"You haunted my thoughts…" 

You closed your eyes, basking in his voice. 

"Every second. Your eyes… your lips… your voice. My mind was high on you…" 

You bucked your hips, rubbing him and yourself together in a slow dance. He pulled you closer, wet hand getting lost at the back of your head, meddling with your hair. 

"I didn't fucking care what they did. You were all I could think off. You kept me fighting. Alive. Just so I could come back to you." 

You wanted to cry. Your heart felt like it would burst from the emotions. 

He was hard. You could feel it against your clit. 

"You ready love?" He asked against your lips. 

"Yes…please Simon…" 

You craved it. It was like a mortal sin but a need. Like breathing. 

He lifted your hips as you positioned him at your entrance. You made sure to drop yourself very slowly into him, you had no problem, this man could get you wet so easily. You let every inch of him stretch you, burning the sensation of him filling you up slowly into your brain. He let his head fall back, his grips on your hips tightening. 

"Oh fuck baby…" he moaned. 

You closed your eyes, the heat wave the sound caused making you clench around him. 

When he finally bottomed deep inside you, you stopped. You were already pulsating around him and, even if you wouldn't last long, you wanted him to feel everything you couldn't say to him. 

You slowly grinded against him, earning a groan from him. He pulled himself up, letting his forehead touch yours.

Huffed breaths mixing, moans and groans filling the room. You rode him, kisses, tongues and lips, bites. 

The world? What world? What universe? Him. It was him. The galaxy, the nebula's, the morning sun and the crashing rain. It was him. 

The pace increased, he helped you, pulling you up to make you bounce on him. 

"Simon..si-" you moaned. 

"Y/N.." 

The water splashed, the ground would be full of it, but who cared? Who cared about the time ticking? The water spilling? 

He angled you perfectly, watching your face to know where to hit. He could read you like a book he'd never stop rereading. The familiar build of pressure deep in you making you grind with him in harmony. He chased his own high, watching you unfold before him. And it was peeking. The breaking point. 

"Si..mon… fuck… please.." 

"That's it bunny… I'm right here… keep chasing it…" 

You looked into his eyes, he reached for your clit, soft circular motions ready to tip you off the edge. 

"You gonna cum baby? You're gonna cum my bunny?" He growled. 

"Y..yes.. please… cum with me…" you begged. 

He smirked. And it was there right there… almost there… 

"Bunny… eyes on me." He ordered. 

And you did. You never wanted to look away. 

"Good girl…my good girl… go on… cum with me.." 

One more thrust. Another one and the tension broke. He grabbed your throat making sure you looked at him as he spilled himself deep in you. 

"I love you bunny…so. fucking. much. " 

You weren't sure you heard it correctly. You weren't sure. You're mind was dizzy from the heat and your orgasm completely crushing you. You tried to catch your breath, face in his neck. His large hands caressed your back again. He slowly pulled you up, slipping out of you. He kept you on him. He let you rest on him as he reached for the bath salts and threw some in the water. He pulled you away from him make you spin around so you could lay on him, back again his chest. 

He slowly let your head back, wetting your hair slowly. He applied a bit of shampoo before starting to massage your scalp slowly. 

"Simon…" you tried. 

"Yes darling ?" 

"You said it…" you whispered. 

"... I did." 

"I love you Simon." 

"I love you Y/N." 

Simon's way of coping seemed to be taking care of you. And the way you coped was by being constantly near him. 

After the bath, once you were both clean, he had taken you out to his room, dried you up before dressing you in his clothes. He let you dry your hair while he got into some sweatpants and a t-shirt. You had slipped into bed with him while Riley had laid down near the bed. You had let yourself fall asleep in his arms, his own breathing evening. 

It was already late noon when you both woke up. The house was quiet. You had gotten up begrudgingly, hand in hand going downstairs. The boys were in the living room, sprawled on the couches, TV on. 

"You guys napped too?" Gaz asked. 

"Yeah…" you answered. 

"We all did… guess we all needed to rest." Soap added with a smile. 

"You guys hungry? We should order some food." You proposed. 

The boys agreed and jumped on the occasion to make the order. You had, very unwillingly, let go of Simon's hand to head to kitchen to feed Riley. The big boy seemed to be happier. He wasn't fully eating as much as he should, but you cheered and praised at every bite and it seemed to work. Simon had also praised him with a good boy and it made you smile. 

You had dined around an hour later, before finally heading to the couch, watching a movie. You had looked around. The boys laying around. Simon hugging you. Riley's head on your lap. You let yourself finally rest.  They were here. 

During the rest of the week, your team passed by and remained during the day. You were so happy to have everyone with you that the loud noise didn't bother you at all. Melissa and Amy also spent time with you and you just felt so glad to be so surrounded. 

You had noticed how Bishop and soap seemed to get closer and closer. Bishop's boy, Tyler, really liked Soap and you could see how it made her smile and melt. Konig and Grim had their own little conversations in German, and you didn't remember the last time you had seen each of them so comfortable with someone. 

Price on the other hand… well it was complicated. You had seen little touches, little smiles. But one was too scared and the other wouldn't let himself give in. 

You had sighed in contempt in Simon's arms. 

The nights were spent in his room. He wanted you near him and you didn't want to sleep without him. To be honest, you had been having nightmares. Horrible ones where he wasn't here. Where he did not come back. You would slightly jolt awake, not screaming or anything. But it was enough. Enough for him to wake up, enough to notice. Each time he'd make sure to cuddle you and reassure you. 

Kate had been trying her best to keep away the unavoidable meetings and paperwork, but it caught up with all of you. Once Monday hit, everyone had to at least attend to some urgent matters. Missions reports, meetings. Very annoying things. You had headed to base in his Jeep, Riley in the back, following the boy's cars. Once on base the looks were very much noticeable, but none of you cared. You parted ways as he dropped on kiss on top of your head through the mask. 

Riley remained with you as you headed to said meetings, video calls with higher ups. There was a mix of feelings in the ranks, you had gone through reckless behavior, but you had brought back the full squad. You had ordered a blow up on a facility but you also had brought extremely important Intel. Eventually, you had managed to reach a compromise on everything. They'd be more careful with your squads, you'd make sure to remain their safe little bird and keep getting important Intel. 

You had been furious of their mistake on the extraction point, and they had fully understood that.  

It took several days to get back a bit of freedom, even for the boys but eventually, here you were. The two squads mixed, walking around the mall. Amy in Simon's arms while Melissa talked with Bishop, Soap and Coyote. 

You had lunched together before now roaming around, alternating between little shops in little groups. Eventually, Amy had decided to walk hand in hand, in between price and Coyote. For a second you asked yourself if the little girl knew and if she was enjoying her little game. 

Tyler had grown on Soap, they were getting inseparable. They'd run around, getting to stores, playing, and it made you smile. 

Bishop and Melissa had walked into a clothing store, dragging you with them. They picked up some little summer dresses, dragging you to the dressing room to try them on. 

You were on your fourth dress, and a high level of 'this is starting to be annoying' when you heard Simon's voice behind the curtain. 

"Yes?" 

"Can I step in?" He asked. 

"Sure." You smiled. 

He walked in, taking a double take on the little dress you were wearing. 

"You look beautiful. You should get the dress." He said matter of factly. 

You chuckled. 

"What's wrong?" You questioned. 

"Need you to do something for me." 

You frowned. He lifted his t-shirt up, and you gasped. 

"Simon! Here?!" You whispered-yelled. 

He laughed. It made you smile. 

"Not what I had in mind but don't test me too much." He warned teasingly. 

He reached for his pocket, getting out a little tube. You frowned in confusion. 

"My lipstick?" 

"Go on. Put it on." 

"Simon… i don't understand…" 

"Go on bunny. To please me." 

He didn't need to say anything else. You rolled your eyes for the theatric move, but picked up the lipstick before turning to the mirror and applying it. You smeared the lipstick, pressing your lips together. You finally turned to him. 

"Alright. What now?" You asked. 

He had crossed his arms on his chest, muscles flexing. 

"Drop a kiss." He ordered. 

"Sorry… what?" You huffed a laugh. 

"Anywhere. Drop a kiss. Leave a pretty mark." He ordered again. 

You frowned, shaking your head a bit. 

"What's gotten into you?" 

"Bunny." He warned. 

You rolled your eyes again. He grabbed your ching making you look at him.

"Roll you eyes at me again. Go on bunny. Try it. I'll ruin you against that mirror and I'll make sure the whole fucking store hears you." 

You gasped, your cheeks now burning. 

"Now come here. And paint me." 

You closed your eyes, smirking. You tried to gain back composure. 

"Alright. Fine." 

You stepped closer to him, looking at his body. Just the thought of it made you squeeze your thighs together. 

"A kiss baby. One. Behave." 

You bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. 

"Bunny. Behave. I already got one punishment for you. You don't want to add another one." 

You faked a pout before turning to your task. A kiss. Where? Did it matter? You wanted to kiss every part of him. You finally settled for a spot. You dropped your head to his ribs, on the left side almost hidden by his arm. You dropped a kiss, making sure to leave a pretty print. You looked at your handy work, lifting your hand to slightly smudge the lower corner of the left side of the print, leaving a little smudge that made it almost like art. 

"Why did you do that?" He asked. 

"If you want the perfect thing you'll have to come back again… and again." You teased. 

He chuckled. He took back his t-shirt putting it back on him. 

"Simon… what are you doing?" You were truly confused now. 

He lifted his mask, kissing you deeply, making you melt in his arms. 

"Thank you, I got what I need." 

He smirked before pulling down his mask, grabbing the lipstick and stepping out. You remained there confused for a second before shaking your head and turning back to the mirror. You brushed the little flowery dress with your hands. It was pretty. Maybe you'd buy it. 

You changed back into your clothes, heading back out to the girls. 

"Heyyy. What happened in there?" Bishop teased. 

"I wouldn't be able to explain because I didn't get it either." You answered. 

"Damn. He's that good?" Melissa joked as well. 

"Oh you have, NO idea." You smirked, making the girls woo. 

You headed with them to the counter to pay for your things. You had decided to get only the little dress. 

"Will that be all?" The cashier asked with a smile. 

"Yes thank you!" You said returning her smile. 

"Well, it's been paid for already." 

You blinked the girls wooing again. 

"The lieutenant…" the cashier tried, now a bit confused. 

"Of course.. hum… thank you." You said with another smile. 

You walked out with them when bishop decided to tease more. 

"He loves to spoil you rotten doesn't he?" She joked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

You shook your head but couldn't stop yourself from smiling. If only they knew what you knew. The way he had eyed you in that dress. That man spoiled you anytime yes, but this dress.. he wanted to rip it up and fuck you in it. You wouldn't complain for a second though. 

You had joined the rest of the team. Amy was still happily settled in between Price and Liza. But someone was missing. 

"Where's Simon ?" 

"Oh he said he got something to do. He'd join us later." Price informed you. 

You frowned but nodded. 

"There's another shop that you NEED to see." Melissa almost yelled. 

"Guys… I'm tired…" you whined. 

"Come on. You need to." Melissa confirmed. 

You were curious. You had rarely seen her so adamant about something. So you accepted. It caught soap and Gaz's attention who decided they wanted to follow you too but we're quickly shut down by Melissa and Margo. Now you truly were curious. They slipped their arms through yours and walked away with you. 

The store was mysterious. There were no open windows to look inside. Nothing that could tip you on what the store was. You had stepped in to be in shock. Not only was it a lingerie store, but it was much more than that. Little costumes, some toys and accessories like handcuffs and collars. 

"How the hell was this permitted on base?" You asked in a laugh. 

"I think we should all secretly thank Kate." Melissa added. "You got to follow me. When I saw this, I immediately thought of you." 

You frowned but she grabbed your hand, dragging you and a very curious Margo behind her. When you finally stopped in front of some mannequins you finally understood. 

"Oh my god. YES." Margo squealed. 

You looked at the little pink dress. The velvety fabric mixed with fake fur and lace. It was a strapless dress, two pom poms acting as buttons on the corset. A flowy skirt with white lace at the bottom. Two separate sleeves, and white fishnets thigh highs. But the most noticeable feature. The bunny headband with pose-able white fluffy bunny ears. 

"Oh my god…" you said under your breath. 

"I will BUY it for you if you don't." Melissa warned. 

You smirked at her. 

"Oh don't worry. I'm going to buy it."

 

It had been a full hour and half and Simon hadn't come back yet. You wondered where he had run off to. 

"Y/N, Y/N!" Soap called. 

You turned to him. 

"Can I take Riley to training?" He asked full of hope. 

You weren't exactly against it… but you were a bit scared to leave Riley with anyone else for now. 

"We'll have to think about it." 

You spun around at the sound. 

"Hey, where have you been?" You asked. 

"I ran a little errand." He answered. 

You were confused. He winked at you. 

"Let's head home." Price called. 

Everyone agreed, and home you were headed.

 

Once home everyone went their way. The girls had gone back to the house in front of yours, Melissa with them. Price had gone to base. Riley walked upstairs with you to put your new purchases in your room. Riley jumped on your bed as you closed the door behind you. It made you so happy to see him so comfortable. He loved to cuddle Reaper and it made you melt.

You started putting away your new clothes when you spotted the pretty pink outfit. You bit your lip. You wanted to try it. You jumped up grabbing the bag and running to your bathroom. You very meticulously put in the outfit. You made sure the fishnet thigh fit, even though they squished a bit your thighs. You put the bunny ears, putting one of the ears down cutely. You spun around looking at yourself in the mirror. 

It was cute. Pretty. You wondered how Simon would react. You picked up the last little thing in the bag. Turns out the store did another very interesting thing. Leather collars, that you could personalize. Now these weren't pet ones… not that kind of pet at least. You chose a pink one, the little medallion engraved 'Bunny' and the back… you bit your lip. You were really curious about his reaction. 

You walked back into the bedroom, looking for your phone. You noticed Riley on the bed. His tail wagged when he saw you and you smiled. You sat on the new on your knees, petting the pup who turned around for belly rubs. He decided to give some love back by licking up your hands to your face. You giggled, trying not to be attacked by the amount of love he was sending your way. 

When the door opened, you jolted back, Riley taking back his usual protective stance. 

"Y/N, have you-" 

Simon stared at you. He looked shocked behind his mask. You bit your lip. Was it too much? Did you go overboard? Riley jumped from the bed, joining Simon. He wagged his tail, ready to get his attention.

"You've been a good boy. You've been keeping an eye on my bunny. " He said. Eyes never leaving yours as his hands ruffled the fur around Riley's neck. 

"How about that training buddy huh?" Riley growled, suddenly fully alert, he was perfectly aware of what it meant and he looked excited. 

"si-" 

"Sit right there baby. Just stay there and look pretty for me. I'm gonna take care of you in a little moment."

He headed to the door, swinging it open. Riley had followed up like a good pup. 

"MCTAVISH." He roared in the hallway, making you jump. 

You heard the rush of Soap's footsteps up the stairs. Simon grabbed the handle of the door, slightly closing it to hide the view of you, sitting on the bed, cute little pink bunny suit, no underwear. 

"Yes lieutenant?" Soap's almost shaky voice asked, probably slightly scared of the tone he was called. 

"You wanted to take Riley for a little training. today's your chance."

"Really?! fuck ye-" he roared happily. 

"Take Gaz and koning." 

"What?" 

"I have to repeat myself? you have two minutes to get out of the house." 

You could see him take his phone out, you quickly realized he was setting a timer. 

"TWO minutes. Starting. Now." 

Soap scurried off calling Riley's attention who followed him. Simon walked back into the room, closing the door behind him. 

You were wet already. The feeling of his hands on you was a craving that burned bright deep in you. You squirmed, earning a chuckle from him. 

"Look at you.. so needy." 

"Simon..." you whined. 

"Keep sitting pretty. Two minutes my love." 

He put the phone up on the chest of drawers making sure you could see the timer. You watched the seconds tick down with anticipation. 

"Be a good girl. Be patient. This is the first step from teaching you obedience." 

You bit your lip. The velvety fabric of the dress making you shiver, your skin almost crawling at every touch. 

"You'll be a good girl. And you're going to wait. If you do so. You'll get a reward. If you misbehave. You'll get punished. Am I clear?" He explained in a dark tone, leaning back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. 

You nodded. 

"Use your words." 

"yes..." 

"yes who?" 

"yes lieutenant..." you whined. 

"Good girl." 

You grabbed the sheets underneath you. His eyes roamed your body, suddenly the temperature seemed to have risen way too much. You watched him take his mask off, putting it down next to his phone. Two minutes. You never felt two minutes pass by so slowly. 

"You look so pretty, baby. Where did you get that?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. 

"At.. the mall. There's a shop…" you tried to explain. 

"I'll have to pay them a visit. See what else they got for my princess." 

Princess? That was new… you blushed heavily. He laughed at that. 

"You like being called princess? I can see you blush from here. The way your skin gets rosy… all the way down to your beautiful breasts." 

The more he talked, the wetter you got. You could feel the warmth mixed with wetness in between your legs. 

"Look at you. Being a patient darling for me." He praised. 

He reached for his shirt, slipping it over his head, letting it fall to the floor. And you noticed it. The piece of plastic to his skin… where… you left a lipstick mark. 

"Simon?" You questioned. 

He followed your gaze. Smirking. 

"You… you tattooed it?!" You asked, ready to jump towards him. 

"Bunny. Stay on the bed." He warned. 

You froze. Now this was torture. He dropped a bomb on you and now… now you had to sit still? 

"Yeah I did. I wanted something on me. From you. Not a jewel. Not a piece of clothing… something no one could take from me.." 

"Simon.." you whined. 

Your fingers grabbed the sheets harder. Your heart felt like it'd fly out of your chest. 

"Go on..whine." 

There was something. With him. His behavior. Was it the near death experience? The way he saw you breakdown from the sheer fear of losing him. The way you clung to him since he arrived. What was it? The way he looked at you. The way he licked his lips looking at you. His gaze dark. 

"You've put yourself in danger. Do you understand?" He started, voice a few octaves lower than usual. 

You nodded shyly. 

"You were in a danger zone. You strayed away from the team when you were told not to." He continued. 

You remained silent. 

"I can't bear to see you hurt or in danger…" 

"I couldn't bear losing you Simon.." you argued. 

"I know baby. I'm right here now. I'm gonna take care of you." 

The ringing echoed through your mind and body. The timer. He grabbed the phone, angrily turning it off before putting down on your desk, stepping closer to the bed. God. The way he walked. How did this man could be so fucking hot by simply walking? 

He reached you, grabbing your chin softly, making you look at me. 

"Fuck you look adorable…" he cursed. 

He dived down, ceasing your lips. The slow, deep kiss made you moan against him. You straightened up, trying to get him closer to you. He stepped back, grinning. 

"You were patient. Like a good girl. Lay back baby." 

You happily obliged, laying on your back head on your pillows. He looked at you, almost like a predator. You wanted to say it felt like a wolf hunting a Bunny, just for the beautiful picture of it, but this wasn't a wolf. It was something darker. More powerful. He was a demon, some shadow like king and you were at his mercy. At his mercy, yet completely safe.

He raised his hand letting his finger caress your cheek before letting it travel down your neck. Slowly, achingly slowly, he passed over your chest, traveling down your stomach, straight towards… he didn't touch you. He simply hovered it before moving to the end of the bed. He kneeled down, positioning himself in between your legs. His big hands squeezed your thighs making you giggle, earning a grin from him. 

"You know… I'm not gonna take off your pretty outfit. I'm going to fuck you in it."

You felt your breath stop in your lungs. His hands traveled up and down your thighs, slowly raising the skirt of the dress. Of course you didn't put your panties on. 

"Fuck… look at that…" 

You blushed. He had seen you naked so many times. He still found the words to make you blush like a schoolgirl. 

"Such a pretty little pussy…" 

You felt his hand rise up towards your heat, his thumb hovering over your lips, not applying pressure. You tried to wiggle your hips but his other hand held you in place. 

"No. You'll get it, when I'll allow it. Understood?" 

"Yes… yes lieutenant…" 

"Good girl. See. You can be such a good bunny for me." 

His thumb rubbed up and down your slit, finger coating in your juices. You bit your lip, a little moan escaping your lips. You tried not to wiggle again. His eyes never left yours as finally rubbed your clit very softly. He watched with fascination your every moan, gasp, lip bite. 

"I need to taste you…" 

Your eyes flashed open wide. You wanted to say something but it was a bit late, he was already lowering himself to you. He pressed mouth open kisses on your thighs. The anticipation was killing you. He looked up at you before biting on your thigh. Harshly. You yelped, hand flying to his hair to grasp it. He sucked on the skin, breaking the little blood vessels underneath it, making sure a dark red bruise was visible. He looked at his handy work before kissing the little mark, making his way back to your aching little cunt. 

The little breath on your lips, made you sigh. He kissed it, making you blush again. His tongue licked through your folds in a long straight line. He groaned against you, the vibration only adding to your pleasure. 

"Fuck.. you taste divine." He groaned again. 

His tongue made sure to explore every sweet spot, it felt good. It felt, really good. You were glad that the house was empty because you kept moaning loudly. Your hand in his hair, tugging slightly every time he licked or sucked at that little bud of nerves. He was making you sensitive. You could feel goosebumps as the sight of an orgasm was getting closer. 

He played with it. He made sure to lick and press with his tongue until he felt your body getting more and more tense, moans getting louder and then he'd stop. Just to do it all over again. Tongue savoring you, he built up your orgasm again, this time he kept going, through the rise of your voice and the tremble of your legs. 

"Si..Simon… gon'cum.." 

He stopped. You whined loudly. He sat back up in between your legs. You looked up at him pleading. He lowered himself to your face. 

"Taste yourself on my tongue.." he whispered. 

He kissed you, tongue salty. You moaned, trying to wrap your legs around his waist but he stopped you. 

"This is the punishment, remember?" He said with a smirk. 

Getting back into position, he let his fingers run up and down your slit again, thumb teasing your clit again. You moaned the pleasure slightly more intense from the edging. His index teased your entrance before slowly pushing in. You gasped, wiggling your hips. Now he played with your clit while slowly pumping his finger in and out. 

"Let's add another finger… you've taken more than that… my cock fills you much better than this." 

A second finger at your entrance before you stretched out to welcome both. Now he played, curling his fingers inside to build you up again. But denying you. He'd stop, remove his finger, hands back on your thighs to caress them but nowhere near where you needed them. You were starting to feel overwhelmed, the tears prickling at your eyes. 

He started his torture again, thumb on your clit two fingers pumping in and out at a slow steady pase. He curled them again making your head fall back. You felt yourself tip over the edge… almost.. almost there. Until he removed his fingers again. 

"No!" You whimpered. 

He chuckled darkly. 

"Now bunny. Did you think I'd let you off that easily?" 

He stood up, looking at you as he slowly unbuckled his belt. The fucking sound always made you clench around nothing. He undressed himself, his already hard cock in his hand. He pumped himself a few times, the sight of you, legs wide open just for him making him groan. He kneeled down in between your legs, tip brushing against your clit, coating himself in your slick. 

He noticed the collar, fingers grabbing the medallion. 

"Bunny. Now that's cute. What's written in the back?" He questioned spinning the metal in his hand. 

He froze. You didn't think he'd react like that. Not for just this. 

"Say it. Out loud." He ordered. 

He was asking you to say out loud what you had asked engraved on it? You looked away but he quickly stopped you, grabbing your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

"Say it. You've been a good girl. If you want your reward. Say it." 

You wanted your reward. You needed it. 

"Property of Lieutenant Ghost Riley…" 

He pushed his tip through your folds, a familiar burn making you arch your back. He pushed himself until he bottomed out. He wasted no time to pound you at a steady pace. His hand remained around your neck, watching you as his name spilled from your lips. You were sensitive. Too sensitive. He had denied your orgasm too much. He let go of your neck, grabbing your thighs as he looked down. 

"Fuck… what a sight. Your.. shit… your pretty cunt… taking me… fuck… so well…" 

You whimpered at his words. The tears had long won their fight, tears running down your cheeks as you tried to remain at least focused on him, mind dizzy. 

"Si.. Simon.. please…" 

"Fuck.. look at you. Tears running down… fuck… your face.. I love ruining you." 

His pace quickened, hips smacking into yours. You were loud. Shit you were loud. He shifted again letting go of your legs to let you wrap them around his waist. He grabbed your wrists, putting your hands over your head. He intertwined his fingers with your, eyes planted into your as he fucked you passionately. 

"Are.. you, going to listen to me?" 

You nodded frantically, unable to speak. 

"Words..use your words." He ordered. 

"Y-Yes! I'll.. listen… please… please…" you tried. 

"That's it baby, keep your legs open for me

give me full access to you, keep your body open… you're taking me so well, fuck I'm addicted to this... you're a fucking drug." He praised you. 

You couldn't take it anymore, you wanted to cum so badly, it burned.

"Please.. lieutenant! Please!" 

He chuckled again. But you could feel in his own thrusts he was close.

"You're going to be… a good girl?" He growled. 

"Ye-s… yes! I.. be your good girl…" you whined. 

"I'm gonna fill you up baby, and you're going to take it.." 

"Please!" You whimpered again through a cry. 

He looked at you, slowly angling himself to hit the perfect spot. You were breaking apart, finally reaching your orgasm.. a thrust and you were gone. Little spots blurring your vision. You were sure you screamed his name as he pounded you through his own orgasm. It took a long minute to catch your breath. You were still crying. He had caught you in his arms, praises falling from his lips. He kissed your soaked cheeks, repeating how much of a good girl you were, how you did so good for him.  

"You alright bunny?" He asked softly. 

You nodded, biting your lip. 

"You were amazing darling. You've done so well, I'm proud of you." 

He kissed you, little kisses, sweet. 

"I think that bunny suit has awakened something in me…" he teased. 

You couldn't help but giggle. The bunny suit had been an amazing idea. You'd make sure to wear it more often. 

-------

Damn...

tags 1:

@lemontails @cabreezer0117 @tomhardy41 @brxghtixghtz @shuttlelauncher81 @pinkdazelight @sirenbunnylol @snortangeldust @novausstuff @gasstationfifacard @emotion-not-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @simpforavillain @minimisthios @catied32 @poohkie90 @watermaylon-writes @thereealink @meimhem @sorryi-mtrash @gaymistakeboi @bittersw33t-lotus @gh0stm3g @freckledmuffin @itsasecrets-things @xback1021 @connierk690 @feedthefandoms995 @friendlyneighboorhoodgothicpagan @dead-noodles @critter-mylo @honeymariee @badame0224 @kitty-satan1 @all-good-things-have-an-ending @tianotfound @thriving-n-jiving @hailstrum18 @kiruoris @thats-s0-ravenn @orcasarebigbabies @makastaco @abajointrossyearl @kaylynninice24

[vasito-de-leche]

Could we have some Zima relationship headcanons :]

;R1999 ZIMA - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Zima in a romantic relationship.

ofc you can nonnie, ty for the request! Zima was the other character that got me into the game so he's very dear to me

also also, I'm not sick anymore so I have some steam to work on requests, hehe <3 still working on the sleepy fics though, don't worry yall!

I haven't done a proper analysis/HCs post on Zima yet, so as usual I'll be talking a little about his character before getting into the whole relationship aspect of things!

The portrayal of Zima as a stereotypical, shy introvert feels extremely reductive to me, especially when it's all attributed to his speech pattern - the pauses, the stuttering... None of it is an indication of timidness. We have to remember that Zima's native language, like many other characters, is not english and he struggles when speaking it. That's the reason he speaks in such a way, there's a language barrier he's constantly fighting against in order to communicate with others and yet he's clearly trying.

There's an emphasis on loneliness, isolation and avoidance in his character that is impossible to ignore, which seems to add to the whole portrayal of Zima as a "shy baby". But again, this is something that comes from an important part of his life - the exile he went through. Him being socially inept is a result of a punishment, years of being alone with no one but animals to keep him company. It doesn't come from a sense of inferiority or insecurity such as Charlie, but an absolute lack of human contact.

When examining his voicelines, we also see that he's opinionated - criticizing the Tsar and the poor living conditions of the people, speaking of the beauty of nature and so on and so forth. He explicitly writes poems on any surface like trees, rocks and snow, even if he knows they'll be washed away overtime.

I understand that it's extremely easy to dismiss Zima when it comes to romance because of all of these details, his isolating ways and all, but he's a poet first and foremost.

While he may not be romantic in the more traditional sense we're used to, he's extremely insightful and takes a lot of care to appreciate the small details that often go overlooked, but that make life feel more lively and rich. In the context of relationships, given his age and his lifestyle, Zima would bring a completely different type of vibe - for comparison, most of the characters I talked about already lean towards high emotions, the fun of discovering love for the first time, etc etc...

Pavia's love is a whole rollercoaster on his own because there's always the chance of either getting hurt or having the time of your life, Forget Me Not's feels exactly like being hungover in the morning. But Zima's love is more like coming home after a long trip, knowing there's a warm meal waiting for you. It's familiar and calm.

On the subject of Zima falling in love.

Zima is used to introspection, so I genuinely believe he has a strong sense of self and a good grasp on his emotions. He quickly realizes when he's fallen for someone and he accepts it easily, despite the lack of romantic interactions in his life. This is because the object of his affections is, most likely, someone he already cherishes, and who puts the effort into maintaining a good friendship with him - so the idea of being in love with them feels natural!

I can't see Zima pursuing romantic relationships with strangers and/or those outside his close circle, not even a surface attraction beyond artistic appreciation for someone's looks. He strikes me as the type who can only fall in love with those he trusts and knows.

And even then, his behaviour wouldn't change much!

It's obvious that he lacks friends, so the very few people he does have are extremely important to him - even so, Zima does not need to constantly orbit around them and will gladly spend days (and weeks if you don't actively seek him out) without seeing them, content to catch up with them whenever their paths cross. He shares what little he has to offer with everyone, practical things and knowledge. Zima is 100% that friend who disappears for months and returns as if nothing happened.

When it comes to you, it's the same. Sure, if you ask him to stay a little longer then he'll oblige you. And if you're the chatty type or find his work interesting, then he'll put the effort into having a conversation with you despite the language barrier. But that's about it, the changes aren't noticeable no matter how much he loves you, because all of that happens when no one is looking.

If you happen to stroll around in the wilderness, getting lost in the forest and all, then you might find your name carved on trees along with many, many poems. If you don't speak or read russian, then all you'll be able to recognize is your name - the very first thing Zima taught you in his native tongue - but these are all declarations of love.

The animals are kinder to you, curious even. They follow and treat you like an old friend, as if they knew you, because everything they've heard from you comes from Zima himself. They speak about everything and anything with him, after all.

Zima lacks the initiative to confess or even consider being in a proper relationship with you - I insist, he's genuinely content with being a close friend - but he also lacks the restraint to keep his feelings to himself and thus puts them on display in the only way he knows how: as a poorly kept secret between himself and the nature that surrounds him.

Not many think of him as a romantic because of how stoic he is, but when Zima is in love, he sees you in every flower, in the snowflakes that fall and kiss his nose. You're the gentle summer breeze and the crystal clear rivers once winter ends. You're right there beside him in spirit when he sees little chicks take flight for the first time, or when all the other forest critters wake up after hibernating. Zima finds beauty in every aspect of nature, and he sees you everywhere he looks.

That said, there's no way he'll take the first step. That's entirely up to you, to pick up all these things and confront him about it - that's the only time he'll be open and direct about his feelings. Because you already know how much you mean to him!

Zima would love to teach you his native language.

This is partially me projecting because english isn't my native language either, but I do like to think that Zima's english is all self-taught. He understands when others speak english, but isn't as fluent when speaking himself. And that's why it's sooo infuriating and frustrating for him, as a creative person and poet.

Not only because it's harder to communicate with others, but because his work and poems - the most important part of himself - can't be fully understood. Therefore HE can't be fully understood. Some translations, while good, can't even come close to their original meaning. As his partner, Zima wants you to understand the full depth of his affections and thoughts.

I do think that the process of learning would also be quite organic, starting with Zima simply pointing out at things and teaching you the way they're named in russian, basic stuff he does unconsciously. If you pick up things on your own from his work and his translations, Zima will be over the moon and would ask you to repeat yourself to make sure your pronunciation is right and because he loves the way his language sounds with your accent.

But if you approach and ask him to properly teach you? He's gone, instantly overwhelmed with emotion and thoughts racing in his head, trying to organize a million different things - what would be the best way to teach you? Should he start with the alphabet? You want to learn this brand new language to understand him better, that simple gesture is a huge deal for him.

Once you have a pretty good grasp on the language, at least enough to have basic conversations with him, it will feel like Zima has gotten a little bolder - addressing you with pet names, being generally more blunt and talkative... But in fact, he's just finally able to express himself in his totality.

This also goes the other way around - Zima would love to learn your own native language, whether it's english or something else. It's yet another language he can use to express himself, so it's a win-win. And I know that it's common for us multilingual people to start confusing and mixing all the languages we speak, but I think Zima would have an easy time keeping them apart, so to speak!

On the subject of Zima and how he acts when he's in a relationship.

You two were close friends before you were lovers, so Zima doesn't feel any sort of pressure to live up to some dating standards like fancy dates, gifts or grandiose displays of affections - once again, it's all about what feels natural. You two know each other more than enough to simply fall into a comfortable routine that works out for both.

He does make the effort to drop by more often, to find a middle ground until he feels more comfortable and used to being around large groups of people. But he would also insist that you accompany for his walks in search of inspiration for his work!

When it comes to showing affection, I think Zima might be a little touchstarved - casual physical contact such as someone hugging or patting him on the back as a greeting still catch him by surprise, but affectionate gestures with those he trusts and loves is a novelty that leaves Zima starry-eyed.

He has a lot of things that he needs to slowly get used to again now that he's not exiled in the middle of the woods, but having you shower him with affection is something that he grows to like rather quickly. When you pet him, pepper his face with kisses, hold his hand when walking or hug him - it doesn't matter, Zima will always stand there, fascinated with the way you make him feel, so very warm and safe.

He would appreciate a warning before being touched, and he always makes sure to ask before initiating anything himself - it doesn't matter how many times you tell him that you're fine with this sort of contact, he's going to ask for permission anyway. Just out of politeness. Personal space is important, after all.

I think Zima would try to stick to a routine he can follow without overwhelming himself, especially if you're the type to need more attention (again, Zima will literally disappear for weeks if left to his own devices). It's more of a short list of things he needs to remember to do before the day is over, the two most important ones being greeting you in the morning and wishing you goodnight.

As for more general aspects of a relationship, I don't think there's much to say! Arguments with him rarely happen because he's patient and careful with his words, he communicates his needs and boundaries as well as he respects yours and all. Zima isn't that talkative, but his more "eccentric" traits are something you're probably used to on account of that initial bond and trust.

[cometrose]

yap about uhh zhongli and azhdaha (please)

I believe I already talked about zhongli and azhdaha but everytime i reread the last lines of their dialogue together I feel so ill, its just like getting sucker punched

first there are theories that azhdaha could be the geo dragon sovereign and I mean its certainly possible. First he is described as the "Lord of the Vishaps" and he lashes at Morax for being an usurper which is the first time this word has been brought up within the main story itself. Plus Morax also struggled to seal him away during the fight showing immense strength so maybe?? I am leaning towards this theory but I have no idea really.

It would make zhongli and azhdaha's relationship 10x more interesting but a billion times more complex.

But that aside reading through the zhongli's second story quest, I think its interesting how Jiu (evil azhdaha) refers to zhongli as a traitor/betrayer this could refer to the fact that morax sided with humanity to stop him or it could refer the heavens and the authority of the archons.

anyway im still crying because morax sharing his power with azhdaha to stop his erosion is so sad but he can't stop it so he has to watch his consciousness and reason turn to nothing. I can't imagine its not only finding a new enemy but losing a friend.

Azhdaha also holding Morax is very high esteem is also super interesting. Apparently in the chinese text it signals that morax had azhdaha's respect or support in the sense that if azhdaha was the geo dragon sovereign he willingly allowed morax to use his power.

I could talk forever but as you go through act II azhdaha recites a poem "a star appears within the wild...a sun ascends as bright as...jade" LISTEN my number 1 theory for what zhongli's true form is, is that he is a star, just a fallen star for the heavens, so not only is this line super important but it also reflects how much meaning morax had to azhdaha. A blind dragon yearning to see the sun, morax embodied that sun is almost every way.

azhdaha uses kun jun to track down morax but also senses morax is no longer than geo archon, i wonder how he found him then- just the scent of the divinity?

"even without a god above, this remains a nation of men. I was once their god. I ought to be here to witness their rise and fall." ugh zhongli please dont say such things

"you were always the strongest among us, yet it would seem that even you have been eroded" see now im confused and upset. zhongli says he struggled to seal azhdaha away but azhdaha also refers to zhongli as the strongest amongst them. the truth seems as that both of them were very close in power with zhongli just peaking over him. When it comes to their fight in the chasm, it seems morax fought azdhaha alone and out of the chasm while 3 of his adepti prepared the seal in Nantianmen. (fun fact you can see the stone formations where morax "dragged" azhdaha out of the chasm)

BUT azhdaha also says that morax came to him not as an assassin so he was willingly sealed away. BUT then zhongli is like the "movements of the Earth Dragon can tremble the earth and shake the heavens. with your abilities even at my full strength i struggled to confront you, let alone seal you away." First zhongli refers to him as Earth Dragon as in a title so wink wink nudge nudge are you the sovereign azhdaha? then zhongli kind of emplies he wouldn't have been able to seal azhdaha had he not consented to it, but azhdaha also believes zhongli was still stronger than him. I guess for now we have to accept both truths.

Also im upset please dont say such things, like the fact that zhongli has eroded in his own way makes me sad.

"you may live forever, doomed to a lonely existence...yet even this is temporary" FUCK. Like this is also part of the reason I think zhongli is a star, because eternal life? loneliness? the sun shines brightly all by itself casting a shadow on everyone and burning whoever gets too close. zhongli is bright and beautiful but he ends up losing everyone within his orbit, like this is so awful but like the adepti, the archons, azhdaha, guizhong like everyone close to him is always dying. even though he lives amongst humanity now he is still going to watch all of them die. someone hold me!!! Azhdaha does say he will meet all his companions at the end, but that could be an eternity away from now.

Also after this zhongli is like my lifespan can't compare to yours, the life of an elemental being is longer than anything but wait a second, in xianyun's story line she mentions that adepti are pure elemental beings. so like is he or is he not an elemental being. If he isn't why is he called the prime of the adepti, if he is why does he state that he could not compare to the lifespan of an elemental being. then again morax could be non-elemental being that just ascended to the title of adepti.

But- kun jun states that if he were not an elemental being morax would've killed him a long time ago, so maybe it's less of the lifespan but more to do with a cycle of rebirth. In the sense you cannot truly kill an elemental being as they will simply revive or come back to life thousands of years later. who knows!

"that day in the chasm? did you hesitate?" "a heart of stone is a heart nonetheless" I don't even want to talk about it, to this day this is still the most homoerotic line in the entire game. i feel so ill, want to throw up.

I'm kind of curious when zhongli and azhdaha met, because azhdaha is like I was there with Liyue's founder, as in he was there when the harbor was founded 3,700 years ago and was sealed 1,000 years ago. BUT liyue was founded before the end of the archon war, hell it was founded at the climax of the war, so were zhongli and azhdaha already partners when zhongli became the geo archon? If so it could grant more meaning to the idea that azhdaha approved of zhongli as in he accepted morax taking his authority IF he was the geo dragon sovereign.

"you're leaving?" dont talk like that zhongli it makes you sound (and me feel) pitiful

See also zhongli is like “centuries have past since the day azhdaha attacked but the events remain crystal clear in my mind” so like i feel zhongli erodes in a different way than azhdaha i don't think his memories are just degrading away.

BACK to the power thing, zhongli says despite being the victor he cannot claim to be stronger than azhdaha, because in his heart he still retained good will, and although he wished to be sealed away, erosion made him forget this wish. SO azhdaha says morax was stronger but zhongli says azhdaha was stronger.

In this situation, zhongli could be referencing power of will. In the sense that even though zhongli won the physical fight, azhdaha was still "stronger" than him because, despite losing his memories, he still retained goodness in his heart. I will leave the power thing between the two as "ambiguous" just for my peace. But zhongli could also be saying that erosion made azhdaha "weak" in some way and if not for that he could not have bested him in battle.

Erosion talk makes me sad, zhongli describes his erosion as "people abandon and surrender the things the love to pursue the right path". And god it hurts, he loved azhdaha, truly! But to protect liyue zhongli had to turn his back on his companions. there are probably so many people zhongli loved that he couldn't protect or couldn't be with to protect liyue.

Which is why I don't think I can be too harsh on him for stepping down as archon. Not only is erosion more dangerous the stronger the being is, but for a god that has lived so selflessly for all these years I cannot blame him for wanting to cherish the things he personally loves for once. But even then he still loves liyue so much he wants to watch them grow for many years.

So uh yeah azhdaha zhongli hurts me soooo because it was never meant to be, but there are a lot of theories out there that could change the dynamic of their relationship so I am just not sure. But i do like them together I wish azhdaha would come back simply because it would make zhongli happy.

[avvxree]

soft celebration - feat. kaedehara kazuha

- it’s finally the birthday of someone important to them, it’s time to celebrate it

note - hello! wow i didn’t wrote a fanfic in three years… sorry if it’s a little meh! still, hope you’ll enjoy it :) english isn’t my first language so bare with me pls

content - 811 words, lower case intended, modern au, written as platonic but can be seen as romantic, gn reader (3rd person) & might contain some errors

They were waiting for this day. On their phone, there was a little reminder ‘kazuha’s birthday <33’ showing on the screen, but it’s not like they needed to be reminded. They had prepared a little surprise for him, it wasn’t much but it’s what kazuha should enjoy. He was never a complicated person most of the time. It was nice having someone calm like him, it was a very peaceful presence that they found to be necessary in their life.

He recently got back from one of his frequent travels. It was a part of his charm, even if it meant they couldn’t see each other for days or weeks. They wanted to leave him some time to rest, since jet lag can be pretty harsh. But, today was the day they would meet up and kazuha also knew he couldn’t say no for the celebration of his birth.

They remembered how he felt about his birthday through one of their phone calls: he didn’t feel the need to celebrate it since he never got the chance as someone who travels a lot. This year, they wouldn’t let this chance go away.

they let kazuha choose the place they would meet up. and so, he chose a place they both held dear, it was on a hill where you could see the sky clearly. they would stare at the many little lights in the skies until they couldn’t handle their body going colder. they walked along a little trail that was very familiar with how many times they would meet him.

and there he stood, with his white hair and his red streak. ‘oh you finally arrived’ they could hear his soft spoken voice that always brought a sense of familiarity to them. he turned his head to meet their eyes. ‘i was looking forward to seeing you’ they smiled when their gaze met his ruby-like eyes. ‘happy to know that! but first of all’ they search in their bag while finding a seat beside him, on the ground ‘happy birthday! i hope you’ll like this!’ they held out a note and a little box. it was both on the colors he held close to heart, from yellowish town to deep red, colors that reminded of autumn. he looked a bit surprised but took the gift. he looked at them, in a way to have permission to open it in which they responded with a small gesture of hand.

‘i’m sorry if the letter is bad… i barely know anything about haikus and poems but i wanted to try’ they laughed a little. ‘don’t feel bad, i appreciate it nonetheless’ he responded with a soft smile. ‘oh! open the gift first, i think the letter will make more sense…’ and with that, he started to open the box. he was careful to not tear any of the paper, as if it was a work of art.

at the bottom of the box sat a little picture of the both of them. they both had many leaves decorating their clothes and hair. it was when they messed around with the fallen leaves on one of their expeditions. the laugh they shared in that moment was frozen in one single picture. ‘i remembered you were scared of having bugs on you when we played with the leaves’ ‘hey! it’s not my fault if i’m less connected to mother nature’ they said in a funny tone. they didn’t mind the comment, after all it was true.

what surprised him was the frame: it was a hand made one with little leaves of different forms and warm shades. he was fascinated by how much time it must have took them to create this little fragile art piece. all of that for him.

he then read the words handwritten on a reddish paper filled with little doodle of things he showed them while travelling:

‘green turns red and falls on the ground

so does our memories

we might remind things wrong or forget them

but let’s enjoy it while we can

yeah, this didn’t turn out as a poem but happy birthday kazuha!’

he turned to them and they only wore a wide smile. ‘did you like it?’ they questioned while tilting their head. ‘i really do, thank you for making this day a little more special’ they held out their arms to invite him in a hug, which he gratefully accept. ‘hey! it should be special! it is now my lifelong mission!’ he laughed a little while pulling away.

and then, it felt like everything fell into place. they chatted the night away while looking at the stars like they used to do. this reunion might be one of so many, but this one was special. kazuha felt for the first time that his birthday might be something worth celebrating, at least with their presence.

thank u for reading!! - all right reserved, please ask before reposting somewhere or doing a traduction.

! fan art not mine, credit goes to the owner (tell me if you know who is the artist, i didn’t find them)

[yikes-strikes-again]

if i think about The Offspring too much i risk being creative about it. here's something. ao3 link

Beloved

rating: gen/no archive warning/fandom: Star Trek: TNG/characters: data, geordi, lal/grief-mourning, angst, bittersweet, family, one shot

And it was such a small thing that Geordi would never have remembered it if it weren't for now, but just yesterday, at the banquet, there was a moment when the ambassador from Xeno VIII approached them while they chatted at the bar in Ten Forward. He was flushed purple and had been gushing about Data before he'd even come within earshot.

Touching the arm of his fascination, he began spinning through all the advances in positronic technology his world had developed in the past few years. Geordi and Data had listened politely as he elaborated on the unprecedented complexity of the nanomechanical parts they could manufacture, the efficiency of the coolant system that allowed the simultaneous running of contact networks, the sheer scope of the emergent thought chains that purportedly surpassed the quadrant's largest quantum computers. He even suggested that Data study their work to produce another android like himself. Geordi specifically remembered him saying the words, "You could create a child of your very own."

At that point, he'd paused for breath and taken a sip of his drink. Data cocked his head in the way he always did before sharing his opinion.

"While I acknowledge the value of your species' contributions to the field of positronic robotics," Geordi now recalled him saying, "I do not believe that is necessary. I have already performed several experiments of the nature you describe, and after analyzing the results, I have decided not to continue my research. My interest in this subject is extremely limited." Then he'd stood up and walked away in a manner that Geordi would have described as "curt" if he didn't know better.

The ambassador looked confused. Geordi shrugged. "Guess he's made up his mind about that."

Then he'd caught up with Data a few minutes later, just as he'd started reciting one of his Spot poems to a drunken Lwaxana Troi, making Geordi completely forget that awkward moment. But now he was thinking about it, how strange it had felt at the time. Data had seemed almost offended for a second, which was unsettling, and even more unsettling was that Geordi couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Data had described his interest in positronic robotics as "extremely limited," but he knew that wasn't true - his android friend had always taken an acute interest in his own construction.

It had been an accident. Earlier today, Data had asked Geordi to visit his quarters and feed Spot while he attended Dr. Crusher's tap-dance lesson. Geordi had performed his duty with honor and, feeling tired, leaned against the wall between a couple of Data's paintings. Then he had removed his visor - something he normally remembered to do only in his own quarters - to rub the spots where it dug in the most. But in doing so, he failed to see Spot approaching, or predict that she might pounce on his leg and dig her claws into the fabric of his uniform. Geordi started, and shooed her off, remembering that he had to be gentle with his friend's prized pet, but not that there was an easel mere inches away from his flailing. There was a loud thump.

Geordi sucked in a breath. He quickly reattached his visor and scanned the belongings he had knocked to the floor, relieved that there didn't seem to be any damage. He righted the easel to its original position and picked up the small canvas that had fallen face-down on the carpet.

His brow furrowed.

The lilac tarp had sloughed away to reveal an unfinished portrait, already saturated with Data's penchant for stylistic design and subtle color variation. Geordi saw a young woman sitting in an opalescent white room, hands engaged with a sketch of a bridge console. Data had dressed her in a sapphire uniform resembling recent prototype designs for Starfleet cadets, which Geordi remembered him showing him last week. More captivating than any of that, however, was her face. He squinted to see it better.

Her face was pale, narrow and sharp, with dark brown hair gathered around it in a stylish bob. The woman had red painted lips, a still-soft jaw that betrayed her youth, and a peculiar intelligence living inside her violet eyes. The eyes were by far the most completed detail of the painting. They bored into Geordi with such a particular presence that he felt compelled to make eye contact, as if Data's painted girl was real, as if, by some magic, she could see Geordi as clearly as he saw her. There was something almost...Soong-type about the look she gave him.

Geordi sucked in a breath and held it.

Suddenly, the door slid open, starting him, and Data was striding back into his quarters, pausing when he saw his friend still there.

"My apologies, Geordi," he said. "It seems I have wasted your time. The dance lesson ended prematurely because Commander Riker sprained - "

His gaze jutted to what Geordi was holding.

"Sorry, Data," he rushed out, "I wasn't trying to intrude. I knocked your easel over by accident, and was making sure I hadn't ruined your work-in-progress before putting it back." That would have sounded like a bad lie to anyone else, but luckily, this was Data he was talking to.

Data came up close and took the painting. "That is all right," he said quietly, and placed it on the easel. "It appears no harm has been done."

He stepped back to look at it. Geordi picked up the tarp on the floor and handed it over so that Data might reinstate whatever privacy he desired for his work. Data took it wordlessly, but just held it, as if he didn't realize Geordi had given it to him. Standing close to one another, the two spent a moment in silent observation. The only sound was Geordi's anxious sighs. He couldn't stop thinking about what Data had said to the ambassador yesterday.

Finally, he said, "What inspired you this time, Data?"

"A dream I had." Data loved to elaborate. Geordi waited; he did not.

He looked at his friend. The android's profile was as strong and unmoved as ever, but there was an incredulous quality to his voice. This suggested to Geordi that the subject of the dream had mused Data to a degree he hadn't expected. But looking at that pretty, tilted head, he couldn't bring himself to be surprised by that.

"She looks very sure of herself," was all he could think to exhale.

"Yes." Data brightened. "I believe that the next generation of Starfleet cadets will have the advantage of building off of recent advancements in curriculum material and educational philosophy. This will allow them to begin their training with a higher degree of confidence compared to previous generations of students. The aptitude Lal might have achieved in - "

He paused in seeing how Geordi had snapped his head towards him at the name. Data took his eyes from the canvas and cocked his head, just like his painted lady, mystified by his friend's distress.

"You wanted Lal to be in Starfleet," Geordi said, with devastated awe.

Data's facial muscles spasmed, as if making a terribly high-order calculation. "I believe it would have been the best way for her to acquire most of the skills I am often praised for by my friends and superiors. I am told that many parents experience a desire for their children to 'follow in their footsteps.' It would seem that I am no exception."

Geordi fell silent and shook his head. The more Data spoke on the matter, the more difficult he found it to swallow the heartbreak curdling in his throat.

"And you've been dreaming about that?"

"It appears so." Data's voice dropped in volume again. "Though I am aware that events perceived during sleep do not always make logical sense, they are often reflective of internal desires that may be advisable to act on in waking life. As such, I find myself compelled to search for a constructive action driven by my subconscious image of Lal as a Starfleet cadet. So far, I have failed.” Was Geordi imagining the mournful song in his voice?

“There is no way to repair Lal - her body is now in the permanent custody of Dr. Maddox in a state of irreparable dysfunction,” he continued, grimly. “I cannot act on the desires these dreams express.”

Dreams. Plural. Not for the first time, Geordi wondered if grief was even an emotion.

Then Data perked up. "I have found that the most satisfying way to process experiences I cannot use to refine my logical subroutines is to use them for artistic inspiration," he said. “Counselor Troi advised me to do so when I mentioned these dreams to her.”

It made sense, Geordi supposed. He had no traditionally creative hobbies himself, but he often dealt with things he couldn't understand by immersing himself in technical design. His feelings often came out in the engineering solutions he discovered. But what could possibly be gained from something like losing a daughter?

He thought again of what the ambassador had suggested. "A child of your very own." If a child was what Data wanted to begin with, it made sense that, armed with the knowledge he had learned, he might try to create another since the first one...failed. But he had expressed no desire to. In fact, he seemed emphatically opposed to the idea. Geordi felt wretched for wanting to pick his friend's brain on a matter so heavy, but he couldn't help himself, and he knew there was no way to offend Data with his curiosity.

"Data..." he began, as gently as he knew how, "do you ever think that you might want to, uh. Try again? You know, have another ch - android?"

Data looked over his work again. Geordi saw him stare into Lal's impossibly lifelike eyes, into time, medium, space, into indescribable dimensions. The foolish waking dream. Perhaps, deep inside, he had discovered something after all.

"No, Geordi," he said, very softly.

A minute muscle altered his expression.

"She was enough."

[seraphic-sibyl]

Sic Semper Tyrannis (a c!Eret poem)

All hail to the King

(may good fortune await her)

Oh, favor our King, oh almighty Creator

To bless her with life, the same life that she gives

For the lives that she took are the ones that she lives

May God save the King; she was crowned in a tomb

Where iron-red hope stained the walls of the room

(Oh, dearly beloved, we’ve come here to mourn

A people who died for a dream never born.)

All hail to the King (do her subjects all hate her?)

Bow down to the King (‘least she’s not the dictator)

Oh, give her a crown and then force her to kneel

Trade iron for gold (hey, a deal was a deal)

Your crown forged from treason, your robe from regret

And your reign from our souls; did you think we’d forget?

Sic semper tyrannis, always some villain greater

All hail the King Pawn (and her manipulator)

Forgive me, Your Honor, the death-bell has rang

The jury votes split, but it’s your turn to hang

Her Highness the Headsman, slated for execution

Oh, pray for the King, that she finds absolution

A museum of guilt, and all hail the Curator

Pray tell me your story, oh fallen narrator

She’s original sin, a backstabber, that snake

All hail to the King and her greatest mistake

Oh King of the Turncoats, may you stand a bit straighter

Since you left your remorse, with your crown, in a crater

Oh, crown her, depose her, yet we still reinstate her:

All hail to the King

              (her Majesty the Traitor)

C!Eret Week Day 7: Forever/Free

For the last day of c!Eret week, I decided to do something a bit different and express my appreciation for my blorbo through verse. So I wrote y'all a poem inspired by and about c!Eret. I'm really proud of how it came out. Hope y'all enjoy my semi-deranged blorboem.

Anyway, I wanted to go off again, so here are some fun bits:

"Iron-red hope" was there because I wanted to push the idea that blood == hope. It's something that gives people life in a metaphorical way, and it was spilled and left behind, at least in part, in the Final Control Room.

"Trade iron for gold" is a double entendre: it could mean an unequal trade, or it could mean that Eret traded the rough scrappiness of L'Manbergian life for the gilded luxury of the kingship, or it could mean iron as in blood, which she traded for the golden crown. This also ties back into the iron-red hope line.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[from my flickr files :: "Elizabeth sleeping on Goose Rock"

I love this photo, it's like a fairy tale. This is Goose Lake , in Ontario, Canada. It is from around 1910. "Elizabeth" is a cousin of my grandfather - a child. Who is sitting and looking out to sea? Which Elizabeth dreams..?

[Elizabeth is also my name]

* * * *

"Maybe tomorrow will be the day everyone wakes up to write a poem. Or maybe just you and me, fallen asleep on duty, fallen asleep to duty forever. No one knows what will happen, but you and I at least, while the music of the murmur invents us, will have no part in anyone’s war, we will waste nothing, a signal going through us, like an inkling of god or a hunger for strawberries or the indisputable fact of love."

- Dean Young, from The Art of Recklessness: Poetry as Assertive Force and Contradiction

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

In honour of the spooky season, I felt like sharing something from an old fic Haunt me for a year. This is the last chapter of it but I think you can read it without knowing the rest.

🍁🖤🍂🪦💀🌕

In the light of the huge golden-red harvest moon, which slowly rose free of the horizon on the last night of September, the cemetery was once again transformed into a mysterious and haunted place. An enchanted realm where time could be strange, and where the veil between the living and the dead sometimes became thin.

In its light dark shadows came to life, creeping free from the trunks of old trees and rising from the tombstones. Black and flickering they moved in the night, the silent spirits of those forgotten by the living, cursed to haunt the darkness forevermore.

On the mound in the center of the cemetery illuminated by the hunted moonlight the old oak stood like a mighty dark silhouette against the sky. An ancient creature proudly watching over its mysterious realm and all its souls. Old, patient, and with many scars from time's hard bite, it watched.

A cold wind, which carried with it the promise of frost and winter swept across the landscape and through the branches of the old trees. Mercilessly, it started to loosen and tear off their leaves, beginning its work of picking them naked for the winter. It whirled the leaves through the cool night air, before it laid them to rest on the cold ground.

The proud slender evergreens, who stood untouched by the changing of the seasons, swayed dangerously in the wind's grip. The moaning, whistling and groaning sound which it created was both haunting and frightening.

A single lantern glowed at the foot of a white pillar, its flickering light illuminating the prayer written there, blurred by the light mist rising from the grass around it.

The mist gave shape to the elusive elves, transparent and almost invisible, as they drew the dark shadows of the lost souls into their tempting dance under the moon's golden-red light, before the wind dissolved them and carried them all away into the cold night.

Large witch-rings of bone-pale mushrooms grew in the grass, marking where the cursed could be found, where the witches and wizards would meet, where the Force could be reached and where time did not exist. In their rings of living pale flesh, created by rot and decay, anything could happen on a night like this.

Covered in dark green ivy, terrifying thorny but beautiful climbing roses and sweet smelling honeysuckles, hidden in the wild and forgotten part of the cemetery, an ancient sanctuary lay nestled among the crooked old fruit trees.

The lost and forgotten fruits had fallen from the crooked branches and now lay in the long grass, where their rotting flesh would bring new life when winter loosened its grip once more. The wind carried with it their riped, sweet scent of decay, which, mingled with the scent of damp earth, became the fragrance of both life and death.

The lights that marked the many paths that flowed like solidified streams through the realm of the dead, glowed with a light as dim as the moon's. They marked the known paths, but no one followed them this night. The dead knew other ways through the darkness, and the living wisely stayed away.

Between old and new tombstones a deer walked, enjoying a late and undisturbed meal, paying no attention to the spirits around it. Above it, an owl glided gracefully through the moonlight with silent wing beats, hunting for its innocent and unsuspecting prey, and like tiny elusive silhouettes against the sky the bats performed one last elegant dance before their long winter sleep, where they would let themselves slip close to death's eternal embrace.

The wind whispered in the night, it sounded as if it were whispering or singing an almost inaudibly poem meant for those who rested or wandered in the realm of the dead in the night of a hunted red-golden moon. It whispered for those who were loved and missed, but also for those who were forgotten and left behind.

There is no death! The stars go down

To rise upon some other shore,

And bright in heaven's jeweled crown

They shine for evermore.

There is no death! The dust we tread

Shall change beneath the summer showers

To golden grain or mellow fruit

Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

The granite rocks disorganize

To feed the hungry moss they bear;

The forest leaves drink daily life

From out the viewless air.

There is no death! The leaves may fall,

The flowers may fade and pass away-

They only wait, through wintry hours,

The coming of the May.

There is no death! only the Force

that flows in all and walks with a silent tread;

It bears our best-loved things away,

And then we call them "dead."

***

A tall figure walked through the dark shadows of the night and the mysterious light of the hunted moon. He was a shadow among the many dark shadows that danced in this night. His coat flowed behind him in the wind like a long black cloak, merging into the darkness of the night, when he walked up the mound on which the old oak stood, as if it were his right to master and rule the darkness of the night in this realm.

For many nights he had wandered here in the dark, among the dead, seeking the light, only to find, like so many others who had walked in the darkness seeking the light before him, that it had been with him all along. And yet, here he was once more, enveloped in the darkness of the night, lit by the haunting glow of the moon, missing his light, seeking what he feared to have lost.

Another figure also wandered through the night, called once more by the Force to this haunted place. Dressed in a white coat, which the moon's light dyed golden-red, he walked elegantly like a spirit through the shadows, led by the whispering wind. This night he did not follow the long-known paths, but had finally chosen to follow a new one through the dark.

For many nights he had sought the sorrow and memories found here in the realm of the dead, but had instead discovered something new, yet familiar. He had finally allowed his heart to open again, knowing he was doomed to lose what he had found once more, or so it seemed.

Now he wandered yet again here in the realm of memories, seeking the freedom of the present, longing for the one he knew he would have to lose.

The Force brought them together once more, it had always brought them back together, for they were souls connected across all borders, of all times, and all universes. No veil could keep them apart forever, their destinies one and the same, even when they did not know it. They would always recognize each other, would always seek the other's soul and light.

They met in the night, bathed in the hunted moon's golden-red light, under the crooked branches of the old oak, as they had so many nights before.

Their astonished joy at finding each other again, was evident in the desperate kisses they shared, and the relieved words that tumbled across their lips, finally telling the truth and putting into words the love that would at last set them both free of the darkness.

They had both thought that the other were lost, that they were abandoned, that there had been no other choice but to leave the other, to lose what they had just found, and now the Force had granted them one more night.

Amazed, grateful and happy to be together again, they walked through the cold haunted night in what they had made their realm unafraid of the darkness and shadows. They talked, laughed, kissed, played and danced in the golden-red moonlight, filled with the joy of being near each other, their love finally free and shining. They lost themselves in the moment, in the here and now, and for a time they did not care about anything else but each other.

The path the Force led them by in the haunted night, brought them to one of the many tombstones that rose in the darkness lid by the moon. In its mysterious light they saw the truth written there.

It was a terrible truth that could have, and perhaps should have, driven them apart again. But they held on, stubbornly, they clung to each other, refusing to let go of what they held so dear and had just found.

And then the Force revealed to them that it no longer mattered, as it led them to another of the stones that stood in the darkness to remember the dead.

Its base was covered in withered flowers, and on it were other names written in curved script, glowing faintly in the moonlight. Its golden-red light was also illuminating another truth, that was written there to comfort those left behind.

'There is no death, only the Force.'

***

On the last night of September the moon rose with slow dignity high into the sky, and gradually its light changed to a soft shining silver-blue that almost made the night as bright as day, creating long black shadows, transforming the cemetery into a realm of black and white.

In the bright silver-blue moon light, two figures walked through the silent realm of the dead. They walked in the realm where the Force touched the living, and allowed the dead to finally find their peace. Where it gave back the lost souls their light and hope, allowing them to find the hidden truth and the freedom forgiveness can bring. It was a silent realm of dead, though filled with life, and here, where the veil between eternity and all times, all realms and destinies, was thin and fragile as a moth's wing, transparent, to let lovers meet one last time, they walked in the silver-blue moon light.

And when the morning light came, soft and bright, they were gone. Had vanished through the heavy wrought iron gates which marked the borders of the hunted realm. In the light of the new day, the ancient inscription which adorned them, and which the passage of time had made almost invisible, suddenly became strangely visible.

'Luminous beings we are, not this crude matter.

The Force created us from its eternal flow, its children we are,

and when we are one with it, our souls become eternal.’

‘At the end of time there will always be a new beginning.’

‘There is no death, only the Force.’

***

Notes:

The poem is the first half of John Luckey McCreery's 'There is no death' with only a tiny modification.

[captainderyn]

for the lotro ask game, what would an intro quest/questline starring Raenor look like? 👀

I saw this pop up and then a lot of stuff went down at work BUT I am answering it now!

An intro quest line with Raenor would first trigger by the ruins of Edhelion when the MC returns there. While wandering around the ruins you can find an old, tattered leather bound notebook protected from the six hundred years of elements by a painted lock box buried beneath the fallen remains of the buildings. Inside the book are time and weather-worn pages filled with poems, sonnets, ballads, and beautiful written words. It will pop up a quest to find the owner of the book and directs the MC to ask around the Refuge of Edhelion where Elladan and Elrohir are for more information on who the owner might be.

The handful of elves there hum and haw at the MC, throwing around how to sonnets sound familiar and how they just can't quite place in their long memories whose book it may be because there have been so many bards throughout the years. Finally, one elf flips through the notebook and lights up, saying they remember the day that one of the poems if referring to. This elf states the notebook is owned by an elf named Raenor and if he is in Ered Luin at all, it would be worth checking in Celondim for him. This elf suggests following the sound of a lute and a voice that sounds like summer rain.

When the MC travels to Celondim they can find Raenor in one of the gazebos around the settlement, near the outskirts closest to the farming fields and wildflowers. The MC will hear him humming as they approach and he will be idly picking at lute strings, tuning it as he goes.

The MC introduces themselves and Raenor is friendly, if reserved, until you attempt to hand him the notebook. At that, his face fills with pain, and he pushes it away saying he wants no part of the memories that book holds. That if you really want something to do with it, throw it into the gorge and be done with it. The MC can ask if that's what he really wants done with it, and that will earn a smile.

If the MC interacts with him again, Raenor will say that if you really wish to know his story, that he will tell you, but on the condition that you actually do toss the the notebook into the River Lune and if you collect five specific herbs and flowers so that he may repaint his lute, decorated with a gorgeous scene that he explains is Rivendell and the Misty Mountains beyond.

Collecting the herbs/flowers and tossing the notebook will bring you back to Raenor, where he will tell you of what happened to him at Edhelion and his journey back to Rivendell after. Mechanics wise, it would probably trigger an instance where you go through the day and the journey with him. The quest rewards you a pocket item that is a small notebook filled with half written songs and poems with a boost for Fate and Will.

Later on, when the MC reaches Rivendell, you can find Raenor in one of the gazebos by the gorge, strumming on his lute. If you speak with him, his dialogue will show that he is singing a longing song for a forlorn woman, but no further quest line triggers.

Even further up the line when the MC reaches Gondor, you can find Raenor again in Minas Tirith. Post War of the Ring he has an optional quest to help find Faewryn, his wayward daughter, who is playing hide-and-seek around the area. The MC can help find her, and she will run from hiding spot to hiding spot. If you find all of Faewryn's hiding spots within the time limit, Raenor will thank you and wish you well and congratulates you on long journey well completed. He promises to spin songs and tales of your heroics, and completion of the quest will grant you a title of 'Song Spinner' which describes you as a inspiration for songs all across Middle Earth, as well as a housing decoration musical instrument of choice, hand painted with the view from Minas Tirith.

[lya-dustin]

All is bliss

Chapter 40

Cw: mentions of family deaths, depression and a blood oath

Gif by @asongoficeandfiresource

Taglist @mercedesdecorazon @darylandbethfanforever9 @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @alexandria-millie @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Driftmark and Dragonstone had fallen once more and what was left of the loyalists scattered making the Battle of the Gullet a victory for them but comes at a great price.

Only a third of the fleet was able to survive and no one is surprised that it was Lys’ part that was left untouched.

The Lyseni Admiral brought gifts and two dragonseeds who turned cloaks seeing the battle lost.

Hugh Hammer and Ulf White would be given lands in the Reach if they managed to quell the rebellious lords.

Addam of Hull and Nettles had regrouped in Celtigar Isle before joining Daemon in the Riverlands, but not after ordering the dragons in the Dragonmont be unchained.

Perhaps having Silverwing here will aid Aemma’s spirits now that Jacaerys is dead.

Baela would likely escape and avenge her betrothed, but Dreamfyre would return to Helaena and provide some safety for the city when Aemond leaves it unguarded.

“Oh, good, I need your advice, little brother.” Aegon acts as if this were any nameday and not less than a day after his wife’s younger brothers were killed in his name.

“What do you think of this crown for Aemma. I know hers matches mine perfectly, but I want something she can wear with colors besides red.” Aegon shows him the gold diadem with seven jewels laid in seven-pointed stars and its matching jewelry.

It was a lovely thing; she’d like it well enough, and he says so.

Of course, material things don’t hold much meaning to her because when you grow with all the wealth and luxury at your fingertips it stops being special.

Fuck, Aemond’s lost count how many times mother has given him seven-pointed star pendants.

The way to Aemma’s heart was through meaningful gifts, something Aegon thought a waste of time because they weren’t spectacular enough for him.

“What did you get her?” his brother asked knowing he can mock it all he wants because it is always something simple and understated.

“A book of poetry.” With red carnations pressed on a poem about forbidden love.

Red carnations signified love and passion, and he was counting on Aemee knowing that.

She’d only see it in private where she’d be free to bite her lip at the romantic meaning of it.

“You are so boring sometimes; I don’t see what she sees in you.” Aegon smiled with pride thinking he had the best gift.

“A functioning cock, perhaps.” The prince regent said with a casual shrug.

This brought out the darkness in Aegon. “How did you know?”

“Jena, she warned me that my services are far from over.” The One-Eye answered unafraid of the bitter edge in his words.

Gods, he hated serving as Aemma’s concubine.

He enjoyed being her lover, but utterly loathed he was must toil for another man to reap the rewards.

Vhagar’s eggs had been plenty, varying from Silverwing’s silver white to the Cannibal’s pitch black.

The greatest of these was the great black one with dark green webbing.

Balerion reborn.

Aegon will want it, Aemond will be forced to offer it to him.

But he wants it for his son.

He had hoped he’d been wed to Aemma by now and if that had occurred, the egg would he placed in the cradle with their son as is custom.

Perhaps he can offer the golden egg Vhagar got from coiling with Syrax, after all Sunfyre and Syrax had been clutchmates even if the latter had hatched four and ten years before the former.

Aemond knows which one Aemma would choose for Aenys: the blood red one that may be Meleys’.

“The Gods give, and the Gods take. If I had known this was going to happen, I would’ve taken Sunfyre and left instead of hiding in the Sept.” his brother spoke with regret and did his best to shove it away the moment his sunken eyes threatened to mist. “But mother and grandfather never cared to listen to us, so why mourn what could have been, eh?”

Aemma’s hair is arranged like a veil made of two braids divided in seven ways and the rest is gathered up in a bun, Aegon’s gift fits her perfectly and yet the seven gemstones are as lifeless as hers.

There had not been a peep about Luke, Arrax had been shot down, but its rider remained a mystery.

There was hope yet.

“You can’t let yourself leave like that again. Do you hear me? You. Cannot. Give. Up.” Baela shook her by the shoulders when the nagging pit in her stomach told her Luke was dead as well.

“If not for us, for your babe.” Baela held back her tears as bravely as she could, but in the end both girls stand there on her rug clutching to each other as the grief overtakes them. They sit in front of the fireplace where just seconds ago burned offerings to their dead.

Baela in her rage and grief had cut her hair up to her chin, burning her silver mane as they prayed in High Valyrian for a peaceful afterlife for their dead.

She loved Jace, they were set to wed on her six and tenth nameday because Jace wanted her to be sure and have the power to refuse if she didn’t wish to marry him.

Their dragons had chosen each other as mates and Vermax was supposed to bring forth a clutch of eggs on the next moon.

Now all those hopes and dreams Jace and Baela had for their future had died with him.

Eventually, Baela would be made to wed a man loyal to Aegon because she is a ward of the crown. Perhaps this husband will be a good man and deserving of her, but Aemma doesn’t think it likely.

All is bliss in the court of Aemma the Great, Alys Rivers’ words become more ironic and crueler with each passing day.

“I won’t, I promise.” The young queen nods in understanding and pulls herself together.

“Then prove it to me.” The girl said pulling out a hidden dagger and cutting her palm. “Let us swear a blood oath: we will avenge them, and we will take what they have stolen from us. With Fire and blood.”

Aemma takes the bloody knife and repeats the oath as she bites back the pain as they bind their hands with the ribbon Jace gave Baela, “We will avenge our dead and take what is ours with fire and blood.”

When Sharako Lohar enters the Throne Room as a hero, Aemma knows Baela’s knife won’t be the only thing to kill him the moment he is alone.

[1eaf-me-alone]

𝕺𝖟𝖞𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖘

to those who haven’t read the poem click here to read it if you wish to understand this better before you read it

— — — — — — — —

You walked along the desert, across the antique sand. The dust blew  on your face. The burning sun scorched your  back but you kept walking forwards. You couldn’t see what was in front of you.

The dust parted as a traveller walked by- a slow walk towards you, opening his hand towards the skies. A man whose face you couldn’t wholly see, a fierce and fiery red eye piercing  into yours. 

Two huge stone legs stood in the desert, the body which had crumbled to dust crumpling over the pressure of nature and worn through time.  

The mysterious man waved his hand at you gesturing at the sculpture that stood in front of you . A tyrant, dictator - a man of power had once been carved here. The sculpture which used to be large and grand whose withered past now made it but a mere joke to look at.

A large visage stood next to the stone sculpture. Holding a frown with sunken lips used to hold. A sneer of cold and harsh command. Years of decay had ruined the colossus statue.

The traveller beckoned you forward pointing at the pedestal of the broken stone form - the once leader of the huge town, village , city, country. Leader whose power could never fall, could never have thought to be now looked at in such a terrible state- whose power which now had fallen. It couldn’t last, it couldn’t have lasted. 

The traveller held his hand in yours, his crimson eyes glinting, his piercing eyes gazed into yours. You walked towards the pedestal and on the statue it read:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

The winds howled. Swirled  quickly around you, tearing against your skin  and clothes, it cut and slapped harshly against your face, dust landed in your eyes covering you as it whipped and lashed surrounding you. 

The Man’s hood flew open revealing himself; his hair was white, flowing in the wind. He walked away calmly as if nothing was there, the sand storm didn’t seem to bother him. He continued to walk on  further and further away from you. 

You blinked. Only for a second your eyes were closed. The violent wind  slowed down as it came to a stop. The sand swirling around you sunk back to it’s place in the desert and it was quiet once more. 

You opened your eyes, the traveller had gone. Not even his footsteps remained.

The poem Ozymandias (written by Mary Shelley) is about the transitory nature of life. It asserts that all that we gain in life—wealth, fame and power—are all temporary and are at the mercy of greater forces. It also highlights the irony of King Ozymandias' arrogance.

@perpetualcynicism / @cynicalmusings

i saw your post about wanting to write something Ozymandias/ Cyno related and I just got inspired by that. Hope you like it :)

[lesbicosmos]

day 7 of @chrisginnyweek !!

day 7 prompt: together

my interpretation: fluff. just pure fluff.

summary: the day after the play chris and ginny decide to go for a walk in the snow together

on ao3!!

i'll crawl home to her

“I always forget how pretty the snow is,” said Chris, her smile as sparkling as the apparent winter wonderland that surrounded them.

“Yeah, it really looks like something out of a fairy-tale,” replied Ginny, looking around.

It was the day after the performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream (and the evening the girls had spent in the forest with Neil and his friends) and they had decided to go for a walk in the park and enjoy the gorgeous wintry weather. The snow had fallen even more overnight, so the park they always went to was covered in a thick blanket of gleaming white, reflecting all light that hit it and making the surroundings glow. The trees looked like something from a painting, and it made Ginny wish she had brought her camera with her to capture the moment.

There were very few people outside due to the below freezing temperatures, so the two of them were comfortably walking through the park hand in hand. Well, they could barely feel the other’s hand due to the thick gloves they were both wearing, but the idea was there. The lower half of Ginny’s face was covered by a thick light blue knitted scarf, which Chris had definitely not laughed at when she first saw her wearing it. Chris didn’t have a scarf; the fur on the inside of her brown coat seemed to be doing a good enough job at keeping her warm.

“You know,” Ginny sighed softly, her breath visible in front of her as she exhaled. “I originally felt bad turning Neil down on his offer to go somewhere with him and his friends today, but as much as I love him, I’d rather be here with you. Just you.” She turned her head so she and Chris locked eyes for a moment.

“Really? You know I wouldn’t mind hanging out with those guys instead if you wanted to go and meet them.”

“No, I mean it.” Ginny squeezed Chris’s hand. “I love spending time with you. Besides, I think we had enough of the boys last night with their cave poetry.”

Chris laughed, shaking her head slightly in amusement. “Yeah, that was pure chaos. Todd’s poem was really good though!”

“It was, actually. Did you see Neil’s face as he read it, though? That boy is smitten, I swear.”

“Literally. That cave was so dark, but I could just sense the pining.”

They both knew that was a bit hypocritical given the two of them had been pining after one another for months before finally admitting their feelings. Ginny had probably spent more time staring at Chris with a lovestruck glint in her eyes than she’d spent looking at her any other way.

Ginny hadn’t noticed she’d zoned out, she was too busy thinking about all the time she had spent worrying alone in her room that Chris might never feel the same way she did about her, that she might not want to be friends anymore if she ever found out. She knew that realistically that would never happen - Chris was probably the least prejudiced person she knew - but there was always that dark part of her mind that kept asking what if?

She was pulled out of her imagination by Chris’s voice, but she was further away than Ginny remembered her being.

“Hey, Gin!” she called.

Ginny didn’t even have chance to fully turn around or reply before she was hit in the chest with a snowball, stepping backwards with the impact. She hadn’t noticed Chris had stepped off the path and onto the grass and was busying herself with the snow, apparently collecting ammunition.

“Hey!” Ginny replied, crouching down to make her own snowball to throw back at her girlfriend.

Chris shrieked as Ginny hurled it at her, but just managed to dodge it.

“Ha!"

What was originally a playful moment eventually escalated into a full-blown snowball fight, the two girls constantly picking up snow to toss at one another, giggling away to themselves like schoolchildren. It was the first time in a while that they’d been able to just let go and enjoy themselves, and both of them were loving it.

However, in trying to throw a rather large clump of snow at Ginny, Chris lost her balance and fell over, landing on her back.

“Ow…” she groaned as Ginny walked over to her, laughing.

Ginny stood next to her, looking down. “You know, for someone who ice skates you really do have the worst balance sometimes,” she teased.

Chris scoffed, faux-offended.

“I’ll show you bad balance.”

Within a second, Chris had reached up, took both ends of Ginny’s scarf in her hands and pulled her down so that she fell practically on top of her. Their noses crashed together, leaving their lips barely even an inch apart. Chris pulled the scarf again, bringing their mouths together. The feeling of their lips on each other’s was comforting and warm compared to the crisp, cold air surrounding them, and it made both of them never want to move…for about thirty seconds, at least.

“Wanna go home?” Ginny asked. “I’d love to keep doing this, but someone will see us eventually. And also my hands are numb, even with the gloves.”

“Yeah. This was so fun, but I don’t think I’m gonna be able to feel my feet for much longer.”

Ginny rolled off Chris and slowly stood up, regaining her balance.

“Come on,” she said, offering her hand out to Chris to help her up.

She took it, and they continued to hold hands all the way back to Ginny’s house. They walked even closer together than they had before, desperate for the warmth of the other.

When they entered Ginny’s house, they both wordlessly went up to her room to change out of their cold, wet clothes and into their pyjamas. Within ten minutes, they were sat on the couch in the living room, curled up together with a blanket and hot chocolates. Their legs gradually tangled together beneath the covers until eventually it became difficult to tell whose limbs were whose. Chris was lying with her head on Ginny’s shoulder, both hands on her mug of hot chocolate, and Ginny had one hand carding through short blonde hair while the other was busy propping a book open on her lap.

“What are you reading?” Chris asked after taking a sip of her drink.

“The Poems of Emily Dickinson, it’s an anthology of all her works. Neil bought it for me.”

Neil and Ginny had both bought each other presents for the night of the play. Neil had found the poetry book in one of the local bookstores and bought it, knowing Ginny had once borrowed a different Dickinson collection from the library and loved it.

“She writes about women the way you talk about Chris,” he’d sad after she’d opened it, and Ginny felt a a wave of joy wash over her, so intense she nearly forgot to give Neil his own gift.

Ginny hadn’t known what to get him so had decided on something with more sentimental value instead – she’d torn out the page of her A Midsummer Night’s Dream script that featured Puck’s final monologue and framed it for him. He got really excited after opening it, saying it was going to go up on the wall in his and Todd’s dorm, right next to the original auditions poster and a collection of photos of himself and the other poets with the Polaroid camera Meeks got for his last birthday.

Ginny had been far too tired to start reading the night before, and had only flicked through and marked the ones she remembered were her favourites by folding the corner of the page, but curled up under a blanket with Chris had felt like the perfect moment to get inside the head of a 19th century woman who had a way with words about life, death, nature and women.

“Read one to me,” Chris said, tucking her head further into the crook of Ginny’s neck and getting somehow even more comfortable.

Ginny seemed to hum in contemplation, flicking through her book, finally turning to a page that she’d folded the corner of and reading:

“To see her is a Picture,

To hear her is a Tune,

To know her an Intemperance

As innocent as June

To know her not – Affliction,

To own her for a Friend

A warmth as near as if the Sun

Were shining in your Hand.”

“It’s beautiful,” Chris said quietly. “Read another.”

And so Ginny did. She read Chris her favourite Dickinson poems, all the ones where she talked most beautifully about a woman – her best friend, but also clearly something more. She had just finished reciting Sue – forevermore! when she noticed Chris had fallen asleep on her shoulder. She laughed quietly to herself, then took the mug from Chris’s hands and placed it and her book on the small table beside her. She leaned down to press a soft kiss to Chris’s head before getting comfier herself, following her girlfriend into a warm, restful sleep on the couch.

[aclickbaittitle]

Language (s) in Moonbase Theta Out:

English as a language is taking over the world at an alarming rate, most other countries in which English is not the majority language have it as part of their school curriculum, and like math, you can fail the year if you do not pass the subject.

Why? Well, most of your job prospects will be severely impacted if you do not have at least a grasp of it. Though not as “present” as other consequences of USAmerican and England’s hold over the world, language imperialism is still something to worry about.

Like Minnie Degawan, activist of indigenous people’s rights says: “For Indigenous peoples, languages ​​are not only symbols of identity and belonging to a group, but also vehicles for ethical values. They constitute the fabric of the knowledge systems through which these peoples form a whole with the land and are crucial for their survival. The future of their young people depends on them.”

Of course it is not only the English language that is guilty of the linguistic masacre, my own mother tongue: Spanish is equally if not more guilty. And, unlike how I would like to blame the Western Europeans for everything, Hindi, Mandarin Chinese and many more also play their part. Please notice how all of this is backed by Nation-States Agenda of “Linguistic-Ethnic Unity” like Mexico’s “not-white, not indigenous but (light-skin) mestiz@” project that asked for indigenous peoples to exchange their language (and culture) for social integration.

But what does this have to do with a small little podcast called Moon Base Theta Out?

Moonbase Theta Out is a sci-fi audio fiction podcast produced by Monkeyman Productions. It is 2098. The Moonbase program has been determined unprofitable. The last base, Theta, is twenty weeks from being decommissioned. Most of the crew is in stasis awaiting retrieval. Five remain – Roger Bragado-Fischer, Nessa Cheong, Ashwini Ray, Michell L’Anglois, and Wilder. (monkeymanproductions.com)

In Moonbase Theta Out, our current way of organizing the earth in nation-states has fallen out of fashion. Instead we got corporate enclaves run by mega corporations, and if it sounds terrifying it is because it is. There is a saying that goes “english is the language of money” and in a world where neoliberalism has taken over every character is expected to know english from Brazil to North Africa to France.  It is not uncommon for US american media to portray a world in which everyone knows english somehow, but in Moonbase Theta, Out it actually makes sense. 

However, english is not the only language spoken in Moonbase Theta Out, within the constraints of the audio medium (in which subtitles are not possible, and the only way translations can be provided is through transcripts) the podcast manage to include portuguese, french, arabic (don’t ask me which dialect) and even some few words in spanish and bengali. The reason for this linguistic diversity? Because Moonbase, even amidst the cyberpunk hellscape, wants to show a future that is blooming with diversity and love. 

In a small mini-episode showcasing the poems used in the show, writer D.J. Sylvis talks about how poetry is the connecting vehicle between our main-lead Roger Brigado-Fisher and his husband, Alexandre Brigado-Fisher (their relationship also works to tie the events that happen in the moon and earth). I want to extend this sentiment, and argue that language is the way in which several characters expressed their unique relationship.

Alexandre, for example, is Brazilian (go my latin boy!) and a native Portuguese speaker, Roger on the other hand is not but has learned the language, however when he takes a job for the Consortium he is asked to only speak english. His job causes a rift between him and his husband which ends up in a fight, when Alexandre slips into Portuguese, Roger tries to do the same but ends up forgetting the words; just another example of how their relationship is deteriorating because of the corporate overlords.

Then we have Michelle and his sister Maria, both French. They have had a very rough life that led them to security jobs for the Consortium and said jobs have led them apart.

Michelle tries to establish contact with her while knowing that everything he says would be listened to by his boss (and his enemy Roger). He slips into French when in distress, and the only one to calm them is another French speaker, her sister. 

There’s also this very short moment in which Dr. Ashwini Ray has made a friend ze didn’t expect to make and can’t do anything about it because ze is going to the moon in just a few days with hopes of never came back, so ze says a few works in Bangla that ze knows hir friend, Jen Ponton, won’t be able to understand but that anyways, is a subtle way to express hir love for her.

Moonbase Theta Out is far from the only multilingual podcast out there (see: Desperado, MOONFACE, Hi Nay, Dos After You, Monster Dash and Celestial Blood) and I hope we continue to see more. 

I also want to motivate you, reader, if you speak any other language, to write a story with it. The best way to help a tongue live is through the beauty of literature, afterall.

[doodle-pops]

Ecthelion Confessing to Reader

Requests: 😅 I hope you’re not overburdened with requests at this time but if I could slip one in: Headcanons for Ecthelion Confessing to reader? - anon

A/N: Hope you like it anon. I recommend listening to Stephen Sanchez 'Until I Found You' since I pulled some lines for the confession from there. It's a beautiful song and I think it suits Ecthelion.

- Our stern Lord has watched you from afar and has fallen madly in love with you through your interactions and talks.

- He can’t help but suffer sweaty palms and broken speech patterns every time he conversed. He knew if he kept up his nervous behaviour you would either think two things of him.

- Either he’s a weird person – the last thought he wants you to imagine – or he’s in love with you, which wasn’t a bad thought.

- Ecthelion wanting to finally approach you and confess his heart out would not happen on the first go because of his nervousness.

- Every time the moment arises for the conversation to drift to topics of love and relationship, something always interrupts the both of you.

- As frustrated as he’ll be, he’ll also thank Eru for the interruption because Ecthelion was still a nervous wreck and wasn’t sure if he would get his words outright.

- Glorfindel and Egalmoth would tease him for being slow on the matter.

- “My friend, should you continue to take this long, I fear someone else may steal their heart. Perhaps one of us..."

- Only they alone know why they would tell him that, because poor Ecthelion almost suffered a stroke and punched them.

- Though, it was all Ecthelion needed to gain a boost of confidence to confess. The thought of someone else stealing you from him when he hadn’t the chance to confess his love for you, never.

- During his preparation period, Ecthelion would ensure that he had practised his speech and attempted to reduce his nervous appearance around you.

- He would be stuck trying to decide whether to confess through a song, a poem or just speak from his heart freely.

- Knowing that he's not the grandiose type person, the last thing he wants to do is pick an option and embarrass himself as well in the process.

- Going for the simplest and the most secure option, he'll stick to speaking from his heart freely.

- Being the simple person he was, a walk through his private gardens where his fountains were located would be orchestrated.

- Arms linked in the crook of each other’s elbows, Ecthelion would keep his voice low, so you don’t recognize the shakiness in it. Walking you over to the grand fountain, he would finally get the opportunity to have his conversation drift to relationships and love.

- At this point, you probably believe that he's about to announce that he's leaving for war or something. From his stiffness to the fidgeting, or the way his eyes held fixed to the ground.

- Standing before the fountain, Ecthelion would take deep breaths before taking your hands into his and looking into your eyes.

- Ecthelion has a way with words that would make his confession become poetic. It makes you melt when he expressed his undying love.

- “I never thought that I would ever fall in love until I met you. You brought light into my life and showed me how beautiful the world was...and now, I loved to make you a part of mine. Will you do me the honour of letting me court you?”

- His confession would make you melt and be grateful that you found the right person.

- Surprised and happy that he wasn't about to tell you he's leaving for war, you would be touched by his declaration of love.

- Nodding your head and blurting your response, Ecthelion would not hesitate to pull you in for a hug, followed by a request to have your first kiss.

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @givemaedhrosahug

If anyone wants to be tagged, click the link or request in the ask.

[notyour-valentine]

Being Lizzie's lesbian lover ~ Lizzie Stark Headcanon

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Notes: This is part 2 to this request

Warning: Sexual content, mention of past sexual assault (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

You two meet when she is already married to Tommy for a significant amount of time

Unlike her, you are born into this life and so it comes natural to you. Like her, you are also married and in a rather traditional marriage, although traditional in the sense that you and your husband had had the much desired ‘heir’, the insuring ‘spare’ and a third child for good measure, during which he, as a gentleman had been true to you.

But when you informed him that you were done having children, you decided to move on, after all, you had never been in love in that way, but had decided to build your marriage on friendship, and the fact that everyone on both sides were incredibly happy about it so now you just added honesty to the mix. He was free to do what he liked with whom he liked and so were you.

Of course, your husband was a little concerned about unfortunate consequences on your part at first, but when you informed him that that was not something he ought to concern himself with, he had scoffed, smiled and only said “How very Greek of you”. From then on your marriage was built on honesty, friendship, companionship, devotion to your children and the kind of love that wrapped itself in and around two people, tying them together but didn’t extend to the bedroom. It was perfect. 

~

Together you navigated the social and political dance floor with ease, and in truth your marriage was better than most others that had started in infatuation, including the one of Mr and Mrs Shelby. 

Business brought your husbands together, and convenience to two of you. In truth, while admiring Lizzie’s beauty, you approached her because you pitied her. She was a fish out of water if ever you saw one and even though she was the elder, you decided to take her under your wing under the guise of playdates between your three and her two. It took her a long while for her to trust you and you find out the reason why when you make a visit to one of the charities she supported, one that helped women who had ‘fallen into hardships’, as your mother would say, although most others would use far less flowery terms. 

It is only then, after one of the women being helped recognised Lizzie from her old life, that she decides to tell you. You can’t lie, it is a shock, and you do need to have a rather strong cup of tea to calm your nerves but after a sleepless night of thinking everything through, you arrive with the children to the next playdate, finding an utterly shocked Lizzie, who had fully expected you to turn on her. When she tells you that even her husband weaponises her past in moments of rage, you want to strangle him, after all, there wouldn’t need to be sellers if there wouldn’t be buyers. It is that silent strength and resilience that attracts you to her, and the fact that she had refused to let her past make her into a hard and vengeful woman. It makes you admire and want to protect her even more. 

It is not too long later when she catches you with another lover at a weekend retreat when she wanted to return some gloves she had borrowed (having mixed up the proper attire). Now it was you who expected judgement, but instead you get a lot of questions, almost childlike, but not about the physicality of things, rather about the emotional side, and about genuine attraction to women and so you give her a stack of books, Poems by Sappho, Emily Dickinson, and even some works by Charlotte Brontë

Before long she is not content with just reading and wants to try it out for herself and she finds that female pleasure is a whole different thing when it is not demanded by a male customer. 

For that, you invite her on a holiday to a villa your father in law had bought you and your husband after the birth of your second child. You husband hated France and despised the French, so it was practically your own unless lent out to friends, like F. Scott Fitzgerald, Vita Sackville-West or Viginia Woolf. You spend a two week holiday there which is more than enough time to try out all sorts of things. And you two return at least twice a year. 

The first few weeks of your affair, you are the more guiding partner, but bit by bit Lizzie starts to gain confidence and enjoyment from taking the lead in your bedroom activities

She is incredibly good in bed and can make you melt with just a few touches, even if they seem benign and meaningless. She is also a very, very giving person, but she also derives a lot of pleasure from having control, something she has never had in any physical relationships before that. And you don’t mind giving her that, not when you know the amount of pleasure you will get from it and from knowing how much she likes it

Lizzie enjoys watching your every reaction and eye- contact, especially when you try (and more than often fail) to hold it. She loves knowing what kind of effect she has on you, both in private and in public. She will pull you aside during dinner parties, charity events and the like, just to make a point and leave you hanging. But she would always make sure it would be worth your while in the end. 

There would also be presents (with the money taken from Tommy’s account) day clothes but also expensive Parisian lingerie, sometimes with personalised lace that has her initials in it, but also jewellery, mainly necklaces, or a personalised bracelet which has a tiny lock so only she could take it off. There is also a kind of jewellery which can be worn under clothes, which you didn’t even know existed. It is often the last thing you will be wearing after some fancy event that ended with you and Lizzie in one bed. 

She would never hurt you, neither emotionally nor physically, even though some people do derive pleasure from pain - not in any way, but after a while in your relationship she does like to push your limits with sensory play and deprivation, restricted movement and overstimulation. While a bit of bondage and blindfolds are a go for you, they are hard nos for Lizzie. Situations in which she feels like she is feeling restricted in any way bring back too many bad memories. 

~

Lizzie is the absolute Queen of aftercare, like you never could have imagined, warm baths with scented oils, where she would get in with you, wash you, massage your tired limbs and take the time to wash your hair and comb it dry, even if you are dozing off during jt. She will make sure to keep you hydrated (on something other than the expensive champagne). 

That level of care had been unknown even to you, and so you try to return it in any way you can, with or without the connection to sex. Sometimes you will just talk, or you will read to her all night long. Sometimes she just needs a shoulder to cry on or someone to hold her who won’t put out demands or ask questions. 

The realisation that you love her is bittersweet- in a way, you are happy together, but you can’t really be together. Not in that way. 

Whenever things went bad with Tommy, she would come to you. You know she can’t leave him, not legally and not emotionally either, which makes you hate the man even more. Every pain he inflicted on her, every betrayal cuts twice as deep and unlike Lizzie, you refuse to forgive. She told you everything, about his affairs, about the way he treated her as his employee, and before that. You know about the nights he used her to sooth his grief, and about the day he used her as bait. You know, and the only reason for you not going through with that terrible, though thoroughly planned accident, is that Lizzie still cares for him, and that he is the father of her child. But in your eyes, she would make a far better widow than a wife. 

Your own husband knew of your liaison fairly early on, and he doesn’t mind as it fits perfectly in the framework of your arrangement (and because there would never be consequences in form of other children). He also rather likes Lizzie, as she is a very polite and apolitical person, unlike some of your former lovers who had been far more scandalous and out there than she was and he had his own ever changing affairs. He is not at all opposed to seeing her at the dinner table or in your bed (although by now he had probably forgotten where your bedroom even was) and didn’t mind Lizzie and her children joining you and your on holidays together. 

You don’t know exactly when Tommy finds out, but you do notice dark glares and glances coming from him, not that you would ever care what he thinks. He may be Lizzie’s husband, but you are her lover. You can’t get rid of him, but he can’t get rid of you either. She chose him once upon a time, but she chooses you time and time again. 

Thank you for requesting and participating in my celebration - I hope you liked what I wrote.

Thank you everyone for reading and as always, I hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your thoughts!

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@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight  @lilyevanswhore  @polishcrazyone  @zablife  @just-a-harmless-patato  @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend