#if I ever speak like this... may the earth strike me AT THAT MOMENT

[thrill-seeker-if]

I went into a cafe today with some friends, and there were these two guys sitting with these two girls. One of the guys I've seen before, and he's totally obnoxious. I did NOT expect him to be a crypto alpha male bro but I should've.

After a long rant about how NFTs were the future, i just heard this man say 'Money talks... I translate." Followed by an awkward silence from his friends.

genuinely. why do you live like this.

[throwaway-yandere]

Worksheets (Yandere!Alhaitham/Reader)

A/n: What's this, Ansy? Planning on two Alhaitham fics??? Are you not loyal to Dain or Ayat– Speak not, my comrade. Don't tell me that the new Archon Quest wasn't delectable lmao. Also, today was the first time I got a tip, and I??? I've never known happiness quite like that. I'm crying. I will remember you forever, "mommy milkers", I'll dedicate this fic to you ;;-;; (I'm pretty sure I know who you are "*chomp* *chomp*" but that name is entertaining lmao.) On another note, kinda loved how this fic turned out and this is prolly the closest thing I'll ever write to a "lime" lmao.

Unreliable Synopsis: (Student!Alhaitham era) Studying 20 languages is quite an exhausting task. It's a great thing Alhaitham is eager to help his "study buddy".

Cw: yandere themes, implied drugging and non/dubcon. Please don't read this if you're sensitive to the content mentioned. Your mental health matters.

—--------

Alhaitham, like you, is not the type to strike up an amusing discussion while he has a book in his hands. So he laid down his book and decided to take yours as well.

As Akademiya students, you are both bound by a single, exhausting clearance requirement: master 20 languages before graduation. So far, you think you're passable at best on writing romanized Inazuman script and laughable at worst on pronouncing proper Liyue intonations. You can already count yourself as one of the many students that won't see the light of employment next year, but Alhaitham won't let you sulk so readily.

"Time's up. You're done, right?"

He slid the textbook off the table and began flipping through your work.

You didn't reply. Instead, you felt the weight of your head on both palms. It's not that you're unable to reply. You just don't want to admit how illiterate you are in foreign linguistics.

"(Y/n), look at me when I'm speaking."

"I accept my fate." You muttered, soundly defeated. And then, you let yourself rest on the table. "Here lies (Y/n) (L/n). May they finally learn how to pronounce 印 properly in the afterlife."

Alhaitham rolled his eyes.

"Should I help send you off to Aaru Village? Want a proper goodbye from your old study buddy?"

"That would be quite nice, yes."

"Sure. I'll be happy to do that." He stopped flipping through the pages and focused all his attention on you. "If you started acting hysterical and destructive. But you're not. You're just miserable and reserved."

"Thanks for that wonderful assessment, Professor Alhaitham. I'm sure studying neurophilosophy helped you come up with that conclusion. Oh, your brilliance never ceases to surprise me!"

Alhaitham chuckled. His chuckles are almost always short-lived and 100% condescending. 

"(Y/n), language is simply not your forte. But you do wonders in mathematics since we are almost on the same level."

You glared, finally meeting his gaze.

"Must you always brag about yourself whenever you try to cheer me up?"

"Hmm?"

"Lord Kusanali– don't tell me you haven't noticed that about yourself…"

He lightly smacked your head with your textbook. You winced, exaggerating your pain.

"Our conversation isn't about me, it's you. Now, enlighten me, how on earth did you manage to mistake Snezhnayan scripts in a Liyue assignment?"

"E-Eh?!"

You snatched your book back.

"Holy shit. You're right."

You may not like beer, the first time you drank one it tasted funny, but at that moment you decided that once exams are over you're going to get completely inebriated.

Alhaitham watched you reread your work and fondly memorized the way your eyebrows knitted and your eyes skimming through the pages. Your fingers gripped that book as if your life depended on it. That might as well be true knowing your passion for your degree, but he simply wished you will spare part of that zeal for him.

He used to study alone until you showed up. Freshman year was brutal and unkind, but when you insisted on becoming his partner the world had taken on a vibrant hue. Alhaitham never asked for a partner, but your proposal was enticing that he had to say yes. He lied and said he merely wanted to see where this would lead him before, but now he is proud to say he did not regret that decision. It's a shame that your persuasive techniques do not work well with complex Liyue scripts, if they did you would've aced these tests.

"Ugghhh... I hope I get buried raw so I wouldn't have to worry about funeral expenses too..."

Alhaitham did not mind that he's helping you work on your quote-unquote "bane of existence." Students at the Akademiya sometimes fear group work, but he's not one of them. He hopes for one in each subject should it entail that you'll be beside him. Should the assignment be on a frost-prickling mountain, he still wouldn't hesitate to tag along if it meant sharing his cloak and warmth with you. Alhaitham doubts he cares about any other factors. As a friend and intellectual collaborator, you've become irreplaceable.

That's why he won't let you fall behind.

"Chin up." He patted your head like you would a cat. 

"H-Huh?"

"I said chin up," Alhaitham spoke, uncharacteristically soft. "I'll be right here beside you until we graduate."

You smiled, not at all comforted but grateful for the gesture. You sat up straight. "Thanks, Haitham."

When given the option to either comfort or critique, Alhaitham doesn't hesitate to choose the latter. This small moment made you happy. Back then, he used to be rather cold and skilled at getting you off his life. You subconsciously began to grin. Your friend Lisa was right, he softens when he's with you–

"Which is why I'll be sending you additional practice sheets for you to work on," Alhaitham added bluntly, his words dropping like a hammer. "I'm not letting you play games until you perfect writing these scripts."

Your eyes stared coldly back at him.

Nevermind. Forget it. He's the same as he had always been.

"Way to ruin the moment, Future Grand Scribe."

—----

Three days have passed and it's the last day of your dreaded linguistics exams.

Well, that sounds more significant than what it is. It's the last day of ALHAITHAM'S MOCK EXAMS, which is what it actually is, but you can't help but feel nervous as you would in a real graded performance. He takes practice exercises and their punishments very seriously. Last time was just a surprise quiz, so the intensity differed greatly.

Alhaitham took a seat at an adjacent table. He was amusingly dressed in a pair of glasses and an Akademiya professor uniform. You'd mock him for believing in you when you claimed you wanted the exam to be as immersive as possible, but his execution is far too effective for your liking. For crying out loud, he even received the alchemy professor's signed permission to borrow his room!

"For your last test, you need to translate this Liyue text back to Sumeru scripts. I'll give you… 30 minutes for this." He said, adjusting his timer. 

Alhaitham cast a sidelong glance at you, pretending not to see your apprehension. His fingers lingered over the reset and split buttons.

"Are you ready?" 

You felt your palms beginning to sweat.

"S-Sure."

He didn't care what your answer was– no professor would ever wait for a student. Alhaitham flipped the test paper to its front page.

"Timer starts now."

Nervously, you picked up your pen and paper and started reading. Alhaitham left the timer on top of the table and went back to drinking his cup.

Alright, here we go.

Decoding it was simple, at first. The start felt like a canned script for a traditional romantic light novel. You translated the messages back to your native tongue. Then, things started to become a bit complicated.

'I've decided to be entirely honest and truthful in this letter, so I'll start from the very beginning. I used to despise you.'

Your nose scrunched, amused. What an introduction. You pointed your pen in his direction.

"Is our friendship over, Haitham?"

He glared. "Quit talking. 29 minutes and 38 seconds–"

"Alright, alright. Geez."

'But you were so relentless that I couldn't help but cave in. Who wouldn't? You're personable and you share my beliefs about research autonomy. It's difficult to find someone who is an expert at both. You'd know that best.'

'It's pitiful that I can't handle the notion of losing you once this is finished.  Many people do not consider me to be empathic and they frequently misinterpret my lack of emotional expression as a lack of empathy. But you've always been so accepting of me.'

'It's a shame that you left me when morning came. I've never felt solitude quite like that wake-up call.'

You grimaced as you continued to read the rest of the paragraphs. Whoever wrote this must be seriously lovelorn and obsessed because they wrote as if they've hopelessly known that their affections will remain unreciprocated beyond half a decade. 

The author went on to describe how they had watched their beloved enjoy their life blissfully ignorant of the misery they had caused him. Given that Alhaitham creates everything by hand, the stark contrast between the material and his precise letterings does nothing to express the writer's frantic confession.

'I can't get the thought of you out of my mind. It's exhilarating. I've never been this stimulated before I met you.'

'I need you, even after our partnership is over.'

You can't get over how, in Alhaitham's fine handwriting, the author gradually spiraled from unrequited love to an obsession that can't be helped.

'You have qualities that no one else possesses. Traits that I want in a lifelong companion. You taught me things I didn't know I wanted for myself. And you are on top of that list.'

'As you're probably aware, you do have a guardian angel. I sometimes answer your assignments for you. Every morning, I pay for your coffee and leave sticky notes in case you overlook your deadlines. These are all unpaid acts of kindness, but they make me feel like I'm laying a better foundation for a relationship with you.'

'I admit, I don't mind following you around like an affectionate dog every now and then. Your schedule is predictable. You even handed me a duplicate with your new phone number on it. It's both pleasant and difficult for me to watch you from a distance, but what else can I do? Everyone knows I'm rather socially inept for this to play out as smoothly as I'd hope so I had to stoop to this method.'

'At least I learned not to break doors this time."

'Once we both graduate, I might not be able to see you again in my life. We will no longer work together as much as we did before. I wouldn't be able to see you laugh or make excuses just to touch you. I like being near you. Even if you consider me as a one-night stand. Even if you consider me as your biggest mistake.'

You looked at Alhaitham with a face that ridiculed his choice of picking this creepy excerpt. He didn't so much as move and continued sitting at the table, staring at you robotically calm.

You hope this Liyue person has already been apprehended by the Millelith.

You resumed deciphering after deciding to trust whatever bizarre letter Alhaitham had assigned to you. You were beginning to feel sorry for the person Alhaitham obtained the love letter from and its intended recipient... You wouldn't be astonished if Alhaitham pulled this letter from the hands of a mad scholar and deemed it a worthy linguistics exercise.

'You're mine and you will learn to love me. I've already decided on that.'

'I'm sure that declaration is bound to scare you, but I genuinely meant it. I can understand if you react violently. I wouldn't hate you if you tried to contact the authorities, but just know that eremites are useless against me.'

You scowled. Perhaps your study companion wanted you to be wholly aware that translating is not an easy task. If so, you're impressed by his dedication. You'd never read a letter like this again.

Then it got worse.

'That's why I need to take control again.'

'I need you to open your eyes– I need you to know that without me, you cannot survive in a world beyond academics.'

'You need me just as much as I need you, too.'

'So when will you invite me back to Dorm 569?'

You stopped reading and you felt the clip of your pen snap. 

Slowly, you turned the paper to its back. Your eyes were glued to the table, unable to look at your study partner's face.

"Alhaitham…" You laughed sheepishly. "Do… Do you have to go above and beyond writing such a… personal sounding example? You know, the Akademiya doesn't allow plagiarism—especially when it's a creepy love letter."

Being batch-mates with Alhaitham, you're well aware of his eccentricities. And being batch-mates with you helps him pretend that there's nothing creepy about knowing a few minor details too.

But this is… is not one of them.

Alhaitham placed his mug down and began to peek through your worksheets behind you.

"Five minutes left, I'm guessing you're on the last paragraph?" He spoke as if your concerns were nonexistent.

"Of course I'm on the damn last paragraph!!!"

You immediately covered your mouth, looking around the room if you had disturbed others, before being staunchly reminded that you are alone. With him.

It's like reading a horror story at home alone on the weekends. The setting is safe, you trust Alhaitham, but your heart is restless.

Dorm 569. 

It's your dorm number but it's not an innocent suggestion if– when it comes from him. The implication was sinister and cruel. There is a historical context that vastly changes the flow of this conversation. A context that you don't want to address plainly.

"This is just a joke, right?" You gulped dryly. Despite your treacherous nerves, you made a joke. "You're not stalking me, are you?"

He raised an eyebrow.

Alhaitham steadily reduced the gap between you two by holding your chair with both hands. Before you could realize it, he had already closed off all means of escape. You felt his breathing brush against you. Every inch of your body begged for a sprint as his green-orange eyes peered through your soul, calculating as they had always been.

You need to leave.

"You're going to brush off the rest of what you've read and focus on such a minor detail? You're not going to ask if I have feelings for you like a normal person?"

His breath smelled like coffee.

"I would if this fucking letter sounded anywhere close to normal!" You yell-whispered.

You combed your hair back with your fingers, feeling your entire body shaken by his implied agreement. 

"Shit, Alhaitham… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell your ears out– I'm just a bit…" You laughed, sinking your weight on the chair's cross rail but he inched closer, maintaining the distance you had before. "Moved? I'm so bad at vocab, is that the word? Yeah, moved by that love letter, I suppose."

"Don't be sarcastic. You're frightened."

You scoffed.

"D-Duh, making jokes is a coping mechanism. Something you wouldn't relate to, I know."

He didn't move from his position.

You breathed in sharply. "What?"

"You still haven't asked."

"Asked what?"

"If I like you romantically."

"W-Well, you still haven't answered me either."

"Answered what?"

"... Is it true? Are you stalking me?"

He did not hesitate to answer. "In a sense, yes."

What…?

Your stomach flipped at his nonchalant reply. He tilted your chin up. The short distance between you two began to diminish as you felt Alhaitham's hair against your cheek.

"How else would I know your dorm number if I didn't, right?"

You slapped his hand away. "You know what I meant. This isn't funny at all. Please answer me seriously."

"I thought you think of me as a guardian angel. You wanted the truth and I gave you my thoughts." Alhaitham pressed. 

You don't want to believe it.

You don't want to acknowledge that it was someone you trusted who forced you to bed.

"I am stalking you. Tell me– who else would've fucked you senseless that night? Go on, tell me, (Y/n)."

But you knew deep down that it was him.

You shoved him off, but he was stronger than you are. You've seen him in action, he did not lie when fighting eremites are child's play to him. You're his study partner, and you, unfortunately, know him best as he stated in that letter.

Dorm 569. That night was a blur and you've changed rooms since then. Another student, Soraya, began living in your old room. You couldn't bear to visit and see how the freshman was doing. 

You never actively seek parties, and Alhaitham was the same. But one night, you both decided to finally experience the infamous "college life" by attending one. Your brain refused to unfold everything that transpired. Pieces of your conversations occasionally resurface, but they're all mundane yet bitter. Retracing your steps had a major discrepancy from drinking beer to waking up in your dorm with a broken door.

Nothing explained why your study partner was naked beside you, lovingly caressing your hair.

"Were you fantasizing about another man? One of our seniors, perhaps? Are you one of those people who get off on unbalanced relationship dynamics?" 

There was no explanation as to why you woke up screaming. 

And there were no words spoken about it the next time you bumped into each other.

He never mentioned it again.

And you foolishly thought that was the end of it.

"S-Stop…"

"If not our old seniors…  Was it our Ethics professor?"

Your heart dropped.

Alhaitham laughed. His usually calm green-orange eyes that soothed you swirled with what you assumed was jealousy and self-loathing. Two emotions you have not seen before, or at least, did not acknowledge.

You both knew you were scared to face reality. But he doesn't want to play these mind games any longer. Alhaitham already decided on it. You will recall everything. 

His grip on your chin tightened. 

"It's him, correct? I won't forget the way you moaned 'Sir' when I pulled your hair. If I wasn't confident, I wouldn't be wearing this stupid pair of glasses and uniform just to woo you."

You could no longer speak. Alhaitham took it as permission to do anything he wants with you. Just like that night.

His lengthy fingers pinched your inner thigh.

"Then again, I don't think I can keep acting like him. Spiking a drink would be in his list of unforgivable actions I'm sure."

You trembled.

"Still won't answer, (Y/n)? Or would you prefer I call you Mx. (L/n)?"

Alhaitham scoffed, grinning.

"You don't have to answer. We have the classroom all to ourselves to test that hypothesis."

[yujo-nishimura]

Red Hair or Red Nose? - Part 4

You guys are all amazing; thank you for reading and therefore motivating me to continue writing. This all starts off very slow, but I enjoy the tension between the characters and the slow development of this triangle... Part 5 coming tomorrow!

Feeling overwhelmed by the dominating presence of both Shanks and Buggy and their brainless masculinity, you instinctively attempt to break free from their grasp. Sensing your resistance, Shanks swiftly releases his hold on you, recognizing your denial. However, Buggy, less attuned to your boundaries, continues to hold onto your face, his grip remaining firm.

“You are both quite annoying. Nothing has changed. Me leaving the ship had no impact on both of you!”, you assert, directing your words squarely at Buggy while a laugh escapes your lips.

Shanks joins in with laughter, and as the sound fills the air, a moment of realization dawns upon Buggy. For a moment his clown face is frozen in shock. The signs of recognition and understanding become evident.

“Y/N!” he exclaims, immediately letting go of your face, detaching his body parts in surprise again. Shanks continues to laugh uncontrollably, clutching onto his glass and ordering three more drinks from the perplexed bartender, not following the communication at all. 

“Y/N! It is really you! Oh my god, why didn't you tell me, Shanks, you bastard?”

“How could you not realize, Buggy?” 

"But Y/N... you've grown so much!" Buggy exclaims, his gaze lingering on your chest, causing you to blush in embarrassment. Reacting swiftly to his inappropriate comment, you slap him across the face, much to Shanks' amusement, enjoying himself to the fullest.

"Just because I am a woman doesn't make me any less of a strong pirate captain compared to the two of you!" you exclaim, your words laced with determination and a hint of frustration. Memories of the past resurface, reminding you of the gender-based assignments you were often given aboard Gold D. Roger's ship, where cleaning and cooking tasks were expected of you. However, you refuse to let men judge your strength and power based on your appearance. You have a loyal crew, you've made it to the Grand Line, and your gender will not hinder you from competing with these renowned captains seated beside you. Especially if one of them was just a pervy clown!

Shanks, who finally has stopped laughing and already consumed a considerable amount of  Whiskey in a short span of time, speaks now in his usual calm manner: 

 “I am so glad to see you again, Y/N. And you appear like you have made remarkable progress.. I never doubted your potential, but I couldn't help but worry about you, venturing out there all on your own.”

"I have a crew," you retort firmly, your voice brimming with conviction. "We are a team of five at this point!"

Now it is Buggy who erupts into laughter at your response, his amusement echoing in the air. 

"Five people?" That's even fewer than that damned Straw Hat crew! How on earth are you still alive, sweetheart?" he jeers, his words stinging deep within you, striking a chord of defeat.

Yes, it was true that not many were willing to follow a female captain, and five may not have been a large number. But you had just embarked on your journey, and you were grateful for the loyal men who stood by your side.

The effects of the alcohol, combined with the emotional sting of Buggy's comment, overwhelmed you. Without uttering another word, you rose from your seat, determined to put an end to their childish behavior. You are fed up.  You've moved on from the past, and it's time they understood that.

As you turn towards the door, a sudden touch on your wrist startles you. Buggy's detached hand firmly grasps your wrist, refusing to let you go.

"I am sorry..." Buggy's apology sounds strained, his voice carrying a scratch of regret. 

As you turn around, you witness Shanks holding his sword, pointing it directly at Buggy. Shanks, ever the voice of reason, has stepped in to maintain control over Buggy's volatile temper. He does not want you to leave. 

“He is sorry. And so am I. Have one more drink with us and tell us about your adventures, Y/N!”

With a sigh, you come around and slowly return to your seat. The calm and rational demeanor of Shanks has once again persuaded you to reconsider your decision to leave. 

As the evening progresses into the late hours, the effects of the alcohol intensify, and the atmosphere grows increasingly noisy and lively. The three of you become intoxicated, with Shanks proving to be the most resilient drinker among the group. The pub is filled with laughter and animated storytelling. In this state, the barriers between you begin to dissolve, allowing the bonds of the friendship you shared since childhood to be rekindled.

As the clock approaches 3 am, the three of you finally stumble out of the pub. The tired barkeeper, happy about all the money you spent on his place, but exhausted by your laughter and singing, kicks you finally out. 

In a state of lightheartedness, Shanks, Buggy and you begin to sing sea shanties, filling the air with cheerful and drunken melodies as you make your way back to the harbor. To maintain balance and out of affection, you hold onto each other tightly, ensuring that no one stumbles. You feel wonderful. You had missed these two men in your life and you realize this now in your drunken state more than ever. Why did you leave them in the first place? The love and affection you feel for them seems endless at this moment, you remember you have always felt for them like this but now it mixes with a feeling of excitement since these two strong handsome men are holding you in their midst. What a bliss!

Shanks, making sure to walk slowly, holding you tightly and steadily, his shoulder gently pressing against yours. 

Meanwhile, Buggy's hands rest around your hips, his touch radiating heat and conveying a sense of intimacy and desire that contrasts with Shanks' more gentle demeanor. The combination of their touches leaves you feeling lightheaded, overwhelmed with a mixture of joy and excitement. 

"Hey guys, what if we kissed now?" you chuckle, your gaze shifting between Buggy and Shanks, attempting to decipher their reactions. You do not know, why you actually said that.

Buggy's expression morphs into surprise and his eyes widen, while Shanks, taken aback momentarily, raises an eyebrow with a curious glimmer in his eyes. The air around you becomes charged with an unexpected tension as you wait for their response.

To be continued..

[blue-rose-soul]

Ooo love the devil’s bastard au

In one of your precious posts you mentioned Charlie and Nicaise meeting in heaven and getting to bond. How do you think a meeting like that would go?

They wouldn't know who the other was at first. It's an act of fate (me) that brings them together. I've seen a few different people say that the winners in Heaven don't remember their lives on Earth, but I haven't heard this until recently, and even if Vivienne did say it, I'm hesitant to take Word of God as the absolute truth until it's actually shown in the show proper. Things change in the writing process, you know?

That said, I like the idea so I'm going with it.

As a winner, Nicaise also has some deer-like traits. Her heavenly outfit is all creams and golds, she's got soft doe ears and white speckles across her cheeks, shoulders and arms, as well as a pair of cream-colored wings. Even with the deer traits though, Charlie doesn't make the immediate connection. She's a dark-skinned Creole woman who speaks with a distinct accent from Alastor's, so there's a bit of a disconnect in Charlie's mind.

They probably run into one another while Emily is showing Charlie around, perhaps at the zoo. The winners haven't been informed that they're hosting a guest from Hell because the heavenborn angels don't want to cause a panic or anything, but it becomes clear within a few minutes of conversation that Charlie's different from everyone else in Heaven. How amazed she is by the simplest things. Her sheer awe at the koala. The smell of brimstone that clings to her.

Now, Nicaise knows there's something... off about Heaven. She's known it since she first arrived and she felt like something important had been stolen from her. She just can't put together what that something was. Over the decades, the heavenborn angels have tried to placate her, reassuring that there is nothing missing from her life and that Heaven has everything she'll ever want or need. She calls bullshit. But, realizing she's not going to get anywhere butting heads, she opts to go the more subtle route, seeking out like minded winners and bringing them together. Together, she and her allies have been trying to figure out what the heavenborn are keeping from them, what they lost, but they've hit a lot of walls. Sera is too difficult to approach, and not easy to trick, Emily is just as in the dark as they are, and Adam... Well, Nicaise knows how to deal with repulsive men. But Sera realized pretty quickly what Nicaise was doing and forbid Adam from speaking to her or her cohorts, so that line of investigation was cut short.

Needless to say, Nicaise is thrilled to meet people from outside of Heaven.

She probes Charlie for information and Charlie is plenty happy to talk to someone from Heaven who doesn't seem politely disgusted by her lineage. (Something about Charlie's description of her father strikes a chord in Nicaise. She can't quite solidify the thought.) Emily is surprisingly open to the topic of conversation as well; Sera's never told her any of these things!

Nicaise knows that she must have had a life and a family back on Earth, but it's not until Charlie starts talking about souls passing to Heaven or Hell that she really understands what this means. For just a moment, the veil lifts from her memories. And then they're gone again, like a dream. Charlie, on the other hand, is more than a little peeved that Heaven is actually preventing winners from remembering their own lives. Yes, some of the memories may be painful, but these are their lives! The souls have a right to them, regardless of how painful they were! It's her first hint that Heaven might not be as idyllic as it seems.

Unfortunately, Charlie's meeting with Heaven's higher ups means they don't have as much time together as they would like, nor will they have any way to contact one another once Charlie returns to Hell. But she's left a lasting impact on Nicaise and has an ally in her and Emily both. Emily tells Nicaise everything that happened in the meeting, including the revelation of the exterminations. Nicaise passes this on to her group, who pass it on to more people who pass it on to even more people.

Soon winners all over Heaven are questioning and Sera is panicking. Things get worse for her when Sir Pentious shows up in her office. If she's going to maintain order over Heaven, she needs to find the people responsible for spreading disorder, and get rid of them. Fast.

[genderqueerdykes]

I’ve identified as a man for about 2 or so years and trans for about 5 or so years (previously non-binary for about 3 years while I figured things out). Recently YouTube has been pushing a lot of “I regret transitioning and so will you” and “you’ll regret top surgery” etc. videos to me. While I believed I was pretty stable in my identity, I’m starting to doubt if I’m really trans or if the “gender critical” people are right. I’m currently in the process of getting on T and the idea that I’ll regret it in the future is horrifying, any tips?

Hello there, that's why those types of videos and posts are worded so aggressively- starting their phrasing with "you will" makes you feel a sense of urgency and like you have to take what they say word for word as a fact, as they used "will" and not "may". They are using this verbiage to strike fear and confusion into the hearts of those that see it, not to genuinely try to inform people of a potential mistake they're making. if these videos were framed from a point of concern, they would be titled something like "I regret top surgery, and you might too, here's why" Or something gentle like that. This is 100% for shock value and clickbait. Please keep in mind that everything on YouTube is titled in a shocking and aggressive fashion to try to get you to click.

Those people are more than likely terfs. The fact of the matter is that person regretted top surgery, but they can't speak for every single person who has ever gotten it or has ever wanted to. having the nerve to try to speak for every single person because they experience regret doesn't make them right, it makes them an asshole. their experience does not line up with what the vast majority of people who undergo these surgeries, and while it is important to hear from people who regret these decisions, using aggressive verbiage to strike fear into people's hearts is not the way to go about it. That is an attempt to brainwash

I would say every time you encounter something like that, head to a community like tumblr and browse the top surgery tags and hear from other people who have undergone it. Just because one person feels regret and wants to make other people feel bad for not feeling the same way as them doesn't make them right, it makes them aggressive and hostile.

They are not the protagonist of the post-top surgery community. They do not have the right to dictate how you will feel after surgery. They don't know you. They can't tell you how you will feel through a YouTube video. They are just trying to scare you.

Disregard things like this, they are literally designed to scare you and make you doubt yourself. Whenever you come across things like this, look to other people who have undergone surgery and listen to their stories. See the happy tears in their eyes and listen to the stories of how gender affirming surgeries save lives.

Even if you end up regretting top surgery for whatever reason, it doesn't make you wrong, stupid or bad. You're allowed to make mistakes and be wrong. Every single person on this planet is allowed to make mistakes. It's how we learn. You're allowed to do what you believe is right for yourself in this moment even if you regret it down the line- not a single person on this earth can predict regret, it's a feeling that comes after, not before. Don't let the thought of potential regret hold you back if someone else is telling you you'll regret it. Only listen if that feeling is coming from your own gut first and you have good reason.

Hope that helps. Fuck people who word things like that. It's not worth your time and energy, take care of yourself. You are the one who gets to decide what you feel. Someone else telling you how you will feel will color your perspective and make you see things differently than you would have otherwise. Focus on how you genuinely feel, not what total strangers have to say about someone they don't know just because they want YouTube clicks and ad revenue. They have a massive ulterior motive, and it is not benefiting you or any other viewer. Their motive is profit (and spreading their own anecdotal experience as factual truth). - K

[thewitcheslibrary]

Grounding 101

Grounding and centering are two of the most important things a witch should know, especially because they often work with energy. The purpose of grounding and centering is to stabilise your energy, draw energy from the Earth, and produce a positive state of being.

Your energy reflects your emotions. It's your "vibe", where your mind has strayed, when you get goosebumps, frightened sweats, or happy tears.

I am sure you can feel your vitality if you concentrate hard enough. Unground energy might feel "fluttery": a racing heart, butterflies in the stomach, and stray thoughts. Noticing your energy is the first step towards grounding, and the more you practise it, the better you will get at tuning in.

Your energy is the first line of protection for how you move through the world: do you recall the proverb "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me"? Words have the potential to injure or heal, depending on your energy level. Have you ever felt that someone's words punched you in the gut? They basically pummelling your energies (particularly your solar plexus). Sometimes the punch continues to strike even after the person who delivered it has left. Anyone who follows the news knows this for certain! But it's not only about the "bad" stuff; when we're very excited about something, it may be tough to stay in the moment as we wait.

Even if you don't receive one of those gut-punches, you might sometimes lose your energy. Have you ever felt like you arrived home but your thoughts was still in the grocery store? Grounding your energy in your area can help you set clear limits for who gets your energy and when. It might make you feel comfortable and supported rather than unbound. Grounding may help those who don't have a secure physical spot to call home, as well as anybody dealing through trauma and facing triggers, discover a safe place within themselves while they manage the issue.

How to ground yourself-

Take a deep, deep inhalation through your nostrils and hold for a second. Exhale through your mouth until all of your breath is out. Repeat as many times as necessary to feel present.

Position both feet or hands firmly on the ground and concentrate on the four corners of your palms or soles in succession. Focus on your base to feel as stable as possible.

Take a bath or shower and cleanse yourself from the top down. Focus on sending unnecessary or unbalanced energy down with the water.

Take a few deep breaths while picturing a ball of light at the base of your spine. Use your mental skills to imagine it spinning and spinning, catching any loose energy (like spinning cotton candy into a bundle), and then pushing it down into the earth. For a more in-depth ritual, repeat this process for each of your energy centres, beginning at the top and working your way down.

To anchor yourself in your environment, sprinkle salt on the floor and spend a few seconds visualising it shining with rainbow light, connecting with your own light and bringing down any unwanted energy. Then sweep up the salt and discard it.

Make any activity that needs your focus into a grounding ritual: making coffee, combing your hair, writing, gardening, cooking, or anything else that speaks to your spirit and keeps you in the present now.

Light a candle and focus your attention on the flame. Firegazing has been psychologically proved to help focus your mind and relax your energies. If you're using a scented candle, take deep breathes and enjoy the aroma and warmth.

Hold a grounding crystal or use a grounding essence during any of these tasks to summon extra help. Darker-colored stones tend to be the most grounding, although even rock from outside works (and may even work best).

[maitaiwiththecorpses]

letters to him

Thank you all for voting so much, so without further ado, all five parts of letters to him!

letters to him (natalya)- April 9th, 2024

dear,

dearest,

my dearest,

but not anymore

because you see we can’t seem to stop fighting

it’s like we’re always at war.

it used to be cute back when we were

Love,

Loved,

Loving (?)

of each other

but perhaps it’s just me pushing

all that love down the gutter

i’m a prude and so crude and you can’t seem to make up your mind about me

i piss you off, and damn i’m so off and Miss. Rachiminoff in your shadow

treated like a little sister and despised by all of your misters

‘aggressive, much?’ You asked one noon and I knew in that moment all I was to you,

an exotic little girl who begged for your plastic spoon

the promise of life and death and “fly me to the moon”

and when my heart pumped blood enough to be fuel to our moon

you made me your Monna Vanna and wrote me as a fool

letters to him (sabrina)- April 9th, 2024

little poem little lie

what a beast, ‘Here She Lies’

three time’s the charm

that’s a damn lie

I tried once,

twice,

five thousand times

their screams and cries inside these walls

bounce around like his favorite tennis ball

“NO”

one more time

“NO”

just one more

“NO”

i’m on the floor wishing it would all just stop.

you threaten me after hearing my words

languages i never thought you’d learn

swears that we promised in the dead of the night would never spurn from your mouth to mine

on the ground, in the air, right in front of us to plead with sighs

you to took my image and ground me to the core

and now all that’s left is some numbskulled-whore

letters to him (olivia)- April 10th, 2024

Rageful women never get far

darling, maybe that was our destined start

Me, to rule with a crown full of tears and a head full of hope

You, to strike me down with all of my fears and the promise of a tantalizing grown man

someone to come home

but

Teenage girls never get far

and baby, that’s what’s been wrong from the start

You, expecting perfect

Me, thinking it too

i wish i could come home

but

After everything I said to you?

letters to him (taylor)- April 10th, 2024

Speak the words that nobody else does

I wonder how long these words were unsaid

Passive belonging and talk of my talent

You never believed it till I softly said,

“Come for me at the dusk and the dawn,

Where the daylight bends and the rivers are gone

How come women are weak when it’s time to move on?

Every regret has its own mournful song”

And to keep in the light from this shadowed world

I decided no regrets are spared on men with subpar clothes

Maybe a king would have mercy, or even a queen

But a goddess primordial no man has ever seen.

letters to him (lizzie)- April 10th, 2024

It takes time to put aside

Every painful boy

Till one comes up and says “that’s love” with a shrug and a mournful smile

He reminded me of nebulas

And galaxies

And stars that were tested with time

At this point most people think the list is over, but I've only just described his eyes

It’s like the sun found a boy and said,

“you will walk my earth,

and with that blessing,

may your very heart

be that of Hestia’s hearth”

And then they pulled him from fiction, and put him in the rain

Those eyes of galaxies and stars that could never know such pain.

He waited patiently till monster turned friend,

And when found by a hunter, he predicted their crooked end.

I know when I get too dark I should avoid his gaze

But for him, I’d waste every birthday wish, loose eyelash, and every single star

And if he doesn’t want my stars and wishes, like the ones in his eyes,

I’ll pack up my letters

And kiss him goodbye

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Elain Meets Another Seer

A snippet from Chapter 16

An ancient, High Fae female prowled across the space like a lioness.

Straight backed, chin high, in a billowing velvet burgundy gown inlaid with gold accents. Her skin was a rich brown, black hair twisted neatly high on the back of her head. Her eyes were sharp and cunning and otherworldly, all at once. The color of lightened amber. Refined, telltale signs of aging were set in her striking features, and a few regal grey streaks in her hair. A timeless beauty, nevertheless.

The Oracle, at long last.

She carried herself with the authority of someone who outlived all in this room.

Tamlin straightened as she approached and began,

“Lady Dio-”

“Hush, boy.”

The Oracle tapped her cane on the tile, coming to a stop before the eyes of the High Court.

Tamlin balked. Everyone in the room winced. Except for Azriel, perhaps, his shadows peaking curiously at the Oracle, his face an unreadable mask.

Dione cleared her throat to continue.

“I did not break a streak of a thousand years atop the highest bloody mountain in Prythian to place niceties with a wounded beast,” she stood tall, giving him an unflinching assessment. Her amber eyes flickered to Lucien then, who was opening his mouth to speak, ever the diplomat.

“Nor to have my ear quickened by a silver-tongued fox.” Lucien closed his mouth hastily.

“Nor to flit among the flowers of Spring, however lovely they may be.” she said, surveying the rest of the room with a bored look.

Tamlin, to Elain’s amazement, remained very quiet and utterly still. As if, despite being a High Lord, he recognized that the female before him outlived by hundreds of years. Elain’s gaze was transfixed upon the Oracle, unable to look away.

“You know what I seek in these lands” she said, her voice low.

“To look upon she who might walk the Ether in my stead.”

And time stilled as Dione’s gaze left the High Lord’s and shifted directly to Elain’s wide, chestnut gaze.

No one in the room seemed to be breathing. Time no longer seemed to exist as the two Seers beheld one another.

Something in Elain snapped like whip, opening a wide eye as met eyes with Dione. Such a feeling she hadn’t recalled since the days of the Cauldron.

Like calls to Like

It whispered through the Void.

Elain heard the call.

And judging by the cunning smile blooming on Dione’s sharp features, she did too.

A staggering recognition, a jolt directly to her heart. Elain felt a spark of knowing rip through the walls of her own power as she held the Oracle’s gaze.

I see you

The spark whispered,

I am of you, and you are of me.

Elain stopped breathing, wide eyed, unable to look away.

She stepped forward slowly, in a trance, and then remembered herself, and dipped into a deep and flawless curtsy.

“I am Elain.” she said simply. “I am so very grateful to meet you.”

Dione raised her chin at Elain.

“Come closer, child.” she said, holding her gaze. Elain cautiously stepped forward. A hum sounded in the air. The entire room seemed to feel it.

“Yes,” she said, looking deep into Elain’s eyes. Her own rich amber gaze glinted with something knowing, and ancient, and not entirely of this earth.

“A trembling fawn, they told me.” she smiled, her eyes otherworldly. “And a great beauty as well.”

Elain swallowed, not letting her own gaze falter.

“I see one of those things rings true.”

Elain did not have to venture a guess at which one was false.

“I watched you enter this world, child.” Dione said, her voice from another realm. “I watched the days you spent toiling under the sun in human skin.”

“I watched the Cauldron swallow you into hell itself.”

“I felt the kernel of Sight it gifted you as it spat you into this realm” she peered into Elain’s eyes, “and I knew it would lead you to me.”

Elain took a deep breath in, nodding once.

“A trembling fawn, they said,” Dione repeated, her smile growing wicked,

“But it is they who should tremble in your wake.”

Elain’s heart stopped beating for a moment.

“How very wrong we shall prove them, my dear.”

And as the promise rang out,

there, in the sticky sweet air of the Spring Court,

something was felt in every witness,

something like destined, something like fate,

something which coursed through the earth below, and the Void beyond,

and awoke.

What Bloomed in the Darkgarden by ehoney on A03

[unfriendlyamazon]

lavender (fanfic)

pairing: Marik Ishtar/Zigfried von Schroeder

rating: T

warnings: discussions of kink (including breath play, rope, impact play, and dominant/sub roles), references to marik's abuse

expanding my yugioh relationship web, and i learned that the ship name for marik/zigfried is lavendershipping, which i adore. i wrote this as a kind of experiment, especially since i haven't written marik very much until now. still working on my headcanons and fanonizing ray but i liked this enough to share it.

....

He brings you lavender, no matter what you do to him.

Flowers decorate his halls, his clothes, his garden. The rose is his emblem, and he wears it with pride. Pink as the color of his hair, as the rosy highlight of his cheeks, of his lips as they open and gasp. The sun shines on him like a garden flower, and he blooms in its light. You like to take his love of beauty and make it ugly. Bruises turn purple then ugly yellow, you rain gold on him in humiliation, and those pink lips turn puffy and red. Roses blemish his skin with each strike, and thorns tear ribbons through his palms. In the beautiful halls of his home, with the rich dark wood, and the gold decorating the walls, and the brocades of delicate patterns, you make him ugly.

You are a creature of darkness, of dirt and pain. You were entombed before you were even born. Like a ghoul, your fingers scratched at the stone that held you beneath the earth and clawed your fingers to the bone to be free. There is a rage inside you. Your skin is tattooed against your will, scarred and mutilated to appease someone else’s vision. Some days it is too tight, and you imagine peeling the skin from your muscles until you are blood and bone.

From the moment of your birth your destiny was written in your own blood and branded to your skin so you may never forget. You were a creature lowlier than dirt, never meant to see the sun. Your whole life, you have felt like a slave. He makes you feel like a king.

You are cruel to him, you know that. Your hands make their way to his skin, pale and fragile like a porcelain doll’s, and with only a touch it blooms in pinks and reds. You lay lashes against his skin until blood wells to the surface. You hold his throat tight and watch his mouth gasp for air. Ropes leave burns on his thighs, and the tender meat on his back is decorated with bruises in the shape of your hands. Every time you leave him, he is feeble, emasculated, unable to even cry for all the emotions you’ve wrung out of him. Every time you abandon him and know you have left him ugly, abused, and he should run from you. Everyone should run from you.

And the next day he brings you lavender, because it matches the color of your eyes.

He calls you beautiful. He calls you master. He threads his fingers through the white blond of your hair and smiles as you close a fist around his throat. He says hurt me, begs for it, until his mouth encircles you and you ensure he can speak no more. When you slap him, his eyes fill with stars that you were never allowed to see beneath the soil. When daylight touches him, it shows the ugly marks you’ve left behind, and he revels in how beautiful he finds them. He says he is your canvas, that you are an artist. You tell him to leave and he begs for you to stay. He finds you, crawling on hands and knees, crying for you to take him. You are forced to oblige. A king must tend to his subjects.

And now your life is full of flowers. He brings bouquets, his own roses, but others as well. Gardenias are for secrets, he tells you as he buttons his shirt over this bruised back. Hibiscus is for delicate beauty, like the shape of your eyes, and the curve of your hip. Lily-of-the-valley represent tears, and he holds them to his face so you can see the way they drop from his eyes so beautifully. It’s the wild roses he likes to add, both pain and pleasure at the same time. Lavender, he tells you, is for peace, as though you ever bring him that, but he tells you too it is for devotion. You watch him tut and fuddle and place the bouquets in the perfect spot so the sunlight reaches them. You wait for them to die and rot so you can shatter the pretty vases against the ground, but he never lets them. He is diligent with it. He removes the old ones without you even seeing. They are always fresh, they are always lovely, and they always mean something.

You have rarely known devotion. Those that serve you do so because they want to touch your power, and the only person who has ever taken on your pain has done so out of want of what you have. Now, every night, every hour if you wished it, there is someone who wants your pain, not because you are first born son, not because of your lineage, but because that pain brings him pleasure. He has everything. You sleep in his mansion, on his silk sheets, touching the luxurious fabrics he offers to buy for you, with stables and gardens and a legacy built on power, not servitude. He gives it all up to you. He wants it to be yours.

You linger longer. You draw baths with rose petals on the surface. You wash his skin and apply balm to his wounds. He thanks you. He says this is what love should feel like.

This is how love has always felt to you. It is a thing of cruelty, but this is the first time you have felt that that’s okay. That to say someone deserves it is not a punishment. It is a blessing. It is freedom. And your rage and your anger, that is freedom too, not to be scared of, but to accept and use. Your hands, with filth and blood beneath the nails, are not weapons. Not anymore than he wants them to be.

You sleep in his bed, breathing in the smell of lavender.

[worshippin]

It’s not unusual for her to watch him as he flies away– always away–, into the dark storm and dodging lightning. A bright purple strike of a lightning bolt cuts the sky, then the air and land beneath.

She feels it all, the static, the buzzing of electricity. But he’s too far away to touch. He’s too far away to hear her prayers; and far too focused on his task to realize she can feel him flying, through every raindrop, every breeze.

Keyleth usually wakes up abruptly, with black feathers under her pillows and sharp thuds on the window. This time, however, he flies around and then floats closer as he suddenly turns from a murder of ravens into a pale-skinned half-elf, a curious look of recognition on his face.

Her chest aches and she gasps as she’s caught there, reaching for him with her whole soul just as he reached for her through the decades, sending her flocks of black birds (well, mostly ravens) to simultaneously haunt and brighten her every waking moment.

“Vax?” She calls out, her voice hoarse like the echoes she hears are different versions of herself screaming and singing  his name.

He doesn’t answer, though he stays there, unmoving, the puzzled expression never leaving his face.

“Vax, can you hear me?”

She holds a hand against her chest, realizing her own heavy breathing. The storm gets heavier. 

“I hope you can hear me,” she adds in a hushed tone. Her face is wet, but she holds onto the fire she carries inside to keep talking, keep seeing him. “I hope you remember… I still haven’t forgotten. You promised me Zephrah. ”

There’s a spark of something for a brief moment, a glint in his eye for a fraction of a second and Keyleth’s entire body fills with hope. But then it flickers, and a mask covers Vax’ildan’s beautiful face, inky dark mist spilling from the slits where the eyes sit as it turns white.

It’s not his voice she hears when the figure speaks. [[MORE]]

“It is not yet your time, child.” 

Pure fury rises inside her as she answers without thinking, “I made the last being who called me that regret it. Were you not there to catch her soul?”

Suddenly, the mask rushes in her direction and stops inches from her face, triplicating in size, imposing with the rest of its form revealing: the long dark veils, pointy hands, swirls of magical threads.

Vax remains at a distance; untouchable.

“You are trespassing, Tempest,” the Matron says, her voice somehow gentle and echoing. “It is not yet your time.”

Keyleth tries to take a deep breath. The raindrops are now suspended in the air, halfway through falling, and she can no longer smell petrichor. Maybe it’s why she feels repulsion and not hatred: she is a druid, after all, one who not only worships but is the elements and life itself and here is the presence of her antithesis, plain death and no rebirth.

“No, it’s not,” she says, voice cracking. “I know that.”

The masked figure leans down, its massive form still towering over her and still growing, trying to encompass the horizon.

“But here you are nonetheless.”

“I can’t help it. I won’t ever stop dreaming of him.”

There’s a pause.

“Careful, Archdruid. You may yet live for a very long time, but you are not actually immortal. Do not disrespect me.”

Keyleth frowns in confusion.

Vax, still out of reach, takes a step closer. And immediately gets pulled back by an invisible force. He shifts, from raven feathers to floating pools of blood to the sharp sound of knives clashing to cloaked humanoid to naked angelic omen and over and over and over again. 

Keyleth forces herself to see and in her mind’s eye it shows itself: a singular thread of pulsating light pulled taught, more evident than the sea of threads all around him, connecting Vax’ildan to something far beyond. Like a ley line or a bridge rope or a leash .

She breathes in and out. 

So it is not just a dream.

“I respect you, Matron,” she affirms, doing her best to ignore the massive masked head nearly blocking her vision now. She keeps her gaze on Vax in the distance, back to shifting from mist to feathers to person-shaped, moving through time and space, occasionally searching her eyes and faintly grinning. “But I can’t pretend to believe to be beneath you. You were once a mortal too so maybe I understand your loneliness, since the other gods probably have their qualms with you.”

"If you wish to honor me… and him," the Matron interrupts, roiling smoke and loose bright strings more clearly pulsating around her now. "You shall leave this place, Tempest, and seek to never return until fate makes it so."

Keyleth clenches her jaw, her heart beating loud in her chest and something boiling around it, spreading through her body like rage. Her fury has no place in Exandria and all the planes together wouldn't be able to contain it. It's been so long and she's still so goddamn angry , so deeply wounded. How dare– ? How cruel .

She holds her hand to her chest in a fist.

Fate.

The word reverberates inside her heart as she doesn't look away from Vax. Her hand opens like a flower blossoming, reaching for the sun.

Fate…

“No," she says, voice stern and composed, as she feels herself tremble not out of fear but as a testament to her control, to her power and her prowess. "I can't do that. It’s been many long years. He won't stop visiting me. So I won't stop reaching back."

The storm starts over, big raindrops falling and twirling in the harsh wind. It nourishes the soil, sprouts roots and vines and trees, tall as mountains, flowers and fruit luscious and ripe. This is not a dream, yet it flows through Keyleth like anything in nature does.

Vax tries to take a step forward once more, but he’s still so, so far away. Still so beautiful, and frozen in time like her. 

Keyleth feels flames licking up her shoulders, her head, the side of her face, her eyes. At her feet the rich wet earth dries and cracks and a pillar grows to propel her upwards, closer to the deity. She hovers in dissipating fog, under the brightest moonlight of Catha with the red hue of Ruidus on her back. 

"I hope you understand that I really do respect you, goddess," she continues. "But I can only treat you as an equal, because…”

Facing the Matron of Death but watching the lost love of her life, feeling in her element perhaps more than she's ever felt, Keyleth promises:

“Because it’s as an equal that I will take back what you stole.”

[cmuenvs3000w23]

Biological Mechanisms in Nature (Unit 9: Freelance )

As nature interpreters, we willingly invite the burden of engagement onto ourselves. A task to incite motivation, positivity, prolonged interest, captivation, and maintain attention amongst our target audience. In my opinion, one of the most redeeming qualities in interpreting nature are the moments we share with others teaching and connecting about what makes nature so important to us. Whether the connection is personal, local or global, its resonance cascades through our audience based on our ability to demonstrate passion for an entity without an advocate. As stated by Beck et al. (2018) in our course text, "Thus a better world" where the authors are speaking of a society that is driven by scientifically-conscious and culturally-connected individuals in support of protecting nature from real issues and continuing its tenure into the future.

With that being said, the topic of interest I have chosen for this week are biological mechanisms and adaptations in the animal kingdom. Ever since I was young, I have been fascinated with the biological world and the respective means of survival that each animal has come to require through life on earth. An adaptation or biological mechanism, is a trait/feature or bodily function that has been selected for in a species because it enables them better chances of survival. Some media that you may find interesting that highlights these mechanisms and adaptations is After Earth (2013), a sci-fi action movie about a father-son duo that crash land on what is now Earth several generations into the future after humans have needed to find habitable refuge elsewhere. The important note from the trailer (linked below) is the quote saying "everything on this planet has evolved to kill humans", as if the rest of the main plot line was not difficult enough! (No Spoilers)

Continuing on that thread, the animal kingdom is full of wildly occurring feats of biological mastery and wonder. In 2022, Smithsonian magazine wrote about five distinct adaptations that make life on earth easier for these species: Owls, Bats, Snakes, Spiders and the Lanternfish (Handwerk, 2022). Several species of owl have adapted extremely sensitive pinpoint hearing, to be lethal hunters during the night, especially Barn owls which have been dubbed "super predators" because of their extremely quite flying patterns and amazing hearing capabilities (Handwerk, 2022). Bats and Spiders on the other hand use sensory functions to detect navigate and communicate with prey, predators or other members of the same species (Handwerk, 2022). Bats use echolocation which is practically a personal GPS, that uses sound-based detection and frequencies to locate objects around them in the night, whereas spiders use fibrous sensory receptors on any of their multiple legs to detect sound, vibrations and navigate their webs for snared prey (Handwerk, 2022)! Snakes have a unique adaptation that is very similar to anyone family with first person shooter games, their sight is infrared (Handwerk, 2022)! What that means is they are able to see in the night by seeing the body heat a living organism gives off, like their own personal thermal scanner or like a heat-seeking missile with fangs! The Lanternfish is one of the few instances of recorded bioluminescence in the animal kingdom, the barbell fixed above the fishes eyes emits a bright light in the deep ocean where it lives, the main function of it is to attract prey within striking distance, yet another time heading towards the light isn't favourable!

The biological world is full of amazing survival techniques and I want to hear some of your favourites. Let me know your favourite animal and a cool biological adaption it has developed over time. I bet you won't find just one!

References

Beck, L, Cable, Ted T., Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting Natural & Cultural Heritage. Sagamore-Venture Publishing. 2018

Handwerk, B. (2022). Five Amazing Adaptations That Help Animals Thrive in the Dark. Smithsonian Magazine. 2022

[ghostofnibelheim]

azure-steel​:

Cloud didn’t really know what he’d expected in terms of an answer, perhaps he’d expected nothing at all. But there was something so fundamentally jarring about Sephiroth’s response, so much so that the blond felt his eyes widen, if only a touch, and a splinter of shame, fracturing to his senses in that moment, has him avert his gaze back to his meal.

His memory ghosting back to the past couple of days was hazy at best, filled with holes and blank spaces, marred with pain and agonising sorrow. There was never a moment which went by that the thought of everything he’d lost up until now would sweep between the folds of his mind. And as he too gazes into the smooth mother of pearl between his fingers, those thoughts would torment him still. Perhaps they would until the day he would finally draw his last breath.

But that day was certainly not today, it would seem, and yet still he was a burden; a lump of flesh and bone born to be a hindrance, unwanted, unloved, unwelcome.

Nothing changed with age, not really, and this aspect of his life had haunted him since the days he was forced to sit by and watch as the other children played together, praying that one day he would be invited to join their games. And the sheer heartbreak was no less painful, even now.

With a sigh, low, tired and littered with defeat, does he shift his sights to the sword nearby; a relic of the only true friend Cloud had ever known. He missed Zack terribly, what he wouldn’t give to speak with him right then, just one more time. To hear the inane optimism in his voice, to spy that whimsical grin of which Cloud could truly believe would part the deepest waters.

Perhaps one day he would be graced with the man’s presence again, where he may be, Cloud could only hope and pray that he was safe and not tangled in some awful sorry mess like he was right now. The thought that Zack Fair could actually be dead was a thought not even worth thinking. He was, after all, the only reason he felt was worth living for. He had a promise to keep, a precious treasure to return to him and Strife would pass through hell or high water to give it to him. Cloud was no SOLDIER - a dream never realised - but he could be stronger for Zack.

Moreover, these factors did little to alter the course of events which had taken place here, for if Zack was, indeed, still living within the mako metropolis on the mainland of the Eastern Continent, Cloud was all the way out here in Wutai. Of no use nor ornament to anyone, least of all the guy literally as well as figuratively carrying his sorry ass across the archipelago. Nothing quite like feeling useless, and being told as such to feed the demons of self loathing.

“You didn’t have to save me…” he utters then, his voice small, passive to a fault against the crackle and spit of the camp fire flames.

“… the Gods know that I wouldn’t have…”

That intense, greedy stare had returned on the blond in the moments of silence that followed. His look towards Angeal’s sword did not escape Sephiroth’s notice. For a moment, the possibility that the other may be considering, even hoping to take it and strike down the reaper of his hometown seemed so concrete in his mind. Paranoia or suspicion disguised as anticipation, maybe, and the man was awfully aware of the upward curve of his lip in that moment.

But as soon as it had flared, that thought was tamed and subdued. It still left him feeling oddly self-conscious behind a mask of neutrality. That darkness still lurked withim him, after all. The allure of madness. Sephiroth was acutely aware of that part of his mind that sought to return to that state of mind.

Because deep hatred and blind bloodlust made everything so much easier.

It was a lot simpler to put hand to his blade and embrace the wish to see every living soul on this corrupted earth ripped and sent back to the Lifestream. To consider everybody a traitor, killing indiscriminately. No need for answers, or to entertain questions that tormented him to the core.

Just pure, unadulterated rage.

And he knew to be standing on that very edge at this moment. A part of him just waited for a reason, anything to take that final step forward and fall back into the dark abyss of despair.

If Cloud attacked him, it would be reason enough.

If he found confirmation of his legacy as the rightful ruler of the Planet, that also would be reason enough. Maybe that truth was just behind the corner, to their next destination. Maybe this would be the last day he pretended to be a normal human being.

There was dread and hope in that thought at the same time. He still did not know what he hoped to find, one way or the other. Genesis’ truth, or Dr. Gast’s. Cetra, or monster. He’d dwelled on it for so long, and still knew to not have taken a stance on either side.

Whichever thing he may be, he’d embrace it. Anything was better than living a lie.

To that semblance of normalcy, he was pulled again when the blond spoke. Though his words were quick to rustle inside that torbid and noxious sea of torment that he himself had stirred anew.

“I had to.” The argument came quiet, a little husky. “Taking you with me, that was for my own self. Keeping you alive… that’s for Zack.”

Because he’d never forgive him otherwise, would he? But at the same time, Sephiroth did not seek forgiveness at all.

It was more like his hand was forced by that stubbornly loyal side of himself who could not disrespect the wish of a friend. The last one he ever had.

“He tried to rescue you before. Twice, I think. It didn’t work out.”

[flyingincandescent]

I'm not sure what to say.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel.

This barely even feels about him, but seeing that bloodstain seeping out of the fallen stone... It feels more real, more raw, more loaded with meaning than anything that's happened in the past year.

I'm not even sure what I would have said if he survived for long enough for me to say something. I've already offered my words, once a year every year, since the monument was found. I've already grieved and mourned and worn out extrapolated feelings over the figure I only knew for a few months after everything changed forever.

What is it I'm crying about?

Why do I feel like the very meteor that sent me to earth could one day strike me down where I stand? Metaphorically speaking. The literal rock is likely still in Idaho, buried under the sands of time.

Regardless, how do I know that the moment I step off autumnal that the forces of paradox space won't go after me too? My sister had to undergo a transformation to purge herself of the vestiges of our father.

Will I have to change too, to avoid the wrath of whatever power may seek to scrub all traces of the one who sought to defy fate?

He's still an asshole, but I recognize the darkness. Though I never want to become him, I worry the shadow still lingers.

What if I do go down the wrong path and end up on the wrong side of history?

Then again, why would I? I have everything I could ever want, Thoren said it the best when we were face to face with Winter.

...but even the fucking local journalist can sense something.

I don't know what to do.

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

[aemoonie]

jaemin personality reading ✰ !

「 mlist 」

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANA :D jaemin hasn't confirmed his birth time, so this analysis isn't 100% complete and placements may play out/work differently depending on the full (/confirmed) chart !

─ Sun in Leo

Jaemin is the last one of the Leo Sun boys for this series, and I actually think he is one of the most unique in his expression. His Leo shows a lot in the sense that he is himself, unapologetically. I feel like he had a bit of an image change, calming down from a bubbly, hyper persona to the current more introverted Jaemin we all know and love. It could’ve been the insane coffee, the staff could’ve told him to have an image like that or he just grew out of it. But Jaemin is very hard-working and he volunteers and donates to charity. One aspect I repeatedly mentioned about Leo Suns is their desire to change the world and help others. Jaemin is a whole Leo Stellium, so these traits will be prominent with him. He is creative and attracts good things in life. Now for him I find it interesting that he doesn’t have this thing where he has a big ego or jokes about having one. Though he has the most Leo in his chart out of the boys I analysed, he seems like the most chill in that regard. His Leo side shows more in the way he just is himself, plain and simple. He doesn’t feel the need to put up on act, which is a very underrated side that Leos can have as well.

─ Moon in Capricorn

His Moon is so prominent, people please. I know there have been lots of opinions about this man’s chart, but I think it suits him so well! He talked about saving for his pension before, he is like the calmest person I’ve ever seen (except when he gets his random bursts of energy) and he is the dorm’s chores person. His “motherly” nature towards the younger members can be indicated through this Capricorn-Leo combination, he likes to take care of his loved ones. I kinda see him giving Jisung financial advice in a few years (lol). Earth Moons strive for stability, whether it be emotionally or if they gain this feeling through other things. And his Capricorn Moon is one of the practical ones of the three, though I wanna emphasize Capricorn’s softer sides for once. This sign is usually content within their principles: if they want a giant house and a nice car, they’ll work to get it. But if they feel fine with whatever they have in the moment, then they’ll let you know. Similar to Cancers, they have a good survival instinct, but they are more practical and materialistic in their way of gaining control. Capricorn Moons can be prone to not let themselves feel things, because they might feel uncomfortable just “letting go”. With his Leo placements, I can imagine Jaemin tries to keep his composure a lot, even if he is feeling like the world is ending. His dramatic side is probably more for the comical effect, I’d say. He strikes me as organized and focused, especially (and maybe primarily) in his work life. He may throw himself into more work in order to relieve his emotions, or to distract from it.

─ Mercury in Leo

His Mercury in Leo would be one of his most prominent placements I’d say. He has a very unique way of speaking and expressing himself, though he is quieter than the Leo stereotype would let one think at first. I feel like he isn’t someone who just speaks in order to fill the silence, but he usually means what he says and he may come across as quite authoritative sometimes. Together with his Sun and Mars also being in Leo, his dramatic expression he does sometimes is also very Leo-like in my opinion. He has a good wit and is creative, when he speaks it feels warm and with good intention. He isn’t someone who would ever hurt someone’s feelings intentionally, but he does stay with his opinions and may take pride in them. Since Leo is a fixed sign, it can be hard to convince him of other things at times, but I think he is a pretty open minded person. Leo Mercuries also make good entertainers, I found this placement can tell jokes so well that even if they suck, the delivery still makes it funny. Everything they say and the way they write can be full of drama and heart. With his Venus in Virgo, I can imagine he is a good writer, and he’s proven it by (co-)writing numerous songs for the Dreamies!

─ Venus in Virgo

The last one of the Leo boys still has his Venus in Virgo, making him a bit hesitant in love. He may only make a move when he knows the other person is interested as well. Jaemin would show his love in smaller acts of services, and unlike Mark, I think he would do it through housework and cooking. His Leo placements would love taking care of his s/o, and I think he may be more outgoing than some other Virgo Venus people. He may like doing things for his s/o, but he is most prominently a shoulder to cry on for his partner. He’s the type to remember the tiny details about his person, often surprising them with how observant he can be. He may need some space from time to time, especially with his Capricorn Moon, but his Leo placements also like attention and praise from his partner, so I think there will be a nice balance. But he may be prone to over-analysing his partner and their relationship, worrying too much and ending up feeling insecure and critical. But the longer he is with a person, the more open he would be with his love and appreciation.

─ Mars in Leo

Now he has his Mars in Leo, making him quite expressive and dramatic sometimes. But Leo Mars people have much warmth and love in their hearts, they’d usually only turn on you after feeling their ego is hurt (by feeling inferior etc.). He is hard-working and possesses a strong need to be creative. He likes to feel what he does and who he is is significant and makes a difference, either for the world in general or for the people around him. He may like taking risks, but also has a good sense of reasoning. He is very loyal and idealistic, especially with his Sun and Mercury. He likes to identify with everything he does, which may result in him getting hurt easily when faced with harsh criticism. But his Earth placements would also value this a lot in my opinion. He is good at taking the initiative and isn’t someone who does things halfway when he puts his heart into it. In love, he’d be full of affection and warmth. As I said before, he’d love reassurance and praise, it really fuels him. In my experience, Leo placements like to be quite physical, so he’d be one of the most cuddly members. He is most likely to be loyal and committed.

© aemoonie all rights reserved.

[babbushka]

A Throne By Any Other Name

Kylo Ren x F!Reader (Medieval AU)

A/N: This oneshot was inspired in part by to some requests sent in by dear anonymous users, and in part by the revelation of Adam's apparent cunnilingus skills lol. I hope you enjoy this smutty oneshot!

3.1k, NSFW (oral sex [f-receiving/face sitting], fingering, PIV, jerking off, outdoors sex, sex in the rain)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It is too early in the day for the sun to have set, and yet the skies are dark. Clouds, heavy, blank, pendulous, fill the summer afternoon, a torrential downpour out in the distance. You and Kylo are lying on the plush green grasses of the fields which sit just outside your castle, enraptured with one another. He stares into your eyes, one palm on your cheek, soaking up the sight of you in your embroidered kirtle, your hair braided long down your back clasped with golden bands encrusted with pearls and sapphires.

For hours you both have been there, wrapped in one another’s embrace, watching as the lightning strikes across the clouds, claps of thunder following soon after. The time between the flashes and booms grows smaller and smaller, and each time it shatters the sky, you cannot help but gasp. Instinctively, Kylo tightens his hold on your body, and you warm with affection for your husband, your King.

“Isn’t it breathtaking?” You have been reduced to a whisper from the sheer awe of mother nature, lifting a hand and squinting with one eye like you’re about to fire an arrow, aiming it straight for the deluge that hits the edge of the fields as you breathe, “It must be so far away and yet, I feel as though I can reach out and touch it with mine very fingers.”

Kylo takes your hand and pulls it to his lips, kisses across your fingertips and down your palm, pushing back your sleeve enough to expose your wrist, where he grazes his crooked teeth along the delicate skin.

“Are you afraid?” Kylo whispers, never one to assume more volume than you, never one to assert himself over you.

Once, a long time ago, Kylo had soothed you from the way the sounds of thunder disrupted your sleep. You smile, grateful that he would be so willing to use whatever influence he has over this land as its King, to do the same again.

“No, I have learned to love the thunder, now that I know it bends it’s whims to you.” You tell him as such, and Kylo blushes shyly in a way so discordant with the ferocity of his power.

“The rain is moving towards us, what shall we do my beloved?” Kylo turns to the storm, his pupils growing to soak up what little light is left. It grows darker and darker out in the fields, save for the lightning that flashes, a deep purple black surrounding the castle. He kisses your shoulder, “I will not see you soaked to the bone if you do not wish it.”

“Hmm, and what if I do?” Tilting your head to the side, you allow him greater access. The wind chills you and you shiver, Kylo only holding you closer as he licks a hot stripe up your throat, nibbling at your ear.

“In that case...” He breathes against the spot just underneath your jaw, his hand working under your many layers to brush his fingers through the thick thatch of hair between your legs, breath hot as he sucks on your pulse, “I shall see to it personally, that my Queen be soaked in another manner altogether.”

“If that is what my King wants,” You reach for his hand and press it against your flesh further, sliding out of his embrace in a guise to better lie down, “That is what he shall get.”

Kylo removes the clasps of his fine furs, hiding them inside the large basket of cheeses and wine you have brought with you so that they do not get so soaked. You pull your kirtle up and over your head, leaving you in just the plain white cotton chemise that flows in the wind of the oncoming storm. Kylo is about to grab at you once again, when you are suddenly off, slipping just through his fingers, all of a sudden out of reach as you cheekily tease, “But first, he must catch me.”

This is one of your favorite ways to work him up, your husband. He must win your affection, must prove himself worthy of it. And oh how he does love to prove himself to you -- the maximum capacity of his prowess on display for you as the world lights in moments, a game of chase where your pleasure is the prize.

The rain has found you both, in this game, and Kylo wishes he could see you better to see the way your chemise has molded to your body, the fabric gone translucent with the rain. He knows, he just knows that all of your curves are on display; the roundness of your tits, the swell of your ass, the softness of your stomach and thighs as you run, your hair clinging to your face as the wind whips the braids around.

“Get back here!” Kylo demands, hungry for you, his heart pounding inside his chest, luring you in close with false modesty, “You are too fast for me.”

“Then remove some of thine armor my darling, and perhaps you will be lighter on your feet.” Never one to give in to his traps, you only dart past him, grass sticking to your ankles, rain slick’d much like the rest of you.

Smirking, Kylo does as he’s told, stripping down just far enough so that he is clad only in his leggings; his tunic and all the belts and buckles of armor and cloaks gone in a soggy pile on the ground far from where he manages to wrap his arms around you once more, bring you laughing to the ground.

“I’ve got you now,” Kylo declares triumphantly as he blinks away the rain water that beats down on his back, as he wrestles you onto yours with a grin, “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

His hands roam across your body, and you encourage him to do so with the parting of your legs, your wet chemise clinging and sticking to your body, your chest heaving with a mix of adrenaline and exertion. Your cunt drips, and you grow impatient with the waiting, the game over.

“You speak as if you have won, yet where I lay, it appears as though I am the one with a prize.” Your hand smooths up Kylo’s leggings, palming the hard line of his cock and giving it a firm squeeze through the fabric, your voice deep and sultry when you inquire, “How do you want me?”

“Take off your clothes, lest I drown in the fabric.” He replies immediately, and you know by his phrasing that he means to delve his tongue between your legs, a pleasure so sensational that you have never once denied his wish for it.

“Mm, what a way to go that would be.” You laugh at the thought, struggling to get the drenched garment over your head.

“Not before we have heirs to succeed me.” Kylo too grows impatient, and with the brute strength he possesses, he tears the chemise straight down the center, helps push it off of your shoulders instead.

Feeling the rain on your bare body is nothing short of divine, you have decided, as Kylo lies down beside you. For a moment, the two of you simply open your mouths and taste the crisp clean summer rain on your tongues, but you are near desperate, Kylo can smell it, for a good fucking, and who is he to deny you anything?

Rolling your body on top of his, Kylo crushes your mouths together, those very same tongues hot and throbbing against one another. Kylo has one hand gripping the back of your neck, holding you steady, and the other busy with freeing his aching cock from its confines.

“Kylo, the lightning.” You murmur against his lips as thunder crashes overhead, your hands bracing the earth on either side of his head, your legs straddling his thighs. You push your hips back so that you may catch the feeling of his cock against your pussy, but Kylo has other ideas.

“Fear not, it will not harm you.” He urges you, a heated desperation of his own in his voice when he instructs, “Now please, take your seat upon your throne.”

His mouth is hot against your cunt, when you settle your knees in the very spot your hands just were, the bend of your legs digging into the waterlogged earth below as rain pounds pounds pounds on top of you. He is eager, so eager, to part your folds with his lips, so eager to begin sloppily kissing your pussy with his tongue, that the force of it already has a tight coil of heat winding in your stomach.

“Oh, oh stars, that feels good.” You sigh, your hands smoothing up and down your thighs as your legs widen for him ever further, allowing him deeper access.

Kylo’s grip on you returns, but it does so one handed. His left hand digs deep into your hip, grasping and grabbing at the supple flesh there, while his right hand works strong solid strokes of his cock up and down, his hips bucking up into his fist as yours grind down onto his face.

“Mmmm..!” He groans into your cunt, and you revel in it, in the way the vibrations of his baritone resonate through your very bones, your nipples so stiff in the cool air of the thunderstorm, your clit pulsing against his tongue, his lips. Mindlessly, Kylo jerks himself off, savoring the pleasure as he drinks yours down.

“Kylo! Oh my liege, oh fuck!” Your moans are swallowed by the sound of the rain, so you are free to gasp and shout as loudly as you’d like. No one is outside in weather like this, and even if the castle were to look out their windows, the rain is so dense that it shrouds you in a cloak of misty darkness. Soaked completely, you ride Kylo’s face, your naked body undulating onto his mouth. “More, more I demand more!”

The way his tongue plunges up into your pussy has you nearly falling forward from surprise, the thick slurping sounds that he sucks out of your cunt has your knees weak, thighs shaking. His nose is perfectly positioned over your clit, and the pace that he nudges against it drives you to the brink of ecstasy, has you breathing fast and heavy, blinking away water and pushing soaked hair from your face, your body tensing up, that heat in your stomach spreading through the nerves and veins of your body like a wildfire.

“Hands, Kylo, I beg of thee, hands.” You are nearly frantic as his mouth sucks at your folds, bites at your inner thighs. You will be sore there tomorrow, but in this moment, if you do not get to come, you’d wage war. He is obliging, and so he releases his hold on your hip, taking three of his fingers and shoving them inelegantly up into your pussy, seeking your gspot, and grinning when you grind down onto his palm with a satisfied, “Yes!!”

He latches his lips around your clit and sucks and licks at it as his fingers thrust in place of his tongue, crooking against that spot against your walls, filling you with such a pleasure that you have to clutch at your tits and pinch your nipples, just to have something to ground you as your eyes snap open.

“Oh yes!” You cry, his speed increasing, spelling his name on your clit, your nipples so hard, body so wet, dripping all over, “Oh Heavens above -- fuck!”

“Come on my tongue, precious, my precious girl.” Kylo pulls away only long enough to watch as your body convulses above him, your shoulders shaking, body pitching forward. He steadies you and reverses your positions, lays you down on the wet earth as you come and come and come, frantic in his own right to line his cock up, waiting to push in until he has your express permission, “May I..?”

“Kylo I fear if you do not fuck me right this instance I will burst like the thunder that blooms across the sky.” Your eyes are glassed over, he can see in the dim light, and it’s all that he needs before he is nudging the head of his cock up to your pulsing folds, pushing inside.

At once, your body accommodates him, opening and blossoming for him like an oyster in the moonlight. He thrusts into your demanding cunt in one fell swoop, the rain on his back cooling his overheating body as he pounds your pussy with reckless abandon.

“Fuck, oh -- fuck!” He moans through grit teeth, the sheer pleasure of your body filling his head with a thick fog that he could shout about, your tits bouncing from the force of the way he fucks you hard, fast, grunting out, “This cunt’s so tight, you miraculous beauty, so tight and hot, and all for me.”

“I -- I -- oh yes, Kylo please, more?” Your voice is high, wanton and desperate, breaking on the verge of a scream as he lifts your hips and holds them up with his hands, plowing into you, deeper deeper deeper, the taste of your come on his lips, in his nose. It is obscene, the sound, the way you are wet inside and out, slippery with come and rain.

“Let the kingdom hear, let them all hear.” He wants you to scream, he wants to push you over that edge, the very same edge he himself is so close to meeting. You’ve come once, but he wants another, and another, and another still, until you are a babbling incoherent mess of nothing but please and his name.

“Kylo!” You give him what he asks, voice ringing through the rain, cutting above the thunder as he bends his body to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it the same way he sucked on your clit, making your body writhe underneath him this time instead of above, “Oh my liege! Oh -- Kylo!”

Thunder crashes, and lightning streaks, and the rain pours, and Kylo fucks your pussy with as much strength as he can manage. Deep even thrusts that fill you so completely that it pushes you up the grass, body bouncing, shaking, screaming for him. You have to shut your eyes against the pleasure, your orgasm from when he ate your cunt out never having a chance to end, simply rolling into the next one, your back pushing clean off the ground from the strength of it.

He is not too far behind, focusing all his energy into pleasing you. One of his fingers rubs at your clit and he smiles into the crook of your shoulder when your legs kick out from under you, scrabbling for purchase as your fingers tangle in his inky locks. His own orgasm hits him with little warning, and he pins you to the now muddy ground with a harsh grunt, his hips slamming against yours once, twice, three more times, before he collapses on top of your body.

You both feel it, the way his come fills you up, hot and pulsing inside your cunt. Grinning, there is a satisfaction that comes with this -- your dear king needs no mistresses to keep him pleased, no rotation of women to warm his bed. You are all he desires, the evidence is flowing between your bodies. Kylo rolls you over so that you can rest your cheek on his chest, for he is too tall to do so without pulling his cock out of your pussy.

Chests heaving, you each gulp down humid air, before the tingles of your pleasure prick up your spine, and you’re laughing into the line between Kylo’s pecs. He smiles softly at you, pushing your hair away from your face where the rain keeps sliding it down, cranes his neck to kiss you.

“You are so beautiful in the rain.” Kylo murmurs, his eyes half-lidded.

The rain has begun to lighten up, no longer the intense downpour. Perhaps that was a metaphor, or perhaps in his own release of ecstasy, so too did the clouds complete theirs. In either case, the rain has softened to a gentle drizzle, and the thunder and lightning have subsided.

“You can hardly see me.” You smile playfully, for now that the clouds have begun to part, there is naught but the light of the silver moon to light the field.

“I can see enough to know that you are a beauty beyond our mortal comprehension.” Kylo kisses you again and again, his lips chaste.

“Careful Kylo, you may be blaspheming.” You whisper, but your husband only scoffs, rolls his eyes.

“So what if I am? Am I not king? Do I not have divine right to this throne? Who is to say that then I do not have right to a divine wife?” He helps you to stand, and you are wobbly on your feet, pleasure still thrumming through your body.

“That’s the orgasm speaking. Here, allow me to give you another -- ”

“In a moment,” Kylo pets down your wet hair, stretching his limbs and cracking his joints. He’s getting old, he thinks, hoping, wondering, if this time he’ll give you those heirs you both desire. “Just give me a moment to recover.”

“Perhaps we should move to our bedchambers. I am positively covered in mud, and the rain has begun to grow cold.” Laughing, you take stock of one another, the joyful sensation of pleasure mixed with fond adoration of one another causing a fit of chuckles at the way both of your bodies are filthy from your romp in the grass.

“Now that you mention it,” Kylo nods, his slippery hands groping your chest, “I desire a hot bath, with frothy bubbles, and with you sat atop my lap so that I can get those glorious breasts of yours right in my face.”

“And then perhaps once we are clean again, you may have a...renewed appetite?” You bump your hip against his as you collect the soggy pile of clothing from the ground, the torn chemise and your once beautiful kirtle.

“My lap, my face, I’ll take you however I can get you.” Kylo agrees, knowing the moment that he says it, you’ll be running off towards the castle.

In the light of the silvery moon on this summer’s evening, Kylo watches you run and thinks that it really is the quickest way to work him up. Good thing, he thinks as he chases after your naked body through the rains once again, he has the rest of the night, to give his Queen exactly what she wants.

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Taggin' some Kylo lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip