#just to inflict more pain onto myself

[clovermunson]

billy’s necklace could be a miraculous medal, and it was probably given to him by his mother for protection before she left because she knew he’d need it.

but it didn’t work. it never did.

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[iiseult]

Oooh open requests! May I have King Baldwin with a wife reader who sweetly helps him treat his wounds regardless of how he tells her not to come into direct contact with his skin? Please, do it nice and fluffy, if it's not too much trouble! Thank you!

Wedding Night: Baldwin IV x reader

CWs → fluff, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, leprosy, christianity and mentions of god, reader and baldwin just got married!

Note: This is the first request I've ever responded to! Thank you so much for sending it in, I really hope you enjoy! <3 Also this was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away

Wordcount: 2k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin was laying on his stomach with his bandaged arms and legs stretched out across the large mattress, and his face nuzzled into a plush pillow. The day had been strenuous for him, requiring much more standing than he was accustomed to, and his body ached terribly. Though originally just on his hands and face, the disease had recently spread up past his wrist and onto a small patch of his back, causing an uncomfortable burning sensation every time his clothing brushed against it. He was waiting for his physician to arrive and apply his nightly soothing salve, which usually helped to relieve some of the discomfort that resulted from the intense dryness of his skin. But when the door opened, instead of his physician, it was you. 

Hastily, he sat up, looking around to find something to cover himself with. Besides the bandages wrapped around his ribcage, arms, and the middle of his face, the only thing he had on was a pair of white linen shorts. You covered your mouth and giggled as he scrambled to grab his robe from the nearby chair it was draped over.

“My lord, that really won’t be necessary. I’m only going to take it right back off once you put it on,” you said playfully, closing the door behind you and sauntering towards him. You were carrying a small basket in your left hand. He furrowed his brow and instinctually clutched the fabric to his chest, hoping it covered most of his exposed skin. A wave of heat rushed to his head, and he suddenly felt a bit dizzy.  

“Lady Y/N– I mean, Your Highness, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice betraying his mild panic as his eyes followed you across the bedroom. You had changed out of your wedding gown in favor of a tightly fitting dress of a deep emerald green and a low neckline– typical attire for a bride on her wedding night. Heat rose to his cheeks as he admired his new queen’s attractive figure, on display just for him. He really hadn’t been expecting this. You had to know that, given his condition, consummating the marriage would be more trouble than it was worth, and attempting to sire an heir with him would be a completely fruitless endeavor. Why, then, were you standing before him, looking like the very picture of grace and beauty? You smiled gently at him, setting down the basket and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Let me help you. Please, lie back down so I can take those bandages off,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. You waited a moment, but he only gawked, eyes still shamelessly concentrating on your choice of wardrobe. You sighed and placed a hand over his bandaged one, looking deeply into his eyes. 

“I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

He hummed sadly, shaking his head no, knowing he could not give you what you wanted. 

“I believe that you would, but I cannot allow it. If you were to come into contact with my bare skin…” he trailed off. You bit your lip. You knew he wouldn’t agree to it. 

He noticed your disappointment, and his eyes softened a little. 

“Look at you, your skin is so pure…if anything were to happen to it on my account, I could never forgive myself. Not only because of the pain it would inflict upon you, but also for my own selfish reasons.” He spoke slowly, letting his words sink in. 

“My wife, you are so beautiful, and so smart. You have so much to give, and you are everything I am not. If you were to put yourself at risk of becoming like me, you would be condemning yourself to a short, bitter life of wasted potential. Though I may not be long for this world, I want to spend the remainder of my days admiring you and all that you bring. Please do not forsake the gifts God has given you for fleeting desires of the flesh,” he begged. His blue eyes were so wide, pleading, swimming with genuine emotion, but it wasn’t enough to break you. You knew what you wanted.

“Baldwin,” you said, addressing him directly for the first time, “Just this once, please. Let me do this for you.” 

You tugged lightly at the fabric bunched up in his grasp. He resigned, allowing you to pull it away and discard it at the foot of the bed, leaving his mostly bare chest exposed to your intimate gaze. No woman had ever seen this much of him before. He watched as your eyes traced his body, beginning at his delicate neck and protruding collar bones, then down to the smooth expanse of creamy skin covering his chest, and finally to his well-defined middle. Those parts of him had yet to be contaminated by his affliction. You had yet to ever come into contact with his bare skin, but the way you were studying him, he could almost feel the sweet sensation of your fingertips ghosting over his body. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry if you had hopes of…enjoying a true wedding night with me, but I must be honest with you, even if it does cause me great pain and regret-” 

You hushed him quietly, clasping his hand in yours a little tighter. 

“No, my love, you don’t have to explain to me. I understand. That is not what I came for. I simply wanted to take care of my husband.” You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you gazed down at him lovingly. He let out a breath and untensed his shoulders, relieved that he wasn’t letting you down after all. The sight of you smiling down at him with all the love in the world melted his heart, and his resolve broke. 

“Alright. But please promise me you will cleanse yourself thoroughly afterwards. We must do everything we can to prevent the spread,” he whispered, dropping his hand to allow you to have your way with him. 

Slowly, carefully, you reached for him, stretching your fingertips out and finally grazing them against the middle of his chest. He inhaled sharply, watching in awe. Your touch was feather-light, but it sent a spark of heat straight to his heart. His skin tingled. Gently, you applied a bit of pressure, encouraging him to lay back. He stared into your eyes and refused to look anywhere else as he readjusted his position, locks of blond hair shifting away from his brow as he reclined.

“That’s it, just like that. Perfect. Now, just relax, I brought some oils and salves for you. I’m going to take this bandage off now, okay?” You said, reaching for his wrapped hand. He nodded, and you slowly began unwinding the linens, peeling them away to reveal the most decayed part of his body; his right hand. Any skin left intact on it was shaded by a grayish hue, and the rest was just angry, red, open sores. You fought the urge to wince, not because it disgusted you, because it didn’t, but because you empathized with Baldwin, feeling the pain he must have felt in that moment. The bandages you removed were dotted with blood and other secretions from the angry wounds. 

You continued unraveling, all the way up his arm, and its condition gradually improved the further up you got. Then you moved to the other arm, repeating the same process. Soon, it was time to attend to the linens coiled around his torso, protecting the rash on his back. 

“Can you sit up for me, please?” 

He wordlessly obeyed, watching you work through his curtain of fine, golden hair. You scooted over until you were fully seated on the bed, face to face with him. He was suddenly glad for the bandage covering most of his cheeks and nose, so you didn’t detect the blush rapidly spreading across them. 

You reached around with your left arm and placed your cool palm against his shoulder blade to steady him as you pulled away the bandages. He sat as still as possible, not sure what to do with himself. His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Your hand was so soft, so slow…it was lulling him into a trance. He sighed deeply, letting the air roll all the way through his lungs. You deftly unweaved the bandage with your delicate fingers, working swiftly to avoid any discomfort that the pulling might cause him. Soon, all that remained was his face. 

Wordlessly, you slid a hand up the back of his neck and cradled his head in your palm, threading your fingers through his curls. He let his head fall back, confident that you would support him, and closed his eyes. A quiet rumble emanated from the back of his throat when he felt your fingertips brush his forehead. Then, you peeled off the last bandage, finally exposing the sensitive skin of his face to the cool evening air. 

Yes, his complexion was blemished and inflamed, as you expected. His nose was red and dry, some of the skin flaking off completely. His lips were in much the same condition. A smattering of pink blotches covered his handsome cheeks. But to you, nobody had ever looked closer to perfect. You grinned and cupped his face between your hands, gently circling your thumb over his cheek. His pretty blue eyes crinkled up at the corners as he smiled back, letting out a short laugh he never meant to let out. 

“You are such a beautiful boy, Baldwin. I love seeing your smile so much,” you said, tracing his bottom lip. That smile only grew as he closed his eyes in bliss. Your warmth was almost too much for him to handle. 

“I’m going to apply the salve now, okay?” you asked, gently laying his head down on his pillow and reaching for a bottle from your basket. 

“Mhmm,” he hummed contentedly. The smell of lavender and chamomile permeated the air as you scooped up a large blob of the salve and gently smeared it over his cheekbones. He sighed in relief as soon as it touched his parched skin, his pink lips parting. Soon, his face had absorbed most of the moisture, making him glisten in the candlelight like he was made of porcelain, and you moved onto his back, having him turn over. You ran your hands over the plains of his shoulder blades, massaging the tissue to help relieve any aches that may have built up. He groaned into the pillow in satisfaction. You smiled, continuing your ministrations. 

Needless to say, Baldwin had never experienced anything remotely similar to this before. The way you handled him and didn’t shy away from coming into direct contact with the most afflicted parts of his body made his stomach do flips. Maybe he could get used to this. 

‘I think I’m all done, my king. You can turn back over,” you said softly, putting the cork back in your bottle and stowing it away in the basket. Baldwin stretched leisurely and rolled over, hair partially obscuring his half-lidded eyes and crooked smile. He suddenly looked so young; only eighteen years old and he had already led an army. 

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, reaching out to grab your hand, bravely intertwining your fingers. He figured the damage had already been done, and there was no harm in a few more precious seconds of warmth. So he swiftly lifted your hand and pressed it to his delicate lips, almost burning your skin with the lingering passion in his touch. 

Now it was your turn to blush. 

[ultralightpoe]

Chaos - Bucky Barnes

Authors Note: terribly written but I'm clearing out my drafts

Warning: mentions of abuse

Word Count: 2340

Part One Here

Enjoy!

“What the hell happened?” Cho snaps, moving to the gurney being pushed in and surveying the amount of blood that was spilling. “Back up! I need room, someone page Stark immediately!”

The lights of the tower flicker under the storm, and Steve watches as Cho’s team wheels the gurney away quickly, his hand shaking heavily. Panic claws at his throat as the scene from earlier unfolds in his mind once more, turning slowly to the redhead beside him. 

“Steve-” She starts before he shakes his head. 

“Nat, this is not a conversation you want to have with me right now.” He sighs, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose before he realizes it’s coated in blood and pulls it back sharply. “I need to shower.”

He storms off, shoulders squared as he thinks about all the reports he is about to fill out. 

- 

“We won’t have much time, in and out as fast as we can. Everyone has their tasks?” Steve asks, making sure everyone nods back to him before making eye contact with you. “Y/n, I know this will be your first mission-”

“We should go before the storm gets any worse.” You interrupt, fixing your headset and moving to the bay of the quinjet, grabbing your bag before being the first to leave the ship and rushing to leave them behind. 

“Slow down Y/n.” You hear Bucky warn in your earpiece, and normally you would turn around to wait for him. But he wasn’t your partner on the mission today, so you didn’t turn and kept the same pace. They could catch up if they wanted. 

Bucky stops in his tracks when he sees you march off, not bothering to turn to him, his heart thundering in his chest. Normally you would slow down for him, normally he would have your back during missions. 

It was a slow realization that you would be alone. 

“Maybe we should-” He starts, feeling like a fool as Sam turns to look. 

“We gotta go, come on man.” He mumbles, watching as Nat takes lead. 

It was going to be a simple mission, in and out, Bucky reminds himself. Taking a deep breath before following the rest. 

- 

“We need a report,” Tony sighs, tracing through the footage of the mission, eyes widening at the fight. “I’ve never….”

“Tony, I’ve never seen it before. And it’s my fault.” Nat sighs, rubbing her hand across her face. “I got involved.”

“How?”

“I got in Bucky’s head a bit. I was just worried-”

“Worried about what?”  

“About Bucky and- I just remember coming out of the red room and being so attached to Clint. I had no family, no story, no morals. I was just pain. I was in pain myself and I inflicted pain onto others.”

“You went through something terrible-”

“THEY WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TERRIBLE! Bucky went through 70 years of it and the experiments they ran on Y/n….. I just wanted them to safe. I didn’t want them to get hurt.” She sighs, picking at her hair. “I love them both and I just wanted them to take a break. Maybe they would see how much they needed each other, and they would finally admit it to each other.”

“You should know by now that Barnes never thinks the way we do.”

“He thinks he is going to ruin everything he touches.”

“I know someone like that.” Clint interrupts from the door, giving Nat a small smirk. “Let’s just take a night to rest, Cho will update us if need be.”

- 

It had turned into a mess too fast, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The rain covered most of your vision as the walls of the compound seemed to be closing in quickly, the others screaming over the intercoms as they had been ambushed. 

You had been tasked to get the files from the lower levels of the compound, and you had planned to get it done quickly. You had not planned, however, to be locked in the basement as it began flooding. 

“GUYS!” You should, tears springing from your eyes as you cling to the door, the water reaching your ankles at the top of the stairs. 

“They blew up the dam-” Sams voice cuts through, half static half radio. “Steve, to your right-”

Gunshots could be heard in the background, Natasha cursing and you truly did not think they could hear you at all anymore. “Shit.” 

Instead of clinging to the door you turn to survey another way out of the room, eyes scanning over every inch of space to find your exit. The intercom in your hear rumbles with static before your name breaks through, Bucky’s voice sounding panicked. The next thing you know the intercoms have a sharp ringing through them that makes you gasp out and tear it from your ear quickly, dropping it in the water and diving in to find a way out. 

- 

Bucky curses as he tears the intercom from his ear, dodging a bullet quickly and diving behind a wall as Nat stays covered by her own, making eye contact for a second as she tears her own comns out.

First the heavy explosion that shook them down, the dam breaking and water beginning to flood, Hydra soldiers attacking them and now their comns were down. Worst of all Bucky could not find you. 

Heart thundering through his ribs as he bites at his tongue to keep from grunting in pain when he realizes he had been shot, but right now that doesn't matter. He had to find you. 

“I have to find Y/n!” He shouts, watching Nat nod before he dashes to the exit that you were supposed to use. Just as he reaches the metal door something loosens in his chest, knowing you would were near and he could find you. He would never let you go he swore to god. 

He pulls the door, desperate to get to you, only to find it sealed shut. So his metal hand takes charge, bending into the metal as he grunts out, doing his best to get it off. A shout of pain fills the air as Sam comes into view, moving to help Bucky tear the door off. 

They make eye contact for a moment, the rain beating down on them before a blast of light blows them to the side, heat covering their bodies as they ram into the wall. 

Bucky’s head slams into brick, he hears Steve shout and Sam scream out in pain before it all goes blank. 

He would never see the chaos erupt. 

- 

Steve is up the second the sun filters through the curtains, happy to finally get to leave his room and check on his friends' health. 

Nat is already waiting for him in the front hall of the med bay, a nervous look on her face as Steve walks past her to speak with Cho.”Any update?”

“He’s breathing.” She sighs. “And he was so lucky Y/n was there.”

- 

You could hear the explosion from under the water, and in a panic you swam back up, only to find that the water had flooded to the roof and your face was pressed to the ceiling to catch your breath. 

Taking a moment to breathe as you hear Sam scream in pain, there was a pain in yoru chest that you couldn’t explain. It felt like a panic attack but worse, you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t stop crying. 

“PLEASE!” You scream, hands pressing to the ceiling as the water gets worse. 

“Stop crying!” A voice breaks out, and you whip your head to find your old boss, the man that had thrown you into your first cell. The man that had ruined you. 

He was standing in the center of the room, and you had to blink for a moment to realize that there was no water, and you were completely dry.

“W-what?”

“Stand up!” You listen to him immediately, just as you used to, the tears still streaming down your face as you look around the room. It was different now, when you had come in it had looked like a simple office, now it was your cell. 

Or had it always been your cell?

Who was screaming?

“I SAID STAND UP!” Doctor Cornell shouts, stomping forward to drag you up himself, a slap tearing across your face as you cry out. 

“Where’s Bucky?” You gasp, the pain in your cheek fading away quickly. “I want to find Bucky.”

“You think he wants you?” Cornell laughs bitterly. “No one wants you, I’ve made you a fucking freak.”

“I want b-” Before you can finish your sentence you remember Bucky ignoring you, avoiding you….. And then you realize why. Cornell was right, he had made you a freak. You were a monster. 

A sob racks through your chest, and the painful feeling explodes. 

You try to scream out, only for your lungs to fill with water and more panic to take place. 

- 

Steve could not believe his eyes, holding Sam's abdomen tightly in an attempt to stop the blood, watching as vines burst from the basement and travel across every surface faster then he ever thought possible. 

“Is that……” Steve starts, looking to where Nat was trying to get Bucky up.

“Y/n.”

Sam gasps out as the vines wrap around him, tightening around his wound and glowing a deep golden color as some of the blood stops, the vines traveling further and wrapping around the Hydra soldiers tightly to stop them all. 

Now that Sam's wound is being taken care of, Steve dashes to dive in the water, swimming down to try and find where you were. Only you were nowhere to be found, whatsoever. 

By the time he comes back up he is panting for air, watching as Bucky kneels by the water with blood leaking down his face and panicked eyes looking at his friend. “Where is she?”

“She’s not down there.” Steve gasps. 

“STEVE WHERE IS SHE?!” Bucky snaps, the water reaching his waist as Nat moves to snatch him back. 

“The vines are dying, Y/n can’t hold them off forever. We gotta go.” She rushes out, snatching the back of Buckys vest. 

“NOT WITHOUT Y/N-”

“Bucky. Y/n is holding them off but we have to get Sam out of here. Please.”

- 

“Any word on Y/n?” Bruce asks, coming into the surveillance room where Clint is deep diving into the footage. 

“I can’t find her.” He admits, eyes never leaving the screen. “I would love some help.”

“You got it.”

“Lock the door before Barnes comes in and bothers me again.” He sighs, watching Bruce lock it. It was a joke, but he knew that Barnes was hurting. He could understand that. 

- 

Bucky woke up in a startled panic, reaching to your side of the bed quickly, sitting up to find you when he doesn’t feel you. “Y/n?”

His voice is scratchy, a mix of all the screaming from yesterday, and he slowly realizes you aren’t there as the memories resurface.You weren’t here, you were gone. They weren’t able to find you yesterday. 

A knock sounds at the door and Bucky jumps up, excitement filling him as he rushes to answer, hoping to see your face on the other side of the door, only to find Steve on the other side. His heart plummets to his stomach as his friend looks at him softly. 

“You found your way to her apartments then?”

“I think I came here immediately yesterday.” He answers truthfully, letting Steve in before looking around the room, seeing all the dead plants. “How did her plants die in a day?”

“Buck…..” Steve starts, and Bucky tenses, fists clenched as he turns to his friend. “It’s been…. It’s been a week.”

“What?” Bucky laughs, flinching as Steve turns on the light. 

“It’s been a week. You came here the night we brought you back and you passed out, I think because of the head injury-”

“If it’s been a week then where is my doll?”

“We…. we can’t find her Buck.” Steve sighs, rubbing between his eyes. “I think it’s time you and I talked about some things-”

“Talk about things? I can’t talk I have to go find her Steve-” He moves to pass his friend but Steve shoots his hand out to catch him. 

“I think it’s time to admit you love her.”

- 

Freak freak freak freak freak. 

Your mouth was dry and your feet hurt, this was the only thing you could comprehend. 

The lady in the market was staring at you wildly, looking terrified as she reached a hand towards you, concern flashing through her eyes. “Are you okay?” 

She had a heavy accent, one that reminded you of someone, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. What was it…..russian?

“Do you want me to call someone?” She asks, rubbing your shoulders. “What’s your name?”

“I…..I’m….” Who were you? You blinked slowly, trying to remember who you were. All you saw was a flash of someone with a metal arm before you were met with a bald man in a lab coat. “I… don’t…. Who am I?”

- 

Bucky finds himself in the med bay the next morning after a long lecture from Steve, staring at Sam as his friend runs on the treadmill. 

“I… I am so confused. Steve said you were in critical condition?” 

“He was.” Cho answers in amazement, reading the stats that Sam is sending through the tech pad in her hands. “But he is completely healed.”

“How?”

“Y/n, there were traces of her vines left in the wound. It’s completely healed now.”

“Her…. she’s never done that before.” Bucky mumbles, a tight feeling in his chest. “What do you think it means?”

“I think we need to find Y/n, as fast as we can. That was way too much energy used.” Cho answers, a grim expression on her face.

Bucky could do that, he would tear apart the world to find you.

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Miguel barely allowed himself the moment of reprieve primarily for the reasoning that evil never sleeps and therefore by that logic, he shouldn’t have to either; or at least minimise his sleep to accommodate for longer night patrols. His desire to keep his city safe was admirable but soon become detrimental to his health as his body -despite the genetic splicing- was starting to collapse on him due to frequent neglect of the basic bodily needs.

It hurts you to see him like that and you knew that if he were to be confronted about it, Miguel would immediately become dismissive by stating that this method was completely logical from his standpoint, as it was a means to minimise the criminal activity within the city. Miguel always thought it was his responsibility to crack down on the crime rate, even though there were people who’s jobs were to do exactly that, but in Miguel’s eyes their methods of detaining criminals was comparatively a slap on the wrist as to what punishment they should be receiving.

All came ahead one night when he returned home particularly more battered then usual and on the verge of collapse; you were quick to act in stabilising his upper body in your arms but in due to his muscular form, you were both forcibly brought down to kneeling in the dimly light room that had the curtains drawn for convenience.

‘Miguel, what happened out there?’ You said as softly as you could as you moved your hands to hold his jaw with tenderness, as to not inflict more pain by accidentally applying pressure to the many cuts and bruises that littered his worn but handsome face. ‘Just caught a bad night, it’s nothing I can’t handle.’ He tells you as he’s pushing your hands away from his face, thinking that would be enough to reassure you when all it only proved to do was the opposite effect; Even as your watching him make an valiant effort to stand but from the way he was griping onto the bed frame like a lifeline or crutch, it wasn’t hard to tell that whatever happened out that had already begun to take it’s hold long before he arrived home.

Riddled with worry and annoyance at how nonchalant he was about his condition, you soon got up off the floor and made a reach for his arm that was leaning reliantly on the bedpost, feeling the muscles as they tensed under your touch. ‘This isn’t just nothing though, is it Miguel. I mean look at you, you’re barely able to walk on your own without needing something to use for support.’ You heard him sigh deeply as he then spoke. ‘How I’m doing hasn’t got anything to do with you, y/n, I’m capable of looking after myself.’

His words were with thinly laced with venom but you merely scoffed, knowing by now that he didn’t have it in him to hurt you, not that he ever would, he’d never forgive himself if you hurt on his watch and by his hands by that, but his stubbornness and inability to let others help him had finally became his Achilles heel. ‘You know damn well that’s not what I was implying, I know you can handle yourself in the most toughest of situations but is it such a disservice to yourself to rely on others now and then.’ Miguel didn’t say anything and you took that as your cue to keep talking while you still had his attention.

‘Look,’ you stepped closer to him so that you could see his face, his brows were heavily furrowed and his jaw was in the motion of clenching but flinched when reaching a particularly bruised spot; He looked like the image of what you thought a war torn angel would look like, he bared his flaws like scars that were scattered across his perfectly sculptured body whilst also keeping intact his god gifted beauty.

Miguel was perfect in every way to you but to himself he might as well have been the devil reincarnate. ‘I know you want to help the city but how can you when your own body is falling apart before you. You can shoulder the responsibility all you want but sooner or later that responsibility is going to start crushing you under it’s immeasurable weight and no matter how hard you push back, it’ll only push back harder.’ You trailed your hand down his arm until it rested upon the back of his much larger, stronger one and squeezing it. ‘I just wish you trusted me more because I’m more then willing to help but I can’t if you aren’t willing to let me.’

You both stood in silence as the nightlife of the city just outside the window continued on undisrupted and unaware of your squabble, all that could be heard was your in tandem breathing and the muffled laughter of passersby, which only felt to have gotten louder with the time spent without a response from the male next to you as your hope for Miguel to see reason seemed to dwindle; why couldn’t he see that you were merely thinking of his well-being and didn’t wish to see him end up dead in an alleyway you couldn’t reach.

You didn’t know if you could bare to stomach something like that ever being the possibility and you didn’t wish to be plagued by the what ifs, going insane by wondering how differently things would’ve turned out had you stepped in earlier and you certainly didn’t want to be burdened with the guilt and the depression that would soon follow afterward to remind you of your shortcomings; You didn’t wish that ending for Miguel for he deserved a far better one that ended on his own terms.

Just as you were about to give up all hope and leave him to his own devices, begrudgingly accepting that you couldn’t get through to him, the hand you were grasping moved to intertwine your fingers together, although gingerly as though Miguel was half expecting you to pull away but when you didn’t, his hand then proceeded encased yours entirely. ‘For the record I do trust you.’ He said. ‘I probably trust you more then I’ve ever trusted anyone for you’ve never made me think twice about ever placing my trust in you because you always end up proving why I chose to let you in. I’m sorry that I don’t open up as easily when it comes to help but I just didn’t want to make your life more of a incoherent mess because of me.’

‘My life was already an incoherent mess before you came along, if anything the moment you became apart of my everyday life it became a little more clearer to me as to what to do with my life.’ You told him.

‘And what’s that?’ He asked.

You smirked as you nudged his arm slightly. ‘To make sure your stubborn ass doesn’t get killed prematurely.’

Miguel scoffed but couldn’t help the smile stretching across his lips at the sound of your laughter, something that was much needed after a night like tonight as to remind him what he was coming home to after every patrol; the heavenly sound that was your laugh he swore had some hidden abilities for each and every time he heard it, he immediately felt better. ‘That’s funny but I’m pretty sure I’m we should be doing something about now.’ He responded blankly but you could see the humour in his scarlet eyes.

[inspector-constable]

Aziraphale and the Gray Area: Why is he like that though

Good omens season 2 spoilers ahead

One of the things religious trauma gave me is a strong sense of right vs. wrong. The idea that there is always a right way to do things or a right course of action, and to not do things that way is simply wrong. This is more than just feeling afraid of being punished for doing the wrong thing; it feels like part of my identity. I think of myself as a good person, so I want to do good things and I want to do the right thing. If I choose to do the wrong thing, I lose myself and I lose what I value in myself. Sometimes it’s a good thing to feel like this, it’s what led me away from a religion that preached hate. Sometimes it’s not such a good thing, because I can hurt people by trying to do the right thing, or by trying to put my personal sense of morals onto other peoples’ situations. I have been picking through my beliefs for over a decade trying to confront and dismantle the harmful ones. It’s a painful process and it takes a long, long time.

How much longer must it take for a literal angel, a servant of God? We have the pleasure of seeing this process in Aziraphale through the ages, and it’s a lot slower than fans want it to be. I think people see Aziraphale in his moments in the gray area - lying, disobeying orders, being a bastard, enjoying human food, and loving and trusting a demon - and they think that he must be just fine with being in the middle: mostly right, a bit wrong, very human. But that characterization oversimplifies and misses Aziraphale’s true nature.

The sense of justice and good vs. evil is central to who Aziraphale is. He is not just another angel following commands; he is doing what he truly thinks is right no matter what the consequences may be. He ends up being quite a bit more good and loving than any of the other angels we meet, because he isn’t okay with doing what he knows is wrong. He knows it innately, but also he knows it because of what he was taught. When you’re taught that hate and violence and greed is wrong, but then you see hate and violence and greed being perpetuated by your teachers, you start to wonder where that dividing line really is.

That’s where the gray area comes in. When Aziraphale gives away his sword, he’s aware it’s not technically the right thing to do, but decides it is the actual right thing to do to protect Eve and Adam and their child. Same as when he lies to the angels about Job’s children, only this time instead of fudging the truth and avoiding the confrontation, he has to make a direct choice to do something that is technically wrong - lying - in order to avoid doing something he really, really knows is Wrong - murder. In this case, he’s not okay with lying despite it being wrong, he’s okay with lying because it is the right thing to do. It still causes a large amount of internal conflict when he thinks he will be sent to Hell for disobeying, but that fear of punishment didn’t stop him from doing what he thought was good.

For Aziraphale, the gray area is not about being a little bit evil, it’s about fudging the Rules and disobeying authority in order to remain completely good. Since Crowley is in the gray area with him, surely Crowley must be in the same boat of wanting to do the Right thing. Throughout thousands of years of history Aziraphale never stops arguing the side of Good, trying to convince Crowley to do the right thing. Sometimes he finds that Crowley was actually right all along, and then Aziraphale can feel safe to align himself with whatever the demon is doing. Sometimes Aziraphale even tries to convince Heaven to do the right thing with him. During Armageddon, Aziraphale avoids telling Crowley the truth because he thinks it would be better to get Heaven to stop doing the wrong thing. And he’s right, a lot of problems would be solved and life would be easier if Heaven would listen to Aziraphale and stop inflicting their harmful views on the world. 

It would be nice if Aziraphale would realize, at the end of the first season, that Heaven is not interested in being good or even being right; they just want to win. Aziraphale is too naive and pure to believe that of Heaven. After everything, he still wants to be an angel, and he still wants to be part of a Heaven that is doing good. What he did at the end of season 2 is not at all out of character for him. It makes perfect sense that he would want to take the opportunity to change Heaven for the better. Anyone can see what a delightful place it would be with Aziraphale making the decisions. Angels could drink hot chocolate and stack books in their offices or pop down to Earth to go to the theater. Humans could live without worrying about Armageddon or the Great Plan or having their lives destroyed over a bet. And demons (or at least one specific one) who were good and loving could be forgiven and become angels again so they don’t have to be forced to carry out evil acts and always be looking over their shoulders. 

Aziraphale didn’t do what he did because he doesn’t accept or love who Crowley is. He just genuinely believes that Crowley is still an angel deep down and that Heaven is where he belongs, where he could be the most happy. A better Heaven, where Crowley could create stars to last millions of years and put anything he wanted in the suggestion box. Aziraphale wanted to create a life for them to be together without any more worry of secret meetings, gray areas, and war. When Crowley rejected that life, it broke Aziraphale’s view of Crowley and his goodness. As ridiculous as it sounds, Aziraphale never expected that Crowley wouldn’t jump at the chance to be an angel with him again, and now his perception of their relationship is shaken. 

Ultimately, Aziraphale can’t be so selfish as to choose to run away with the being he loves, when he knows he can do so much more good if he returns to Heaven. And so in trying to do the right thing for everyone, Aziraphale does the wrong thing for Crowley and himself. This is what is so hard about Aziraphale’s gray area; it cuts both ways. He has so much learning and unpacking to do, and I’m afraid he’s going to find that he will have much less power to change Heaven than he thought. All we can do is beg for a third season and then Wait and See.

[testosteroneb0y]

NSFW alphabet - HABIT emH

-Cross posted on ao3-

CW: explicit/18+ content below the cut, A lot of kinks are implied but not directly mentioned and there is probably things I could add in here but I'm too lazy, just know it's kinky and smutty and all that jazz

Author's Note: this is the first thing I've written in a while and most of it is just me yapping. I tried to go over it and fix any mistakes but I've been too tired to properly proofread it. I also tried to keep it mostly in character but Habit is just such a questionable character it's rather hard to make it not end up being ooc. Gender neutral but made with afab body parts in mind.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I would like to think there would be a little bit but tbh it seems like a no. He'd probably make you see stars and then go straight back to murdering people or something <3

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His : hands. This fella probably has hands that would be on the larger side (which is shocking) and he just loves that, he can do so much more whether it's wrapping a hand around your wrists to hold them together or something else (that I can't think of rn😔 I'm too tired) he just loves the fact that it gives him more control

Partner : thighs, hips. I don't really have a good reason for this, he just seems like the type of guy to love leaving handprints from grabbing too hard on thighs 😇 similar to the thighs part, he probably just loves gripping onto them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he cums inside, there's no denying it. He'll say things like "'gonna fill you up so good, m'kay, rabbit?" I don't even think he would be that big on breeding but my god does that man love seeing his seed dripping out of you

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jerked off and came into a pair of your underwear and put it back into your drawer. He would be soossososoooo obsessed with the fact that you'd end up not realising and wearing them will they were still dirty

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Habit knows his stuff and I stand by that. Evan, not so much. From being in so many different people's bodies he has to have gotten some action. He was probably pissed off when he realised Evan's body couldn't take as much as he would like to.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Literally any as long as he can grab at your ass, or thighs, or hips. Also doggy style occasionally because he just loves absolutely pounding down into you, shoving your face into a pillow and going to town.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

(This is more my Evan hcs bcuz yk its his body n stuff !!)

Naturally doesn't have much hair down there besides a little happy trail

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

honestly, canon habit probably would not give a fuck, as long as he gets to cum then he is fine but I'm a fanboy and dont care, i like that anyway :3

on the more ooc side, I think if he was truly inlove with you he would try to be more romantic but it's hard for him considering his violent nature

He would always try his best to make sure you have a nice (well...as nice as getting your brain fucked out of you can be) time.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he is shameless. He will leave a room and go to the bathroom or something and have a wank, he doesn't care if people in the other room hear him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

CHOKING. He fucking loves choking people because he likes the way they try to grasp for air. The light leaving their eyes is enough to get this man GOING.🥰 he loves pain, inflicting it mainly. I think it would be kinda obvious considering his...occupation, if you will. He is big on corruption. He just loves turning a little innocent "rabbit" into the freakiest person :3

I could go on and on about his kinks but I'm trying to contain myself.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Despite popular belief, I think he probably prefers being in his own house, but he would do it anywhere in the house.

If he is reeeally horny then he might pull you into an alley or something for a quickie

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything and everything you do will turn him on. I'm leaving it at that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Im a strong believer that tbis man likes everything no matter how weird but maaaybe like scat n stuff, I can just see him not really being the biggest fan of things like that, he probably thinks it's too gross (and will say that while being covered in like 6 different peoples blood)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves receiving, Face fucking is one of his favourite things. Everything from how you look in the aftermath of it, to (going back to the choking thing) Your eyes rolling back as he just shoves his cock down into your throat.

Although he likes receiving, I think he would be pretty good at giving. It's almost like a wasted talent of his.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I don't even know why I have to say this but he definitely is rough ASSSSFFFFF. He will plow into you like there's no tomorrow. If he is feeling really cruel he will go super slow at first, only moving very slightly, making it almost like new form of torture.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he is even slightly pent up he most definitely will let it out. He seems like the typa guy that hates being sexually frustrated and he HAS to have some sort of release to calm him down or he is just rougher later on in the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is down to try everything and if I'm being honest he probably has already tried everything, and I genuinely mean every single thing a person could like. This isn't to say he likes everything, but he does probably enjoys mostly everything being the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 he is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He could and would go all day, all night. Unfortunately, he has other business to attend to. (Brutally murdering people 😍)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

oh brother, he has toys, TOO many toys. Mainly to use on other people but I can see him using a vibrator on himself on occasion. He also would own everything that could he used for bondage, which also happens to come in handy when he gets a bit silly and kidnaps people ! This is kind of random but I can see him loving nip clamps.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

So much, too much. I personally would not be able to stand the amount that he would tease, and I can put up with more than the average person. He is just a cruel motherfucker.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I can't imagine him being very loud. Evan whimpers, Habit himself wouldn't WANT to but that's the price that he has to pay when he uses other people's bodies.

He will talk and whisper dirty stuff into your ears most of the time but sometimes if he has had a bad day and is just really angry he will just shut up and get it over with.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves putting you in your place, even the slightest little bit of back chat and you are done for.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I think he would be pretty average in size, maybe even slightly smaller considering Evan's height, but he would make up for it in other ways.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It doesn't take much to get him going so even just the simple act of bending down infront of him, whether it was purposely or not, and he will have you bent over.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Habit himself wouldn't be tired because of the whole being an entity but he would realise "oh shit this body is so tired" and he would just force himself to go to sleep.

[coming-for-your-vocalfolds]

So here's my take on the possible modifications the vinsmoke siblings had to go through as a person who likes to inflict as much pain mental and physical onto a character as possible. Rant inspired by me trying to convince myself Ichiji isn't hot

They didn't just pop out the womb with powers and emotionless, Judge waited not long of course, probably until they were at least a year. Then started the surgeries for the implants to give them, ya know, their powers giving them probably stronger yet more flexible skeletons.

Reiju's implant is essentially a bank of different chemicals and carbon based products to make antidotes and such. Ichiji probably had to have his eyes and hands replaced to tolerate the beam of light that pierce through people, also he probably had sort of insulated wire going through his body "transport" the light. Niji -for lack of better words- has a thin battery pack carefully connected to his nervous system with a set voltage so he doesn't accidentally kill himself he should tho, Cosett didn't deserve that, and probably something (not sure what) as a back up to protect his muscles from frying and organs from cooking. Sanji didn't show much promise meaning he probably got the base level surgery (the skeleton upgrade). Yonji -probably the most horrific- there's no polite way to say this chopping off his arms and replacing them with hydraulic like appendages, I kinda wanted to sugar coat it but it's not really a possibility.

After the initial operation(s) begins the tests, making sure they work the way they should and are working consistently and if in the position to work on upgrades. Then after that comes the exoskeleton, I'm not sure how the those would work, but they'd implemented around the age 5. Testing to go along with that too, making sure there are no faults in it.

Of course if Judge can find a way to improve an his "creations" then he will, he probably has panels in each of the limbs and torso for access and upgrades.

As for the emotions, I don't wanna say he proded around in their heads, so I'm gonna say its learned behavior, Ichi, Ni, and Yonji spent too much time around Judge, taught the three that emotions are weakness and that in this world you need to be strong yada yada yada brainwashing stuff. Sanji and Reiju spent time around Sora's kindness which counteracted Judges words.

Anyway that's the end of my rant, I might add more if think of more, feel free to add.

[aviradasa]

Love long lost Pt2

Aaravos x Fem!reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

{angst} @delusional-mushroom @hubba-hubba1 @jellyfishxxi

Warnings: blood, wounds, depicted Self inflicted wounds,

Hey my little goblins guess what time it is! Time for my ass to post part 2!! I am honestly loving this little mini series so I've decided a part 3 maybe 4 will be seen in the near future lol. Anyways I hop you all enjoy and thank you for your patience also I will be @ ing all the folks who ask me to!

Ps: don't forget to leave a request! I will be linking my masterlist here please read it before requesting! Anyways have a happy read!

Masterlist

Pt 1 linked here

Pt three linked here

Pt 4 linked here

It takes a moment for my eyes to open again but when they don't see the stone walls of the storm spire, No all I see is that I am in an old Human tavern, As I look around everything has a blue tint-like that of the magic that Aarvos used on me, looking around i see large groups of human and elves sitting at tables, drinking, talking, and listening to the upbeat music, I can even smell the various foods being Cooked in the back the rich scents wafting about and mixing assisting in making the atmosphere even more warm and inviting.

I walk through the tavern and head to the front bar and take a seat in front of the barmaid. I don't know where I am, it seems familiar but I just can't place it. I need to know why Aaravos sent me here and why.

“ Hey, there miss, busy night huh?” I ask the barmaid, earning no response. Maybe she just didn't hear me over the music, I think to myself so I decided it best to possibly try and ask again. “ hey miss, it sure is a busy night huh?” I ask once more. The barmaid does not react at all and I start to wonder if she even knows it there. She has to know I’m there. I'm sitting right in front of her, maybe she just isn't in the talking mood. I think to myself as I stand up, I walk over to a human man who is sitting at a table with some other people and way my hand in front of his face earning no response. He just continues talking to the other folks at the table, and that's when the panic starts to seep in.

I run table to table seat to seat tapping, screaming, hitting everyone I see but I get no reaction each time, no one in the tavern can see me, hear me, or feel me. I am simply a phantom in this place. Once I've exhausted my options I run to the door of the tavern and try to yank it open to no avail, I tug and pull, kick, punch, and scratch at the door until my nails are shredded and bleeding alongside my knuckles, leaving bloody scratch marks on the tavern door as I weep, not just because of the pain I've inflicted upon myself in the moment, but because I am trapped in this place alone and scared. What makes it even worse is that Aaravos put me here and I still have no idea why.

A few moments pass and I wipe my tear-stained face, and take a seat at a darkened table in the back of the tavern. It almost seems like the light from the firepit in the middle of the room is too fearful to illuminate the spot . Once I take my seat the sound of the music in the tavern is changed to a more eerie circus-like sound as one of the bards step onto the stones surrounding the firepit. It appears he is a moonshadow elf mage. Suddenly he casts a spell and The room dims slightly as he begins to speak.

“My good friends old and new, We have a special show for you tonight, filled with frights, lights, and One of the most beautiful creatures of the night. You know her,you love her, she's the one and only Y/n!” he says as a black sheet appears on the floor in front of him. The mage sprinkles some sort of powder onto the sheet before grabbing the corner of it. The mage lifts the sheet spinning it elaborately, sending the purple dust into the air of the tavern giving the little light in the dim room a purple glow before he dramatically throws the sheet into the air, revealing an elven girl dressed as a dancer. Posing in the middle of the room as the whole tavern erupted into cheers.

“y/n?..” I ask myself, I'm confused in every way possible, but before I can think about what I'm witnessing I hear someone speak.

“Amature magic at its best.” I hear an oddly familiar voice say beside me, I jump in my seat turning my head so fast I could have broken my neck. I know that voice anywhere but could it be? My whole body freezes in place as I stare at the figure In the seat next to me, they are wearing a very elaborate cloak with an odd symbol on the hood. They are sipping from a tankard, with their eyes glued to the girl in the middle of the room. But just as I look back to the middle of the room the performer turns her head and everything goes black.

I awakened once more in a forest, it had the same blue haze as the tavern did but this time it was lighter than before. I spin around slowly taking in my surroundings but stop suddenly. Right in front of me is a small pond in a small clearing of the forest, it is surrounded by many types of Xadian flowers and plants being illuminated by the moonlight that is cast upon the small pond’s waters, and standing beside the pond with their back facing me is that same cloaked figure from the tavern.

Suddenly I hear a voice quite like mine call out in a whispered shout, “Aaravos is that you?” the voice says, the cloaked figure turns around and takes down their hood revealing the familiar elf, he looked nothing like he did when I saw him through the mirror, his skin is a more vibrant purple and the star freckles on his face glow brighter than they had when I saw him, his hair is neater and pulled out of his face, its held in place by a golden circlet. He looks divine and ethereal, he almost looks like he shouldn't belong to Xadia, but some far-away planet that we could never even dream of.

I turn around to see the elven performer girl from the tavern, this time I can see her face clearly she looks like me.., but I only see her for a moment as a smile creeps onto her face and she runs to him wrapping her arms around his neck, he returns the embrace and her smile as he wraps his arms around her waist and spins her around for a moment as their laughter intertwined with the wind. She shares my voice and from what I saw my face. But how can this be, Who is she? I wonder as I watch the scene play out. But once her feet touch the ground, their laughter fades and it all goes black once more.

This time I woke up in a cave. I take a moment to gather myself and let my eyes adjust to the darkened area before I feel comfortable to stand. I hastily make my way to the cave entrance and look out and see the edge of a new forest. I hear a loud crack and snap my head in the direction of the sound. I can't make out much but the light the stars provide is enough to illuminate two silhouetted figures moving through the trees in a panic. the taller one dragging the other by the wrist as they run, I have a good idea by now of who those two figures are and I am proven correct when they enter the cave.

They are both visibly disheveled with her hair being knotted with twigs leaves and mud, her clothing is freshly ripped and torn, and she has cuts, bruises, and blood scattered along her skin. His appearance is similar, but his hair is less messy and his clothing is more dirty than tattered, though they share the same amount of wounds it seems. “Aaravos…What did you do.” the girl says wiping away tears but smearing the blood and dirt on her skin more by accident. He doesn't respond to her, he just looks away avoiding eye contact. She visibly gets frustrated and shoves him with all the force she can muster as she chokes out a sob. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” She screams at him through tears.

He still doesn't look at her nor does he respond. He doesn't even seem affected by her shove or screams, he just stands there. She approaches him once more and hits his chest “YOU BASTARD TELL ME WHAT YOU DID! WHY? WHY WON’T YOU TELL ME.” she screams again, I jump back When all of a sudden he snaps back “ I DID WHAT NEEDED TO BE DONE!” he screams back at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pushing her into the cave wall behind them as she chokes out another sob. “Let go, please… Let go, it hurts.” she cries. He drops her and she collapses onto the ground as he turns his back to her slamming his fists into the cave's jaggad walls. He didn't flinch once his blood started pouring out of the wounds he just placed his head against his bloody forearm and let it bleed, as his love cried in the background.

Then once more the scene went dark. But this time i did not appear in another memory.

I feel myself being shaken awake “y/n! y/n wake up are you ok? Y/n! Guys she's waking up!” I hear Raylas voice call out as my eyes drift open. I take a sharp breath as I come to and I shoot upright. Grabbing onto Raylas shoulder for support and i take in deep rapid breaths i feel a stinging on my forehead and when i reach up to touch it,it burns my fingertips. When i get my bearings I look around at everyone with a fearful,and shocked expression.

“You guys aren't gonna believe me when I tell you what I just saw.”

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: One Piece 

I wrote the dialogue for this in the ZoSan server while we were chatting about alpha!Zoro taking care of pregnant omega!Sanji but the two still bantering earlier this week and because I finished reading two of the four super long documents for work I needed to read by the end of this week I thought to reward myself by turning it into actual fic.  

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji  

Tags: mpreg, omegaverse, canon-typical slightly mean playful teasing  

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Sanji leans back against Zoro when his mate comes up behind him, the swordsman’s strong arms wrapping around him so his hands can caress at his stomach heavy with their child. Despite knowing exactly what kinds of violence they are capable of inflicting Sanji never felt all that surprised at the gentle touch they managed when it came to what will soon be their first pup.  

“Want me to take the weight for a little?” Zoro asks, resting his head on Sanji’s shoulder.  

Sanji hums at it.  

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” He blames the mosshead’s stupid genes for how heavy the pup is. And as such the bastard can take a bit of responsibility for the weight of them and give Sanji’s poor back a break.  

His comment earns him a huff but Zoro’s fingers find purchase under the swell as he lifts their pup up and off Sanji’s hips.  

“Oh thank fuck,” Sanji mutters. Melting in relief as he lets more of his weight fall onto Zoro. He knows the alpha can take it and it is becoming rare the moments where he doesn’t at least slightly hurt from the pregnancy. It’s all worth it, he knows, but the relief, even momentarily, is appreciated.  

Zoro presses a kiss against his forehead and Sanji can feel the grin that forms next. Bracing for the inevitable dumbass comment.  

“This all that’s giving you grief? This is nothing cook!” Zoro teases but he doesn’t move to let go of the weight he has taken. His thumbs rubbing against the bunched fabric of Sanji’s shirt where they rest.  

“Nothing!?” Sanji snaps because even if he knows Zoro means nothing by it he still won’t let the insult slide. “You try having it on you 24-7 while your ankles have swollen twice their size!” 

As much as it pained him, he had given up on his proper shoes a month ago and accepted life in slippers and slides.  

Zoro is quiet in apparent, and possibly, no, probably, put-on, contemplation of what Sanji had said.  

“Nah.” Is apparently what he decides on. Joined with a nuzzle against Sanji’s cheek. “You’re better at it than I would be.”  

A part of Sanji wants to tell him to fuck off for once again trying to dodge some chore by claiming Sanji’s better at it just because he’s a fucking omega. He doesn’t - mostly because Zoro actually might leave and Sanji’s not ready for the weight to be back on him just yet.  

“They’re only going to get bigger you know,” Sanji says. Because that’s what he’s been thinking about lately. Complete with the mourning of the sacrifice of his figure that goes along with it. “There’s still another month to go.”  

Zoro gives a very articulate grunt at that.  

“Guess I’ll have to do this more than. Can’t have you collapsing on us.”  

[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

The first post on this platform!

Hope you enjoy this #delulu as I myself also screamed hard when writing this! Looking forward to drifting down this path of delulu with you all!

When Rafayel meets MC in the middle of the night Abysswalker Myth related - may contain spoilers, so please proceed with precaution

Finding Home Amidst The Night

************************************************************************

As darkness descended upon the palace, the scorching heat of the day gave way to the biting chill of the night. You sat by the window, gazing out at the desert landscape under the starry sky. The sight of the countless stars once again reminded you of the 99 times you had attempted to escape and explore the world beyond the palace walls, only to fail miserably each time. Except for that one time, the one time you had escaped with your savior, the only person who had ever taken you out of the gilded cage that was the palace.

Ever since that successful 100th attempt, you had looked forward to seeing Rafayel again, hoping he would take you to discover places you had never known existed. You also began to pore over the few remaining books on Lemuria in the library. The books revealed that long, long ago, the Lemurian had lived in a place called "the sea," a vast expanse of water that covered most of Philos' habitable land. But due to a cataclysmic event that had gone unrecorded for tens of thousands of years until now, that "sea" was now just a memory, a distant dream for those who lived on this strip of golden sand.

You often longed to ask Rafayel what the "sea" was like, if he could describe it to you. But seeing the wistful look in his eyes whenever you mentioned Lemuria or the "sea," you never had the courage to stir up such painful memories. Though you had no parents, you could still understand the feeling of losing one's home, as if you yourself had a similar emptiness within you. You knew that this place, this palace, was not your home.

The moon's glow intensified, signaling the deepening night. Rafayel had not appeared again today. You knew he couldn't always be there, but waiting for him had become one of your habits. You dreamed of traveling with him to far-off places and learning things you never thought you'd need, like how to fight like an assassin. You left the balcony and walked to your bedside table, reaching into the drawer and retrieving a dagger with a deep purple fishtail hilt.

Holding the fishtail dagger he had given you, you marveled at how this beautiful object concealed a weapon capable of inflicting harm and taking lives. An image flashed in your mind, and you knew exactly who it was meant for. Beautiful yet dangerous... But you weren't afraid to approach him... because that was what, deep down in your heart, you wanted to do...

As you stroked the exquisite fishtail weapon, a sudden gust of cold wind swept through the room. In a matter of seconds, a dagger was pressed against your throat, your eyes were covered, and you could feel a steady breath behind you. How familiar. Neither of you spoke, but in a blink of an eye, to the surprise of the person behind you, you swiftly spun around, facing the hands that were covering your eyes. With the exquisite fishtail dagger in your right hand, you aimed straight for the neck of the person behind you and lunged. Just as the tip of the dagger was about to touch his throat, your movement suddenly stopped. You looked straight into his eyes and said:

"So, should I stab your throat or your chest? Which would be more fatal?"

Rafayel looked at you and let out a low chuckle, "Your Highness has begun to grasp the basics." With that, he grabbed the hand that was holding the fishtail and pulled it down to his chest. "But for me, the real weakness is the 'heart' right in front of me."

Before you could fully process his words, he suddenly pulled you closer. He tripped your leg, causing you to lose balance and fall onto the bed. Immediately, he held your hands down, pinning them above your head, pressed his entire body against you, and whispered into your ear, "But Your Highness has also forgotten that a skilled assassin must know how to counterattack."

His suggestive words and actions sent a wave of heat through your body. Trying to dispel your flustered state, you struggled against his embrace, but your hand accidentally brushed against his right side. It wasn't until he let out a soft groan and a warm, damp sensation seeped into your hand that you realized he was wounded, and not lightly.

"You're hurt! Why didn't you treat it before coming here? What if the guards find you? Your wound won't be limited to just this!" An inexplicable anger surged through you. You knew that someone like him was no stranger to wounds, but for some reason, your heart ached for him. You only knew that you didn't want him to suffer any more harm.

Suppressing your tumultuous emotions, you rolled Rafayel over and had him sit up on the bed. For the first time, you spoke to him in a commanding tone, "As your princess, I order you to stay here and not go anywhere. I'll get you some medicine."

With that, you left Rafayel who was staring at you in bewilderment and went to fetch the medicine, unaware that after you left, he clutched his chest, where the crimson mark near his heart was glowing brightly. Only a few minutes later, you returned, carrying bandages and vials of precious healing potions that had been gifted to you as a special privilege for the princess.

You approached Rafayel, sat down beside him at the bedside, and reached for the still bleeding wound with your handkerchief. But as you were about to touch the wound, you realized a dilemma. "I wonder... can you... expose the wound yourself?"

Rafayel looked at you, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "How does Your Highness want it to be “exposed”? Like this?" With that, Rafayel grabbed the dagger and was about to cut a large piece of his clothes right over the wound. You immediately stopped him.

"Such a precious garment shouldn’t be ruined. Perhaps... you should take it off instead."

Rafayel let out a low chuckle, "Are you sure, Your Highness? Could it be that Your Highness... has some ulterior motive?"

Unable to bear his suggestive tone any longer, you stood up abruptly and ran out of the room, not forgetting to leave a message, "You have one moment to change!"

Rafayel laughed, watching your retreat. It had been a while since he had seen such a sight. As soon as he finished his thoughts, he picked up the handkerchief you had intended to clean the wound with and kissed it. "Only you... can calm the storm in my heart."

Outside, while you were hesitating whether to enter the room even though it hadn't been a minute yet, the sound of approaching guards and maids made you quickly forget your worries and go straight back into the room, locking the door behind you. "Phew, that was close."

But your sigh of relief didn’t last long before the scene in front of you shattered your newly gathered calm. The bright moonlight streaming through the window illuminated Rafayel’s figure. He was casually caressing your fish-tail knife, half-naked and leaning against the headboard. His wound was glaringly red. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Noticing your presence, Rafayel turned towards you, extending a hand like an invitation. "Is this exposure enough for Your Highness’s treatment? Come here."

Almost instinctively, you approached, placing your hand in his palm, and he gently guided you to sit beside him. Your heart pounded so hard that you couldn’t think straight until you saw the bleeding wound, reminding you of your task.

You carefully cleaned the wound and prepared to apply the medicine but noticed the prepared cloth was missing. Unperturbed, you grabbed another handkerchief and continued the treatment. Throughout the process, Rafayel didn’t utter a word of complaint. Only his labored breathing gave away the pain he was enduring.

With the final step of bandaging left, you felt utterly at a loss. Holding the bandage opposite him, you were unsure how to proceed.

After enjoying your flustered attempts for a while, Rafayel finally spoke. "Has Your Highness never bandaged a wound before? Come here, I'll teach you."

As he spoke, he grasped one end of the bandage and gently pulled, drawing you closer until you nearly touched his freshly treated wound. "Be gentle, or else..."

"Shh," Rafayel hushed you, guiding your hand around him. "You need to pay attention, or you won't understand."

Your ears turned red. You had no choice but to look down, embarrassed. Rafayel continued his "instruction," whispering in your ear while guiding your hand. "Fix it on one side, then start wrapping... that's right... just like that... see, the wound is covered now... good job."

Rafayel’s constant whispers in your ear made your heart race uncontrollably. He guided you through each step until the bandage was wrapped securely. Then he leaned back against the headboard, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before looking at you. "Thank you for your care, Your Highness, but it's time for your servant to leave."

As he attempted to rise, a sudden boldness surged within you, and you grabbed his hand. To his surprise, you blurted out words you never expected to say. "If possible, please stay for the night."

Rafayel looked at you in astonishment, as if unable to believe you had said that. "Didn’t Your Highness the one who forbade me from entering your room?"

"But haven't you already broken that rule?" you replied, your gaze steady. "Just for tonight, please stay. I want to see you rest."

Feeling a tightened pain in his chest, Rafayel looked at you with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. Holding onto his heart, he replied, "If Your Highness already insisted, who could ever stop you?"

Without waiting for your response, he reached out, pulled you into his arms, and gently lay you both down. Rafayel wrapped his arms around you and softly whispered, "It’s time to rest, Your Highness."

A warm feeling flowed through you, and you smiled, caressing his handsome face. "Thank you for staying. Rest well."

In his arms, you felt a strange peace, like being enveloped in warm water on a deserted island, never wanting to wake up. You felt you had finally found your "home."

As you gradually fell asleep, Rafayel opened his eyes, looking at your face, slightly changed but still the same in spirit. Thousands of years had passed, through countless lifetimes, yet you remained the same—always doing as you pleased, always capable of making him bend to your will.

Even now, Rafayel knew he should leave tonight because many matters awaited him, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down with the palace guards around. But just for this moment, he wanted to stay by your side.

After setting up a barrier around the room, Rafayel extinguished the candle at the head of the bed with a flick of his "fire," then slowly closed his eyes, whispering the words he had kept hidden for so long.

"Goodnight, my beloved bride."

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 8

word count: 408

warnings: hangover, vomiting

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

January 22, 1988 

Dear Will,

I’ve always hated seeing you get hurt. Whether it was Lonnie, One, or me inflicting the harm, it’s one of the worst feelings in the world to see you in pain. But this morning, you were in a new kind of pain, one that I’ve never seen you in before. You had a hangover. One that you never intended on having in the first place.

I was startled awake when you bolted upright and ran to the bathroom around 6:35am. I followed you, because I wanted to be around to help you in case you were still somehow drunk, but you whacked me away. I totally understand why you did that– I wouldn’t want you to see me like that, either. I’d barely stepped out of the bathroom when you called my name, apologizing and asking me to stay. So I did. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have thought twice about walking away. I probably would have even considered staying to be an obligation rather than a desire. But I lowered myself down onto the floor beside you, rubbing your back comfortingly as you threw up a few more times. I didn’t even flinch.

Once you’d gotten it all out and were able to stand up, I helped you back to bed before going back to the bathroom to grab you an Advil from the medicine cabinet and a cup of water for when you’d inevitably wake up with a migraine later. I laid down next to you and you shuffled in closer, nuzzling your nose into my neck. “I’m never drinking again,” you told me, and I huffed a sad laugh in reply. By now, you’re definitely aware of the effect you have on me. I’d do anything for you. I think I might care a little too much. I always have. Which is why I’m kind of upset that you completely disregarded your own morals for the sake of peer pressure. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gonna pull some “Just Say No,” bullshit, I’m just… I don’t know. I’m probably reading too far into this. I just don’t want to see you in pain, is all.

Anyway… Party Movie Night is next Friday. I’m running out to get your Reese’s Pieces tonight so I don’t forget. Let’s just hope I don’t eat them all before the box reaches your hands. You’ve got me hooked, man.

Love,

Mike

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[chvoswxtch]

New to the bar, could I get a margarita on the rocks? I have been replaying Cruel Summer an unhealthy amount while thinking of our lovely friend Matty. “He looks up grinning like a devil” is the line I have in mind. Would you be so kind to serve me something good? 🍹

i'm so glad you requested this bc i've been thinking about it since we talked about it and I had to stop myself from writing a 75 page dissertation on this.

that being said, I made this one extra strong, and I hope you enjoy. ;)

as a reminder: margarita on the rocks means it's spicy (minors dni)!

blurb below the cut

cruel summer

he looks up grinning like a devil

How long had Matt had his head between your thighs now? An hour? Two? You had completely lost count after the third orgasm he’d brought you to with his skilled tongue. You didn’t even know what number of those you were on.

The comforter and sheets to his bed had been shoved onto the ground by your uncontrollable movements ages ago, and even though you had started out dangling off the edge of the mattress, the top of your head was now pressed directly against the headboard. You weren’t sure if it was from Matt pushing you up further and further to try and devour you completely, or from helplessly trying to pull away from the delectable torture he was inflicting on your cunt.

Your body tingled with electric jolts, and everytime you attempted to move, it felt like you were getting a violent shock from sticking your finger in an outlet. Matt had you dangerously teetering on that tightrope between pleasure and pain, but you never wanted to come down. Tears from overstimulation leaked out of the corners of your eyes, and it felt like your jaw was permanently unhinged, locked in an ‘o’ shape forevermore. 

Roughly tugging at Matt’s hair by the root, he only groaned in response directly into your pussy, which only slingshot you even further into your impending orgasm. You didn’t know if you could take another one. But you wanted it. He just made it hurt so fucking good. You couldn’t even move your hips since he had them locked down with one of his strong arms, and with his hand gripping tightly onto your right thigh, the only thing you could move was your left foot. Matt had his head shoved so far into your pussy, you weren’t sure how he was even breathing, and you struggled to push at his ribcage with your left foot to try and create some distance.

“M-Matty…I…oh fuck…c-can’t…can’t again…”

Matt dug his fingers bluntly into the flesh of your thighs, swiping his tongue over your swollen clit one more time before reluctantly pulling his face back just a few inches. Closing your eyes for a moment, you sucked in a gasp of air to refill your tired lungs. A soft whine slipped past your mouth at the absence of Matt’s warm tongue, and your stalled orgasm buzzed in your lower belly like a hive of angry bees. You had been begging relentlessly for a break, but now that he had granted you mercy, you didn’t want it anymore.

As you opened your heavy lidded eyes to gaze down at him, they suddenly widened at the sight before you, and you felt your pussy clenching around nothing.

Matt’s normal clear hazel eyes that you loved so much were completely clouded with lust to the point you couldn’t distinguish where his iris ended and his pupil began. They were blown completely wide open with a ravenous hunger that made you shiver, and as his swollen deep rouge lips split wide open into a devilish grin that bared the entire top row of his teeth, you noticed a string of either your wetness or his spit still connected his bottom lip to your soaked cunt.

“Sure you can. You can give me one more. Cause you’re my girl. My good girl.”

Matt dipped his voice an octave lower and slowly emphasized the ‘good girl’ portion that had a moan tumbling past your lips and a sinister chuckle reverberating in his chest. There was a strong confidence in his words, but it wasn’t directed at your ability to come for him again.

It was in his promise to make you come again.

[boy---interruptedd]

Alfred's Playhouse Commentary.

Alfred's playhouse is a vent show I recently discovered made by Emily Youcis. I will be addressing the actual content of the show before I move on to my opinion on Emily herself so please hold fire until the end because I KNOW what you're thinking.

TRIGGER WARNING - CSA, SH, CHILD ABUSE, NAZISM, GRAPHIC IMAGERY.

(Not all these themes are discussed in my post but you should be aware of these before watching the show)

Alfred's Playhouse features main character Alfred, who is a dog described in the introduction song as desperately attempting to escape his painful reality. I agree that it is genuinely disturbing, but I'd like to address its vague poignancy and how it deals with its themes.

In the first episode, we see what I think (as a survivor myself) to be the most accurate representation of how it feels to be sexually assaulted I've ever seen. The moment where everything is odd and numb and quiet followed by pure panic and rage.

The first episode also displays mental instability incredibly well. I've struggled with my mental health for the past six years and honestly the scenes where Alfred just rambles about essentially nothing at all, addressing an imagined audience, accurately represents what feels like the descent into madness many mentally ill people are convinced they go through. The thought that you've lost your mind is an extremely painful one and Alfred's Playhouse depicts that with surprising levels of accuracy.

Episode two, however, is essentially just this massive showcase of Alfred brutally harming himself. Though it portrays the very common desperate desire for attention many people experience when they struggle with self harm, myself included, I feel the level of gore is a little gratuitous, displaying Alfred almost bleeding to death from the wounds he's inflicted upon himself. That being said, it is a vent show so I see why Youcis made the decision. She never really made it for other people it was a way to make herself feel better. Then again, it was her decision to post it publicly.

Episode three essentially explains the whole show from a weirder perspective and honestly I don't want to go into it since I have so much to say and it's quarter past 11 at night and I have college tomorrow, but it is a good episode with the context of the show.

Overall, though it is important for assault victims and mentally ill people to have content in which they feel seen, I feel Youcis should have toned her work down a little before posting it. However, the Internet was a wild west in 2007.

Now onto Youcis herself, I feel it is incredibly unjustified to attribute her current political views to the show. She fell down the alt-right pipeline after publishing Alfred's Playhouse. This is almost definitely because of her downward spiral. It's not uncommon for groups like the alt-right to target vulnerable people like Emily. She has so clearly been crying for help for years and, though there's no excuse for her words or actions, I feel you should take her art for what it is rather than apply a made up meaning to it. The depictions of Nazis in the show - I think - are more a commentary on her childhood trauma and the themes of the show, Alfred feeling his life is dictated by someone/something else. While there's definitely better content in the genre and in general, the massive controversy surrounding Alfred's Playhouse is - in my opinion - unwarranted and really just watch it with an open mind and separate it from current Emily because she wasn't like she is now when she made it. Instead of hating on the present, understand the past and don't be overly shocked when mentally ill people do fucked up shit, especially when they've received the kind of backlash Emily Youcis faced.

Final disclaimer- I don't support her actions I hope she burns I just want people to understand things how they actually happened yk?

[myun-saidthoughts]

A Message For Capricorn Moons and (Heavy) Scorpio Placements

Capricorn Moons:

If you are an Capricorn Moon with it in the 4/8/12H, or have water in your big three, from the bottom of my heart; please start feeling your emotions.

The amount of control you guys have when it comes to reacting in chaotic moments is astounding and impressive (coming from a Scorpio Moon) but please don't forget you are human. Just because you don't actually let yourself feel the pain does not mean that it's not there.

Please for your sake, let yourself process the trauma and hurt your Mother (or family depending on other placements) has inflicted onto you. It's okay to ask for help and it's okay to be sad. You are validated and you are worthy of everything that you feel. I know emotions are gross, uncomfortable and annoying and I understand your mom might be cold (or un-nurturing in the way you might of needed which hindered the reason for you to be dismissive just like her) or she could be the reason why you don't allow yourself to feel, but you have to remember a part of your soul is begging for you to open that side of you that you suppress.

Before you do, the capacity of how much love you can give and receive is limited. Never will you truly find the partner you desire the most if you subconsciously block the part of emotion you behold. Especially if you have other indications of trauma from family/parents, you will just keep repeating the same patterns and cycles with different people. It will be difficult for you to actually fully feel at your most highest self if you subconsciously stop yourself. It's hard to fully love someone when you don't allow the love to be brought in.

You deserve the love you never received and once you start actually accepting and process all that's ever happened (however little or big that is) will you start seeing a real change in you.

Your soul will thank you later.

Prominent Scorpio Placements:

If you have heavy plutonic energy in you, 8H stellium, Scorpio rising with Plutonic aspects, strong Scorpio Moon in 8H, strong Sun & Moon/Lilith/Pluto aspects etc etc please understand the capacity of your emotions can only be felt through you, and no matter how loud you're screaming; the other person can't actually feel your wrath.

I share a Scorpio Moon so this message is undoubtedly for me. But more so this message is for the un-evolved Scorpio energy.

The desire for power, control, revenge even, does and can get the better of you. The amount of emotion you possess is only ammo. This is just a gentle reminder (for myself even) that the intensity you have can be your greatest weakness. In most cases we have to work 10x harder with controlling our emotions than the next person and undoubtedly that's exhausting.

Needless to say, prominent Scorpio in a chart signifies power and trauma, we are the 8H at least, but becoming manipulative for your own gain never really will bring you the satisfaction you crave within.

Instead of desiring control/power etc because in your mind you might think that's the only way you'll feel "safe" and "comfortable" in whatever circumstances, having the time to check in with yourself constantly is what's needed. We hold so much pain and emotions through us and because of that the capacity of caring about others runs just as deep. It's only human to sometimes lose our way, but feeling content with who you are, just as you are, can bring you the highest form of satisfaction there is.

The expectations and intense loyalty you might bestow onto people can only be as fair as how you, yourself would treat them. It's unfair to expect so much of someone when in return, you wouldn't act or be the person you wish they were.

(Yes emotions are so overwhelming and yes you are valid to feel however you want due to the circumstances you were given, but instead of letting emotion overflow or letting the "shadow" side of you take over; use it as fuel to create art in whatever form you see fit and inspire others to regenerate and transform their lives: that will help you feel fulfilled)

(but of course as well save your own energy for your sake, and the self is just as important too. This Scorpio message is not for everyone because so many other factors would be needed)

[meowteorite]

The Lantern | Outer Wilds

Outer Wilds is a game best enjoyed without spoiling anything for yourself. The game relies on mental checkpoints, so once you know about something, there is no way of reliving the magic of finding it out via simply playing the game.

This piece of literature includes spoilers for the WHOLE main game (Outer Wilds) AND DLC (Echoes of the Eye). I am going to mention critical story points and I am going to touch on how to solve endgame puzzles.

If you are interested in space, please check out Outer Wilds. If you like puzzle games, please check out Outer Wilds. If you are interested in a more unconventional game, please check out Outer Wilds. I will not force you to, but I can only recommend playing Outer Wilds.

Night has fallen. The familiar sounds of silence are filling the dark room that is lit only by candlelight and the dim blue light coming from the tiny window. How long have I been imprisoned here? Left alone in this room, unwilling – or unable? – to die. My body may have rotten, may have crumbled to dust. I do not know. My soul is caged only by the blue fire emitted by the lantern I have been holding onto for years. I cannot unlearn how to talk, though it has been a good while since I did. I should have lost my mind, but the sheer force of not wanting to has kept me sane. I have not heard a sound from beyond these walls in so long. Is anybody even still out there? Am I the only one left? I will not blow out my lantern. The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen.

I have witnessed so many sunsets and sunrises within these walls, thousands of years must have gone by. But what if it is a trick by the others? I am trapped in this simulation that they have created. What tells me they have not modified it to make time seem endlessly long? For the real world outside this box, it might have been only a few hours. It would fit them. It would fit them to be trapped alongside me, though not by force but their own will. It would fit them to misalign how fast time in here progresses, compared to the real world. They had always feared the end. Death. The great unknown. A few thousand sunrises and sunsets ago, I would have called them cowards. But I am trapping myself in the simulation – just as much as they are. I will not blow out my lantern. The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen.

I could blow out my lantern at any time, disconnecting me from this room that keeps me prisoner. I could die. My body could already be rotten, crumbled up to dust. If I blew out my lantern I could disconnect my mind, finally free. But if my theory, however wrong it may actually be, is true and only a few days have passed since my imprisonment, I could still be alive. Before the simulation caught me, I felt the air thickening, felt my stomach aching from not having eaten in days. My feet were giving in, only for me to discover that the wooden box forced me to stand. But what kind of life would I even have left? Trapped inside a wooden box, my own grave, my own sarcophagus, starving or suffocating to death. In this simulation I cannot feel the pain inflicted upon my real body. Maybe staying – however boring it may be – is more welcome than pain and suffering. I will not blow out my lantern. The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen.

My prison houses a telescope, to look at an image of the planet we had left behind. They were so keen on following their new hope, they had rendered our home a barren wasteland. Then they felt betrayed by their new hope, and so they constructed an image of our home planet in our fake simulated world. I do no longer care to look at it, I have seen every inch at least a thousand times. I am saddened by how we treated our home, though I am happy we were curious enough to leave it. Even though I only see the same walls each and every passing day now, I am happy that I was able to see something more before that. I will not blow out my lantern. The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen.

I am staring at the same walls again. My nails do not grow, my feathers are not falling out. My antler is not growing back. My eyes are adjusting to the light and the darkness as they always have. Even if I had always hated the simulated world, found it to be a cowardly way of escaping reality, I wanted to look outside. The window is too high up for me, I can only look at the sky. The sky with the big blue planet, the sky with the simulated sun. I have tried staring into the sun, but while it would hurt my eyes in the real world, here it does not do anything. Everything stays the same. I will not blow out my lantern. The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen.

My two rooms have started to feel smaller. I have tried carving into these wooden planks, they seem indestructible. No scratches, no marks. The lift is working as usual, I can go wherever I want. As long as “wherever” is within these walls. This simulated body does not need to eat. It does not need – and it cannot – sleep. I cannot pass the time. Looking through the window and into the sky has long become utterly worthless to me. There is nothing else to do within these walls, aside from thinking. I might blow out my lantern? The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen.

The planet in the night sky has began taunting me. The blue light coming from it fills my room each night. I cannot escape it. It is the same shade of blue as the fire of my lantern. I have picked up my chair, I have smashed it into the wall. There is no damage to be found. Not a scratch, not a mark. I might blow out my lantern. The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen.

Can this simulated body feel pain when it becomes too much? I am sticking one of my fingers into my lantern, holding it directly into the fire. My vision becomes blurry, though my finger does not ache. I pull it back. I will blow out my lantern. The sun rises again.

Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen. The sun rises again. Night has fallen? The sun rises again? Night has fallen? The sun rises again?

Night has fallen. Is it possible to hallucinate within this world? I could have sworn I had heard a sound coming from outside the walls. I tried looking through the window, but the planet is still here and there’s nothing else to see. I wanted to scream, but fear had taken over me. Who else but my former peers could be out there? There is no way to reach this island from within the simulation. Maybe my theory of how time progresses within the simulation is correct. Have they come to free me from my prison? Maybe they think I had been broken enough? But it would be so unlike them to welcome a “traitor” amidst them. They surely have not considered being in the wrong, I cannot believe. I will not blow out my lantern.

There are steps outside, I am so very sure of it. I heard something move on … water? It must be. There is something moving, someone is aligning the platforms for the bridge. Have they come to free me? My ears start ringing as I hear the sound of bells, but the footsteps continue on. I hear someone rotating a wheel. I must be hallucinating, it cannot be. I hear someone approaching through the tunnel. Suddenly, I am scared. I shift back into the darkness, the darkest spot of these walls. I sit down on my chair. I am going to wait. I will not make a sound. My life may be over soon. I can hear footsteps in the room above me, going in circles. I will not blow out my lantern.

Someone is stepping inside of the lift, it is moving downward. I am sitting in silence, I am not moving. The door opens, someone enters. They are small. They are turning around. I hope they will not leave, even if I am scared. They are looking left and right, checking the walls. They are searching for something, but what is there to be found here aside from me? They are staring in my direction, their face is … Their face is blue. And they have four eyes. And they are smaller than me. No need to fear them, probably. They are taking tiny steps toward me, eager. Lantern in hand. I will not blow out my lantern.

They are within reach, but they are not doing anything. They are looking, staring into the darkness. They are taking a step toward me. I do not want to scare them, but I most likely will once they bump into me. I will not blow out my lantern. I will not stand up. I might stand up? I will stand up. I stand up. I reach out my hand, my body had become a bit stiff from sitting. Fear overcomes their face, they run to the other side of the room. I scared them, even if it was not my intention. I will not blow out their lantern.

I stand there, staring at them. What is their intention? They are staring at me, regaining their composure. They are approaching me, they open their mouth. There are words coming out, but none that I know. I cannot recall a species looking like that. Maybe they have come from far away? Maybe they are also in search for the Eye? This is what I have waited for all this time. Someone to share my knowledge with, yet I lack the words. I must think of a way that enables me to talk to them. I must ask them how they were able to visit me, how they were able to unlock my seals. I remember my vision torch, I am stepping aside to grab it. They take a step back. I will not blow out their lantern.

I am holding the vision torch to their head, communicating to them what my species did. How we left out home planet in search for the Eye, how we left it a wasteland. How we built this space station to last for an eternity so that we could stay with the Eye forever, no matter what it looked like. What the Eye told us, how it told us that the end of the universe is near. How betrayed the others felt upon seeing this and how they tried to lock the Eye away. How I managed to break the seal, freeing the Eye for a mere moment. How they locked me away, both in the real world and the simulation. Finally, I could talk to someone. All this time, this time where I had felt so alone and stripped of purpose – there was a purpose. And I was not alone. I want to think of them as a friend in need. I will not blow out my lantern.

I am done with sharing my experiences. The look on their face is one of understanding, the look of someone that has found the final piece to their puzzle. They seem eager to share something with me, I am so very glad. I want to know their story, their origin. I hand them my vision torch. I will not blow out my lantern.

They show me my own species. My own planet. The plants are dying, the houses are still standing but in the worst condition they have ever been. Time has passed, my theory was wrong. My body is dead, so are the bodies of all my former friends. My former family. The thought saddens me a little, but I cannot help but feel a little bit more at peace. They tell me how the Eye sent out a signal to a faraway place. The inhabitants of this place built a spaceship, teleporting away from their home in order to find the Eye. I can relate to them. By shutting the blocking system for the eye off, I helped them receive a signal of the Eye. I am happy to have helped another species find out about this mysterious thing. The next vision. I am glad I did not blow out my lantern.

Their ship got stuck within a vine-like structure, but they managed to send out some little shuttles. I hope they all managed to safely escape their shuttle. I hope they are all well. They built houses on different planets. A blue light approaches them, they all fall to the ground. They are dead. Their skeletons remain, their houses crumble. An astronaut found these houses, they brought a wall with some sort of violet text to a house. A museum? There are other blue people. I see the person before me, they look even smaller. The one that had transported the wall must be some sort of other blue person. The one before me is looking at the wall, they are growing older. They are in their own spaceship, putting on some sort of suit, flying off into the deep vastness of space. I am so very glad I did not blow out my lantern.

Hearing this person’s story makes me happy. I did not think my prison would allow me to talk to someone else again, but I did. My species is long gone, everybody has long withered away. The natural course of life, the end. Their minds may still wander this simulation, for now. Seeing what had happened to our space shuttle makes me realize that nothing is forever, their life is going to end at some point as well. But I remember the three seals of my prison, and I remember what sacrifice had to be made in order to break one of them. I am saddened that by visiting me, the creature before me had given all they had left away. I hope they will not rely on the simulation. It would be their prison, as it was mine. I am saddened but hope that they will blow out their lantern.

For now, I wish to see the surface again. I stretch out my hand, I wish to hold my vision torch. My newfound friend hands it to me. I step on the lift, eager to leave the prison behind. I want to go before them. I bow to them, my deepest and most heartfelt thanks. There is nothing I would have loved more for the last few minutes of my life. I step on the elevator. I go outside, the sand beneath my feet. I see the raft. I would have loved to sail into the sunset with my friend, but I cannot. I cannot stand this world any longer, and I am at peace. A last vision for them, to show how glad I was to have met them. We push the raft forward, we sit in it. We float toward the ever-growing sun. We are together, nobody needs to be alone anymore. I push the vision torch into the sand, making sure that they will see it. I am glad I did not blow out my lantern.

I take a few steps, I approach the dark water. The sun begins to rise again, but I am not here to see another day. My knees are touched by the cold water, my lower body is submerged. I cannot swim in this simulation, I do not feel the need to try. I walk further. One last look at the planet I had watched from my prison all these years. I am glad I did not blow out my lantern, so that the water could do it for me.