#more cosmic and emotional and untouchable

[whoviandoodler]

[Image description: a digital drawing depicting overlapping scenes in shades of purple and gold. At the top of the image are two crying, sad eyes framed by dark curls. The pupils are white eight-sided stars. In the middle is varian, one hand held uncertainly to his chest while he's reaching out with his other. Thomas's hand, the back of which looks like a compass, is reaching for him. In place of varian's head theres a white eight-sided star. At the bottom of the image are thomas's hands cradling another white star, and they're amidst waves that the tears from the eyes at the top of the image created. There's rain of tears around the image. End description.]

Let me see the world through your eyes

[darielivalyen]

Eldritch Tales: Inheritance [WIP]

Eldritch Tales: Inheritance is a cosmic horror game with elements of romance, set in a Gothic manor. You and your high school friends are reunited after five years by a mysterious letter, and through this letter, you inherit an old Gothic manor and a substantial fortune.

There is only one condition: you must live in the manor together.

As you arrive at Blackthorn Manor, strange, unsettling events begin to unfold. Shadows move on their own, nights are unnaturally dark, and the atmosphere grows increasingly tense. The manor is full of secrets, and the more you learn, the less you seem to understand.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

Customize your appearance, personality, and sexuality.

Romance or befriend a wealthy and carefree playboy, a no-nonsense scientist, a disciplined and protective ex-soldier, or a sweet and free-spirited artist.

Manage your relationships, or face unforeseen consequences.

Pay attention to your sanity and health, or…don’t.

Search for clues, solve puzzles, and learn the truth behind your inheritance.

Discover hidden rooms, secret passages, and eldritch artifacts.

Confront moral dilemmas, and be careful as they may have far-reaching consequences.

Face randomized events that will keep each playthrough unique.

Experience multiple endings based on your choices and actions.

What darkness does Blackthorn Manor conceal, and how will it affect your fate? Can you uncover the truth and survive, or will the manor’s sinister influence consume you all?

TYLER REYNOLDS

Personality: Tyler exudes a confident, carefree spirit that's both alluring and slightly unnerving. He enjoys the present and isn't too concerned with the future.

Background: Born into wealth, Tyler has always enjoyed privilege and opulence. While his party-going ways have quieted recently, he still often boasts about his family's status.

Physical description: Tyler is tall and lean with an athletic build. He has dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a preppy yet sophisticated style. He is fond of loafers and owns over two hundred pairs.

Smell: Tyler's scent is a blend of citrus and musk.

CALEB MITCHELL

Personality: Caleb is disciplined and protective, with a dry sense of humor shaped by his military background. Despite his rugged exterior, he dreams of a peaceful life.

Background: A former soldier, Caleb has spent the last couple of years doing different security jobs. His protective nature extends to his younger sister Julia, with whom he shares a close bond.

Physical description: Caleb is tall and muscular with a rugged appearance. He has a dark brown undercut, deep brown eyes, and perpetual stubble. His style is casual and rugged.

Smell: Caleb smells of cedarwood, with hints of amber.

JULIA MITCHELL

Personality: Julia is a no-nonsense individual who values efficiency and clarity. Her methodical approach to problems contrasts with her puzzlement at overly emotional responses.

Background: Julia has a deep passion for science, excelling in engineering and physics. Her cross-disciplinary focus defines her academic and professional journey.

Physical description: Julia is of medium height with a lean physique. She has neck-long black hair, deep brown eyes, and wears stylish glasses. Her style is Parisian chic.

Smell: Julia smells of lavender, with hints of paper and ink.

LUNA HARPER

Personality: Luna is a free spirit, and her vibrant personality is reflected in her artwork. Her infectious optimism and innocent humor reveal a soul untouched by cynicism.

Background: An eclectic artist, Luna finds solace in her paintbrush and palette. She embraces all sorts of spirituality and has a deep love for crystals.

Physical description: Luna is petite and has an ethereal presence. She has long platinum-blonde hair with pink highlights, and green eyes, and loves the bohemian style.

Smell: Luna smells of patchouli and sandalwood, with floral notes reminiscent of wildflowers.

DEMO | FORUM | PINTEREST | TUMBLR | KO-FI

[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part ii: metal man with a backup plan

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 6.4k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

i think this fic set a writing record for me lol (10.2k words in two weeks? with a regular posting schedule?! unheard of!) many more chapters to come... i have so much planned for these two <3

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

You didn’t see the Mandalorian again for weeks.

You weren’t missing him, exactly. Sure, the droning noise of your coworkers’ voices seemed just a bit more dull in comparison to the baby’s sweet giggles, and Maker knew none of your regulars were ever up for lively banter, but rule number one in this galaxy was to never get too attached. Especially to mysterious strangers who left quicker than you could say ‘mudscuffer’ and more likely than not would stay gone. Despite knowing that, your foolish imagination hadn’t received the memo, and you kept finding yourself wondering what the beskar-plated man and his tiny son were doing somewhere out there in space. His ship must have been fixed, since you hadn’t seen any unfamiliar spacecraft when you strolled past Sanna’s shop the other day. In a temporary moment of weakness, you wished you knew what it looked like so you could casually fish for information about it from off-planet travelers at the cantina. Then again, asking questions could bring unwanted attention to the odd pair, so perhaps it was better for all of you that your curiosities remained unsolved. 

You’d woken up the morning after the storm to an empty cantina with every doorway blocked by two metres of snow. You weren’t sure how he’d managed to get out without disturbing the squeaky hinges of the shutters, but the Mandalorian had left the place completely untouched except for the bag of credits–far heavier than you deserved– on the bar. Your eyes had widened to the size of the two empty soup bowls next to it when you counted how much was in the pouch. Kriff, what sort of cosmic royalty was he, with this much money to spare on a cantina waitress? You remembered the bright glint of his armor in the moonlight, belatedly recognizing the characteristic sign of pure-cast metal. Beskar alloys were far from cheap, but pure beskar? If you had so much as a thimble-sized piece of it, you could afford passage off this planet fifteen times over. You huffed out a breath, shaking your head with a tiny smile. Well, that meant that he definitely still had enough saved to take care of the kid after his not-so-small gift, so you grudgingly allowed yourself to enjoy having a few extra credits for once.

The credits he’d left you weren’t enough to buy a ride off-world, but they’d pay for this month’s heating bill and a nicer set of clothes while you put the rest of your paycheck towards a future ticket. The extra money emboldened you to go shopping for the first time since you arrived on Nath– which was why you were currently weaving through the narrow streets of the Solstice Market, hoping to find a decent textile shop amongst the booths that lined this alley. You brushed past the promenade of young couples holding hands despite the cold (as well as significantly more haggard-looking spouses holding pouty children), awed by how the bright colours and loud haggling around you seemed to brighten Nath’s dreary atmosphere for a moment.

Your steps slowed to an abrupt stop as you heard a quiet chiming coming from your left. You turned to see a pocket-sized holospeaker sitting on a rickety display table, shaped like a mildly deformed egg and covered in twisting silver filigree. The booth worker looked hopeful as you eyed the far more impressive–and expensive–metalworks arranged in front of the small item, but quickly slumped back to dazed boredom as your fingers traced the rounded object instead. The speaker was dented and each note vibrated for slightly too long, but the melody it produced reminded you of the Odalian lullabies your mother had sung to you as a child. Stars, you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed her voice, soothing you with ballads of true love and tragedy until you fell asleep with the stories etched into your dreams. You blinked back the water that threatened to fill your eyes as you hummed along to the soft music, love and grief welling up between your ribs with a gentle ache. 

That was how the Mandalorian found you– eyes half-closed, your head gently bent toward the tiny instrument. You were so lost in your memories that you didn’t register his awkward presence until a tiny green hand poked your side. You gasped, instincts learned from years of working in a rowdy cantina kicking in as you reflexively threw a punch at the offending party. The Mandalorian immediately shifted to shield the giggling child, a move that was good for the kid’s health but rather unfortunate for your knuckles. 

“Kriff, metal man, you could’ve said something,” you wheezed out, rubbing your throbbing hand where it’d met unforgiving beskar. The kid gurgled happily up at you from his position in the bag. Apparently, your newest injury was the most amusing thing he’d seen all day. 

You pouted exaggeratedly at him, reaching to ruffle the wiry hair that floated above his floppy ears with affection. “Sorry about that, bug. Didn’t think I’d see you again,” you spoke softly, giving his very shiny father a subtle once-over in the daylight. The Mandalorian was taller and broader than you’d remembered from that dark night in the cantina– something that definitely did not cause your stomach to twist with interest. His armor appeared to have been polished sometime recently, and you stole a moment to admire the pride with which he wore the gleaming beskar. The effort he’d put in to maintain the parts of his appearance that were visible to the outside world was obvious (and strangely attractive, if you were being honest.) You briefly wondered whether he was as well-kept underneath the armor, but realized your mistake when that question brought a whole host of dangerous ideas to mind. Stars, why did you continually do this to yourself? You immediately shoved any daydreams of what he might look like behind that helmet somewhere far, far away lest a traitorous flush reappear on your cheeks. 

“I need to talk to you,” the Mandalorian in question stated, distracting you from your quickly-spiraling thoughts. You glanced up at him inquisitively but allowed him to steer you away from the busy crowds. 

“Nice to see you, too,” you grumbled once you had reached a reasonable distance away from the market. “What happened to hello, how are you, sorry I left and didn’t even leave a note saying how I got past the shutter locks.”

The Mandalorian turned to face you, cocking his head. “I left you the credits, didn’t I?”

You opened your mouth, retort poised on the tip of your tongue, but then thought better of it. Probably not a good idea to risk the generosity that brought you to this market in the first place. “Okay, you win that one.” 

The Mandalorian ignored your rare moment of surrender, rolling his shoulders back and stepping closer to you in a fluid movement that had more of an effect on you than you wanted to admit. “I need you to look after the kid.”

O-kayy then. Straight to business. 

“I have a job here, I can’t take him with me– it's too dangerous.” 

“A job?” Your brows furrowed as you considered what work he could possibly be doing here. People here either worked in the ice fishing huts or in one of Nath’s many depressingly ugly oil processing factories, and neither of those occupations seemed right for the intimidating man in front of you. You crossed your arms, only partially teasing. “You mean you have things to do besides scaring innocent waitresses half-out of their skin?”

The Mandalorian scanned the area around you, then subtly pulled a small metal object out of the leather holster slung around his hips. You leaned over to see the unmistakable blinking red light of a tracking fob resting in the palm of his dark glove. 

Oh. That explained the money, then. Bounty hunting— through the Guild, if the emblem on the device was anything to go by— had shot up in popularity after the Empire fell and the New Republic needed good mercenaries to capture the remaining Imperial loyalists. You’d bet a decent amount of credits that this hunter wouldn’t balk at capturing a few Imps, with the way he’d spat out the name of the Empire as if it poisoned him when you first met. Personal vendetta or not, you respected anyone who was brave enough to give them the justice they deserved for the destruction their reign had brought to the galaxy. 

You bit your lip, considering. You had already made up your mind to take care of the child when he suggested it, but he didn’t need to know that. “How long would you need to leave him with me for?”

“A day, at most. Shouldn’t take too long, I’ve been stalking the quarry for a while.” The Mandalorian continued. “I can pay you well for your time.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You still owe me a story, you know.” Bending over, you reached into the Mandalorian’s bag and gently picked up the child, careful not to snag his tiny tunic on the metal clasps. “C’mere, bug. Looks like you and I are going to get to know each other.”

A thought popped into your head as you stared down at the small green baby. “Does he have a name?” 

The armored man in front of you spoke with gruff pride, “His name is Grogu.” He seemed unexpectedly pleased at your question; you supposed he didn’t have many opportunities to talk about his son very often, with the literal wall his armor created in social interactions.

You watched in surprise as Grogu twisted towards the Mandalorian at the sound of his voice, cooing happily. “You like the sound of your name, huh?” Clearly, the kid adored him, and for good reason. The stoic warrior had an obvious soft spot for the little guy.

Speaking of which… You eyed the man in front of you. “You know, it’s generally polite to have introduced yourself by now, metal man. It’s getting a little weird to keep thinking of you as The Big, Nameless Suit of Beskar,” you teased. 

You beamed up at him innocently and spoke your name, extending your hand towards him. “See? Not so hard. Now it’s your turn,” you explained slowly, as if you were trying to teach a toddler to sound out the alphabet. 

After several tortuously long seconds, during which your outstretched hand began to waver slightly, he finally responded. “Most people just call me Mando.” 

You dropped your arm, flexing your fingers. Ah, well, you could work on the handshake bit later. “Mando.” You hummed at the way the name easily rolled off your tongue, absently registering how the man stiffened at the lilting sound. “Not as scary as the outfit, but it’ll have to do.”

The M–Mando shrugged off the strange, momentary stillness that had possessed him and began retreating closer to the throng of marketgoers. “You’ll be alright with the kid?”

You rolled your eyes, affirming your ability to take care of Grogu while he handled business. Mando gave a quick nod and turned, preparing to leave. You took the moment to swipe the holospeaker out of the child’s hands– how had he gotten ahold of that?– and scanned the market for a booth that he might like. You still couldn’t find a textile shop in your line of sight, but you noticed a tiny arts and crafts area that seemed perfect for him to play in. 

You looked up to find the Mandalorian still standing nearby, helmet tilted towards you as he paused. “For your.. story. He likes shiny toys– he’s always unscrewing bits of the ship to play with when I’m not looking.” He pulled a small metal ball out of his holster and tossed it over to you. “This is his favorite.”

You turned the sphere over in your hand, smiling as the baby immediately reached for it. “I wonder why,” you mused, giving his silver-plated father a pointed look. “Must remind him of somebody.” 

Mando huffed a surprised laugh out through the modulator, helmet angled with new interest in the green child deeply entranced by the reflective surface of the ball. “Never thought of it like that before,” he muttered as he walked away, sparing you a short wave before he disappeared in the crowd.

You watched him go with a poorly-hidden grin, balancing Grogu on your hip as you navigated a path back into the market. “Alright, bug, let’s go have some fun.”

***

You spent the rest of the afternoon browsing countless booths with your charge, picking up little trinkets here and there. You eventually left with a respectable amount of merchandise– a pad of paper and coloring supplies for Grogu, a new tunic set, and even a sachet of Hothberry tea leaves that were rumored to keep one warm for hours after just one sip. Nothing for Mando, although the thought had crossed your mind more than once. You began your return home, carrying the cooing green child under streetlamps that twinkled warmly as the sky gradually darkened. He’d behaved so well all afternoon that you gave in and bought a sweetgrain scone to share on the long walk back.

You spent very few minutes setting your purchases in your rental pod upon your arrival. Grogu was getting fussy despite the snack, and you realized that Mando had never told you a meeting place where he’d pick him up. You decided to just bring Grogu along to your evening shift at the cantina, since that would likely be the first place he’d look and you didn’t want to be blamed for disappearing with his child. Sure enough, the Mandalorian showed up soon after the sun sunk beneath the icy horizon with another bag of credits and armor that was slightly more scuffed than the last time you’d seen it. You smiled, handing him his sleepy but satisfied son and the art supplies you’d picked up.

Mando had stared at the bundle of gifts for longer than necessary and for a moment you worried that you had offended him somehow. When he looked back at you, though, your fears were calmed by his intensely genuine tone. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.” He carefully placed the items in his bag. You smiled as he tried– and failed– to wrest the metal ball from Grogu’s tiny hands, despite the child looking seconds from passing out.  

Your eyes darted to the gradually cooling bowl of soup in front of him, which hadn’t been touched since he sat down. You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Is, um, something wrong with the food? Because I didn’t see you touch it last time, and I can make something else if you need, but.. you have to tell me.”

The Mandalorian remained silent, and you doubted whether he had heard your small-voiced question when he finally spoke. “I cannot remove my helmet in front of others. It is the Way,” he explained carefully, watching your response. 

Your eyes widened in comprehension as you considered his statement. The library datapad had frustratingly little information on Mandalorian culture, and you’d never heard of this rule until now. If he couldn’t remove the helmet… how long had it been since he had the chance to eat or drink without the kid nearby? Between taking care of Grogu and tracking bounties, you assumed that there was very little time for him to find a secluded area to remove the beskar. You nodded decisively to yourself, grabbing his soup bowl and motioning for him to follow you. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was curious, alert but not apprehensive of your actions.

You swiveled to face him, keys dangling from one hand and a focused expression on your face. “We have a storage room for the non-perishable food back here. If you want to eat there, I can make sure that no one comes in for a while,” you explained, leading him to a cramped, dimly lit room with pallets of sandgrain flour forming a makeshift table next to a small folding chair.

“Is this.. okay?” You spoke hesitantly when he stilled at your words. Kriff, you hoped you hadn’t implied something insulting when you’d unthinkingly offered the room. You grimaced as your brain kicked into overdrive, spinning like a frightened sand massif at the first possibility of a mistake. 

“I know it’s small, and I understand if you’d rather—”

“It’s perfect,” Mando interrupted you, stumbling slightly over the rushed words. “There are– many who would try to remove my helmet.” His voice lowered, edged slightly with wonder. “Thank you for allowing me to maintain my Creed.” 

He stood there for a moment, helmet tilted intently down at you. His hands lingered for a fraction of a second, tough leather brushing powder-soft skin as he gently set Grogu in your arms. When he shut the door, you leaned against the doorframe as quietly as you could, still feeling the ghost of his touch on the hands pressed to your heated cheeks.

***

And so you fell into a routine: every few weeks, Mando would come by with the kid and leave him with you for a few hours while he tracked down another bounty. When he returned, you’d invite him into the back for a warm meal, allowing him to eat alone in peace for a few minutes while Grogu thawed the icy hearts of your patrons with his mischievous coos. He always arrived after nightfall and never spent longer than an hour in the cantina. Well, except for the one time he’d accidentally fallen asleep in the small room. You’d gone to check on him once you finally cleared out the evening’s customers. It was clear that he’d been napping by his scratchy, startled response when you knocked softly on the door– emphasized even more by his embarrassed posture when he exited. Privately, you thought it was rather endearing, so you chose not to tease him about the momentary lapse in consciousness. 

You’d gotten used to his schedule, your semi-frequent meetings becoming a habit you were quite fond of maintaining. So when you didn’t see Mando for several weeks longer than predicted, you began to feel worried. Your heart twinged at the thought that maybe he’d found someone more interesting than a cantina waitress to look after Grogu, someone who didn’t live on an icy prison planet a parsec removed from civilization. And yet– Mando hadn’t hinted that he’d be stopping his visits, and his job was dangerous and unpredictable. Your mind swam with visions of him spiraling through space, unconscious and battered, ship engines sputtering out flame. You started taking earlier shifts at the cantina, pushing down thoughts of him before they ate at you more than they should for a casual acquaintance. 

Which is why you were shocked when Mando appeared in the doorway one afternoon, silhouetted by the bright daytime sun for the first time.

A momentary hush descended upon the cantina, quickly turning into a roar of nervous chatter when the imposing beskar figure sat down at the end of the bar. You muttered an excuse to your coworkers and rushed over, trying to look casual as you scanned his armor. It looked considerably worse than it had the last time you saw him, scuffed and covered in frozen mud– but his movements didn’t seem impaired by injury. You let out a tiny huff of relief, the sound catching the attention of the Mandalorian. 

He nodded at you, straightening. You sent him a small smile as you tossed him the cantina menu. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” you said, as casually as you could manage. 

“Miss me?” You couldn’t see his face, but you would bet every credit of your tips today that he was smirking under that kriffing helmet. You gaped at him, then recovered yourself with a haughty toss of your head, letting your hair fall in a curtain before your face so he wouldn’t see your flustered expression. 

“Don’t know why I would. I only tolerate you for your son, you know,” you sniffed, placing your hands on your hips. 

He let out a surprised, genuine laugh at that, and your face warmed at the deep sound. You felt a heady rush of pride at being able to pull the reaction from the normally reserved man, fighting the desire to do whatever it took to hear it again. You quickly brushed that thought aside, however, when you took in the empty bag slung across his torso, frowning at the noticeable absence of Grogu’s big ears. 

The Mandalorian followed your trailing glance. “I don’t have the kid,” he said, tone edged with a hint of frustration as he adjusted his gloves. “Kriffing Imps,” he muttered.

You paled. Imperials? “Is he–”

Mando’s helmet snapped up at the panicked tone of your voice. “No, he’s safe. Left him with a friend,” he explained. “Someone’s been following me on this bounty— maybe another Imperial remnant. Didn’t want to risk him.”

Tension bled out of your posture at his words, but your eyebrows remained knit together in confusion. “So if you’re not here to drop off the kid…” you started slowly. “What brings you back to Nath? Since you obviously didn’t stop by just to say hello,” you asked, giving him a pointed look. 

Mando tilted his head in acknowledgement. Apparently, that was the closest thing you were getting to an apology. Oh, well.

“Wish I knew,” he muttered. “Chased the quarry across the galaxy for weeks, don’t know why he stopped here when there’s more populated places. It’s like he wants to be found.”

You sucked in your bottom lip, absentmindedly scrubbing at a sticky puddle of spotchka on the counter. “You think it’s a trap?”

He gave a small shrug, subtly flicking something on his helmet and scanning the room. “Not sure.” He turned back to you, posture tensed. “Somethin’ doesn’t feel right, though. Keep your eyes open and get out if there’s trouble.”

You nodded, wiping a pair of dusty glasses to make it look like you were doing something more than eyeing the half-full cantina with hidden trepidation. You felt it too– the strange quiet of the wind brushing past the shutters, the way your hair stood up on your skin. 

Minutes later, a Trandoshan sauntered into the cantina and took the seat beside Mando, who immediately stilled. He grinned lecherously at you, motioning for a drink. You poured a glass of spotchka and handed it over, grimacing at the feeling of his eyes trailing down your torso like cold slime. “Thanks, honey,” he drawled, scaly hand scraping your wrist in a menacing caress. You stiffened, but chose not to respond, focusing back on the dishes. This wasn’t the first time you’d been harassed by a customer, but until now no one had dared to do so in front of the beskar-clad man sitting in front of you. Your frequent proximity to the intimidating figure seemed to cow the usual crowd into something adjacent to manners– something you missed during the weeks he was away. 

“Heard you were looking for me,” he spoke affably to the Mandalorian beside him. The hulking lizard raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, smirking. Mando remained silent, hands tightened around his glass, and you wondered why he hadn’t already tied up the bounty and left. The Trandoshan’s sly confidence around his hunter made you shift uneasily. Something was very, very wrong.

“See, I got a lot of credits, and you seem reasonable,” the Trandoshan spoke casually. “I know the bounty’s not worth what I can offer you, so how about we make a deal?”

Mando shifted slightly, the beskar plate on his forearm glinting. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold. Your choice.” His voice sounded through the modulator, deep and calm with a predator’s poise. “How’s that for a deal?”

The Trandoshan let out a harsh laugh. “Shame you wouldn’t bargain,” he said with mock regret. He twisted his hand up in the air, and you watched as nine more Trandoshans slunk out of the shadows of the cantina booths. The rest of the patrons quieted as they watched the tense scene, the smart ones making their excuses and leaving in a hurry. You were no stranger to bar fights, but they’d never escalated past a couple of drunken punches and a firm boot to the curb for all involved. This one, though… it seemed like it might get deadly.

“My friends and I’ve heard something about a Mandalorian bounty hunter. One who’s got a nice, fat Imperial price tag on his head,” he sneered, spit flying from his mouth. “Think that’d be a fair replacement for mine.” 

Mando turned his helmet oh-so-slightly towards you, making the tiniest nod towards the door. Go, he seemed to be telling you, and you inched towards the kitchen–

Your breath caught in your throat as you eyed the lizards closing in around him. You were sure he was a seasoned warrior, but ten armored adversaries at once seemed a little much for one person. You couldn’t help him fight, but… maybe you could distract them long enough for him to gain the element of surprise.

Before you could talk yourself out of your quickly-made plan, you grabbed a tulip-shaped flute of algarine bubbly and stepped up to the orange Tradoshan you’d served earlier with a coquettish smile. “On the house,” you said, passing him the glass with a bat of your lashes you hoped came across as sincere. You felt ill at the way his eyes rested greedily on the sliver of your chest exposed by your lean across the bar, but it appeared that you’d momentarily distracted him. If only you could get his friends’ attention, too… 

You glanced around, searching for anything you could use to cause a scene– pointedly ignoring the way Mando’s gloved hands twitched at your movement closer to the dangerous humanoid. Trust me, you mentally pleaded with him. I’m trying to help.

Your eyes finally fell on the spotchka situated uncomfortably close to your elbow. Perfect. You gave the Trandoshan a ditzy giggle, swaying like you were entranced by his gaze as you quickly jabbed the large pitcher. You gasped in fake horror as it shattered, spraying alcohol over most of the floor and onto the three closest lizards. The group swiveled at the disruption, venomous glares shifting to you instead of the armored man they were gathered around. 

“Oops,” you smiled, sugary-sweet and innocent. “Sorry, honey.”

And then Mando did something with his arm, flexing out his vambrace in a motion so quick you didn’t register it until flames shot across the alcohol on the bar and onto the scales of the Tradoshans. He immediately snapped into action as they roared in shocked pain, twisting and shooting as they fell one at a time. You admired his agile form for a moment, awed by how precise his movements were, how easily he moved into the flow of fighting like it was a second skin. A moment too long, it seemed, because you snapped your gaze away from Mando to see the orange Tradoshan bearing down on you. 

“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, eyes bulging with hatred as he lunged across the counter. Your eyes widened as you ducked backwards, intending to stumble into the safety of the kitchen but slamming into the unforgiving wall instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you chided yourself, stomach dropping as you scrambled to get your bearings through the surge of pain paralyzing your muscles. You didn’t know how to fight–should’ve run for cover the minute the spotchka hit the floor, honestly– and instead you just stood there like a kriffing nerf herder. 

You cried out at the impact of the Tradoshan’s sharply-scaled fist scraping your cheek, gasping and flinching away from the hit you were sure would land next between your ribs. He hissed at you through jagged teeth, sour breath like acid on your face. He cocked his blaster and you twisted yourself, preparing to launch into one final, defiant attack–

A blur of silver slammed into the orange lizard, knocking him off of you with a violent crash. You heard his bony nose break with a crack, followed by what sounded like an entire charge cartridge’s worth of blaster shots. You pushed yourself off the floor, wincing at the throb of pain that echoed at your temples but steeling yourself to get up nonetheless. Your mouth parted at the sight of the cantina, booths ablaze and blaster shots ringing through the smoky air.

Mando shouted your name over the commotion, sharp and intense. “Are you–”

“Fine. I’m fine,” you wheezed out in a relieved sob as he made his way over to you. “We need to go, the fire–”

“I know,” he muttered as he hooked an arm around your torso and dragged you behind a countertop, shielding you with his armor. “They’ve blocked the doors. Windows, too– I got seven of them, but the others are trying to burn us out.” 

“Please tell me you have a backup plan,” you begged, narrowly avoiding a stray charge that chipped the already-fragile cabinet. It would only be a matter of minutes before your feeble cover fell, and you didn’t feel like waiting around for more Tradoshans to show up.

The Mandalorian shrugged, gesturing to the fireplace in front of you. “It worked the first time.”

Your jaw dropped, anxiety momentarily forgotten. “Metal man. Are you saying that on your first night here… you left through the chimney?!”

“It’s very comfortable,” was all he said as he swung you over onto the hearth, casually shooting backwards at the face of a Trandoshan peering through a crack in the cantina door. From the muffled sound of something hitting the steps, his aim was flawless.

You gaped at him, speechless with disbelief. Was he… teasing you? If he was trying to distract you from the pain shooting across your face, it was definitely working. “Oh, no, everything’s fine, I’m just escaping a crime scene with an apparent madman,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Don’t know how I could’ve missed the simplest way out of here.”

No wonder you hadn’t woken up when he left– he hadn’t so much as touched the very reasonable idea of opening the shutters to get out. No, the kriffing chimney was the most obvious next step. With that kind of creativity, you supposed it made sense that he’d stayed alive in the bounty hunting business for so long. The mental image of the big, stoic Mandalorian inching his way up the vertical corridor with a little green accomplice on his back–combined with the general chaos of the last half hour–quickly became more than you could handle. You allowed yourself a moment of hysteria before sliding into the fireplace, head tilting back as you viewed the long, long passageway above.

***

Comfortable, my arse. You panted, some ten minutes later, sweat streaming down your face as you struggled to keep a solid grip on the sooty brick around you. The climb was not as amusing as you’d previously thought. Maybe you’d manage better if you had a grappling gun hidden in your forearm and boots with climbing spikes, like the beskar-plated man behind you. Right now, though, all you had were your worn-through work shoes and a hacking cough from all the smoke rising up to you from the wreck of the cantina below. 

“Come on,” you muttered, willing yourself to scoot up another meter despite your quickly fatiguing thigh muscles. How tall was this chimney, anyway? It felt like you’d been climbing for miles, but maybe that was just your poor endurance talking. 

“You doing okay?” Mando called up to you, grunting slightly at the weight of the Trandoshan bounty around his shoulders. There was no way you’d let him try to carry you too, though you knew he’d offer if you faltered. You screwed up your face in concentration, muttering something resembling an affirmation as you focused on shifting higher and higher until you finally, blissfully reached the top.

You let out a small whoop of success, collapsing on the roof as Mando pulled himself up behind you. “Thought I’d never make it out of there,” you beamed up at him. Your relieved smile faded as you took in his still-tensed posture as he looked off the edge of the roof. 

“What is it?”

He turned back toward you, setting the Tradoshan’s body down with a thunk. “They’re setting detonators around the building,” he spoke, his modulated baritone rough and distracted as he fiddled with a heavy metal backpack beneath his cloak. 

You swallowed thickly, closing your eyes for a moment as you fought to suppress the panic that rose up at his words. When you opened them, he’d shoved the Tradoshan onto the roof of the building next door, which was a safe distance away from the flames but remarkably jagged. You eyed the area, wondering if his plan was to crouch there and pray that the shrapnel from the explosion would miss the two of you. 

Mando walked over, motioning for you to get up. You got back on your feet, slightly dizzy from the smoke as you stumbled over to him. 

“Need you to hold on to me,” he muttered awkwardly, extending an arm. You gaped at him, utterly confused at the uncharacteristic action. How was clinging to him like a baby womp rat supposed to get you out of here before the building crumbled? 

Still, you stepped closer to him and tentatively wrapped your hand around his vambrace. You made a tiny noise of surprise as he tugged you into his chest, your arms instinctively wrapping around his broad torso. You ducked your head, glad that he couldn’t see your flaming face from this angle. Yep, that touch starvation was definitely doing a number on you. You could feel the rise and fall of his breaths, his chest surprisingly warm underneath the cool beskar plates that protected it— and stars, none of that was doing anything to lessen your little crush. 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and you quickly complied. Seconds after you’d scrunched your face up in concentration, you felt a tug in your stomach and the wind rise in your hair. Your eyes snapped back open on instinct as you felt your feet leave the ground, your grip on Mando tightening in panic. You peeked past his armor and saw nothing but cold winter sky— and was that a kriffing jet pack?! You gasped as you glanced down and realized that you were rapidly approaching a hundred feet in the air, the cantina exploding into a fiery speck beneath you. 

You and large heights had a strained relationship, so you clung to Mando with all your strength and prayed that he had enough fuel to land somewhere very solid. “You didn’t tell me we’d be flying out of there,” you spoke, words muffled by the wind and the way your face was currently scrunched against his hard chestplate.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded. If you weren’t so focused on staying alive, you might have been offended at his cheeky tone, but you settled for an eye roll.

You landed a few miles outside of town on the ice fishers’ territory. It took you longer than you wanted to admit to get detangled from the Mandalorian, mostly because your fingers had frozen into a death grip of a hug around him. He gently pried you off his armor, setting you on a patch of snow slightly less icy than the others and walking past you. You turned to see him open the boarding ramp of a silver Razor Crest in all its pre-Imperial glory. The ship was older than you expected, but in decent condition.

You carefully followed him into the ship, climbing up after him into the cockpit. The leather passenger seat was surprisingly comfortable, and your muscles slowly unstiffened as you watched him fire up the engines.

“I have to go pick up the bounty,” Mando stated, moving over to set the navigation screen. He paused. “Do you need to be… dropped off somewhere?”

“I— I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you admitted, looking down at your lap. “The only place I had a connection to here was just blown up.” You winced, wondering how you’d ever find work now that you were partly to blame for the destruction of the town’s singular watering hole. 

Mando was silent for a while as he maneuvered the ship towards the cantina wreckage. You craned your neck towards the arching glass windows, staring down at the snowy landscape of Nath. “It’s so much more beautiful from above,” you spoke softly, wonder evident in your tone. “Always wanted to travel, see views like this every day, but… off-world tickets these days are too expensive.” Your face took on a wistful expression. “Must be nice to do this for your job. I bet the kid loves it, too.”

Mando cleared his throat, helmet tilting towards you.

“You could— work for me. Take care of the kid, here on the ship,” he spoke hesitantly. “Visit planets with us when I’m not hunting bounties.” 

You glanced over at him in shock, mouth falling open. Hope swelled up in you at his words, and you could hardly breathe at the idea of what he was offering you. A way off Nath, to experience the galaxy like you’d always dreamed- stars, but it felt surreal.

“It’d be better for him to have someone to rely on when I’m gone, stay in one place for longer,” he continued, faltering slightly at your silence. “The ship’s small, but I can pay you well and your needs would be taken care of for as long as you stay—“

“Yes,” you gasped out, the words embarrassingly rushed, but you didn’t care. “If— if you’re serious, then yes, I accept.”

He seemed surprised at the vehemence with which you spoke, but nodded. “This is the Way,” his deep baritone sounded through the modulator, final and determined. 

This is the Way. You practically vibrated with excitement at the phrase, face breaking into a grin as you settled back in the seat. All you’d have to do was keep that pesky attraction to the beskar-covered man piloting the ship under control, and you’d finally be free. Free of Nath’s soul-crushing atmosphere, free to travel the galaxy like you’d always dreamed of— albeit with a little green child at your side. 

Sure, he was the most interesting person you’d ever met, and the way his voice lowered when he bantered with you sent a jolt of something down your spine.

But it couldn’t be that hard, right?

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read on: part iii

[hyvyinjie]

THE WATER PILLAR.

TW! none.

fluff! centric.

t. giyuu x gn. reader.

his visage, seemingly untouched by the passage of time, betrays no hint of emotion—the enigmatic water pillar.

BEHOLD THE AQUEOUS HASHIRA—a figure of immense might, an indomitable slayer of demons, perpetually adorned with an unfaltering countenance.

how could someone of such chilling detachment find himself entangled in a circumstance so imbued with romance?

nay, it is a marvel beyond comprehension, a convergence of fate's whims and the questionable allure that resides within the depths of his icy soul.

through a gentle fade-in, the enchanting scene unfurls, unveiling a resplendent day bathed in the amenity of the sun.

the cerulean celesta stretched overhead, adorned with wisps of clouds, while a tranquil zephyr tenderly caresses the surroundings.

within this vast expanse, a lone little bird frolics merrily, its mellifluous melody imbuing the air with a dulcet serenade.

as the camera gradually pans out, a picturesque panorama, an embodiment of flawlessness in every intricate detail, is unveiled before our captured gaze.

drawing nearer to the glistening waters, our attention shifts to a youthful man.

perched at the water's edge, he immerses himself in the splendor of the vista, his senses enraptured by the lulling ambiance. in the embrace of the sun's affectionate rays, he discovers solace, a fleeting interlude of tranquil contemplation amidst the idyllic backdrop.

the water pillar—unburdened by the weight of his arduous duties and responsibilities—reclined in a state of serenity, his form motionless.

with closed eyes, he absorbed the resplendence of nature, inhaling deeply the magnificence that surrounded him, allowing his strained body to surrender to this wondrous respite.

simultaneously, his countenance underwent a subtle transformation—as the lines upon his face softened, lending an air of tranquility to his undeniably attractive visage.

a light breeze—as tender as a lover's touch—caressed his skin, while a subtle intuition alerted him to a presence drawing near.

yet, despite his awareness of this newcomer, he remained unmoved, neither acknowledging nor negating their existence.

instead, a sense of ease seemed to envelop him even more, as if the arrival of this individual brought him peace beyond measure.

his ears—acutely attuned to the symphony of the ambience—caught the faintest sound of leaves crunching underfoot, and he felt the grass swaying in response to the leisurely descent of the person settling beside him.

without the need to open his eyes, he could discern the identity of this newcomer, for the aura of familiar solace they emanated was unmistakable.

this atmospheric comfort—unique to this individual alone—could be recognized by him effortlessly, irrespective of place, day, or hour.

yet, it was not solely due to the rarity of those who would dare to engage with him on a consistent basis—although, in truth, that may have played a small part.

no, the deeper truth lies in the fact that this person—in particular—held a profound and irreplaceable position within the very core of his being.

the faintest of curls quivered upon the corners of his lips, a benevolent ripple of emotion that danced with an elliptical grace.

perplexed—he, too—struggled to grasp the intricate workings of this phenomenon, to comprehend the why and the how.

yet, amidst the muddled confusion, one thing remained undeniable—this inexplicable connection felt inherently right.

in your presence, he found a sense of belonging, a sanctuary where authenticity flourished. it was as if, in the embrace of your essence, he had finally returned home.

it was a pleasantly overwhelming sensation, a profound knowing that resonated deep within his soul.

everything about it felt undeniably right, as if the cosmic forces had conspired to orchestrate this union.

despite his reluctance to venture into new connections, deep within the recesses of his soul, a tender whisper of destiny caressed his spirit.

it softly insinuated that, against all odds, this particular connection may have been divinely orchestrated, as if written in the stars.

though his heart hesitated, a flicker of curiosity danced within him, beckoning him to explore the uncharted realms of this potential bond. for there was an undeniable appeal in the possibility that fate had woven their paths together, guiding them towards an extraordinary rendezvous.

in the face of his reservations, the tempting possibility of this preordained connection shimmered like a distant beacon, inviting him to embrace the untrodden path and discover the radical depths of what was meant to be.

it was as if the universe itself had guided their paths to intersect, to intertwine in perfect harmony.

within the adoring embrace of their presence, the water pillar—giyuu tomioka, forever adorned with stoicism and guarded walls—unearthed a momentary seclusion, a harbor of belonging, and an unwavering sense of being unequivocally at home.

in their company, his guarded façade melted away, revealing vulnerabilities long concealed.

in their presence, he discovered a retreat where he could unapologetically be himself, where the weight of his burdens was shared, and where his heart, and mind alike, found solace in the rhythm of their shared existence.

they became the anchor that grounded him, the guiding light that illuminated his path, encapsulating him in a laconic embrace that declared—

you were the sanctuary he had long sought, the haven where the water pillar's soul found its rest.

[sigyns-drafts]

Enchanting music of the night 🎶🌙✨

Human dancer!Reader x Ror Hermes

➩ Stealing the attention of a God like Hermes is the least thing you'd expect as a mortal, but you found yourself with an advantage.

You two had only met once before, now that he was back to seek your attention you decide to tease him and show off your skills in dancing to the lovely melodies he plays to woo you.

➩ Reader type: non binary reader.

⚠: Romantic fluff, a lots of teasing tension~

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this one, I sure did writing it~♡

Underneath the twinkling stars, Hermes approached a figure he knew too well, someone he has kept his eyes upon for quite sometime now.

With violin in hand, he uses his nimble fingers to play a melody that echoed through the divine air of the empty halls, once crowded with life.

A blend of celestial notes that seemed to dance with the night and the God himself.

Y/n turned, their eyes reflecting the glimmering constellations above. They'd always admired the stars.

As Hermes played, he poured his emotions into the music, hoping to catch y/n's attention as well as express the depth of his infatuation with this mortal.

Each note was a whispered confession, and every chord a declaration of his love. However, y/n who was well aware of Hermes' reputation from their previous encounter, responded with a teasing glint in their eyes.

Suddenly they stood up, giving Hermes the attention he wanted. Y/n moved gracefully to the music, matching Hermes' enchanting tunes with a subtle sway of their body.

The air crackled with a playful energy as y/n reciprocated the flirtatious dance of melody and movement.

Hermes, usually the master of wit, found himself enchanted and further drawn to the clever y/n. In an attempt to impress, Hermes approached the enigmatic figure, the soft notes of his violin still somehow playing, filling the air like a gentle breeze.

"Greetings, my dear. Would you care to share a dance with me beneath the stars?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Y/n, with a playful glint in their eyes, replied, "Ah, Hermes, the swift and charming. I've heard tales of your wit. Show me what you've got~"

Accepting Hermes' gloved hand with a sly smile. Together the two gracefully moved as they twirled and spun beneath the cosmic expanse.

Laughter echoed through the halls as the duo enchanted the divine onlookers.

"You play well, Hermes, but can you keep up with the rhythm of my heart?" Y/n teased, their gaze locked with his.

Hermes, smitten and determined, matched their playful banter.

"Oh, my dear, I can dance to the beat of any heart, especially the one captivated by yours y/n."

Y/n to put more logs onto their playful banter leaned in, whispering into the gods air. "Perhaps you're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, messenger~"

As the dance continued, the celestial pair engaged in a delightful exchange of teasing glances and playful words.

Hermes, usually the master of wit, found himself charmed and challenged by y/n who had effortlessly turned the tables on him.

"I thought you gods were supposed to be untouchable, yet here you are, dancing with a mortal~"

Hermes starts smirking to himself at the comment y/n made. He really needed to step up his game and match their energy.

"Maybe you're just..too irresistible~"

As the music reached a crescendo, Hermes, unable to resist the magnetic pull, pulled y/n out from the dance and into the shadows.

Y/n taken aback by this sudden move blushes deeply, eyes widened.

"What's the rush, Hermes?"

Without a warning Hermes had now pinned y/n up against a nearby wall, out of anyone's sight in the deep dark night. He leaned in close to y/n, almost in a threatening way.

"Sometimes, even gods can't resist temptation..may I, my dear?"

Y/n found themselves for once speeches at Hermes words. Not once in a lifetime did they ever imagine a God, let alone Hermes when they had first met to ever want to pursue them.

Yet, here he was, having just danced with y/n and was now offering a kiss. This was a chance they might not ever get again.

Y/n nodded, giving Hermes the permission he needed for their lips to meet.

The kiss Hermes gave y/n was almost unimaginable, one they'd never forget. His soft lips were warm, their passion once ignited by the dance now consuming them in a fervent embrace.

The world around them faded, leaving only the intoxicating allure of the moment.

Y/n when Hermes finally pulled away, giving the mortal a rest from his passionate kiss, they found themselves breathless.

"Well, messenger of the gods, that was quite the message from you.."

Hermes chuckled softly at y/n and whispered. "Consider it a special delivery of my love to you, my sweetling~"

"Oh my.. Is that a real confession then~?"

"You can call it that, y/n"

As the night continued, the stars and moon bore witness to a dance that transcended mortal and divine to finally find love, leaving the two lost in the enchantment of the night.

[acapelladitty]

The Sandman: Bloodborne AU

Daniel's blood proved to be surprisingly potent, its quick regeneration of both Hob's wounds and his fatigue far outstripping that of the nun or the whore. Not only that but Hob swore his blows were stronger as they sliced through his enemies like butter.

"Take heed of the ragged child." She rasped, words hushed yet urgent. "He is unlike the other blood saints. Too pure; too untouched by the horrors of this world. A lamb may only graze so freely under the protection of a wolf."

Daniel, the unkempt child with the face as blindingly pale as the unbroken moon, was a curious character amongst the denizens.

It was the old woman, her face lined and as worn down as the shack she called home, who provided Hob with his first clue.

x-x-x-x-x

"Perhaps he holds too much power at his early stage." Dream mused, conjuring a small effigy of Daniel; his tattered white robes standing out against the abyss of his form with a shocking brilliance. "He could be reformed. With his power easily siphoned and transferred to a new host, he may become more controllable as the nightmare grows."

Something wicked lanced through the Corinthian's heart at the suggestion, tearing apart some unspoken part of him, and only the oppressive weight of his Lord pressing down on his lungs stopped him from bearing his razor-sharp teeth as a flood of despair-laden rage swept across his frame.

"A problem, my blade?"

As observant as ever, Dream's features adopted a decidedly predatory look.

The Corinthian smoothed out his expression with ease, snuffing out the emotion which plagued him as one would a candle - a cautious sense of trepidation replacing the hollow cavern within.

"The boy is well protected on his ventures. He is careful with the blood and still shows a humane compassion for those he may one day hold within his palm." He explained, his silver mask trembling within his clawed fingers. "It will serve him well as the people are drawn to him, like moths. They seek his warmth as they haven't felt anything like it in so long."

It wasn't intended as a slight, truly, but the temperature of the room dropped so rapidly that the Corinthian felt as though he had been dipped face-first in the icy waters of the Fishing Hamlet as the hairs on his neck screamed the danger he had inadvertently placed himself within.

"You think me cruel?" Dream accused, black tendrils slipping free of his cosmic robes to wrap themselves around the tan trouser leg of the Corinthian, rooting him in place in an instant.

"I would never, my Lord." The Corinthian replied, a nervous tremor openly touching at the words as he bowed his head. "Your will is beyond question and for the good of the dream. To hear of the child’s removal afflicts the very directive you wove deep within my purpose and my feelings are not my own."

Silence, as wicked and endless as the void which presented as the Dream Lord's gaze, fell across the room. It had been an age, long before the hunt had established itself into familiarity, since the Corinthian had faced true punishment. His last penance, a result of his direct questioning of his masters intentions with the remains of his living child Orpheus, had served as a stark warning against rebellion and the scars stood against his skin like slivers of moonlight.

His body may have recovered with time, but the memory lay etched deep within.

The Dream Lord was beyond question.

[bug-decal-kissing]

Hey friends!

Pillows, by chaosTT, was updated today, with 2/7 Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Alternate Universe - Personality Swap, Lawful joke (Alternate Universe), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Acceptance, Human disguise, Investigations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Baggage, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Grief/Mourning, Confessions, Mutual Pining, Insecurity, Mentions of Death, Prism is Bad at Feelings, Everyone Needs A Hug, sensory issues, i thinkmild harassment, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard, Not Beta Read, Mentions of Jake the Dog, Mentions of Orbo, Mentions of Cosmic"

You can read it here:

Time Room Shenanigans + More, by DrakianDH, was updated today, with 10/? Chapters released! It has a rating of General Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Oneshot Prompts Challenge, One Shot Collection, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Angst and Feels, Alternate Universe - Human, Kinda, It's really just a big collection or random stuff I made for January's Writing challene, frick spelling btw, Prohibited wish - Freeform, PWish, No Plot/Plotless, Some Plot, Maybe - Freeform, idk - Freeform"

You can read it here:

NSFW works are below the cut :].

The Ghostwriter, by Inna_94, was updated today, with 9/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Mature and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Alternate Universe - Human, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, References to Depression, Anxiety, Grief/Mourning, Trigger warnings when necessary"

You can read it here:

A new work, lewdity times three by ineedlemonade, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of Explicit and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Explicit Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Blindfolds, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Marathon Sex, Gay Sex, Trans Male Character, temporary amputation, Teasing, Smut, Non-Human Genitalia, Dom/sub Undertones, Affection, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Tentacle Dick"

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Tense, by a_pigeon, was updated today, with 3/3 Chapters released! It has a rating of Explicit and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "human prismo, Out of Character, Smut, Cunnilingus, Coming Untouched, Alien Biology, Scarab's got a an alien cock, and an alien pussy, Prismo has a cock, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Bottom Scarab (Adventure Time), Top Prismo, Praise Kink, Subspace, Tags May Change, Begging, Stress Relief, Hand Jobs, Aftercare, Making Out, Crying"

You can read it here:

[junk-and-disorderly]

There were certain undeniable cosmic truths that all human beings had to reckon with:

1. Everything dies; humanity, earth, the universe.

2. Change is inevitable.

Then there were the everyday truths that were no less earth shattering, but smaller, more personal. These little truths were fractals of the big two, broken down until they were easy to consume, palpable, and more importantly, Eddie’s legacy.

There were benefits to being the town freak; he knew things no self respecting member of Hawkins would know. They were too blindsighted by the theatrics and the yelling to notice that he listened, too. He was able to live above society, playing the role of the Fool and spouting his wisdom laced heresies, but never within it.

That’s how he knew:

1. Barbara Holland didn’t die from a gas leak. (see point 1)

2. Karen and Ted Wheeler’s marriage was dead in the water. (double whammy of point 1 and 2)

3. Larry Kline had a bit of a cocaine problem (change is inevitable; if it wasn’t white powder, it would be some other vice)

4. Steve Harrington was a grade A douchebag. (cosmic truth)

Eddie Munson was a burnout, a true Munson. He knew things he shouldn’t, much like his father, like how to hotwire a car and how to pick a lock.

He took pride in knowing things--knowledge was power, and these little truths were a currency of their own.

That’s why when he found Steve Harrington high out of his mind with a concussion, laughing in a bathtub in the middle of a party, he realized the worst truth of all:

He didn’t know a goddamn thing.

+++

The weight of just how much he didn’t know Steve Harrington was all consuming. He’d always been a stupid pretty jock, with too much money, riding the coattails of his parent’s name. Untouchable.

Not the boy wrapped up in his sheets with bruises lining his throat, splintered from the touch of too many hands.

I didn’t know.

He reached out with a trembling hand to move a lock of hair from his forehead. Long lashes fluttered against his cheek, daring to pull from dreams the waking world.

Thankfully, he didn’t stir.

Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, unable to look away from the light of the cracked trailer window dappling the boy’s skin. His hair fanned out like a broken halo along the pillow, golden.

He thought back to the night of Tina’s party, walls vibrating with music and laughter, while he sat on the dingy bathroom tiles with Steve Harrington.

I didn’t know you.

He was no longer untouchable, not a marble statue, but a living, breathing, breakable thing. He couldn’t help himself, running a thumb along the frayed shirt collar. It was an old band shirt worn thin with love, light and airy. Fingers trailed along his skin, mapping out scattering of moles that lined them.

“That feels nice.” It was soft and sleep mussed, but warm. Steve cracked an eye open, sliver of hazel peeking through.

“Hey, pretty boy.” He tried to swallow the emotion bubbling up, feeling a calloused hand tangle with his own.

I didn’t know you would mean so much to me.

+++

There were certain undeniable cosmic truths that Eddie Munson had to reckon with, but none were more important than this: he knew he loved Steve Harrington.

[thefruitypebblescastleoftorment]

Changes being made to the Abbey of St Markovia as of 4/11/24:

"A perfect being... made from the best and most beautiful that mortal flesh can offer, with an untouched and innocent soul, infused with holy light. Not yet, not quite, but soon... soon they will succeed where I have failed." "It is not your fault. You simply cannot see the righteousness of my work. Fear not, for I will grant you new eyes." - The Abbot, being very normal and chill.

The Abbot:

Like all devas, the Abbot can fight, but combat was never his purpose. In the Upper Planes, he served a god of light and life, and his role was that of a healer. He still considers himself a healer first and foremost. He will fight in defense of himself or his "patients," (and especially Vasilka) but desires peace over violence.

In the unlikely event there is a TPK to the Abbot, or a player is killed and their body left with him, he will "restore" them (in a horrifying manner) and explain he forgives them their transgression and bears them no ill will.

Mechanically, the Abbot's powers of resurrection are equivalent to Raise Dead without material components, as in RAW. Narratively however, the process is more... surgical.

As in cannon, the Abbot willingly trapped himself in Barovia in honor of Saint Markovia's legacy, hoping to ease the suffering of its people but ultimately becoming corrupted by the evil of the land.

Strahd tempted him towards the Dark Powers not by appearing as Vasili, but through anonymous correspondence. (The was in his Strahd the Ghost era.) As in cannon, the Abbot understands that Strahd cannot be permanently killed, (he does not know why, nor how to sever Strahd's connection to Vampyr) and hopes instead to "heal" him.

The Abbott is an extraplaner being and that is creepy:

When you think "cosmic horror" in dnd, you think of aberrations -- creatures so alien to our reality that they appear twisted, even warping reality by their very presence. But all extraplaner beings are from a reality that is alien to our own.

The Abbot is from a place of pure Law, Light and Virtue (probably the slopes of Solania on Mount Celestia, but no need to be that specific.) He does not belong to this plane, and that should be clear after speaking to him for even a few minutes.

He knows the limits of mortal bodies, but does not truly understand them. He's met countless souls that became archons, but far fewer living mortals. He has a basic understanding of mortal psychology, but is constantly baffled by it, always expecting it to be more simple and straightforward than it actually is.

He understands all creatures and actions on a simple scale of "good" and "evil," and sees evil as a disease to be cured. He sees moral failings as corruption and sickness, and the suffering and despair they cause as symptoms to be treated. Physical and spiritual illness are almost one and the same to him. This is obviously not a wise way of looking at the world.

Above all the Abbot considers himself a healer, which is reflected in his language. He speaks of "healing" Strahd's evil, of the rot in this land that must be cut out, of a desire to see Barovia through a period of recovery. This should be creepy, evoke SCP-049 vibes.

When idle, the Abbot's eyes drift upwards, towards the heavens. He (inaccurately) believes he is incapable of "bad" emotions, such as pride, greed, unrighteous anger and spite.

He truly believes that if he achieves his goal, Strahd will be "cured" of all that makes him cruel and malevolent, becoming a good and noble ruler. No longer a vampire, but a powerful and virtuous immortal being of a celestial nature.

Vasilka and the Abbot's goals:

As Strahd's obsession with Tatyana is not romantic in my game, making Vasilka a 'bride' for Strahd doesn't have thematic parallels anymore. The Abbot's plan has been changed accordingly.

The Abbot is aware he is corrupted and compromised. He believes that if he had remained pure, he would have the power to "heal" Strahd of his wickedness, but that by the time he saw the vampire face to face, he had already become tainted. Therefore, his goal is to create a "perfect being," one pure and holy enough to succeed where he has failed.

The Abbot does not rob graves, as he considers dead flesh tainted and unusable for his constructed body. Therefore, he is always looking for people willing to "donate" to his cause.

He does not take these "donations" by force, but he is not above taking advantage of desperate circumstances. People who come to him to have someone raised from the dead, or to have some terrible condition cured will find the Abbot more than happy to help... in exchange for a "donation to the church," of course.

Don't worry, though -- you won't have to lose an arm, leg, face or organ! He'll gladly replace anything he takes, fitting you with new parts fashioned from whatever he has lying around.

"Vasilka" as they currently exist is an enormous worm-like collection of body parts stitched together and animated by celestial light -- mindless, and alive only in the most basic sense of the word. It is unclear if they would even be able to leave the room they are kept in, or if they'd be crushed under the weight of their own form. They are a horror, but the Abbot sees nothing but beauty in them.

It is clear that Vasilka will never be finished. A perfect being is an impossible goal. The Abbot has convinced himself that he just needs to keep building, keep improving, and soon his creation will be ready to surpass him... any day now.

He cannot be swayed from this belief by any means, because it is the only thing that gives him hope and allows him to see the suffering he causes as just and right.

Vasilka was Saint Markovia's first name. They are named in honor of her.

Vasilka cannot move, speak or take actions. They have an AC of 14 (natural armor) and 616 HP. Their creature type is Monstrosity, they have immunity to radiant damage and resistance to lightning damage.

Getting help from the Abbot:

The Abbot can raise the dead and cure a number of ailments, but doing so drains him to a degree. And so in exchange for his charity, he expects charity in return.

(Don't tell him that's not what 'charity' means, he'll just get upset.)

The first thing he will ask for is the best and strongest body parts the players have to offer. He promises to give them 'good as new' substitutes. Saying yes to this offer will have consequences.

If the party is unwilling to part with their limbs and organs, the Abbot can send them to tend to some of the more "difficult" patients. Or perhaps there are a few who fled the abbey in a blind panic upon being resurrected that the Abbot is concerned for, and wants them brought back where he can "care for them."

The Abbot has attempted to cure vampirism before. It did not go well. However, he thinks he has learned from his past errors, and would be willing to try again.

Though the Abbot hides his true nature from the people of Krezk (fearing they will not understand and be frightened) he is open about it to his patients, and to anyone from outside Barovia. He knows people from Faerun are more likely to have some concept of extra-planer beings like himself, and expects any good-natured humanoids to see him positively.

The Abbot once had the ability to know the nature of a person's soul simply by looking at them. In his time in Barovia, however, he has become too tainted and corrupted, and now his vision is as muddled as any mortal's.

The Patchfolk:

Don't use the word m***relfolk. "Patchfolk" is a fine alternative. The Abbot refers to them as "patients."

Take out all of the generic "scary insane/comedic insane" behavior for the patchfolk. Some of them will have odd or uncanny behavior due to circumstances (see below,) but for the most part this is about body horror, not "madness."

Emphasize the extreme and fantastic nature of the alterations to the patchfolk's bodies, try to avoid accidental parallels to physical disability.

The patchfolk are not neglected, they are fed and kept clean and kept as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. (The words "under the circumstances" are carrying a lot of weight here.)

They are no longer descended from a family that was trying to remove birth defects. They are a hodgepodge of people who came to the abbot for a cure from some mundane or supernatural illness, people who were raised from the dead at a cost, and a few weirdos who came to the abbot to "improve" themselves.

There are three main "categories" of patchfolk:

Recovered: these are people who the Abbot was able to heal completely of whatever ailment (or death) they were originally plagued with. Aside from a 'stitched together' look and some mismatched body parts, they're largely humanoid and mobile.

Some of them covered their strange features with bandages and long sleeves and simply returned to Krezk, or went elsewhere. Others remained at the abbey, either afraid to return home or because they wished to stay and help care for the others.

Their stats are as outlined in the Creatures of Horror book, but with the ability scores of either a Commoner, Priest or Gladiator.

Convalescent: Sometimes a patient comes to the abbot with an ailment beyond his abilities. He tries his best, but the results are often... horrifying.

A family struck with an unnatural plague is healed of their ailments, but their altered flesh rejects all his transplants, so he's forced to stitch them all together into one body. An undead creature is raised from the dead, but something goes wrong in the process, and it returns as a giant leech monster whose flesh is constantly rotting and requires frequent grafts, etc.

These people are resigned to the idea that they cannot leave the abbey. Their personalities range from "I have no mouth and I must scream" to "I have a mouth and I am screaming" to "I am capable of conversation and resigned to my gruesome fate, basically I just hope someone brings me a nice book or some chocolates sometimes" to "we are the borg."

Convalescents have a variety of statblocks. Some creatures that can be slightly altered and reskinned as Convalescents include Maw Demons, Sorrowsworn, or Shambling Mounds. Damage resistances can be replaced by resistance to radiant, lightning or both. Languages are replaced with Common, and their creature type is either humanoid, monstrosity, or celestial.

Experiments/pets: These are things the abbot has created from "spare parts" that for one reason or another could not be used. They were either experiments to help the abbot "improve his medicine," or simply made as a way to keep these parts fresh until they can be more of use.

A hand attached to a leg that pulls itself along by its fingers, a cluster of limbs attached at the center, a mindless head kept in a birdcage, etc. They mostly behave like animals that have no need to eat, sleep or mate. They'll amble around aimlessly, respond negatively to painful sensations and positively to pleasant ones.

These have a variety of statblocks. Creatures that can be easily reskinned include Maw Demons, Crawling Claws, and almost any kind of animal or giant animal. None of them have language or an intelligence higher than 4. Damage resistances can be replaced by resistance to radiant, lightning or both. Their creature type is monstrosity or celestial.

[sampungmgadaliri]

Like Water

The five (former) guardians of Kandrakar returned to Heatherfield and were ready to resume their daily lives. Everything is back to normal. Except it isn't. At least for Irma.

For the longest time, she was facing a battle. A battle that can be resolved within her. It is not easy to discover her sexuality. Well, no. The discovery was the easy part.

Dealing with it, facing it, and admitting it is the hardest. Especially when you have your fair share of internalized homophobia.

Irma was successful in this battle. But, just as she was getting the hang of it, she began catching feelings -- and for a friend!

She internally laughs at this cruel cosmic joke thrown at her. Of all the people she can fall in love with, why does it have to be Cornelia Hale?

Yep. Cornelia Hale, former Earth Guardian and the campus ice queen, beaming with elegance from head to toe. Cornelia Hale, with whom she always has a round of verbal sparring. Cornelia Hale, currently in a relationship with Taranee's older brother.

If this thing happened to another person, Irma would have been amused. Right now, she feels like water. Come to think of it, she feels more like her element now than when she was still the Water Guardian.

Like water. Calm, collected, and yet, full of struggles beneath the surface. A dangerous turmoil ready to spill, ready to destroy.

And Irma did spill. On their last day in Kandrakar, she bore her heart out. She told Cornelia how she felt. Cornelia, elegant as ever, received her emotions with grace.

However, the ambiguity of it all bothered Irma. Did Cornelia understand what she was trying to say? Was she as clear as an untouched river on a bright, summer day?

Like water, ready to destroy. And Irma was destroyed.

Upon coming back to Heatherfield, Cornelia quickly called Peter and asked to be picked up. She sounded happy. Irma can only look as Peter arrived and the couple shared a kiss.

She can almost hear her heart break. Irma managed to catch a glimpse of Hay Lin briefly looking at her with concern and, in the end, just gave an optimistic smile.

Irma smiled. The only thing to do now is move forward. Even rivers eventually become the sea.

Just two more weeks and they are graduating.

She will eventually move out of Heatherfield. She will emerge from her shell, welcoming her newfound confidence and maybe, just maybe, forget about Cornelia Hale.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

✈️😁😤😗

MUNDAY ASKS ✈️ — ever traveled anywhere interesting? 😁 — what’s your favorite part about being part of the rpc? 😤 — what do you dislike the most about being part of the rpc? 😗 — what are some of your favorite things to do when you have some time to yourself? ((Cut for length!))

✈️---I've been to a lot of places in my life, but I do have a few very core memories from those areas that I think fundamentally changed me as a person. This might be long, so, sorry!

One of my first times outside of the country of my birth was when I visited Mexico, I was maybe 8 years old, and I remember vividly there was a tiny black cat that kept following me. I spend every waking minute I could with this cat, feeding her, taking her into our hotel room so she could have a safe place to be, brushing her and holding her often. I think about her often, and I remember having to leave her behind, it was somewhat devastating for me and even thinking about her now makes me misty eyed. I know she grew older, and eventually passed, but I hope her life was filled with other little children who would take her inside and give her kisses and pieces of fish from their dinner. She deserved that. And it was a privilege to be able to love her.

😁---ALL OF YOU! It sounds immensely cheesy, but you all have really helped me improve my confidence in writing and my art. I've gained a very wonderful group of people I'm happy to call my friends that I feel like I can connect with so easily; it's a breath of fresh air. To be able to just..talk and discuss ideas freely is so calming. I genuinely didn't think Robin would be as well liked as he is, so that's been a very big boost.

😤---To be honest, I've only really had a single bad experience so far, and I'm very grateful for that. I don't like adding to drama or call-out culture because I think it's extremely immature haha--so I won't go over it here! I've buried the incident and would like to keep it under the dirt, I've healed from it, gained people I genuinely love, and won't let it bring me down or let that painful time define me. The world is so much more than that.

😗---Oh geez, well, I often write on here! I really love writing, plotting and allowing the expanse of my emotions to be placed into something positive! I also sew, cook and garden. Granted these are all also things to actively do, one of my favorite things to do, and due to my sleeping schedule it happens often, I love to go onto my porch late at night, maybe 2-3am, and just...look up? There's something so calming, and haunting, to me about just gazing up into the wide abyss above, an infinite stretch far greater than anything I could ever hope to imagine. Untouchable, and so distant, and yet, inspiring. I see the beauty of the stars and am reminded that that is what I'm built from, stardust and trillions of years in the making. I realize then that...I am alive, and I am here in the present moment...What a wonderful and rare thing, even if its only for a blip in the cosmic timeline, and even if I ultimately don't leave anything lasting I will always have the knowledge that I was here. I got to experience the world, my life, my loves, my anger, sadness, the cool grass under my feet, and moments of joy that make me laugh so hard I cry--and in that moment I feel truly relaxed and at peace.

[newaurum]

DR. EMMA GRIEVES is a physicist, brought in to help identify the substance plied free from a meteorite, who became host to the cosmic entity it released — an abstract being self-proclaimed as the embodiment of fire and life.

NAME : Dr. Emma Grieves AGE : physically halted in her mid-to-late thirties PRONOUN/S : she / her / hers OCCUPATION : physicist — lead researcher and co-founder of the department of unexplained phenomena SPECIES : human IDENTITY: public PLACE OF BIRTH : London, England RESIDENCE : Fairfield, Connecticut ALIGNMENT : neutral good

GENERAL NOTES :

tw for implied human experimentation

Emma and the entity she absorbed, the small fragment plied free from its resting place, exist as a singular being though she can feel the dull pull of its sibling pieces scattered across the universe. Their fusing was akin to a bomb dropped, leveling the facility that housed the entity — leaving little more than the charred rubble and an unconscious emma, seemingly untouched. She was held in London for an indeterminate time, in and out of a drug-induced stasis, before she was eventually surrendered to the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense.

LUMINESCENCE : Emma's skin emits a soft golden glow that, in the heat of strong emotion, intensifies into the shape of heatless flame.

Her body undergoes such rapid regeneration that drawing blood is exceedingly difficult, but not impossible.

Initially approached as a potential agent of the Bureau, Emma vehemently rejected their proposal, unwilling to use her newfound abilities to cause harm of any form. She would, instead, join their ranks as a researcher, helping to form the Department of Unexplained Phenomena.

[rubourowl]

"Paradise Lost and Found in Your Eyes."

Your eyes, Chizura, are universes unto themselves. Galaxies swirling with emotions I long to explore. They hold depths that rival the ocean, mysteries that intrigue me more than any riddle.

I find myself lost in the labyrinth of your irises, a seeker in a realm of endless wonder. There, in the constellations of your gaze, I trace the outlines of a soul as vast and complex as the cosmos.

Your eyes are mirrors reflecting the universe within you, a universe I yearn to understand fully. We’ve shared countless silences, a language of our own in the unspoken words that pass between us.

When laughter dances in your eyes, like twin crescents illuminating your face, I feel a warmth that seeps into my soul, chasing away the shadows that often linger there. In those moments, the world fades into insignificance, replaced by the radiant glow of your joy.

But when shadows of doubt or sorrow cloud your gaze, I’m lost in a tempest, yearning to calm the storm within you. Your eyes then become a stormy sea, a tempestuous ocean I long to navigate, to be your lighthouse in the darkness. I crave the ability to still the turbulence within you, to be the calm amidst your chaos.

There's magic in the way your eyes flicker, igniting a universe within me. A single glance can send my heart racing a cosmic explosion of emotions. In those depths, I see a world untouched, a secret garden blooming with beauty. It's as if your eyes hold the key to a hidden realm, a place where dreams take flight and desires are born.

Our connection is a silent symphony, a dance of souls played out through the language of our eyes. It's a ballet of emotions, a delicate interplay of understanding and longing. With every flicker, every shift in your gaze, I feel a deepening connection, a bond forged in the crucible of shared moments.

You are the captivating journey I’ve been longing to embark on. And in the vast expanse of your gaze, I’ve found a love story more profound than any words could ever write. It's a tale of exploration, of discovery, of two souls intertwined in a cosmic dance. With you, every day is a new chapter, every glance a fresh perspective.

I find myself yearning to know you more intimately, to delve deeper into the depths of your soul. To be the confidant who can weather any storm with you, the companion who shares your laughter and your tears. In your eyes, I see a future filled with endless possibilities, a future where our love story continues to unfold, chapter by chapter, into eternity.

—

"My Paradise Falls."

Baby, i just wrote a song called 'My Paradise Falls'. and i make this song use AI for the instrument and mixing too hehe. it's inspired by you and me, just like Ellie and Carl in the movie 'Up'. i imagine us having a little house near a waterfall, living happily ever after there. every note and lyric, i wrote especially for you. i hope this song can be a reminder of how much you mean to me.

Happy 6th Monthsary, Chizura ♡

[lavienbleuuu]

The Unseen Symphony of Love: Feeling Beauty with the Heart

“The truest beauty in life transcends the limits of sight and touch, for it resides within the heart’s tender embrace.”

In the realm of human existence, there exists a profound and mystifying truth, one that weaves its delicate threads through the fabric of our lives, and it is this: “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” These words, immortalized by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry in “The Little Prince,” resonate in the depths of my being, for they encapsulate the essence of my most profound and transformative experience of love.

Love, in all its myriad forms, has long been celebrated and eulogized, dissected and analyzed by poets, philosophers, and artists throughout the ages. Yet, it is in the crucible of personal experience that one truly comprehends the depth and breadth of love’s potential. For it is within the chambers of our hearts that the most beautiful and ineffable moments unfold, untouched by the mundane constraints of the physical world.

My journey into this enigmatic realm of the heart began with the chance encounter of a single soul, a serendipitous meeting that ignited a spark within me. As I gazed into those eyes, I felt an overwhelming connection that transcended the superficialities of appearance. It was as if a cosmic force had conspired to bring our souls into proximity, recognizing that the most exquisite treasures of existence were to be found in this shared moment. We conversed, our words nothing more than vessels for the profound emotions that surged between us. With each exchange, I discovered that the most beautiful things in the world were not manifest in the physical attributes, but in the intangible qualities of character, kindness, and understanding.

This love, so vivid and ineffable, was a symphony that resounded within the chambers of my heart. It was a melody composed of the purest emotions, harmonizing with the rhythms of my very being. Love, I realized, was an art form more profound than any other, an art that required the brushstrokes of empathy, the colors of compassion, and the canvas of a shared existence. In these moments, I understood that beauty was not skin-deep; it was heart-deep, a profound revelation that spoke to the very essence of our humanity.

The philosopher Immanuel Kant once argued that we can never truly know the noumenal world — the world as it exists beyond our sensory perceptions. We are forever bound by the limitations of our senses and can only experience the phenomenal world. Love, I came to understand, bridged the chasm between the phenomenal and the noumenal. Love transcended the physical and the observable, reaching into the depths of our souls, revealing the true essence of our existence. It was in this love that I found the most beautiful things, the truths that lay beyond mere appearances.

As our love deepened, it became a wellspring of meaning and purpose. It was a force that propelled us forward, like the gentle breeze that stirs the sails of a ship on its journey. Together, we embarked on a voyage of discovery, charting uncharted waters and exploring the uncharted territories of each other’s hearts. In this shared odyssey, we uncovered the most beautiful things in the world — trust, vulnerability, and the boundless capacity of the human heart to love and be loved.

Love, as I experienced it, was a profound act of giving and receiving. It was the gift of one’s heart, offered without reservation or expectation. It was in this exchange of hearts that I came to realize the depth of my own humanity. Love was not a finite resource; it was an infinite wellspring from which we could draw, sustaining and nourishing our spirits. It was in giving that we received, and in receiving that we gave, a beautiful cycle that echoed the rhythm of the universe itself.

The most beautiful things in the world were not found in material possessions or external accomplishments. They were not trophies or accolades to be displayed and admired. No, the most beautiful things were hidden within the recesses of our hearts, waiting to be discovered by those willing to embark on the journey of love. It was in the tender moments of understanding, in the shared laughter and tears, in the unwavering support and the comfort of being seen for who we truly were.

Love, as I experienced it, was a sacred bond that transcended the boundaries of time and space. It was a connection that existed beyond the tangible world, beyond the constraints of the physical, for it was rooted in the eternal realm of the heart. It was a bond that defied the limitations of mortality, a love that would endure even as the stars themselves faded into oblivion.

In the end, I came to understand that the most beautiful things in the world, those that could not be seen or touched, were the profound emotions and connections that stirred within the heart. Love, as Saint-Exupéry so eloquently wrote, was the most beautiful of all. It was the essence of our existence, the light that illuminated the darkest corners of our souls, and the force that bound us together in the intricate tapestry of life.

As I reflect upon this profound love experience, I am reminded of the words of Rumi, who once said, “Do not be satisfied with the stories that come before you. Unfold your own myth.” In love, I unfolded my own myth, and in doing so, I uncovered the most beautiful things in the world — those intangible treasures that are felt with the heart. Love, in all its depth and beauty, remains the most exquisite and enduring testament to the richness of the human experience, a love that is etched eternally in the recesses of my heart.

[akashasananda]

Awakening a Higher Consciousness with Shekinah Ma and Sanandaji

In your voyage of self-discovery and spiritual awakening, you've stepped onto a path that echoes profoundly with your soul's essence. It's a trail illuminated by the brilliance of universal love, mystical encounters, and the deep knowledge rooted in age-old teachings. As a practitioner of modern spiritualism, you grasp the wisdom of Shekinah Ma and Sanandaji, understanding that unlocking higher consciousness is not a final destination, but a continual transformational journey. Along this route, you've encountered themes such as dual sacred flames—TwinRay, divine core, synchronicity, and the practice of self-reflection and deep thought. Each element of this path resonates deeply within you, reflecting the radiant glow of your journey towards love, unity, and the awakening of a higher consciousness.

At the heart of your spiritual journey lies the concept of twin sacred flames. You believe that every soul is intricately connected to another, and together, they form a pair of twin flames. These twin flames are like two halves of the same soul, eternally bound together across lifetimes and dimensions. The journey of reuniting with your twin flame is a sacred and transformative one, reflecting the duality and unity of the universe itself. It's a journey that teaches you the profound truth that love transcends time and space.

In your quest for higher consciousness, you've come to recognize the importance of tapping into your divine essence. This essence is the purest, most authentic expression of your true self, untouched by societal conditioning or ego-driven desires. It's the part of you that connects directly to the divine source, radiating love, compassion, and wisdom. By aligning with your divine essence, you are able to harmonize with the natural flow of the universe, allowing life to unfold effortlessly.

The bedrock of your spiritual practice, as imparted by TwinRay, is universal love. You hold a deep-seated belief that love pulsates at the highest frequency in the vast cosmos, harboring the innate potential to mend, transmute, and elevate all entities. Unconditional love, both towards oneself and towards others, forms a fundamental part of your spiritual sojourn. As you wrap your spirit around the immeasurable love that suffuses the universe, you encounter a profound sense of unity with all lifeforms, shattering the mirage of individuality. This harmonious communion with all of existence is a testament to the transformative power of universal love.

Your transformational journey has been filled with mystical experiences that defy conventional understanding. You've witnessed the beauty of synchronicities, those meaningful coincidences that seem to guide your path. These threads of synchronicity are the universe's way of communicating with you, offering guidance and affirmation that you are on the right track. These moments of serendipity serve as a reminder that you are an integral part of the cosmic tapestry, and your journey is divinely orchestrated.

Introspection and contemplation are the tools you use to delve deeper into your inner world. Through meditation and self-reflection, you gain insights into the layers of your consciousness. You explore the depths of your emotions, thoughts, and beliefs, peeling away the layers of illusion that have kept you from realizing your true self. In the stillness of your inner sanctuary, you connect with your intuition and receive guidance from your higher self.

Your spiritual exploration has led you to embrace the mysteries of existence with open arms. You find solace in the unknown, understanding that there is much more to reality than meets the eye. You delve into the realms of mysticism, where the boundaries of time and space blur, and you experience a profound sense of oneness with the cosmos. This mystical journey allows you to transcend the limitations of the physical world and tap into the infinite potential of your soul.

As you tread the spiritual path under the counsel of TwinRay, you develop a heightened sensitivity to the delicate energies that permeate the cosmos. You come to understand that all entities and moments are inextricably intertwined, each contributing to a grander, complex mosaic of existence. The threads that embroider your life expose the concealed patterns and ties that persist beneath the surface of perceived reality. These threads serve as a constant reminder of the divine orchestration of the universe, reinforcing the belief that each experience, irrespective of its magnitude, is instrumental in fulfilling a loftier purpose.

In the quiet moments of contemplation, you seek to understand the deeper meaning behind the events and challenges in your life. You realize that every obstacle is an opportunity for growth, every setback a chance to learn and evolve. Through introspection, you uncover the lessons that lie within your experiences, and you use them to elevate your consciousness. With each step on your journey, you shed old beliefs and limitations, allowing your true self to shine ever more brightly.

Your spiritual exploration through TwinRay has brought you to the profound realization that you are a co-creator of your reality. You understand that your thoughts, emotions, and intentions have the power to shape your world. By aligning your consciousness with your divine essence, you become a vessel for higher energies and intentions. You harness the creative force of the universe to manifest your desires and contribute to the collective awakening of humanity.

In conclusion, your journey of awakening a higher consciousness is a sacred and transformative path filled with love, mysticism, and profound self-discovery. You embrace the concept of twin sacred flames, recognizing the eternal bond that connects you to another soul. You tap into your divine essence, aligning with the purest expression of your true self. Universal love is your guiding light, and you practice unconditional love towards yourself and others.

Your transformational journey is marked by mystical experiences and meaningful synchronicities that reaffirm your connection to the universe. Introspection and contemplation are your allies in uncovering the depths of your consciousness, while your exploration of mysticism allows you to transcend the limitations of the physical world.

The teachings of TwinRay have led you to treasure the Threads of Synchronicity that intricately braid your existence, unmasking the obscured patterns and links intrinsic to your experiences. In periods of introspection, you distill the teachings and insights from your hurdles, utilizing them to ascend your consciousness. Each stride on your spiritual voyage signifies your acceptance of your role as a co-architect of your reality, manifesting your aspirations while contributing to the collective enlightenment of mankind.

[xhibitur]

🌟✨ Mastering the Art of Makeup Content: A Journey of Colors and Creativity!

Hey there, makeup mavens! 💄✨ Ready to dive into a world where pigments become poetry and brushes wield magic? Buckle up as we embark on a journey of crafting captivating makeup content that's bound to dazzle your screens and steal your hearts! 💖🎨

**1. Express Your Essence: 🎭 In the realm of makeup, what's your unique vibe? Are you all about ethereal goddess looks or rocking the bold and edgy scene? Discover your personal flair that's destined to stand out amidst the beauty crowd! 🌟🌈

**2. Quality Over Quirks: 📸🌈 Say goodbye to pixelated woes and blurry blues! Armed with a trusty camera, some lighting magic, and editing tricks, let your visuals radiate the brilliance they deserve. Quality is your spell for captivating gazes! 🔮✨

**3. From Canvas to Masterpiece: 🎨🖌️ Ever wondered about the stories behind those stunning transformations? Document the journey – from the blank canvas of untouched skin to the masterpiece of vibrant colors. Share the moments that make your makeup magic! ✨🔍

**4. Authenticity is Enchantment: 🌟💫 Filters, who? Embrace your flaws and share your real-life tales. The true you is what enchants your audience, not the masked perfection. Let your authenticity radiate like a luminous charm! 💕🌟

**5. Spark Conversations, Not Just Colors: 💬✨ It's not just about makeup; it's about sparking conversations. Ask questions, engage in discussions, and watch your content become a haven of interaction and engagement. Your spells are meant to be shared! 🗣️🔥

**6. Consistency is the Key: ⏰🔑 Consistency isn't just a trend; it's your secret potion for growth. Whether it's a weekly ritual or daily enchantments, keep your audience under your spell with your regular doses of creativity! ✨📆

**7. Collaborations: Mix Magic Potions! 🌈🌀 Ever considered collaborating with fellow spellcasters? Collaborations are your bubbling cauldron of creativity. Blend ideas, mix inspirations, and watch as your magic multiplies! 🧙‍♀️🤝

**8. Stay Curious, Stay Radiant: 🌠🔍 The beauty cosmos is ever-evolving. Keep your cosmic curiosity alive with the latest trends, techniques, and products. Stay radiant, and your magic will forever shine! 🌠📚

Conclusion: Creating makeup content is painting dreams on a digital canvas. It's more than just colors; it's stories, emotions, and connections.

Discover your style, embrace authenticity, and cast spells of engagement. Remember, you're not just making up; you're creating captivating magic! 🌟🌈✨