#queued in death as in life

[punkxcalibur]

Au where Kilgharrrah is just constantly invading Merlin's mind via druid-speak

Imagine:

Merlin: Arthur is such a prat I hate him

Kilgharrah: NO HE'S YOUR DESTINY YOU GUYS ARE MONEY

Merlin: still a prat

Kilgharrah: no

Merlin: prat

Kilgharrah: NOO

Also:

Merlin: *trying his best to have an earnest conversation with Mordred*

Kilgharrrah: FUCKING KILL HIM!! Don't be such a BITCH young warlock!!

Merlin: NUH UH

Kilgharrah: you are so FOOLISH!!

Merlin: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET ME LIVE IN PEACE

Mordred: I can HEAR YOU GUYS

[akkivee]

there was some display gallery showing off the various logos in hypmic and the ichikuu peeps on the tl were in shambles over both of them using halos in their mc name signatures lol

[particleofgodsimp]

Some screenshot from my first playthrough of Death Stranding

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

You must fully understand the beauty of life, if you want to see the beauty of death; and life will be more beautiful from the reason of contrast with death. And death, again from the contrast with life, will be more tender in pathos, more subtle in rhythm.

Excerpt from Epilogue, by Yoné Noguchi. As featured in Japanese Hokkus, 1920 edition.

[daydadahlias]

Hi! Are you okay? Sorry but you haven’t updated on here in a while and I’m worried.

[aesthetic-solar-space]

Lady Nesta Archeron

So many people hated on Nesta both before and after A Court of Silver Flames. However when we got a full view of her in A Court of Silver Flames it was easy to see we never really knew her, nor what she had gone through. Sure we had seen it the way Feyre did but her few was hindered by anger and sadness.

Nesta deals with so much trauma and it’s so real. Even the way she ends up healing from it is magical because it is represented really well. There was no shying away or fade to black of the darker issues. From the lose of her dad, her forced transformation which ended up having her being used in a war, from being the cause of Cassians injuries, to her childhood - all of it was so real that you could practically imagine it happening to yourself or a friend.

Nesta in my opinion is one of if not the strongest characters from this series and she deserves less hate.

[lifeintheworldtocome]

guys. for cuptoastdaily. do i go with crumbs youtube pfp or do i make it my own drawing answer quick

[shesboundtobruise]

          HER DAYS IN GREENVILLE WERE NUMBERED, that much had been clear. It had been why she went and met up with Eddie in the first place. To say goodbye without letting on to anything. To kiss him one last time with him thinking he’d see her again. He had caught on though, so in tune with her detachment, as subtle as it was, and things turned into a fight. She promised him it wouldn’t be the last time. She swore.

                                                                    She lied.

On the way home, she gave herself a deadline. Two days. In two days, she’d finish packing up the scraps of her life she wanted to keep and leave. For someone ready and willing to shed even her own skin, this seemed easy enough; she’d already begun cramming the essentials in the trunk of her car. As far as she was concerned, Greenville held nothing for her anymore, save the one person she just broke for the last time and the family of the boy whose demise was her fault. She was sparing herself the ghosts and sparing them all the heartbreak…

Lou grimaced when she saw Stanley’s cruiser in the driveway, hoping he would have opted for an overnight shift since he’d been more awful in the preceding days. He tended to get like that around Ida’s birthday. They both did.

The house lay fairly silent in the darkness, except for the low hum of the television in the living room, pretty standard for three in the morning at the Wolfe residence. Figuring she’d be in for a fight the moment she walked across the threshold, she braced herself, teeth gritted, keys tucked between fingers in case she needed defending. She wouldn’t just take the abuse this time. Not now. Not so close to escaping.

But there was no looming shadow in the doorway, no light flicking on or drunken, rumbling voice to stop her. Instead, as she closed in on the room, she encountered a sleeping figure, slumped in his chair, empty bottle of whiskey beside him. The television in front of him played scenes from her childhood, her pageants, birthdays, Ida’s smiling face. In her father’s lap sat a family portrait from years past, before things went to hell.

All the memories came back to her, the good ones, and the bad, and they overwhelmed her so much that she felt sick to her stomach. How dare he drag these things out? How dare he watch them as if nothing happened, as if he wasn’t the one who ruined it all?

She took a step back, holding back the sobs that wanted to burst from her, allowing the rage and disgust take over instead as she glared down at him. A glare flashed off his old revolver on the coffee table with her movement and it took no conscious thought to reach for it. The action was involuntary. He deserved what was coming to him and she deserved to bring it.

The weapon felt heavy in her hands as she aimed it, drawing closer to the slumbering man, each step feeling more important than the last, until the muzzle pressed against his forehead. Lou’s finger curled around the trigger as her father’s eyes blinked open and after a few seconds, focused on her, as if he knew it would be the end, as if he’d expected it.

Without a word, she pulled back the hammer. Stanley didn’t budge, only staring up at her as she looked back at him with every ugly emotion he ever bestowed upon her.

It was the end. All thoughts of leaving Greenville, starting over far away, left her, replaced by the knowledge that her life ended here, with his. It only caused her to push the gun harder against his skull.

“I’m sorry, Louise.”

It took her a moment to realize he had actually spoken, too stuck in everything in her head, but when she did, when his words replayed in her mind, when she registered what he’d croaked out and that tears flooded his eyes as he did, she stopped breathing. He repeated himself and her eyes widened, saline that had collected spilled down her cheeks, and the haze of deep crimson hatred broke. Her hand shook as she took a step away and then another, weapon dropping from twitching fingers. Before long she was out the door, back in Roosevelt and peeling out of her neighborhood...

Never to return.

[suresha]

“Do you know how terrifying it is, that power you have over me?” (your choice)

“The Thorn Birds” sentence starters

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @shacchou

          Seto  Kaiba  was  eerily  silent  the  entire  ride  back  to  the  penthouse,  but  Atem  knew  better  than  to  assume  he  had  let  things  go.  Just  because  Kaiba  didn't  comment  on  the  incident  right  away  did  not  mean  the  evening  would  end  without  him  bringing  it  up.  There  was  just  no  way  he  would  let  this  slide  when  the  incident  in  question  involved  the  former  pharaoh  nearly  losing  a  limb  (  or  his  life. )

          Atem  had  expected  some  scathing,  snide  remark  to  open  the  conversation.  After  all,  it  was  Kaiba's  choice  way  of  broaching  most  topics,  especially  when  he  intended  to  verbally  rip  someone  to  shreds.  Atem  had  been  on  the  receiving  end  of  said  remarks  plenty  of  times  ---  many  of  which  happened  during  their  time  together  in  the  past.  Things  had  changed  quite  a  bit  since  Atem’s  return  from  the  afterlife,  but  not  so  much  that  Kaiba  wouldn’t  tear  him  a  new  one  if  he  saw  fit.  (  And  right  now,  he  was  gearing  up  for  it.  )

          Atem’s  back  was  to  Kaiba  as  he  stood  in  the  kitchen,  watching  the  Keurig  machine  as  it  whirred  to  life.  He  was  making  tea,  because  after  what  just  happened  (  and  with  what  was  to  come  ),  he  knew  he’d  need  the  calm  in  order  to  get  so  much  as  an  ounce  of  rest  tonight.  That  aside,  he  could  feel  Kaiba’s  eyes  boring  into  him  from  behind.  Seto  was  keeping  his  distance,  allowing  the  monarch  some  space,  but  he  had  yet  to  let  Atem  out  of  his  sight  ( yet  another  telling  sign ).  

          And  he  knew.  Atem  knew  Kaiba’s  whole  sinister  aura  right  now  had  everything  to  do  with  a  past  conversation  involving  Atem’s  ---  to  quote  the  CEO ---  blatant  disregard  for  his  own  life.  At  the  time,  Atem  was  furious  at  hearing  such  a  thing.  Just  because  he  wandered  around  at  all  hours  of  the  night  did  not  mean  he  had  little  regard  for  his  life.  He  had  mystical,  magical  items  capable  of  snuffing  out  anyone  dangerous  who  happened  along,  but  all  that  argument  did  was  lead  to  another.  Any  excuse  or  topic  involving  magic  only  seemed  to  enrage  Kaiba  even  more.  That  row  of  theirs  kept  Atem  from  visiting  during  his  lunch  breaks  for  over  a  week  and  it  wasn’t  until  Kaiba  showed  up  to  do  his  weekly  check  in  would  Atem  even  entertain  a  conversation  with  him.  

          Tonight  though...  Tonight  was  different.  Atem  wasn’t  wandering  around  alone.  He  was  at  the  CEO’s  side  after  enjoying  a  walk  through  the  city.  What  should  have  been  a  relatively  uneventful  evening  turned  into  a  car  narrowly  missing  them  both  (  mostly  Atem  )  as  they  crossed  at  a  crosswalk.  Atem’s  foot  was  barely  on  the  sidewalk  when  the  car  sped  through.  If  not  for  Kaiba  grabbing  him  by  the  arm  and  jerking  him  into  his  arms,  he  might  have  lost  a  leg.  Or  his  life.  Atem  was  fully  prepared  to  let  it  go.  The  evening  had  gone  without  a  hitch.  Why  make  a  fuss  and  ruin  it?  Except  it  was  already  ruined.  Kaiba’s  phone  had  the  guy’s  license  plate  in  a  matter  of  seconds.  As  for  what  would  become  of  driver  later,  Atem  thought  it  best  not  to  ask.  When  Kaiba  was  angry,  that  quiet  tone  of  voice  and  the  strong,  flexing  muscles  within  his  jawline  reminded  him  of  another.  In  the  case  of  his  former  priest,  he  KNEW  the  driver  wouldn’t  live  to  see  a  royal  court.

          ❝Do  you  know  how  terrifying  it  is,  that  power  you  have  over  me?❞

          And  here  we  go... except...  except  this  was  not  the  opening  statement  he  had  embraced  himself  for.  This...  This  completely  blew  his  mind  giving  him  the  worst  bout  of  whiplash  the  world  over.  The  Keurig  bubbled  loudly,  but  it  was  noise  that  barely  registered  over  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps.  With  each  step  taken,  Atem  felt  himself  unravel  a  little  bit  more.  Because  he  was  expecting  some  condescending  remark;  a  line  that  would  ensure  their  usual  heated  row  after  an  incident  but  this?  This  wasn’t  the  kind  of  line  he  was  prepared  for  and  because  of  this,  he  almost  couldn’t  find  words  to  respond.

          His  majesty  moved  his  cup  from  beneath  the  machine  and  stepped  sideways  ---  just  enough  to  reach  for  the  honey  on  the  counter.  Words  spun  about  in  his  head,  but  nothing  felt  right.  It  all  sounded  empty  in  his  head,  and  he  didn’t  know  how  to  fix  that.

          ❝Don’t  be  a  coward,  Pharaoh.  Look  at  me  when  I’m  talking  to  you.  The  least  you  could  do  is  show  me  the  respect  that  I  always  give  to  you.❞

          That  touched  a  nerve,  and  god  how  he  LOATHED  being  told  what  to  do.  However,  the  tea  was  set  aside  while  the  once-king  turned,  facing  his  rival.  Kaiba  still  looked  pissed,  but  it  was  hard  to  know  if  it  was  the  incident  from  earlier  weighing  him  down  or  what  he  deemed  the  disrespect  from  the  ‘king’  just  now.  Kaiba  looked  him  over,  making  Atem  feel  like  he  was  back  home  in  Egypt.  The  way  his  court  would  study  him,  looking  for  flaws  or  telling  signs  of  shenanigans  always  made  him  feel  discomfort.  This  moment  was  no  different  though  he  knew  it  was  likely  Kaiba  double  checking  for  injuries.  It  was  strange...  but  perhaps,  not  so  strange  either.  Yet  if  he  allowed  himself  to  dwell  on  it  too  much,  he  would  find  himself  transported  back  in  time.  That  wasn’t  fair  to  Kaiba  at  all.

          ❝Kaiba---❞  he  began,  but  was  quickly  cut  off.

          ❝You  KNOW  how  I  feel  about  your  little  stunt  two  years  ago---❞

          ❝It  wasn’t  a  stunt,❞  Atem  shot  back  irritably.  ❝I  had  to  leave---❞

          ❝Right,  of  course.  And  is  that  why  you  keep  flirting  with  death?  So  you  can  go  back  and  leave  everything  behind  again?”

          ❝What?  N---no!  That’s  not---❞  But  Kaiba  wasn’t  entirely  wrong  either.  There  was  still  some  part  of  Atem  that  wasn’t  comfortable  in  this  world.  There  was  apart  of  him  that  was  still  holding  his  breath,  waiting  for  the  inevitable  moment  when  the  gods  would  see  fit  to  snatch  him  away  again.  He  wasn’t  purposely  being  careless,  but  he  wasn’t  as  aware  as  he  could  have  been  either.  His  mouth  opened  to  argue  the  point  further  but  just  as  quickly,  he  closed  it.  Turning  away,  he  reached  for  his  cup  again,  shaking  due  to  his  nerves.

          ❝I  am...  tired.  Might  I  drink  my  tea  in  peace  and  go  to  bed?  Nothing  bad  happened  tonight  so  let’s  forget  it  shall  we?❞

[centrally-unplanned]

Something depressingly comforting about Kontextmaschine's passing is that in its relatively youthful suddenness we all know about it. He literally posted after his death, having reblogs queued up, we all noticed his absence and someone online even prompted the events to confirm his death. In that sense his arc is complete here.

For most of us it won't be like that. We will make our last post long before our deaths, as life sweeps us up and interests change and entropy ticks off "the reasons you are here" one by one. If the site even survives to begin with, of course, and an empty bank account doesn't simply plunge the entirety of this into the void.

By the time we actually die we most likely will have been gone too long for such a thing to even be noticed. No one will be left who would even know to ask "what happened to [name], anyway?"

[punkxcalibur]

season 1 is such a mess tbh.

gwen is in love with merlin, merlin is in love with morgana, morgana is in love with gwen and merlin simultaneously, everyone thinks merlin is in love with gwen, and then there's arthur who is in love with himself

and then you throw lancelot in the mix whom merlin and gwen are both in love with and who is also in love with gwen and merlin and even arthur

[akkivee]

like since the bb all have musical themed speakers and are a set of brothers, that would mean nemu’s speaker would have a skull motif to it like samatoki’s right??? 🤔

[slayagami]

wedding day with izuku, katsuki, & shoto !

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° m.list ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° mha m.list ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° enjoy !

i. midoriya

ִֶ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ izuku 100% could not sleep the night before

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ would arrive to the venue with you extra early to help decorate and prepare

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his groomsmen were bakugo, todoroki, shinsou, and iida

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ best man was def todoroki

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he got ready with his groomsmen, ranting anxiously to ida and shinsou, hoping that the wedding today would go to plan and be everything you wished for

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ right before the ceremony, he stood tall and proud with his back towards you, hands fumbling as he waited for the reveal. you stood behind him, wedding dress shining under the natural sunlight and giving you an ethereal glow

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you patted his shoulder, giving him the 'ok' to turn around. nervously, he spun his body and locked eyes with yours, green orbs tracing your face that wore natural makeup, down to the beautiful dress you picked months prior after your engagement

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his eyes grew teary, hugging you tightly and crying into the crook of your neck. hands glided down your back, feeling the silky material, mumbling how gorgeous you looked and how lucky he was to be marrying you today

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your eyes watered, hugging your soon-to-be husband back and a hand to trace his fluffy locks. you kissed the side of his head, pulling him to look at you. your hand caressed his face, smiling stupidly in love

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ izuku wore a dark green tuxedo. it was almost black in normal lighting, but once the sun engulfed his figure, the tuxedo shone in a marvelous dark green, almost emerald color that brought out his features. his broach on his chest was a pink carnation, and his pin to his tie was silver.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he looked so handsome to you, your heart growing warm and in awe. your sweet boy, was finally going to be (officially) the love of your life. through thick and thin, hell and back, in sickness and in health, life and death. your last name was now going to be midoriya

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ not far off, the groomsmen and bridesmaids watched from a distance, taking pictures and videos, bottom lips puckered out from the cute scene

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you both read your vows in secret, saving you both the tears from your conjoined family and friends in the room. with the say from the marriage officiant, you both shared your kiss as people cheered and cried, clapping to celebrate

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your first dance was to 'make you feel my love' by adele, you both singing to each other like you were the only ones in the room, crying softly in the lyrics

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‘i could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love’

k. bakugo

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ katsuki is the type to keep a calm face but be so fucking anxious on the inside

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ constantly checks himself out in the mirror to make sure nothing is out of place, black suit hugging his broad shoulders and small waist nicely

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his groomsmen consists of kirishima as his best man (obviously), kaminari, and sero. maybe midoriya, if it was later in the years and he actually came to terms with him, but i don’t think he would go out of his way and ask

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he promised he wouldn’t cry, not wanting to be embarrassed in front of quite literally everyone.. but as soon as your song queued the moment you walked in, wedding dress enveloping you in a warm hug with a bright smile on your face, his eyes immediately glossed over

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ of course, he’d try to blink them away and use this time that all eyes were on you to be rid of his water works.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his voice was shaky saying the ‘i do’s, but nobody else could tell besides you. i mean, he is your husband (finally)

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ kissing in front of the venue was the least of his worries, he could kiss you all day if he wanted, no matter who was looking. definitely held your waist tightly and pulled you to him, a passionate yet loving kiss being shared between the two of you

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your first dance was to ‘the only exception’ by paramore, one of the first intimate songs that played in the car at midnight after your date in high school, feeling a strong hold and connection to this song

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he held you close, swaying to the song with his face in your shoulder, humming softly along the words with you. tears slowly streamed from your face, while a huge and dorky smile was on his. though, he used your shoulder to cover it from his friends ad family, leaving it only for you to see

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you both had your fair share with love problems. you felt used by others and unappreciated, choosing that being alone was better than trying so hard at love when it never worked

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ and bakugo’s young childhood never gave him the correct sense of love, only deprivation of it. he swore he didnt need to be loved, that he was all he needed

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ until your second year at u.a. when you were paired for a class project, slowly falling into each other’s presence and being. until the trips to his house lasted long after the project, becoming familiar with his family

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you allowed yourself to try and be loved again, knowing full well that this would be katsuki’s first time, and might not know how he’d react in the long run. but loving him was too easy not to try

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he tried hard for you. never raising his voice, refusing to let you open any door, bringing you food when he cooked or leftovers he knew you loved. he’d walk you to school, and walk you home, 100% attentive.

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ sure, some acts took longer than others, but you never pushed him to do those things. they were all his choice, his timing, when he was ready and wanted to do so

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your wedding cake was non-traditional, and you both opted for cake pop to pass around, putting one in each others mouth

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‘you are the only exception’

s. todoroki

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ another ‘calm face, malfunctioning brain’ type of guy

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ wore a plain white tuxedo, his undershirt a wine red. his flower combination on his chest being a red and white dahlia

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ his groomsmen were midoriya, kirishima, iida, bakugo, and kaminari

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ almost didn't invite his dad, though you persuaded him to let endeavor come anyways

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ as you walked into the venue, his eyes never left yours. walking down the aisle make him smile warmly, sporadic heart calming down. it felt to him like you two were the only ones on the planet

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he held yours hands at the front, repeating back whatever the minister had said, thumbs running across your knuckles to calm your nerves

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ a little.. a LOT embarrassed to kiss you in front of everyone, moving to stand in front of you and block the view (except from the bridesmaids and groomsmen)

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ cheeks were flushed pink as you shared your vows in private, tears flowing down on your end. he held your ands lovingly and kissed your temple, reading his to you with a wobble in his voice

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your first dance was to ‘merry-go-round of life’ from howl’s moving castle. a movie you both favorited. the same movie from your first date where you both laid in the same bed watching from your room

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ you two ball-room danced, smiling at each other like fools at the different music choice that held so much emotion and memories

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he refused to leave your side the whole night, holding your hands wherever you went and telling you (whispering) how much he loved you

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ he reminded you how gorgeous you looked, eyes never leaving your figure in your dress. he was in complete awe, jokingly asking you to wear it everyday from now on

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your wedding bands were luxury diamonds custom made, a pink diamonds heart in the center with his silver band matching and complimenting yours (the inside was engraved with your marriage date)

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ your wedding cake is a red velvet cake with white frosting, a cute mini-figure of the two of you at the top and faux flowers at the base

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ shoto dances with his mother in a mother-son dance

[peachdues]

Succor

Sanemi x F!Y/N

I'm feeling horny and sad, so here's a horny and sad comfort one-shot I had queued, and I know y’all love some soft Sanemi

CW: hurt/comfort; mentions of death? explicit sexual content, creampie, emotional sex/love-making, crying. MDNI.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

He comes back bruised, beaten, and bloodied, but he comes back alive; and that’s all that matters.

But he also comes back a little more broken, and Y/N can see it in his eyes; can see it in how his head and shoulders hang limp under what is undeniably the crushing press of guilt.

There was a loss of life on this mission. Whether it was one or many does not matter because Sanemi will bear the entirety of its weight, and she will lose another piece of him to this war they wage on behalf of humanity.

So when he shuffles through the shoji door of her estate and drops his head into the crook of her shoulder, she wraps her arms around him and holds him close. She holds him tight, and maybe it’s because she’s trying to keep him together when she knows that he is about to fall apart.

And when his arms encircle her waist and crush her to him, and his lips find the side of her neck as he whispers, I need you, Y/N lets him have her completely.

She lets him tug open the sleeping kimono she wears before undressing himself and allows him to lower her to the unmade futon on her bedroom floor. She lets him kiss her soft and needy, while he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her impossibly tight against him, sliding into her with a soft groan.

Sanemi has lost today, and she knows that he needs to feel her in his arms, to know that she’s safe, and still here and breathing with him until the screams in his head subside.

She locks her legs firmly around his waist to hold him to her as he rocks his hips against hers, slow and steady. Her white-haired lover hardly pulls himself out, instead content to grind up into her core because he needs to feel as close to her as possible. But she cannot help but cry out from the friction that is becoming too much to bear, and she feels Sanemi pick up his pace, his hips moving a little harsher, his length dragging in and out of her more hurriedly, and Y/N clamps her teeth down around his clavicle. She knows that he is doing this now solely for her benefit, but tonight isn’t about her; it’s about him, and he needs to be comforted.

So, with great effort, she slides her hand down the rippled expanse of her lover’s back until she comes to his firm backside and presses down, limiting the push and pull of his hips until he slows back to that needy grind against her.

In her ear, Y/N hears Sanemi’s strangled moan of gratitude as he resumes the languid roll of his groin into hers. Y/N’s hand slides back up to grip his hair, tugging lightly until he removes his face from where it has been buried in her neck so that he can meet her eyes.

The lilac irises she loves more than anything in the world are filled with such exhaustion and grief and love that it causes something inside of her to break, and her eyes become mirrors of his own. Before she knows it, they are both crying because they are both so damn tired of having to sacrifice their comrades for every demon they manage to kill.

But Y/N can do nothing but wrap her hand around the base of his neck and pull him down to kiss her, to swallow the broken sob that bubbles up in his throat as his mouth moves desperately against hers.

“It’s okay,” she whispers against his lips as she breaks away to pant, a familiar heat beginning to coil in her belly as Sanemi continues to grind deliciously into her. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

The muscles in Sanemi’s arms flex as he tightens his vice-like hold around her waist, melding every inch of Y/N’s skin into his own as he rolls his hips harder against her. He buries his face back into the side of her sweat-dampened neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin of her sides. Suddenly, Y/N feels herself clench tightly around him and she cries out, her vision going white as she comes apart beneath him, thrashing against the blankets while her thighs spasm around his hips. Her back arches sharply, somehow pressing her harder against him, and Sanemi cries out her name in a broken shout. He comes and she loves him, and she loves him, and she loves him.

He collapses against her, and Y/N thinks she could die happily crushed beneath the full weight of her lover’s body. She almost cries again when he moves to pull out of her, wincing at the empty cold that fills her, leaving her only with the sticky warmth of their mixed pleasure between her thighs.

But Sanemi does not move off her completely. Instead, he shuffles himself down between her legs until his head comes to rest against her stomach, his arms still wrapped around her as they lay on her futon, both still panting as they calm their breath. Y/N’s fingers move on their own to stroke his mop of white hair as it rises and falls against her belly with each breath she takes. He presses sleepy kisses against the soft of her abdomen and nuzzles his face against her sensitive flesh; and though she can feel his hot seed beginning to ooze out of her, this somehow feels more intimate.

“Stay with me tonight,” she murmurs, fingers lightly scratching along Sanemi’s scalp as he hums in contentment against her skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Sanemi does not answer her, instead settling harder against her, and she knows that he won’t argue; he’s feeling far too vulnerable to pull away from her now.

Though the enormity of the night’s casualties still threatens to suffocate him, Sanemi thinks it might be a little easier to breathe now that he’s here, with Y/N warm and soft and alive beneath him.

And so, Sanemi sleeps.

[cherrsnut]

Hostage - Chapter 1

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for. 

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 3.8k

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Chapter 1

Silence echoed throughout the walls of the streets, and for once it looked like the town had been abandoned, just like everybody had agreed to up and leave it in search of a better fate than what lay ahead of them, or perhaps all the citizens just simply vanished from sight. The breeze of the sea, just as icy as the ocean, seemed to catch on with the mournful mood of the alleyways. The tense atmosphere signaled the hidden mice to not even voice a squeak out of respect. 

Even at the plaza, everyone was quiet, and their usually lively ambiance ceased to exist. Just by the sight of the ocean, you noticed just how the wind didn’t spare any mercy for all the attendees of the Reaping. Making this already melancholic ambiance much harder to ignore. 

You looked around and followed behind the big agglomeration of people queuing up, making another step further into Panem’s hell. You pursed your lips together and gulped down nervously, patiently awaiting your death sentence. 

There were people everywhere, too many people for it to be so quiet to your liking. Although the great majority were adolescents of the oceanic village, you had previously realized the older folks stood far behind you, their suppressed anxiety over their children’s safety due to the men in white, the Peacekeepers, stance in front of them. Their threatening military pattern removed any type of confidence of any caregiver to sneak in and take their child away without facing heavy repercussions. Stationed there to install and make the proceedings of the Hunger Games go as smoothly as possible from outside the Capitol. 

The sea of heads that appeared in front of you made the stage barely visible, but you came across what looked like a Peacekeeper setting up a camera, of course, the Reaping was to be live-streamed. Just on top of a platform and above the stage, you were sure the crystal lenses would take up the view of all the adolescents present. 

“Everything will be alright” You turned to look beside you, surprised to find a voice breaking the quietness you were starting to getting used to and assume it would prevail for the rest of the annual event. At least before the cries of children as they break their realization of being chosen, or the burning point of a mother’s distress breaks out in a horrible scream. 

You assumed it was a pair of siblings, taking notice of the facial traits to be almost identical. Very blonde locks, both wearing the same warm coffee color eyes with freckles of the same hue spotted all other cheeks. And while they represented themselves in the body of the other gender, you found the boy to look somewhere about your age, his sister was a head smaller than him, and you thought it was plausible she just came of age for the nauseating event. 

“I promise” he made an oath to his sister, interlocking his finger with hers. She breathed heavily, the limit of her sanity crossing over a soon-to-be panic attack. She tried to fixate her eyes on him, fighting off a barrier to gain herself back together, a battle she looked like she was going to lose. Her brother, which you finally recalled his name to be Philip, crouched down and enveloped her in his arms. An arm protectively around her back, while the other moved around her head in an attempt to massage it to calm her down. 

Even in his arms, the little girl was visibly trembling, probably both from the fear and anxiety, that were purging an acidic bile up to her taste glands. The little girl’s forehead pressed on her brother's chest, finding comfort in his protective body. 

“Just breathe deeply, ‘kay?” he reassured. His hard fingers were full of little lines of scars, some of which you could recall treating at the herbal shop, and crept up to hold her face. Philip always found himself surrounded by District’s 4 aquaculture, and it was bound to happen after long shifts handling the wires of the nets to eventually cause multiple physical damages. 

Philip removed himself from the little girl and looked at her features. She struggled to do so, every time she tried she’d be under attack from another uncontrollable shaking. She could only grab onto his shirt, the shaking becoming increasingly harder with each passing second. The hand that was used to the hard labor of the sea, wrapped itself on top of his sister’s hand, much bigger in comparison. The warmth of their bond calmed her down just slightly, and he went to kiss her forehead affectionately. 

“I’m here” his whisper was carried by the breeze that brushed her ear, which tickled her slightly. Upon noticing your heavy stare on them, Philip looked over to you. Both of your eyes interlock with each other. You tried to give him an encouraging smile, but the heavy situation still weighed you down, and your smile came across as a sad one. One that showed pity and understanding toward his sister. 

He gave you a knowing look, before his eyes went to his sister, and suffocated further in his embrace to help her to get back to the queue. “I’m here” he repeated. 

The stern voice of a woman, announcing a “next” brought you back to reality. You’d forgotten just how the line always moved rather fast, especially so when you had a tendency to drown yourself in self-pity. You were always alone while queuing up to sign in, and never had people you called friends. But you were content with the short company clients or injured patients gave you, just like Edna’s until she died. But you did wonder how it would feel in this moment to be in the company of another person, would you cry together? Maybe hug each other? Or maybe just stay silent unable to utter anything that wasn’t bitter. But this year you felt differently, you wished for the little girl’s safety just like your own.

You gave your hand to the Peacekeeper just as you told her your name, and she took it with the rubber texture of the black-gloved hand of hers. The way she held it was rather rough, but you understood it as wanting to keep you completely still for the pinch in your finger and not mess it up. The end of the buzzing sound coming from the long mechanism suggested the dna withdrawal was finished, accompanied by the slight pain of the tiny nick, so small you’d never consider it an injury. 

The Peacemaker guided your finger, a blood drop visible forming, and pressed it on top of the inky empty box drawn on a piece of paper. Your name was attached next to it, with your general information written in smaller letters below it. You assumed the pieces of paper that were attached just like a book, were the enlistment of the possible Tributes of your District. But then again, you didn’t care enough and let that thought drift away just as fast as it came. 

Another mechanism, this one much larger and formed just like a box had been stepped and decided to stay in that flat shape. A laser came from the bottom, scanning the blood accompanied by the noisy sounds of mechanical beepings. When it was all set, the Peacemaker simply bid you farewell and called for the child behind you. 

You left defeated, another step closer to the selection process. The idea of you being chosen terrified you, and you could feel the anxiety taking hold of your bones. You prayed again in self-pity. Edna always mentioned the idea of sirens existing, and while you never truly believed in it, you prayed for them to listen to you. Every time, at the Reaping, for the past four years you prayed for them.

With an exasperated sigh flying out, you walked around the plaza trying to find a place to stand by and wait for your trial. That was until a hand tapped your shoulder and a raspy voice called out your name. You turned, even more surprised to find Philip along with his sister, both holding hands. 

You looked at the boy standing in front of you, expectant as to why he had called you. He gave a quick glance to the little blonde beside him before he spoke.

“Hey, umm, you mind taking Emi with you?” your eyes trailed off to the girl, finally being able to give her face a name. Emi looked at the floor, a mortifying expression coming across her face. 

“It’s just-” he tried to continue his explanation. 

“Sure” you smiled at the girl gripping onto dear life to her brother. You took out your hand for her, and with unsettlement pumping over her brain, she brushed her finger across yours. 

“So, Emi is your name” The statement oddly sounded like a question, but you wanted to make her feel more comfortable even in this terrible situation. To communicate with her, and make her see you as someone she could trust momentarily before she would hopefully turn back with her brother. 

Her crystal eyes moved up to you and murmured an mhm before walking indecisively toward you. She looked at the ground when you told her your name, but you couldn’t feel any type of annoyance by it, not when her hands were trembling exaggeratedly. So you squeezed hers lightly in an attempt to make her feel more at ease in your presence. 

Philp sighed and you noticed the heavy burden that lifted off of him. He gave you a small smile, the one he hadn’t reciprocated before. 

“Thank you” his eyes shone, which only suggested to you the tears he wanted to pour out in that moment. You empathized with him, he probably didn’t have much time to take in the Reaping for himself, and rather give away his attention to his sister who needed him to be strong in her stead. A thought appeared one which you respected and showed sympathy for the mental work they put in for the sake of the younger family members. 

“Don’t mention it” you smiled with him. You rolled your eyes at the girl holding your hand, and with the same smile, you muttered. “Let’s go Cupcake”

“Hello Cuties” Sing sang the woman on stage. Her peculiar fashion style nationally known for the Capital’s trends flied around with her sparkling personality. With the color theme of purple pink and pale yellow, shades lighter of the sunflower petals, she wore a design that resembled a kimono. The notable way how the coat of the fabric was placed on top of the other to keep it in a steady place, and with the addition of the belt, covering the whole of the waist until just below her chest, as a means to keep the clothing stuck and not untie itself. The completely yellow obi, name of the kimono belts, was adorned with some sort of lacing at the top and bottom of purplish-dyed sheep wool, with the addition of a pink bow wrapped around the obi. 

The star of the fashion design was the sleeves. With a hole showing the shoulders and a few inches down the arm, the rest was covered in the beautiful colors of the spring. With many odd shapes and colors on the fabric. Which later opened up its sleeves up to three feet long. It gave off the impression of wings when the arms were pulled up. The rest seemed to just be decorations around her figure, from a fabric choker of purple as well as the striking head ornaments of the same color scheme presented. 

Her voice was too optimistic for your liking, and the singing tunes brought up were as distasteful as her color choice. 

“Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be in your favor” The District 4 escort celebrated baring her teeth out with that pink tint across her lips, the same tint that decorates her eye shadow.

“But before we begin, The Capitol has brought us a special film for us” she again songed, and you were already starting to be filled with the irritation of her voice. 

Emi was still holding your hand. She had kept a close distance from you, practically stuck to your form from the moment we were placed here. She tugged onto your long skirt, and you looked down to find her somber eyes looking up at you. Although you agreed to stay by her side, her added melancholy was starting to affect your already distressed mood, and even though you tried to calm her down she seemed focused on her overwhelmed state. 

You smiled at her, with the film starting in ahead of you. 

“War. Terrible war” You rolled your eyes up while making a hand movement in a sign to poke fun at President Snow’s repeated speech. Your mock seemed to finally crack a little smile on the little girl, and you were pleased to see her relax a tiny bit. 

The film carried on, and your attention span had been but all gone. The Hunger Games were a devastating reality, that had already taken hundreds of children away. You couldn’t see the point of this little speech anymore, and right before the selection process at that. And it seemed Snow was trying to ridicule the Distrct’s anxiety. It exhausted you to no end to have to listen to the same words and the same images, and it got you wondering just why it had to be the same recycled film every single year. 

You thought of Emi again. The very same thought appeared every single year, just why were we taking the consequences of a revolution none of us partook in? The only person that you knew who was alive from when the Revolution was still afloat was Edna, and she still lamented that she was just a child when it ended, and luckily enough she never got chosen as Tribute. And that thought only led to helplessness because even though it wasn’t in the least bit fair, there was nothing you nor anyone who would be able to do anything about it. 

“The lone victor, bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of our generosity and our forgiveness” It was the voice of a pragmatic leader giving a speech, sprinkled with sentimental music that made your stomach stir uncomfortably. The crease in your eyebrow knitting as you tried to forget the nauseating feeling from inside you, represented exactly in your self turmoil, you were disgusted. 

You gulped down hard as the film finally ended. You gave Emi a quick squeeze to comfort yourself. She only gave you a pointed glance before directing her attention to the colorful escort on the stage. 

“Alrighty. Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman” she informed, as you bit back your tongue to correct her misuse of words of man and woman for children. 

“For the honor of representing District 4 in the 67th Annual Hunger Games” she continued. She then started walking over the large crystal sphere. Inside laid the names of all the girls that had been forced to sign in, inside a folded piece of paper. “Ladies first” she giggled further. 

Her hand moved around the pieces of paper messily scattered around the sphere before choosing one. She quickly picked it up to her eye level, a sneaky smile appearing on her face. 

You let out a breath, you had done your best to try and calm your nerves. The anxiety was way past the boiling point, and you swore your legs felt drunk. 

The escort walks back to the microphone, and the only thing missing for her to further mock your emotions was to make a little dance around the platform, kick up some moves, or simply jump in excitement.

She opened the piece of paper. Your heart beating fast in the back of your throat, as another wave of anxiety filled every single pore in your skin. Her long nails made it difficult for her to open it, and as time passed on, you could feel yourself growing insane. You internally cursed at the escort, every cell in your body screaming at her to just finally read it. And before you knew it she called out a name, your name. 

Everything just stopped in you, and if it weren’t because you’d be a dead corpse from organ malfunction, you could’ve sworn your heart just stopped. Your eyes were locked on the colorful woman, but you weren’t looking at her. You were staring into space, you were trying to assimilate the situation you just got yourself involved. But you couldn’t, there was something in you, and that something didn’t connect the wires that you were going to die sooner than you hoped for. The idea of being picked for the annual event was always at the back of your mind, what would be your reaction? You thought that rationally, you’d be upset, maybe crying as well, or perhaps straight screaming and begging to do a re-drawl. 

But you weren’t, you were simply still. The look of every girl that had known you looking at you, and it wasn’t melancholy that invaded their intense gaze, but rather they were grateful they weren’t the ones chosen. As hypocritical as it made you, you were mad at them. Your internal anger was justified in your eyes, maybe because you needed someone or something to be mad at. But no matter how irritated you were, you’d done the same in their stead the previous three years you had attended the Reaping. 

With another exhale, you came to yourself. You needed to get on the stage. You walked out to the corridor, but barely made a step when Emi tugged back on your fingers. Her eyes were scanning your facial expression. And the way she spoke your name suggested to you, she was beyond her shocked stage.

You gulped another chunk of saliva and got to your knees. You smiled at her, as brightly as you could force it out. And it occurred to you to close your eyes, because you knew you couldn’t force a reassuring look without the fear lurking behind it. 

The military steps of the Peacekeepers echoed within every corner of your body so quickly and in a rushed matter. You kissed her forehead, as gentle as a flying feather, to put her at ease. 

“I’ll be fine, Cupcake,” you told her as confident as possible, trying not to let the fear accumulated in you spill over the beautiful young girl. And so you stood up, another quick smile flashing over your face before walking the hall that would send you straight to a living Hell. You kept muttering those words “I’ll be fine” as if you wanted to console yourself unknowingly. For now, if lying to yourself is what kept you sane enough to act normally, even suspiciously so, you’d go for it. And once the situation avalanched over your entity, you could collapse and lament for yourself on your own.

You held your head high while walking, your form an empty shell void of any emotions. The very pink hue colored on the escort’s face became clearer with each step, she smiled brightly at you. The wrinkles shown at the corner of her eyes signal of her enjoyment. 

“Wonderful! We have our female Tribute for District 4!” playfully expressed the escort, looking straight at your eyes. You walked up the stairs, with Peacekeepers in tow behind you.  

The escort held up a hand to you, helping you get up faster, so she could back to her selecting process, although this time it would be a boy. All in her chillingly joyful manner. 

Without hesitation, she placed the mic in front of you. 

“So, dear, tell me, was that your sister?” she asked you, although it seemed she was asking on behalf of the whole Capitol. 

“No…” your voice was weak, the intimidating audience just looked up at you which worsened your nauseating bitter taste. The escort eyed you, waiting for any further explanation.

“She’s my… friend” Her impatience only made your voice quieter, which she must have been content that your husky and throaty tone was speaking through the loud microphone. 

The sudden realization came crashing now. Seeing the look of pitied people just below you, wishing you luck before you left for the Capitol, filled the shining of water in your sclera and, you hand was lightly shaking beside your thigh. 

“Everyone, please! A round of applause for our lovely Tribute!” she called your name again. Her clapping was soon stopped at the awkwardness that she was the only one celebrating this. You breathed in and out heavy air. 

“And now, for the gentlemen” announced the woman standing beside you. Of course, she was trying to salvage the situation. You looked at everyone, and they were all looking back at you. You were lucky enough to connect eyes with Philip, and while you never considered him to be a friend, you were happy to see a familiar face. He was the only one to provide you with that comfort. He looked like he wanted to say something through his eyes, and you responded with a tear swimming down your cheek, and following its path further down your neck. 

“Vito Rosechaser” was called. The look of another adolescent, about your age or older roamed around his fellow friends, that gave him a sad look. He opened his mouth, surprised, and as the situation sunk deep into him, he walked down the hall, again with the Peacekeepers around him like frustrating flies.

Just then you’d taken in his appearance, from afar his eyes seemed dark just like his hair. Big build and muscles that suggested he’d worked hard in his life, and you lamented that he propably didn’t deserve this.

You looked at Vito at the end of the stairs, and his eyes briefly grazed yours before he stopped to look at the public. The mic was stolen from you.

“And finally” the hyper tone echoed throughout the plaza, loud enough to quiet down the crashing waves of the beach nearby. The breeze cold as snow felt like it had punctured your veins, and that icy hurt traveled through your body. 

“Our Tributes from District 4” her white teeth never failed to show at the camera. 

“Come on you two, shake hands” The oddly dressed woman grabbed onto the hems of your and Vito’s shirts, encouraging you two to do the action and let it be over. She stepped back, and the both of you looked at each other before gripping both of your hands. 

“Happy Hunger Games!” she sang happily. It echoed in every single rib, deep inside your abdomen. A voice you’d never forget, you were sure of that. Even long after the Games, if you’d even be able to survive, you’d be waking up with this chilling lullaby she was singing. 

“And remember, may the odds be ever in your favor” 

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[aesthetic-solar-space]

Bow Before The Elf Queen by J.M. Kearl

598 pages, published April 26, 2022 - 🌟🌟🌟🌟 So this book like the one before also has a sequel coming out, however, it seems hazy on when it's releasing since I can only find a date on amazon (which is October 26, 2022) This is another book where once I finished It and put it away, almost instantly things started to evaporate from my memory/brain.