#their personalities and dynamic shining through it makes me feel like a proud parent like yes those are my sweet unhinged tubatu boys

[youngforeverdemo]

i gotta say, txt’s variety show content this era is really fucking good

[trevor-wilson-covington]

What could have been...

//Saw that the site I use to make mood boards has a CD Cover option and thought it would be fun to do Sunset Curve’s Demo and Unreleased Songs (+Home Is Where My Horse Is) as they would look as singles!!! I may make CD Covers for the other 13 songs in the show...if people end up really liking these ones and if inspiration strikes!

**Gave an idea of what I think the other 7 songs would be about/why they were written (said what we know Unsaid Emily, Now or Never, and Home Is Where My Horse Is are about already of course too)!!

1. Unsaid Emily: Is of course about Luke’s rough relationship with his mom, which was never resolved before his death. It touches on how he knew he should have turned around and come back home but his pride stopped him. All the conversations he had created in his head about what they would say to each other when he finally saw her again stayed that way, thoughts in his head. Wondering if he had been able to say the right things to his mom or made up with her before dying, would time not have erased the memory of him?  

2. Get Lost: I believe it is about the feeling of restlessness and wanting to just take off on an adventure somewhere new or unique. Similar to how Luke finds sleeves (zleeves) restricting, this song is about how life can feel suffocating sometimes and all you want to do is grab a bag of essentials and walk in the mist/ride off into the night to a freer life. 

3. Long Weekend: Is about the band’s friendship/brotherhood/sense of found family and how over many weekends they find themselves going through a lot of struggles and heartache together. These are the weekends that feel the longest because there is so much the four boys help each other through and many times they find they don’t want the weekend to end so they can spend more non-band time together to just be four stupid teen boys navigating all the twists and turns of life. 

4. Crooked Teeth: My thoughts are that it could have been written when he had braces/a retainer in the 90s & was self-conscious of it, so it was written to cheer Reggie up about his braces/retainer & pretty much say "hey, Reggie...people's smiles vary & they're all unique & beautiful"...instead of mocking him, like the show seems to tell us it was written to do.

5. My Name Is Luke: Is a darker, more introspective song about Luke’s struggle with an identity crisis where he feels he’s being pulled in different directions. One side is the Luke who loves his parents and wants to make them happy and have them be proud of him. The other side is the Luke. who is passionate about writing and playing music, who thrives off the feelings and energies of the crowd as they connect with him and his lyrics. Luke finds he can’t be one version of Luke without ultimately giving up the other and trying to do both is exhausting and soul crushing at times. The title is his way of saying ‘Hey, this is my name, it’s who I am, and I can be a loving son my parents can be proud of while also doing what I love and making a difference in the lives of people who listen to my music’. He just wishes his parents could come to understand that he loves music and he’s really good at it, so why can’t he continue doing it and make them proud at the same time.  

6. Now or Never: Is, as we know, about Sunset Curve’s rise to fame and how they can dream as though they’ll never die but they’re going to live their life as though today could be their last day alive. They aren’t looking to the future, because all they need are each other and the energy that is coursing through their bodies in the present. They hear a voice in their heads saying you only have this one life, so make the most of it so when you die you’ll have had no regrets about the things you did or didn’t do. This is their time to shine and even when their lives were bleak or lacking, their days were still the best of their lives because they were making music and gradually making a name for themselves doing so. 

Weaved in are of course lyrics that seem to foreshadow their 3 deaths with the mention of shock to their hearts (the defibrillators used to try to keep them alive in the alley or ambulance), clocks moving forward but they don’t get older (how for 25 yrs they were in limbo and didn’t age and are now 17-year-old ghosts in 2020), how they kept on climbing 'til their stars collided (floated up out of the ambulance to the dark place until crashing into Julie’s life (she’s a star as Luke says)), and how all that they left in the past was just the just the key to paradise (all the things they left behind once they died were just ‘stepping stones’ to the ‘paradise’ of heaven for most people or in the boy’s case the path to Julie and playing music again).

7. Late Last Night: Is about the late nights the four boys spent out at clubs/venues leading up to the Orpheum, gigs that helped them gain a decent following, and all the crazy things they saw and did. 17-year-olds out late partying, possibly drinking, on school nights. A higher energy song, similar to Now or Never to match the antics of a bunch of teens practically let loose on the music/club scene during the band’s rise in the Hollywood/LA music scene in ‘93/’94/’95. It evokes the feelings of being wild and reckless as a teen, while also somehow capturing the energy of the nighttime as you move from the crowded main strip into residential areas and how quick and jarring the change can be.     

8. Lakeside Reflection: This is a tough one, but I think it would be about the individual experiences most or all of the boys have from going to lakes during summer with their families. There’s of course all the fun time spent with family, but in the reflection on the lake of those moments the boys only see the truth of their family dynamics, what was hidden behind a pleasant façade. 

For Luke, it was the strained relationship and fights with his mom over the band and his dreams. 

For Alex, it was the looks and offhanded comments made by his parents and the looks of sympathy from his sister, ever since he told them he was gay. 

For Reggie, it was the nights spent keeping his brother and sister distracted as the walls practically shook from the volume and intensity of his parents’ almost daily fights. 

And for Bobby, it was the truth that he kept up a façade even with the boys so they wouldn’t know that his family, that the others always believed to be perfect, wasn’t perfect at all. When rarely he saw his parents and they weren’t off on business trips or working late into the night, Bobby found them to be disinterested in his life and any affection or love was relegated to a pat on the back or a quick hand held before they rushed out the door once more. 

The happy summer vibes at the lake could never truly make any of the boys forget their truths, but at least they could let loose for the extent of their trips and finally feel like a carefree teen again.               

9. In Your Starlight: This would seem to be a certain kind of love song at first glance and for some people that’s what it may be, but to me it is a very specific kind of love song. This love song is about relationships each of the boys had, the very few of them, that didn’t turn out well for some reason or another. A passion for music overshadowing the passion to keep a relationship going. The fear of long-term commitment and a short-lived bliss, before the fighting starts, ending the relationship before it ever grew deeper. The smothering of a fire in the soul so outsiders can’t see one trace of its flicker, hidden behind a lie, in case they find out the truth and react with disgust or hatred. Or the overly flirtatious and, at times, clingy antics used to get a person interested in starting a relationship. To keep them invested in the relationship, in an effort to make sure they won’t leave out of boredom or for someone better. This song is from the perspective of those other people, how they saw the relationship, no matter the length, and what they see as the thing that ended it or kept it from growing stronger. How they all in some way felt like they were pulled in by light of each of the boys (the stars) and things were good at first, before the cracks started to appear and reality truly set in.    

10. Home Is Where My Horse Is: It’s an expression of where and whom Reggie calls home. The horse had never really stood for an actual horse, but rather it represented Luke, Alex, and Bobby. The people Reggie considered his family, his home, more than he ever would the house he had grown up in. Horses symbolize freedom without restraint, because riding a horse makes people feel they can free themselves from their own bindings. There is no constraining a horse when it runs with the wind, but they also enjoy the company of family and friends. Reggie wants freedom from the stuff with his parents and his own personal demons that keep him held back. He finds with the band, his real family, he can run free and be himself...enjoying being around the boys and not having to worry about fighting and drama. His home is where he (the horse) is... able to be its true self and go where the wind takes it.     

[iturbide]

You know what? You forced me to start planning a huge post breaking down Faye, so for "revenge" I'm asking you to do one for Robin too! >:) (oh and Grima too if you want, it's always great hearing you talk about them)

MISSION: SUCCESS

but I will take this vengeance challenge starting with my boy

How do I feel about this character?

Look.  Robin has been my Summoner Support character since the day the system launched.  He’s maxed out on dragonflowers at 15.  I sacrificed a 5-star exclusive dagger with a high-rarity and very potent A passive to him over any other possible unit I could have given it to.  I have written just shy of 500k words of Awakening fanfiction in which Robin is a central figure in every story. 

I kind of love Robin a lot.  That may, in fact, be an understatement for my feelings.

Who do I ship this character with romantically?

Theoretically I could ship just about anyone with Robin (with a few exceptions *coughFrederickcough*) but my big ones are Chrom (naturally) and Sumia!  Those two are the ones I most enjoy seeing Robin with since I think they play off one another in really enjoyable ways -- and it’s even better when it’s all three of them together!

Who is my brOTP for this character?

Lissa.  I LOVE Robin and Lissa as best friends and confidantes who can tease each other but will always, always have each other’s backs.  Robin and Henry being super tight as siblings is another favorite dynamic, Robin and Sully is right up there with Robin and Lissa, and when I’m not shipping them Robin and Sumia as best book buddies is near and dear to my heart.  Also Gaius, Libra, Panne, and Kellam -- I love Robin and Kellam bonding so much it does my heart good (which is why so many of these relationships are, in fact, integral to Future Built).

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character?

oh boy I have a million of these haha but the biggest one that really is an unpopular opinion is that Robin is proud of their Plegian heritage and would never EVER forsake it.  I’ve seen a not insignificant amount of fanart that puts Robin into clothing that’s clearly Ylissean in cut, style, and/or pattern, and this drives me up the wall because Robin is canonically one of our very few characters of Plegian heritage, someone who goes around throughout the entire game in a coat that bears the literal emblem of Grima in the eye-patterned sleeves -- something that’s preserved in their Grandmaster class, no less, rather than quietly done away with.  That coat is clearly important to them, and deep down -- even with all their memories buried out of direct reach -- I think their cultural heritage as a Plegian is of the utmost importance to them, such that they would only go without some show or sign or it if they were forced to do so. 

Basically, in my personal opinion, Robin should always have Plegian touches in whatever they wear but ESPECIALLY if it’s otherwise Ylissean in appearance.  Erasing Robin’s Plegian heritage is really gross to me personally, and funny enough, even IntSys didn’t do that for once, so fandom should really have no excuse.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon?

For Robin?  Either meeting their mom should she still be alive, or at least getting back their memories.  It does make sense that Robin started the game as an amnesiac because it let us learn through them, and made a lot of the revelations really pack a punch -- but after a certain point?  I really, really wish that Robin’s memories would have come back to them so that we could find out more of who they were before and what their experiences had been.  Even before a full return of those memories, they could have done simple things, stuff like reactions based on muscle memory or reflexive training that surprise them sometimes, or stated feelings of deja vu -- but later in the game (and supports) I really wish they would have give us something that tells us more about their life; what would be especially nice is if those returning memories involve Grimleal rituals or teachings, because I think it would have been really powerful to have someone we love and care for so much (as our player avatar) shining a better light on the much-maligned faith of Ylisse’s neighboring nation.

I’m very, very biased about that, though.

and BONUS: Grima time

How do I feel about this character? 

I’m pretty sure that at one point, if you searched up the #grima tag, mine was one of the top blogs that came up (though I’ve been getting lazy and tagging less by character lately so I’ve fallen out of there).  I’m also pretty sure that most of the people following me ended up here because of all the Grima content I started pouring out when the first one dropped in Heroes.  Grima is one of those characters who I write about exhaustively and who subtly manages to play a role in most of my Awakening fic, including the ones where they don’t physically appear (I call those Grima Sightings and frankly I would love it if people tried to spot them). 

...I think Grima has just taken over a part of my brain and to be perfectly honest I’m okay with that.

Who do I ship this character with romantically? 

Emmeryn.  That’s it.  That’s the only character I have ever or frankly will ever ship Grima with because that was already something that came out of left field I literally cannot imagine anyone else managing to spark the same reaction a second time.

Who is my brOTP for this character? 

Robin, honestly.  I love the idea of Robin and Grima interactions where the two end up becoming close as friends and confidantes, regardless of the situation.  Is it kind of heartbreaking when it’s the whole “Grima’s in control and Robin’s in the backseat” situation?  Undoubtedly, but it’s also really moving to consider that they might learn how to work together and help each other and work toward a shared purpose. 

And also Grima getting parenting advice from Robin in Heroes during the early days of the creche is A+++ in my opinion.

What’s my Unpopular Opinion™ about this character? 

Aside from the idea that Grima is in fact the most parental of dragons and broods in the literal chicken sense or my giant conspiracy theory that Grima came to the past to do the same thing Lucina did (avert the ruined future)?  It’s probably that Grima is not an instigator of conflict or chaos: they’re antisocial and would prefer to distance themselves for the sake of having some peace and quiet rather than getting dragged into yet more conflict based on human preconceptions or judgments based on appearance. 

Fandom at large loves to play Grima as unrelenting evil and constantly in competition with the Awakening folks (especially the Exalted lineage) but...that doesn’t make any sense to me personally?  Grima hasn’t really asked for anything that’s happened to them: they’ve been used and abused by humanity by their own admission, and Validar is just the latest in the line to do the same, causing unspeakable harm for the sole purpose of raising Grima to destroy the world at his own bidding.  Yeah, maybe Grima doesn’t have the best feelings toward the Exalted Lineage, but also why would Grima be the one picking the fight?  If you mess with Grima the Fell Dragon will step up (Vengeful Fighter is their innate B passive in Heroes, quite likely for a reason), but I really don’t see them going out of their way to cause trouble.  They just want to be left in peace, but humans really don’t seem to get that.  Yes, the fanart can be funny, but it also rings false to me, because I really think Grima would just flat-out ignore the Exalted lineage unless they make the confrontation, at which point Grima won’t hold back.

What’s one thing I wish would have happened with this character in canon? 

First of all I really do wish we could have seen a peaceful resolution with Grima rather than having to destroy them, especially considering that the Fell Dragon really didn’t seem all that interested in hurting anybody even after raising the dragon form (see the aforementioned conspiracy theory).  Grima has been hurt so many times throughout their life that I think it would have been deeply meaningful if we could have reached out in an attempt at understanding, to have come to a non-violent resolution, and found peace without someone needing to die for once.  When Grima purposefully abstains from nuking the group that poses a threat to their life upon resurrecting their impossibly huge and powerful dragon form and instead flies out over the ocean -- so far they need Naga herself to teleport them -- it kind of says a lot about how much Grima really wants to fight (answer: they clearly don’t).

Other than that, though?  Just...give us more of Grima in general.  Tell us more about their history, especially the thousand years between their emergence from Thabes Labyrinth and their fall at the hands of the First Exalt.  I want to know more of that history, I want to see how they treated the humans that flocked to them, even knowing that those same humans would eventually break Grima’s spirit.  We just have so few crumbs about Grima, I want more than anything to get a meal instead.

Give Me a Character

[exactlyenoughglitter]

rules of service

AO3 Pairings: Avallac’h/Eredin/Lara Warnings: non-con, NSFW, orgy, pegging, bondage, dead dove: do not eat Summary: Lara does not take Eredin's sneering implications, suspicions, and innuendos about herself and “her place” very well. Elves are proud, vengeful creatures. Disclaimer: An experiment for exploring the darker impulses of Avallac'h & Lara, which I think they might have in some capacity due to the very simple, insane fact that they were supposed to become parents to an elven Saviour with control over all Space & Time. It's a further experiment in exploring power and the dynamics of these three characters in a three-way pairing, which I, personally, do not consider very likely in any nice capacity.

The daughter of Shiadhal receives her guest standing in the middle of a rosette mosaic, underneath a chandelier dripping with riddling light refracting through heliotrope crystals. Tiny shadows dance on her low-cut anthracite dress, slit at the side, and in her long hair of white gold gleam mint alabaster gems set in filigree; the hairpiece cascades down the side of the woman’s head in a display of unparalleled artistry.

As it should.

For Lara is the most treasured apple of Alder Wood.

‘Your grace.’

‘Captain.’

Poplars sway gently in the evening wind. The tall windows make this open drawing room almost like the winter gardens of the upper palaces of Tir ná Lia. It is half-a-day’s ride from the capital to the chateau and the valley-grounds Lara favours.

‘Thank you for coming.’

He nods. ‘It would be the height of discourtesy of me to refuse a summons from your illustrious person.’

Emerald eyes shine on him coolly, with faint curiosity. It is that ruminative glint that so mocks its recipients, hinting at the possibility of care in the distant amusement of the one who was born forever a better to everybody and second to none. He knows that look well. It’s all he has ever received, all, they believe, a knight should be content with.

Delicate fingers of a spell-caster trail along a marble balustrade which divides the decorous space in two, until they reach crystal glasses and a pitcher under the roses.

‘Do you feel hungry?’ she asks. ‘Thirsty?’

‘Neither, your grace.’

‘But you are a man of great appetite, are you not?’

By way of an answer, Eredin offers half a smile. The spotless glasses and the pitcher have been prepared, but the elf does not sense the presence of either servants or handmaidens. It would appear their meeting is a private one; he wonders about that.

‘Well? Aren’t you curious?’

‘Nobody has ever called me incurious.’

‘To your face, maybe.’

‘Maybe,’ he crosses his hands behind his back. ‘Does your grace usually concern yourself with the barking of dogs?’

Lara gives a small laugh, which is beautifully hollow.

‘Could we drop this, do you think? This artificial politeness. This prancing.’

She approaches slowly, the anthracite fabric of her dress shifting with the sway of her hips. Eredin looks openly, for there is no point in complimenting the most beautiful woman in the world unless the compliment can say something beyond itself.

‘Behind closed doors,’ the daughter of the Alders speaks, ‘I have always been “that witch” to you and you, in turn, have always been one of my father’s beloved dogs to me. Well, when I say beloved.’ A burst of light blue butterflies erupts from a bowl drowning in greenery at one end of the balustrade. ‘I think we can speak freely, don’t you?’

‘By all means,’ he sneers. ‘Let us speak freely. If it is your freethinking ideals you wish to discuss –’

‘No, I do not wish to discuss! Not like this, not today, and not with you.’

He inclines her head at her. Unlike her mother, Lara is not an imposing woman. She is an ineluctable one.

Standing close, her eyes absorb the lines of his face. ‘We have never been friends, you and I.’

‘Have we not? Astonishing.’

But Lara changes tact, and this indeed does astonish the Sparrowhawk. An elegant pale hand lays down on top of the amaranth-vermillion cloak wrapped around the dark-haired elf’s strong shoulders. Eredin looks. The priceless jewels on Lara’s priceless fingers shimmer.

‘No. We have never been friends,’ she murmurs, letting her palm slide over the large silver brooch. ‘Even so, I am not my mother, Eredin. I wish to know what you think. As you said, perhaps there is something you can say – offer me – that no one else can. Perhaps I even wish we could be... friends?’

The heavy cloak, bearing the fresh smells of the journey, falls to the floor at the elf lord’s feet as the Gull departs as lightly as she had arrived, in a soft swish of a dress from which flashes the toned line of her leg.

‘I like curious men,’ she throws over her shoulder. ‘Are you one who is curious for its own sake, or one who is curious only to experience the satisfaction of satiation?’

‘Latter, I’m afraid,’ he trails her closely with his eyes. ‘Chasing the wind does not interest me in the slightest.’

‘Is that so? You never imagine what could be?’ a hint of something plays on her lips and she shows it to him. ‘Do you lack the imagination, or the means?’

Poplars rustle outside, along the whitewashed avenue and somewhere beyond, fountain water falls. Lara sighs.

‘I am not entirely sure I believe you.’

The secret something in her demeanour does not disappear as he approaches. It holds firm, even once they stand face to face by the marble balustrade under the brilliant chandelier. Jewellery in Lara’s hair crinkles like the spring melt as she looks on him, brazenly, and he feels his blood stirring.

‘Why did you summon me?’ he asks. ‘What is it exactly,’ he glances down the lean line of her neck, ‘that the princess of the Alder Folk requires of me?’

‘Understanding,’ she replies simply. ‘Of where we stand.’

A thin, unassuming string of gold winds around her neck, leading his eyes, while she trails her fingers along the petals of a rose, not letting her guest out of her line of sight for a second. The Gull’s eyes, Eredin has to admit, can put a spell on you. So he looks elsewhere instead.

‘I have been thinking a lot about our little dance lately,’ she says. ‘About your concern for me.’

‘Have you now?’

‘I have,’ her gaze falls briefly on his lips. ‘Or do you think I lack appetite?’

Her lips part, her eyes narrow. He takes another step. Her dress brushes his knees.

‘I am at your service.’

‘Then serve me.’

  He catches her wrist on its way up.

Lara does not flinch, though a shadow darts behind her eyes. It pleases him. Perfume of iris and white musk mingles with the smell of wild roses, which Eredin loves. And that pleases him too.

Slowly, at his chosen pace, he moves the delicate hand of the Gull down. Slowly, along the curve of a narrow waist and round hips. To the slit of the dress.

Their eyes meet – green that is everything in green that is not – in that cool disdainful way before people make friends. He knows a little more still: that this is the look of all women who do not want to ask. Who do not have to ask – ever!

Eredin plunges their joined hands underneath the dress between Lara’s thighs. Neither of them so much as blinks. And then – after silk parts and she parts – then he raises her hand to his lips.

‘Wet.’ He tastes her. ‘Like any woman.’

He cannot proceed entirely how he would like though; despite seeing burgeoning fury and desire breaking the cool indifference in that lovely face. Lara makes his knees go weak – literally. With those nimble spell-caster’s fingers. Fingers that the elf believes would look elegant around his cock.

‘On your knees.’ She wipes her fingers in his hair. ‘Like any man.’ And sits on the balustrade.

Eredin does not respond any more.

His experienced hands clutch the front of the anthracite dress on which light and shadows twirl in fey regalia. Silver hooks clatter weakly against marble alongside pearl-trimmed panties and a tense gasp joins the rustle of poplars in the fragrant summer eve. Grasping Lara by the sides and tugging her against his waiting mouth, he smiles; the panties were probably a gift from Crevan.

Crevan, who does not know you as well as he thinks after all.

The weakness in his knees proves surprisingly persistent but easy to ignore.

It is easy when a firm thigh trembles on his shoulder, pushing the crowning jewel of the Alders further under her “dog.” When it is his lips that nudge apart the slick petals of her, him who smothers the trembling of her core around her swollen clit, him who presses it back and forth and drags his tongue all along that very special, very warm and wet cunt. Which in the end is just another cunt – to be sated.

It is easy.

The spells of Auberon’s little girl will crumble and she will rock against him in her insatiable hunger, and then he will put her face down on the floor, where people kiss her feet, and fuck her until she is heaving full of his seed.

‘I wonder,’ he murmurs, inhaling her, ‘if your fated can imagine you like this?’

‘Oh, Eredin!’

Lara’s fingers pull at his hair as she moans. He looks what has become of those iridescent pools of green that would mock him so, releasing her with a bite and a pop.

She smiles gently, her eyes far away.

‘He knows.’

  The collar snaps into place.

  ---//---

Wisps of lazuline smoke rise under open lattice-work ceilings and skies that are paling pink. The humid nocturnal air is erupting in chirps, chits, trills, and the distinct whirring of dusky starfrontlets who dart from flower to flower in the hanging gardens. Lara follows them with her eyes, breathing palisander and fading notes of ozone, and feels fingers playing in her hair, scattered like aurous rain on huge, plush pillows.

She squeezes her eyes shut, holds her breath. The fingers stop, wondering. Then resume in a tip-tap between her shoulder blades.

Tip-tap. Tip-tap-tip. Tap –

Lara laughs into the pillow and shoves at the warm chest hovering over her, and Crevan’s smell washes over her as he falls into the pillows. He is showing her funny images.

‘Sleep, I beg you.’

‘No.’

‘You are cruel!’

She rises on her forearms, tossing her head back and stretching, and meets the witch-lines on his body along which she has walked and left her marks, lines which lead her to the male’s triangular face in which bright eyes, as intensely awake as hers, shine at her.

‘Cruel, do you understand?’

He smiles, softly. ‘I will put the sun in you.’

Sometimes Lara tries to imagine how it would be like to hear Crevan’s words as a lesser woman to whom words are just words, not spells. To whom their lover’s desire is solely a matter of acceptance and fleshly pleasure and not... sacral rapture. Or are they somehow the same – them and her?

‘Everyone is expecting... to have you, Lara... any man would... golden children you will give... waiting with bated breath... love is very dear... “cosmic significance”... satisfying your grace... do you know your place?’

She feels herself sinking deeper into the softness around them with the male’s hips pressing against her rear, lips lulling, appeasing over the scruff of her neck as the growing girth of him is sliding languidly back and forth between her thighs. And in return, on a mean whim stoked by the memory, she does something slightly rash. Slightly... impolite.

Because in the next moment the elf’s hands squeeze her painfully and then he is gone, and the ringing of wind chimes startles away the hummingbirds and spangled cotingas, and already Lara turns after him before her Fox can sulk, though knowing he will have an explanation from her as only the first of several repayments. But frankly, Lara can no longer bring herself to care about how below her this is supposed to be – everything is anyway – and so, she simply tells Crevan – about what their “friend” allows himself in her presence...

‘It is different between you, but I do not believe you have not noticed how he is,’ she says at last. ‘The way he speaks. To me? As if I owe him anything.’

Bare feet tap on tiles of black onyx with mother of pearl inserts and diamonds. Lara finds an abandoned glass of spiked ambrosia inside a feather crown and picks up the long pale-spotted lynx fur. Perhaps as a result of the delights of their night she feels everything more intensely, including the vengeful impulse overcoming her now. Perhaps it is simply what Lara is really like – with the ethereal strappings stripped away. The promised daughter and mother of blessed blood; an elven maid – not to be slighted.

‘Just imagine,’ she leans over the mahogany table toward him, rich fur softening the impact. ‘If the golden vessel that will feed our people with endless opportunities were nothing but a mindless, manageable, pretty trinket that would fit on your hip. Sentience is so troublesome, after all.’

‘Absurd.’

‘Is it? Is the state of my womb not a matter of the vox populi? A Daughter of Dana belongs to her people. Perhaps it has even given our captain the impression I should also belong to him?’

‘You belong to me.’

A strange thrill sparks in her and she catches his eyes.

���This? This is,’ he twiddles his long fingers in the air, ‘little piggies’ blither. They are hungry and impatient and make a lot of noise, and this annoys my beautiful Lara. I do not like it.’

How his expression has changed, from concern and indignation in the beginning to something stronger. She realises then that Crevan’s anger is indeed a slowly burning thing, sly fury under turf, that once aroused can burn until the world is ancient.

She wonders if she can push this...

‘I don’t know, Crevan, sometimes I think you are more alike than it seems.’

The elf lord rolls his eyes, letting his head drop back. It should concern her but for some reason, right now, his ire excites Lara – very much.

‘Why do we allow him so much?’ she draws nearer to where he sits in sable furs under tall open glass doors. ‘Eredin –’

‘– is nothing,’ he intones. ‘Without us.’

‘You think?’ She steps between her Fox’s legs. ‘Sometimes it seems to me he fancies himself the prime stallion. A unicorn?’ And dangles the end of the fur seductively along the male’s thigh. ‘Are you certain?’

Crevan’s lip curls mockingly. Lara slides hers along the edge of a glass flute, looking and swaying, long hair tickling the small of her back, as the wizard contemplates her naked form, his beautiful brow drawn together in a scowl. She sits down on his thigh and his hand circles her waist, stroking the lynx guarding her nudity. Aromatic wisps of smoke bend around them on their way out. She leans into the kiss.

‘The best of me,’ she murmurs, ‘belongs to you. Always.’

‘Then why are you telling me about a rude horselord, instead of lounging about my neck?’

His tongue flicks over her lips before he takes hold of her with both arms, moves her into his place, and stands.

‘Where are you going?’

He gives her half a look, a lively low fire yawning in it, and reaches for a gown as the paintings along his back stalk in dawn’s twilight. Lara reaches for his wrist.

‘Wait!’

The night air hums. He looks inquisitively, letting her stroke his hand along the serpents. The sorceress’s eyes narrow as a thought occurs to her.

‘I have a better idea.’

‘Ah?’

‘Yes.’ She smiles up at him, her sun-blessed fox, with a smile that makes Crevan hers. Soft fur brushes her mouth. ‘But first, my heart, you will have to promise me –’

  ---//---

  Lara’s head is reeling.

Attempting in vain to control the flushing of her neck, she watches how Crevan tugs her mother’s favourite about like a scary marionette on invisible strings. For a moment both men had resembled their namesakes to her – struggling with tooth and claw – until magic had brought brute force under its control. Magic from which such brute force derives.

In fascination she watches how powerful arms belonging to a lifelong warrior stretch out like the wings of a giant bird and are nailed down in fey bondage at a soft whisper from the sorcerer’s lips. It reminds her of how Crevan whispers to his birds. To me. The spasmodic twitching in their captive’s limbs is made that much more enchanting by the visible violence trembling in the veiled chains, which still succeeds in sending one of the stone planters on its plinth shaking.

‘Give in to me.’

They stand chest to back, light and dark. Alabaster skin under the spell-sown collar is reddening dangerously quickly.

‘Or you can garrotte yourself.’

At last, the Sparrowhawk goes still.

Quiet.

Water runs merrily in the in-door fountains, magic hums in the air. Lara guesses chit-chat might be coming hard to Eredin at present. Only the leer of his burning greens persists on her. Not that it matters, because his looks will shortly follow the floor on which he had imagined taking the most precious daughter of the Alders like a common whore.

Adjusting her partly ruined dress in a makeshift arrangement, Lara looks with no small amount of pleasure at how that hard-line of a back bends over the marble balustrade under duress from the Power, like a birch rod. Something in her envies her betrothed this fun, for this simple spell gives the sensation of bending blue steel with one’s fingers. She realises she can still feel the steel of those palms on her hips as she looks how Crevan’s hand runs up the back of Eredin’s neck and across his scalp, gathering pitch black hair and pulling it carefully away from the elf’s face above the velvet-lined collar; until he can curl the dark waterfall around his fist and yanks.

‘Look, my love!’ he gazes at her fondly. ‘I have a new mount for you!’

Lara’s eyebrows rise, she hides her excitement behind crystal. The sorcerer’s aquamarines, despite adoring her, are also colder than in the dead of winter. We agreed! Her Fox is not malicious by nature just... playful. Sometimes so in evil spirits, though.

‘Shall I break him in for you?’ he smiles.

The plinth shakes again dangerously, a few light blue butterflies emerging from the flora, and an ugly wheezing sound arises out of Eredin’s throat.

Lara nods. ‘Please.’

Her eyes fall on the collar.

‘Do you think you could –?’

    He sucks in air like a drowning man.

‘You fucking witch!’

Oh, his voice is raw! Mangled from the burn that scathes tissue with electrifying heat, as if skin was nothing more but thin layers on a cabbage. White pin points dance at the edges of his vision and he feels the Sage’s annoying fingers flick against the side of his face.

Lara frowns. ‘I only allowed you to breathe, spared your voice. Gratitude really means too little to you.’

‘Oh princess, pretty princess,’ he hawks, intensely furious, ‘you do not fight fair, your grace.’

‘Would you?’ she sips at a drink. ‘I thought novelty thrilled you.’

‘Did you not say you wished for a friend in me?’

‘We will be friends – afterward.’

He laughs; somehow. It does not sound pretty.

‘I have annoyed you deeply then,’ Eredin grins, still tasting the woman on his lips. ‘Is fair Lara so irate with me perhaps for implying true things which even she has not become aware of yet? But such is truth – annoying. Simple, sometimes, and annoying. More so still to the Wise.’

Emerald eyes flash. ‘Truth?’

He knows he guesses correctly – about how traitorous are Auberon’s daughter’s thoughts about her purpose that allows her everything. How she does not think twice about opportunities to go slumming with the wretched, when all she really has the duty to do is to let herself be loved until her belly grows. The hair on Eredin’s neck rises at the touch of a small blade. A quick tickling line shoots down the length of his spine and expensive fabric slides down the sides of his ribcage.

‘The truth, Eredin, is that you and we are not equal, nor will we ever be,’ she says. ‘You speak to me on behalf of our people, “us”, yet you only look after your own, while we look after everybody. We look after you too, don’t forget. I am “us”, Eredin. Me.’

He feels Crevan’s hand tugging at his hair, baring his throat, while another wanders contemplatively along the shape of his back. It slides around him, feeling up his abdominal muscles and a tingling, voiding sensation suddenly moves through his intestines. Lara’s precious eyes, which oust the hoarfrost from in-between the stars, do not meet his gaze.

‘You are curious about things which do not really concern you.’ They pass him over for another, and a blush spreads along the graceful neck before she turns away altogether. ‘You allow yourself too much.’

Something cold and vaguely heavy trickles onto the small of the elf’s back, followed by the magician’s palm. He twitches. The hand rubs methodically along the flexor muscles of his lower back, before yanking at his breeches.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Why Eredin,’ Crevan responds lowly. ‘You are the breaker of horses; you will work it out.’

Instinctively, he attempts to crane his neck, defend himself, and is crushed by aches when tearing against his tethers. His black hair falls back around his face, as fury splashes ineffectually in him like acid, finding no proper outlet.

‘How pleased you must feel,’ he sneers, trying to think, ‘with your little trap.’

‘Mine?’ oiled fingers circle slowly, and penetrate resistant flesh. ‘I am doing my dear heart’s bidding, nothing more. Please stop trying to tamper with your bonds. I am angry with you and not in the mood to do all this tidying. Understand that I will immobilize you utterly regardless of Lara’s wishes if you insist on misbehaving.’

‘Indeed I would expect nothing more from you.’

The blonde snorts. ‘This is hardly for my sake, but hers.’

‘What do you mean?’

The Sage shoves his legs apart.

‘You will pay for this, Crevan.’

‘You are mistaken,’ the Sage replies as another slender finger enters him, scissoring, stretching, while its brothers continue to massage his perineum. ‘This is not a transaction between you and me. For starters, Lara believes you deserve a lesson, not punishment. I disagree. Presumptions such as yours should be rooted out with iron and salt, even if they are but the by-product of the blessings you have received from my caste. Then again, giving a disloyal subject a taste of what they want can sometimes do the trick just as effectively.’

‘What a vixen you are making out of our Gull, Crevan.’

‘I am loathe to refuse my darling. Perhaps if you learned not to run your mouth about our games, none of which should burden her... but then again, I appreciate seeing your hand every once in a while. You see, between you and me, I know whose enjoyment should come first. Hers, not mine. Oh to be an instrument serving only noblest of purposes. Alas!’ A contemptuous snort. ‘You will be staying overnight, of course.’

‘Serve?’ Eredin feels a grim, disturbed laughter rising in his tortured throat. ‘You, who helped create this woman to love you, would pretend in this to serve only her enjoyment, and out of humility? Principle? You are enjoying this vastly more than Lara.’

‘Well, I do enjoy it a little.’ The elf flinches against his will when the fingers inside him find the special spot and feel it up. ‘For instance, I understand her anger much better now, and as they say, common dislikes tend to bring people together perhaps even stronger than preferences. Should I thank you?’ The additional digits squeezed into him almost entirely undo the work of their predecessors, no longer aspiring to any pretences of kindness. ‘You are wrong, Eredin. I serve. Unlike you, my highest purpose is to serve life, not close life’s eyes. In return for which She opens Her bosom before me – willingly. Me.’

‘Perhaps you will be happy to learn then that this life you serve is not averse to spreading for whoever she whims.’

The collar around his neck squeezes like fiery pinchers.

‘Do not be envious.’

Hands warm from magic knead his buttocks, spreading him open, and he feels the press of a warm, blunt head. Shackled and immobile, he realises then that all he is allowed to do – all he has ever really been allowed – is to wait. Seizing him by the hair as he pushes forward, the light blankets the dark.

‘You will still have the honour of serving my children for all eternity.’

    The brass frame of the tiny, sealed amber horn digs into her palm. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear them, and in her mind’s eye she sees. If she opens her eyes, she will see tall poplars swaying beside the avenue leading to the chateau, but she cannot open her eyes – his aquamarines on her do not let her; when she had failed to suppress enjoyment from Eredin’s lips against her. Now he is calling to her softly through the bond they share, and Lara’s heart beats faster. She feels wet. She feels exhilarated. She feels awful, and she likes it.

She opens her eyes and turns. They are both looking at her. Moving in rhythm like a white vessel over dark waves. Will whoever ends up in the middle be torn to pieces? Lara cocks her head and approaches.

The dark one, his curtain of black hair flowing back and forth like silk with each thrust, stares at her with naked contempt and hatred for once.

‘I did not know your grace enjoyed punishment this much,’ he bites through a line of small white teeth. ‘If I had known earlier –’

‘Up!’ the light one commands, and so it goes.

Lara feels her cheeks glow as she steps lightly and comes so close she can smell them, one familiar and the other not, and sees Crevan bottoming out in their captive, again and again and again, patiently as is his manner at Alder court. Run? The impulse she suppresses, but not the hot flushing desire that pools in her stomach and shoots to her head like a tiny icicle trail in a burning desert at the small smile on her intended’s lips – he can feel it too. All of it.

‘This is not punishment,’ she leans close to Eredin, touching his warm chest through which she feels the deep thrusts in rhythm with the elf’s powerful heartbeat, before moving on to Crevan’s magical fingers on the captain’s shoulder. ‘This is... play. Novelty!’

Black hair tangles in the enchanted collar, hot breath exuding from the magnificent elf’s half-open mouth above which cold green eyes tear at the elven maid’s face.

‘Are you uncomfortable?’

Lara leans her hip against the balustrade and looks, and Crevan indicates to his waist. She knows the details, of course, but truthfully, it is still new to her, and her breath catches in her throat when she touches her Fox right then. The roughness in his hips – he never treats her to this, whatever this is, ever, even when they get carried away with each other. Why it is maddening!

Summoning the vial and refilling it with magic, Lara watches with fascination how glistening oil the shade of marmalade pours into the cleft where he moves relentlessly, coating his shaft. He helps himself with his hand, never quite leaving the captain’s body. In her mind’s eye, Lara sees what he would prefer though: to have her fingers wrap around him, lathing him in lubricant, before he continues; a kiss...

Lara hooks her fingers in Eredin’s collar, shutting Crevan out, or this will simply not work out as they want.

She tests the collar lightly, changing pressure and listening, observing how his neck works. She wonders if Crevan would, on her... he is smiling at her openly now. No, better not to wonder. But the captain too is smiling! Mockingly, knowingly. And what does he know? Lara drops her bejewelled hand completely – to Eredin’s crotch. He is hard. His grunt falls pleasantly on her ears. She unlaces him and takes him in her hand.

‘Do you not like my whims, captain?’

She strokes along the girth of him, long, until she feels her fist rest at the base, and then hard – several times – as the collar tames the groan that Crevan pushes and she pulls from him. The little brass frame of the tiny amber horn in the palm of her other hand is beginning to hurt her.

‘You will pay for this,’ the warlord rasps, the muscles in his arms straining.

‘Why?’ she leans up closer, squeezing his hard flesh in rhythm to the slap of hips. Crevan swears. ‘You are our friend, Eredin. Our very... good... friend.’

Lara kisses the elf lord on the mouth, bruisingly, with the Sparrowhawk’s teeth drawing her precious blood and the tail of his elated grunt at being given something – anything – ending up on the Gull’s own tongue. She feels Crevan’s hand in her hair, pulling her in and pressing her against Eredin’s front, bringing them all together for a moment. The sorceress flicks the lid of the amber horn in her free hand. Fairy dust spreads into her palm.

And then, raised before the puckered full lips of the treasure of the Alders, Eredin sees the magic powder, which flies in his face with a puff of her sweet breath, settling like snowflakes on his eyelashes, in his eyes, on his tongue and in his nose; and he breathes in the rest from her fingers. And roars.

Lara feels him twitch in her hand.

‘Do you know what this is, captain?’ she asks, admiring his dust-sprinkled eyes.

‘This is pure!’

‘Of course it’s pure. Who do you think I am?’ Crevan growls, holding out his palm to Lara. ‘It will make an eagle out of a sparrow. I am curious, I have never had an eagle before.’

‘Plenty of sparrows,’ he chuckles. ‘At least your taste remains refined.’

‘As you were,’ the towering form of the captain jerks forward. ‘Enough, Lara my love, enough. You are smaller, not used to –’

‘And you are? Thank you, Crevan. I know.’

‘What delicate cornflowers both of you!’ Eredin licks the dust off his lips. ‘Is that really everything, your grace?’

‘Oh, Eredin!’ Crevan laughs, pushing his light hair back over his head and delivering several extremely unpleasant thrusts in a row, after which Lara simply has to abandon the captain for the time being. ‘Give him more. Give him! He doesn’t know anything, but he wants. Yes, my darling, let him have it, I want you to have an unforgettable ride.’

‘Your servants would be unable to get you anything better,’ Lara explains, feeling her blood rushing faster in her chest as vivid clarity takes her head, ‘because no matter where you look for the one thing you will always crave, you can only ever find it with us. We must not fight, us and you. Never!’

Power, power, power. It’s always power that he wants. There is no stronger aphrodisiac.

‘How well you know, Lara,’ Eredin’s tongue licks at her fingers, his eyes laughing at her. ‘How well this role suits you, our beautiful pacifist. Women – they always know better, don’t they, Crevan? As you can see, I cannot but bow before your wisdom. I, too, wish for peace, would you believe it?’

‘I know! It’s just the appetite, Eredin,’ her emeralds narrow evilly. ‘And you are mistaken if you think our appetites do not align. Do you want to know a secret? Do you want to know what Crevan tells me? In my little pointed ear, at night. He describes the sun to me in all its glory.’

The elven princess sits on the balustrade, next to her mother’s most talented light-douser’s half-bent form, and turns her eyes on the elf whom Dana made so he always carries the sun around his head.

‘How the sun burns with the life it gives. How big and bright and lethal it is. How it would scorch my wings if I flew too close, yet freeze me if I drifted too far. Like you fly on your Dragon – are they all Dragons, by the way? Never mind. I don’t really care.’

Lara likes how her Fox laughs, how giving he can be; they really don’t know him like she does.

‘He knows so many tricks, this lover of mine. That is why it can only be him, you understand, because I am more like you – a creature of the skies; just not as privileged to be selfish all the time,’ she caresses his bicep. ‘So anyhow, Crevan tells me – Eredin, are you listening? He tells me – because he knows I too have an appetite like you, and him, and Auberon, and all other nice elves – how he will one day slip the Sun into my hand when I am not looking. And then...’

The magician rests his hand on the other elf’s neck, pushing downward, looking at the daughter of the Alders as if he wanted to lay her down on their stallion’s sturdy back that very second, but Lara, who is smaller and cannot have as much of the fairy dust, suddenly feels the magical tethers trembling and quickly lends her partner a hand. Before, like him, losing herself – in those cool stars from faraway skies, from whence their race once emerged, which have made a home in his triangular face.

‘Then the sun in me will not burn,’ she whispers, ‘but will light up entire worlds. One after another. Sun and moon – mine and his. Do you know that song, Eredin?’

She leans over the captain’s shoulder claiming Crevan’s lips in passion as the strong body between them shudders and her Fox moans loudly, moving erratically for a while to the desirous growling of their dark and dashing captive squashed between two pieces of Alder Gold.

And then it is over and done with and Lara laughs, not even really knowing at what exactly, as she dances a few steps back with her ruined fey-woven dress of anthracite slipping a little. Before slipping back one more time in order to put her hands on this wild Sparrowhawk’s cutting cheekbones and kiss him too, because why not? They are all born under their own lucky stars.

By the stars, why not?

‘Sun and hail ‘til night becomes day, dawn and dusk hand-in-hand, he’ll whisk me stars for a song, a moon half its price; apple and sin – that’s how it’s done,’ she utters in a sing-song voice, pulling golden pins from hair of white gold which cascades over her shoulders.

‘Down the spiralling avenue of stars. Mine and his – this universe, and some other, less important paths.’ And Lara’s eyes flash like a deadly moulinette in your last moments. ‘Could you offer me that?’

  More melodies appear in Lara’s head which she can taste and hum, as gold from her hair clatters on marble floors. Ruined? Maybe. So what? Fairy gold is made of dead leaves and dried dreams. The shiver begins at the back of her neck, spiralling all the way down and wrapping the elven princess in unruly delight.

She puts her arms around her to ground herself, her fingers disappearing into lush hair – to keep her quickened breath and pulse from becoming her character. World has a funny habit of appearing and disappearing when under the influence of dust. She jumps at the hasty touch on her waist.

Crevan takes her by the chin, drawing her against him and falls on her mouth greedily. His hands are slightly damp.

‘You are beautiful,’ the Sage breathes, his disarrayed hair tickling her cheeks. ‘Magnificent. Such sweet voice. My Lara.’ Her fingers tangle in the clasps of his imperial purple kaftan opened to mid-chest, desiring to run her hands over skin that tingles of their magic. ‘Say it.’

‘Yours!’ she pecks her Fox’s nose. ‘Yours, Crevan!’

‘That’s right.’ His hands move through the slit of her dress, fondling the curve of her thighs as he winds the straps around Lara’s waist. ‘Now it’s your turn, my love.’

He fastens the buckles with a harsh movement and Lara flinches, her green eyes drawing wide. They had agreed, but –

‘What is it?’ he inquires, insistently, the low fire in his dark pupils having gobbled up the bright irises, and takes her in his arms. ‘Lara? Lara, come back to me. He will not bolt. I promise you. Look, he is excited.’

So he is! Lara’s head falls slightly to one side. Oh, but what a mess!

Eredin snorts, tossing back his full head of tarry hair. The glistening alabaster skin has reddened – in one spot in particular on his shoulder – and the vein under the velvet-rimmed collar throbs to the heaving of the elf’s chiselled chest. A ruined shirt hangs forgotten around a tense forearm, tense and erect like the rest of him that persists by vigour alone under the awkward angle of perpetual bowing.

Hot lips move along her neck. ‘Like it?’

Pearly white gleams along the Sparrowhawk’s shaft; more of it still dribbling down the back of his powerful thighs. He is staring at her incredulously. Is it excitement that exudes from him, or skittishness? She cannot entirely tell.

She decides she likes it.

‘Go on,’ her beloved whispers, giving the strap-on a few tugs. He is still semi-hard himself. ‘Mount.’

  Lara gently approaches her horse.

  Bewildered pale green eyes roll under curling eyebrows. Observing. Measuring her up. Blinking in disbelief. She is glad her steed has such sharp eyes. Yet she is not her mother.

‘You are no rider.’

‘Am I not?’

The male chortles. Her fingers trail along the ribcage of the beast, as she slips over the balustrade, feeling the smaller muscles twitch funnily. Is he ticklish?

‘You will have to do all the work, princess!’ the Sparrowhawk hisses, craning his neck. The Gull lets him. There are so many interesting things right now in those sharp eyes that prey in the skies they share. ‘Appearances may suit you, but do you know how to use this?’

‘This?’ she takes “herself” in her hand. ‘Let’s see.’

Visible trembling passes through solid muscle as she gives him her first try. She looks up. And looks away again. Looking at her Fox right now is of absolutely no help here – she has to concentrate! It is strangely exciting.

‘How does it feel?’

‘Simply exhilarating.’

‘Don’t lie. Am I that different? How?’

‘No. You, too, talk too much.’

Gulls and foxes do chatter. Eredin, like Crevan, is notably larger than her, but the pinned position in which her Fox has left the Sparrowhawk helps. She strokes the curve of his rear.

‘I would like for you to enjoy yourself.’

‘What for?’

For him to understand that Lara does, in fact, wish for all of them to get what they want. For him to... to trust the rider. Trust her. He laughs throatily.

‘You get distracted too easily, your grace. I wager we will face lots of problems because of it one day. Call it a sagely intuition.’

He is slick, stretched, and as she brushes past the male’s prostate – she presumes by her knowledge – the muscles in his thighs contract, but Lara does not entirely understand this side of desire. Until, after several shallow movements with her hips she catches the Sparrowhawk staring at him from the corner of his eye.

‘You are no rider, your grace,’ the elf drawls dryly. ‘Let yourself be loved and leave the loving caresses to us. This is not your place.’

Indignation burns through the daughter of Shiadhal. She almost misses entirely how dark the captain’s eyes really are and, a moment later, delights inordinately in the ravening moan that escapes his lips as she thrusts deep without qualms. The trembling in the sculpted flesh under her fingers shoots up the male’s damp smeared back and the sorceress’s hands follow until they brush dark hair.

‘Play with it.’

She tickles instead.

Crevan smiles broadly, throwing the empty crystal class – it turns into light blue butterflies before crashing into countless smithereens.

Lara surges again, feeling her steed push into her in what little capacity he can. She loosens the magical bindings a little, witnessing at once how the pent up, violent energy swirling within him finds an opening to dissipate and leaves taut flesh momentarily shocked and trembling by the slack it is allowed. His graceful sigh – entirely unexpected – convinces her to loosen the bindings a little more. She is not her mother. She is spring! Not winter. All the while moving with increased confidence, as they are gradually reaching an understanding.

With the second sight that fairy dust opens, the Gull experiences the Sparrowhawk as the magnificent creature he is in his own right and it delights her. She hopes he can appreciate his own beauty in this moment, no matter their differences. For there is something beautiful and befitting in fitting. They should always move, the mount and the rider, as if entwined – each in their proper place. Only like this can they take on the stars.

We must not fight, you and us. We must not!

‘Take this.’ Appearing by her side, her Fox puts the end of his belt in her hand. ‘Then, like this.’ He reaches around her swiftly, flicks Eredin’s face with his fingers, and before the curse aimed at them can ring out in its wholesome glory, the etched buckskin belt is flexed tight and the elf’s head jerks up like sprung from a mouse trap.

‘Hold on to it. Hold it! Tightly.’ Lara pulls, her perspectives whirling, melting, changing. ‘That’s right. Around your fingers. Now, spur.’

‘What about his teeth?’

‘He will bite down. Endure.’ The familiar smell of Crevan is filling her with pleasant surety. He is restoring the binds to their former position. ‘It’s his duty. He serves you. It must never be the other way around.’

‘I do not wish for my subjects to hate me!’

‘This is a natural reaction. When you spur and whip your mount, it hates you. Sometimes whipping is necessary. Other days you groom it, feed it, and it loves you.’

He presses into her back, his hard flesh rubbing against smooth fabric, as his fingers undo the makeshift ties on her hip.

‘In the end, it must always recognise your authority because it cannot do otherwise. Because such is love between a servant and mistress. You are the Goddess, but he is not the God. Nothing but harm can arise out of confusing these rules. It would not allow either of you to get your due.’

Crevan places a footstool between them and lifts Lara, leaning her forward over their guest’s back, ensuring she neither slips out nor falls.

‘Eredin is our most magnificent master of horse. He knows these rules very well. It is his duty, once called upon, to help carry us to new worlds. And ours, to show and open the way.’

‘Crevan, what are we –’

‘Keep going,’ he breathes heavily, solid and secure against her with his heartbeat pounding in her ears; his mouth sucking on the pulse in her neck while his cock brushes back and forth along her wet folds. ‘Keep going, sweet heart. I am here.’

And then his hands dive under her dress beginning to work their tender magic before which there are no barriers. Gathering her excitement, playing with it, re-directing it – for her pleasure. Lara shudders in ecstasy. Always for her pleasure, always.

‘That’s right. With your back. You are doing beautifully.’

The belt slips out of the princess’s hands, and the elf lord spits it out, cursing. Groaning, as she buries in him encouraged by the hips of the male settling over her. They all really want the same thing at the end.

‘Do you hear it, Lara?’ the princess of the Alders moans as her Fox slides inside her. ‘He loves you. In his proper place, he cannot but love you, and will never betray you. Ever play only on your terms, my sweet heart.’

‘I am,’ she breathes, moving her hips forward to give, and back toward the increasing fullness – to receive.

He curses softly. ‘So warm. So beautiful. Keep going, my love. I’ll move with you.’

‘To where the sky’s the limit, but in-between there’s you. Always you, Lara.’

She threads her fingers in his sun-kissed hair, kissing them both breathless, and tapping into his pleasure which is her pleasure which will be the pleasure of all of them.

‘There will be a mess.’

‘A mess,’ he growls, shifting deeper and deeper inside his heavenly Gull. ‘Yes. There will be a mess.’ Her back arches. ‘What else is there for us? There is already such a... mess.’

    Crevan covers her hands with his.

Lara finds her rhythm.

Between life and death.

Then the fox reaches around his gull and jerks the sparrowhawk off until he feels him buck wildly against fey tethers and choke in his friends’ giving stranglehold. Until Crevan’s mind is eaten away by trembling contractions greeting him and he slides his palm across Lara’s belly.

‘Shall I catch you a sun, Lara? Shall I hide all the stars – one, two, three – inside you? First it makes you ill, then it goes straight to your head.’

His Lara laughs.

He pours into her in pleasure that does not fade, thinking:

Let them all, one day, have their free fall up the hill.

[zutaralesbian]

If you're still doing the character thing: Anne Bonny, Azula, Karen Jackson

Anne Bonny:

My three favorite things about them:

Her loyalty. When Anne loves, she loves HARD. And you see that in her relationships with Jack and Max.

Her lack of ambition. While I LOVE ambition as a character trait (especially in female characters) Anne's lack of ambition is kind of refreshing in a show like Black Sails where almost all of the other characters are after something. At the end of the day Anne doesn't really care about treasure or power. She just cares about the people in her circle and supports them in their goals. (Those characters, again, mainly being Jack and Max.)

The way she's allowed to be dirty and say crude things. It's the trope of the grumpy warrior who is only soft for the people they care for....but in a female character. We really don't get female characters like Anne too often.

My three least favorite things about them:

I don't really like that the fact that she was the one who got Max captured by Vane in S1 was brushed over so fast. Yes she was the only person in Vane's crew that stood up for Max and she helped Eleanor free Max and murder her rapists, but she was part of the reason Max ended up there to begin with. Other than a brief comment about it from Max in S1, it wasn't even really acknowledged. Meanwhile the show allowed Anne to be angry at Max for betraying her and Jack for almost an entire season.

The fact that she killed poor Charlotte

????? I don't think I have anything else

My three favorite dynamics with them in it (romantic or platonic):

Anne/Max: Obviously! I love these two and their love story really spoke to me. I wish they had gotten a more explicit resolution :(

Anne/Jack: Another obvious choice. I think their relationship is a bit more unhealthy than some people like to admit (mostly the way she was an abuse and rape survivor and spent years feeling indebted to him because he saved her) but they are ride or die.

????? Anne didn't really have a lot of prominent relationships outside of Max and Jack. I do think her dynamic with Idelle was kind of compelling and I wish we had seen more of it. But I don't think it would have ever been a proper friendship since Idelle (rightfully) doesn't like Anne because she killed her friend.

My three favorite moments of theirs:

"I can't be your wife, Jack." I was just so proud of her

The scene where she opens up to Max about the abuse she suffered from her ex husband. It was so sad but very revealing :(

When she killed Max's rapists

Azula:

My three favorite things about them:

Her competence. I loved the fact that she was a villain that should be feared and she was not easily beaten. The other characters were always painfully aware of how easily she could win. And sometimes she did (ex: Ba Sing Se).

Her complexity, even though it makes me cry. Yes she was a great villain but she was also an abused teenage girl and a large part of her wants a sense of normalcy. We see that part really shine through in "The Beach" specifically :(

Her lines and dialogue. She truly has some of the most chilling (and iconic) lines on the show.

My three least favorite things about them:

The fandom discourse surrounding her. I feel like with Azula people are often either of two ways about her: They think she's an irredeemable monster or they think the way she ended up was everyone's fault but her own and use the fact that she was abused to excuse her of everything. I have a more middle opinion of her. I think she is deserving of sympathy and a shot at redemption since she was an abused child. BUT in doing so she would need to address the hurt she caused to people. (And yes Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee would all be on that list of people). She's a complicated character that deserves nuanced takes on her. Other than that though I don't think I have any issues with her.

My three favorite dynamics with them in it (romantic or platonic):

Azula/Zuko: Ugh this is one of the most interesting but tragic relationships on the whole show 😔

Azula/Mai/Ty Lee: Yes it ended in flames and was problematic but a trio of villainous girls kicking ass???? How could I not love that????

Azula/Ursa: I'm into this dynamic more for the potential? I so wish we had gotten to see more of it (that's not the comics lmao) because it could be so interesting and angsty. Idk. I think about Azula and her deeply complicated relationship with her mother a lot.

My three favorite moments of theirs:

"My own mother....thought I was a monster. She was right of course but it still hurt." And just every moment in "The Beach" tbh. Such a good Azula episode.

"Don't flatter yourself. You were never even a player." ICONIC

Her breakdown when she hallucinated Ursa in the series finale. So intense and heartbreaking.

Karen Jackson:

My three favorite things about them:

Her love for Sheila. It was the first thing that drew me to her character in S1.

She's pretty funny a lot of the time. Idk. I just know that a good amount of the iconic scenes from the early seasons involved her.

Her strive to want to be successful. The scene where she asks Frank to come to her parent-teacher conference always breaks my heart because she wanted someone to be proud of her. It makes the way they wrote her character off even more infuriating to me.

My three least favorite things about them:

The fact that she raped Frank

Her ableism towards her baby. (To be clear I firmly believe that Karen had every right to not want to keep the baby. I just wasn't a fan of some of her comments.)

The way she was written off. Especially knowing it likely happened because Laura Slade Wiggins didn't want to do nude scenes anymore 😕

My three favorite dynamics with them in it (romantic or platonic):

Karen/Sheila: The relationship definitely wasn't the best at points (Sheila fucking the grown ass man that slept with her underaged daughter????) but I loved the fact that the show had a complex relationship between a mother and a daughter at one point. I miss them.

Karen/Lip: I don't ship them but their dynamic in S1 at least was honestly pretty cute. The 'I promise I don't love you' scene is one of the most memorable angst scenes from the show imo.

Karen didn't really get the chance to have any other prominent dynamics :( I will forever be pissed about the awful way they handled Karen and Mandy. They actually had a lot in common and in a better world they would have been girlfriends friends.

My three favorite moments of theirs:

Pissing on her father's grave. Iconic.

The 'I promise I don't love you' scene between her and Lip. Idk why I love that scene so much but I do. It was just so well acted.

The scene between her and Sheila where Sheila apologized to her for not always being a great mother. Just the EMOTIONS.

Thank you! :)

[amyscascadingtabs]

2020 in writing

tagged by the wonderful @feeisamarshmallow and @b99peraltiago! thank you, this took me seriously three hours but it was fun. 

tagging whoever has three hours to spare!! but i’d love to see @amydancepants-peralta, @letsperaltiago, @johnny-and-dora, and @fezzle do this, although no pressure because this took me the entire evening. 

1. List of works published this year

oh god this is going to take forever...

i’ll walk through hell with you, chapter 5, 6 & 7

all the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

a single kiss and i’m under your spell

paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

dust off your highest hopes

i can’t see the future, but i know that it’s there

look now, the sky is gold

look at where we are, look at where we started

bracing for the winds i always summon

just know that i’m already home

there’s magic everywhere you go

we’ve found a love to cross the ages

all my days, i’ll know your face

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

(three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life

if devotion is a river, then i’m floating away

when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)

evermore

i am not a stranger to the dark

in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

21 works!! 

2. Work you are most proud of (and why)

I am really really proud of finishing i’ll walk through hell with you, that’s still one of the highlights in my writing “career”. bracing for the winds i always summon and (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life, because they were both longer works with a lot of introspection that focused a lot on jake and amy’s feelings about upcoming parenthood. especially the last one I still love dearly. i’m also really proud of the fics i wrote all from rosa’s perspective (paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans and when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet)).

3. Work you are least proud of (and why)

none! I guess a few of them are shorter and written way quicker than some others, but I always take that into consideration when “evaluating” how proud I am of them so no. personally, I’m proud of everything in different ways. 

4. A favourite except of your writing

referring to the creator tag meme for this where I posted excerpts from the five works I’m most proud of!

5. Share or describe a favourite review you received

questions like these remind me that I need to start saving my favorite reviews somewhere! that’s a goal for 2021, haha. but every comment that have listed their favorite moments in the fic I reread like five times over and smile every time, and all the comments people left me on the last chapter of i’ll walk through hell with you were so wonderful. and the rosa fic. and the -

you know what, I just started reading through old comments and I can’t pick one, it feels too unfair to all the other incredible ones I ’ve gotten. so. all of them!!!! I love you guys!!

I will mention this one that someone sent me in the middle of summer, during a period when I wasn’t writing or publishing so it ended up meaning that much more for that reason as well. comment on look at where we are, look at where we started (in the brief period of time when we thought peraltiago baby would be named Leo)

“Idk why, but the way Jake was talking to Leo made me wonder if my parents ever talked to me like that right after I was born. I've been told the story of my birth every birthday since I was born, so I know it by heart, but despite the countless Peraltiago baby fics and other fandom baby fics I've read, this is the one that made me wonder what my parents were thinking when I was born. And then it made me wonder what I'm gonna think when I give birth to a kid, or if I adopt a kid.” like, I was just so floored that something I wrote made someone reflect so deeply on their own life. and I want to underline that I have so so many favourite reviews but yes, this one stuck with me!

6. A time when writing was really, really hard

this summer was the hardest it’s ever been. first the (rightful) hesitance and reflection that followed the BLM protests and then some trauma and deep depression added onto that for me was… yeah. it took a really long time to find real joy in it again. 

7. A scene of characters you wrote that surprised you

Jake and Rosa’s friendship in i am not a stranger to the dark! I’ve written a bit of Rosa and Amy and feel quite comfortable with their friendship and dynamic but far less of Jake and Rosa! 

“At least this is still way better than... that.” “Literally everything is better than prison.” “True that.” Rosa looks up at the tv, realizing she’s missed at least ten minutes of the movie already. “I’m glad we got out.” “Sometimes it still feels like a part of me didn't,” Jake says, quietly. “You ever feel that way?” “Sometimes,” she admits. “We did, though. That's what's important.”

Rosa can hear someone talking in the background on the other end, and Jake mumbling something back in reply. “I have to go,” he tells her, and it makes her a little sad, because he's good company. “I can't miss dinner. Wouldn't want to piss off the entirety of my fiancées family before I’ve even married her, right?”

8. How did you grow as a writer this year?

I wrote more Rosa! that’s probably the single thing which helped me grow most, because she’s arguably a much harder character to write than Jake and Amy, since most of the time you really have no clue what she’s thinking. I have to think a lot harder about how Rosa thinks and feels and reacts to things and I feel like that makes me a better writer overall. 

9. How do you hope to grow next year?

I don’t have any big expectations tbh. I know next year is going to take so much of my energy “”professionally”” or well, study-wise, so I think it’s the wrong year to set ambitious creative writing goals for me. then there’s also the inevitable fact that I’ve written a whopping ninety-nine stories for this show now and I’m always asking myself for how long it will last. there was a point in april-may where I thought it was going to be the end and during the entire summer as well. so… we’ll see. I don’t have any WIP I’m aching to finish right now. 

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta of cheerleader or muse etc. etc.)?

@fezzle, @johnny-and-dora, @vernonfielding, @amydancepants-peralta, @feeisamarshmallow, @amazingsantiago and @letsperaltiago all deserve their own shoutouts here for various reasons!! (if you want to know more about why just message me!) 

11. Anything from real life show up in your writing this year?

always, in different ways in how I relate to the characters and different feelings and moments and experiences that would take way too long to explain. but if I could choose one fic it would be paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans. I worked through a lot of feelings about a breakup I went through in this one and they were ones I hadn’t really had the chance to let myself feel before writing this. It isn’t similar to how my breakup went, at least I didn’t mean for it to be and haven’t put any intentional similarities in there (although I guess there are a few if you look for them) but some of the things Rosa thinks, says and feels after being broken up with were quite personal. i am not a stranger to the dark and the way it focuses on healing after trauma was also partly personal although way much less obviously so because the experiences are quite different lol.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers?

make writer friends! talk to other writers! you’ll both learn so much and it makes writing and developing fics so much more fun!

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year

I currently have zero WIP and zero real plans so genuinely who knows. all depends on what my life will look like and what s8 will bring us! 

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year

all the favourite five, but maybe when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet). I think it’s a great complement to the Rosa and Amy action we saw in season 7 and it has a lot of peraltiago from someone else’s viewpoint as well. 

15. Year word count

are you kidding meeeee okay here we go.

okay, so adding everything I’ve published this year together… 111 283 words.

😳 😳 😳 

DEAR GOD.

additional trivia: the shortest fic was 651 words (evermore), the longest if you exclude the three chapters of i’ll walk through hell with you (they are 24.6k together though) (three times ‘cause) i’ve waited my whole life, and the average word count for a fic of mine this year was 5 299 or 4 838 words, depending on whether you count the chapters of i’ll walk through hell with you as one or three works. that makes sense because i feel like i’ve written a loot of fics around that length this year! 

[shikamarubase]

His Shadow (A Fic)

[Summary: Temari found an old baby video of Shikadai and forced him to watch it with her.]

“I’m home,” Shikadai called out as the door slammed shut behind him.

No one greeted him back. His eyebrow arched at his mom’s lack of presence at his arrival. She would usually be waiting for him by the door around the time he came home from the academy.

Tired from another gruelingly boring day of staring at his textbooks and shuriken practice, Shikadai contemplated on taking a nap for the rest of the afternoon, before his ears picked up the sound of the television.

He dragged his feet forward and stopped at the doorway connecting the living room and hall.

“Mom?”

He immediately spotted her hair sticking out from over the couch. He couldn’t see her face, but the television blared in front of her, showing a picture of a toddler with dark hair crawling on all fours. His eyes were bright green and curious as he stared at the camera, his tiny arm half-raised as if he was trying to reach out and touch it.

It took Shikadai a second to realize he was staring at his own baby video.

“Oh, welcome back. I didn’t hear you come in.” Temari flashed him a smile from over her shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” His eyes flickered between her and the television, silently asking for an explanation.

“I was clearing the attic when I found this.” She gestured to the screen, where baby Shikadai was gurgling happily at the camera. “I figured it would be fun to watch.”

He blinked at her once. And then twice. Then he strung out a brisk, “Have fun.” before turning his back in preparation for a quick escape.

“Stop right there.” Temari’s commanding voice halted him in his tracks. “Come here and watch it with me.”

Shikadai cursed his inability to disobey his mother, as he sullenly took a seat next to her. He slowly lifted his eyes and immediately winced. His younger self had a big smile on his face as he crawled closer to the camera. He could hear his mom’s breathless voice in the background, urging his dad to grab more toys for him. Seeing himself on TV was both unnerving and embarrassing. He could hardly believe he was the same person as the toddler producing baby sounds at the other end of the screen.

He stole a peek at his mom when he knew she wasn’t looking. A huge smile was splayed across her face as she immersed herself in the video.

“Shikadai~” Startled, he turned his attention back to the screen when Temari’s recorded voice echoed around the room. In the video, her outstretched hand revealed a familiar toy. It was the stuffed deer he had cherished up until he became more interested in books and video games. She gave it a small shake, causing baby Shikadai’s eyes to follow the movement faithfully, almost as if he was in a trance.

When he grabbed the deer with his tiny fingers and hugged it to his chest, Temari let out a triumphant yelp. “See, I told you he would love it.”

“How troublesome.” This time, his dad’s deep voice penetrated the record. The camera joustled a bit when his big hand appeared on screen to pat Shikadai’s small head.

His raised his eyes almost questioningly, opened and closed his mouth a few times, before a hesitant “....um...” escaped his lips.

There was a few seconds of shocked silence before Temari excitedly cried out, “His first words! Do you think he’s trying to say ‘mom’?”

“Isn’t he still a bit too young for that?” Came Shikamaru’s answer. A hint of excitement dripped from his otherwise calm voice.

“Go on, Shikadai. Call me mum.”

Shikadai’s face scrunched in concentration, his tiny fingers tightening around his toy. He made a sound with his throat as he struggled to form a word.

“...sum...trubwlsum...”

Shikadai’s wide eyes stared straight into the camera, head tilted in wonder, as the recording became engulfed in deafening silence.

“T-Temari, I can explain...” Shikamaru nervously spoke up. The volume of his voice seemed to dwindle a bit after every word, and Shikadai could imagine him slowly backing away from the camera.

“Shi-ka-ma-ru!!!” Temari’s enraged voice rang in his ears. Shikadai listened to the sound of hasty footsteps until it completely faded—his dad must’ve broke into a run. Temari let the recorder fall as she made a move to chase after her husband. The sound of Shikadai’s surprised wail filled the room before the recorder clicked shut.

Beside him, Temari chuckled as the screen turned black. “I scolded your father for the rest of the day after that incident. Unbelievable, that man! I told him not to say that in front of you, but of course he didn’t listen.”

Shikadai had listened to various versions of the same story throughout the years, and his mother never lost the zeal of letting him know how infuriated she was. She spoke big, but her eyes twinkled every time she relayed the story, along with a permanent grin etched on her face. Ten years as their child and he knew all about his parents’ dynamic—they often bickered to cover up the affection they have for each other.

Shikadai could gag.

“I’ll be taking a nap.” He removed himself from the couch and exited the living room

Temari called out after him, “What about your homework?”

“I’ll do those troublesome stuff after dinner,” he answered back, one foot already on the staircase.

“I swear, you’re a bit too much like your father sometimes...” He heard her mutter before he went out of earshot.

Shikadai entered his room and immediately jumped into bed, his mind whirring from Temari’s words. ‘You’re so much like your father’ was a phrase he regularly heard while he was growing up. Most people told him he took after his father physically—which he could understand considering he was the mirror image of Shikamaru down to how he wore his hair; the only obvious difference between them was the striking teal eyes he got from his mother.

But as far as he could tell, that was where their similarities end.

Shikamaru was the respected advisor of the seventh Hokage, the village’s second-in-command, and a brilliant stategist who survived the fourth shinobi world war.

Growing up in his father’s shadow was difficult for Shikadai; everyone expected great things from him. He always had to keep himself in check. He was prepped to become the next heir of the Nara Clan—he couldn’t afford to mess up, he refused to let his dad lose face because of him. On the surface, he was a carefree academy student who couldn’t care less about his studies. Classes were a drag—it would be so much easier to sleep through the day and refuse to take exams—yet Shikadai would still find himself reaching for his textbooks and pencil during lessons, do his homework every night, and ace all his exams.

If he was being honest with himself, the hard work and effort he usually masked stemmed from the innate desire not to disappoint his dad. Sure, his mom would nag him to death if he didn’t perform well. Shikadai wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t scared of Temari’s wrath. But this was more than his fear and greater than his lazy nature—

His dad was rarely home.

It wasn’t something Shikadai blamed him for. Shikamaru’s job required long hours in the office; he would be gone by dawn and come back late into the night. Shikadai seldomly saw him, except during his rare day offs. He knew his dad would always make an effort to come home earlier for his family, but some things don’t always go your way. Before long it became the norm to eat dinner without him or go to bed without seeing him the entire day. When he was younger, Temari would pull him aside to explain why he couldn’t see his dad regularly. She always wore a forlorn expression as she spoke, but rather than feeling disheartened Shikadai understood.

Shikamaru was the right-hand man of the Hokage; he had an entire village to worry about. But he always made extra efforts to spend time with him whenever he could. Some nights, Shikadai would suddenly wake up in the middle of the night to find his dad beside his bed, rubbing his head as he bidded him good night. It happened often enough that Shikadai would purposely stay awake to wait for his dad’s late greeting. That’s why, despite Shikamaru’s hectic schedule, Shikadai knew he regarded them as a priority.

And with all the pressure and expectations of the villagers riding on his shoulders, Shikadai didn’t want to add to the weight. That’s why he’ll continue to be a good student and son, and work harder to become a ninja his dad would be proud of.

At the end of the day, he respected Shikamaru too much to let him down.

Reaching the end of his thoughts, Shikadai felt his eyes grow heavier until darkness consumed him.

————————

Shikadai felt a familiar touch on his head when his eyes cracked open. His room was dark; the only light shining in through the window came from the moon. Sitting beside him, with gentle eyes looking over him, was Shikamaru.

“Dad?” His voice came out as a croak. He blinked a few times in disbelief, as if the shadow of his dad would disappear any second.

Shikamaru gave him a small smile. “Hey, kiddo. Your mom told me to call you up for dinner.”

“Dinner?” Shikadai pulled himself into a sitting position. “That means...you’re home early.”

His dad nodded. “There was less work today, so Naruto told me he would take care of everything else.”

“Cool.”

Shikamaru searched his face. “How was your day? Your mom told me she found your old baby video.”

He shrugged lightly. “Eh. It was a bit of a drag, but I guess it wasn’t too bad. She’ll never let either of us live it down though...troublesome.”

His dad chuckled as he nervously ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I should apologize for being a bad influence on you. I didn’t expect you to copy me.”

“You’re not a bad influence,” he said too quickly and then cleared his throat. “I mean...I wouldn’t be the way I am without you.”

A tender smile broke through Shikamaru’s face as he ruffled his hair. “You could be nothing like me and I’d still be proud of you, son.”

The extra weight on his bed was taken off when his dad stood up. “Now, c’mon. Let’s have dinner. If we eat fast enough, maybe we can play a few rounds of shogi. Didn’t you want a rematch after the last time?”

Shikadai eagerly followed him out of the room, already brimming in excitement for the night ahead.

—————————

A/N: So instead of updating Scarred, I went ahead and wrote a long oneshot while suffering from writer’s block. I honestly don’t know what to do with myself xD So the headcanon that Shikadai is motivated because he didn’t want to trouble Shikamaru sprung in my mind while I was writing. I’m disappointed with myself for not considering this until now. I know I always say Shikadai got his motivation/competitveness from Temari, but who knows the real reason right? I completely enjoyed writing from Shikadai’s perspective—I’ve never really explored his character in a fic until now. I even added some fluff for old time’s sake😂 I hoped y’all liked it. And as always, thank you so much for reading <3

[yastaghr]

Nest(l)ing

I've been writing this one for a while now. It's a hypothetical alternate universe to Grey where Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics are at play.

Summary: A serious of snapshots for Blue's nest building as an Omega, from his first nest as a child to his first nest on the Surface.

Characters: Blue = Underswap Sans, Stretch = Underswap Papyrus, Edge = Underfell Papyrus, Red = Underfell Sans, Underswap Gaster

Warnings: Homelessness, Domestic Violence, Implied Rape/Noncon, Bad Brother Stretch

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26583658

The Gaster of Underswap #832 was a lover, not a fighter. Well, in a way. Romantic or sexual love? No. Platonic love, especially parental love? Yes, please. He would happily talk about his amazing little 5 year old and his adorable little 14 month old to anyone who gave him the slightest excuse. Blue, at 5 years old, was so bright, a cheerful little thing that was always smiling about something. Stretch was still small for a 14 month old, but he was crawling around now quite easily.

Blue was coming up on his 6th birthday, so when Gaster walked into his boys’ room and encountered a roughly circular mess it wasn’t that much of a surprise. His family had always matured early. Still, he wished that Blue didn’t have to go through this so soon. He remembered his own transition, and Blue was going to be ridiculed when he started school and already had to deal with heat suppressants.

The hardest thing about heats, though, was definitely how they made you feel. Blue seemed to currently be in a down state. He was sitting in the middle of the mess looking frustrated and overwhelmed.

Gaster knelt down and held out his arms for his son, who predictably crawled right into them. He rocked Blue gently while his little star cried into his shoulder.

Eventually the tears dried up and Blue patted his leg to get his attention. “DADDY, I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE A MESS! IT JUST… IT FELT LIKE I HAD TO. I JUST NEEDED TO HAVE ALL MY SOFT THINGS AROUND ME, BUT IT JUST DOESN’T SEEM TO WORK NO MATTER HOW MANY TIMES I MOVE THEM.”

Gaster smiled softly down at him. “That’s okay, my little star. This is a special thing. I can show you how to do it while I explain it, okay?”

“OKAY, DADDY. WHAT DO I NEED TO DO?” Blue immediately said.

Gaster couldn’t be prouder of his little star. Blue had immediately taken personal responsibility for this. He was amazing. “Well, the first thing I want you to do is help me make some piles. We need to take all the soft things and make piles for blankets, pillows, and toys. Can you do that?”

Blue nodded and set about cleaning up his mess, his little blue tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. While he worked, Gaster explained. “Now, what your body was telling you to make is called a nest. Omegas like you and me always like to have a nest. It’s a vital comfort to our instincts. Remember, I told you about what being an Omega means?”

Blue nodded as he placed the last stuffed toy into a heap. “YEP!”

Gaster smiled at him. “Good. Now, the next step is to set up your pillows in a rough circle. Can you do that for me?”

Blue nodded, stuck his tongue out of his mouth in an adorable display of concentration, and arranged his pillows. The shape was more like an oval than a circle, but that didn’t really matter. It was rounded and that was all that mattered.

“Well done, Blue. Now the next step is to lay your blankets over the pillows so that the extra blanket covers the center of the circle. Does that make sense?” Gaster asked.

“UM… I THINK IT DOES? SO I MAKE THE INSIDE OF THE CIRCLE BE COVERED IN BLANKETS THAT ALSO GO OVER THE EDGE OF IT? LIKE… LIKE THAT TIME WE MADE PIE CRUSTS TOGETHER AND WE PUT THEM IN THE LITTLE BOWL THINGIES, RIGHT?” Blue rephrased what Gaster had said, a trick Gaster had taught him to help him make sure he really understood things before he jumped into doing them. He was proud of his son for remembering how to do it.

“Yes, exactly!” Gaster confirmed. Blue smiled his beautiful, shining smile and giggled. Then he got to work, covering the base of the nest just like Gaster had said. When he was done he turned to Gaster for guidance. The scientist and proud father explained the next step, “Okay, Blue. The final thing you need to do is take the soft toys and line them up just inside of the pillows. That way you’ll have something to cuddle with.”

Blue did as he said and arranged his soft toys inside the circle. He didn’t have many of them, but the few he did have he loved and cherished. Most of them were gifts from Gaster’s co-workers and boss. Gaster’s meager salary wasn’t enough to buy his sons very many things. There was one he had gotten for his son, a little stuffed skeleton that he'd found in the dump and washed thoroughly before giving it over.

“IS THIS GOOD, DAD?” Blue asked quietly.

Gaster blinked his way out of his reverie and smiled at his son. “Yes, Blue. It’s a beautiful little nest, and I’m very proud of you for building it so well.”

Blue beamed at him, then crawled into his nest and sat down. He patted it gently, getting used to the feeling of having it around him. Gaster left him to it. Your first nest was a very special place.

=====

Blue stared at the measly collection of semi-soft things he’d managed to track down in despair. There weren’t nearly enough to build the nest he wanted - no, needed to make. Without a nest this abandoned building he had found wouldn’t count as a home, and that would mean that the 6 year old Stretch would break curfew and become a rule-breaker like him. Blue would do anything to avoid that fate for his little brother. Anything.

Resigned to his task of building a makeshift nest, the 10 year old Blue grabbed the first ancient pillow he had pulled out of a dumpster behind a mattress shop and set it out. He used the remaining six to form a circle. It was a very small circle. There was no way that it was going to fit both of them. That was okay, though. After his stay in the hospital that had lasted for months as a kid he was already a rule-breaker, so he didn’t really need to be in the nest. All it needed to hold was his little brother.

After the pillows went down Blue lined the nest with the moldy towels and ripped blankets he’d managed to scrounge up. There were just enough of them to make it work. At least the small size of the circle allowed for that.

When that was done Blue set the handful of stuffed toys he had managed to save from their old apartment along the rim of the nest. He took extra care with the little stuffed skeleton. It was a gift from his father, unlike all the other toys. Blue didn’t know what had happened to Gaster in that accident, but he wanted to cling on to the few reminders he had that his father had once loved him.

He surveyed the finished nest with disappointment. It wasn’t nearly up to the standards of the ones he had built in the past during his heats; it was clunky, moldy, raggedy, and small. It would have to do for now, though, because Blue didn’t have any other supplies to make it better.

=====

The 18 year old Blue didn’t fight against his brother when he duck-taped him to the wall in his room in the house in Snowdin. He figured it was just a prank, and it didn’t seem that harmful. That idea was quickly shattered by Stretch’s own actions. The 14 year old turned an expression on Blue that he’d only ever seen on the faces of his rapists. Then he turned around and started methodically destroying the nest Blue had only just finished building.

“STRETCH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!” Blue called out, distress evident in his voice.

Stretch turned on him the most condescending look Blue had ever seen. “destroying this stupid waste of space, bro. you’re a rule-breaker. you don’t deserve to have a nest like this. you haven’t earned that privilege with all the slutty behaviour you’ve been showing lately.”

“STRETCH, WHAT- I WAS IN HEAT! YOU TOOK AWAY MY HEAT SUPPRESSANTS BECAUSE YOU SAID THEY COST TOO MUCH. WHAT DID YOU EXPECT ME TO DO? ALL OMEGAS ACT WANTON WHEN THEY’RE IN HEAT, AND I WASN’T EVEN ACTING LIKE THAT AT ALL! I LOCKED THE DOOR TO MY ROOM AND DIDN’T COME OUT UNTIL MY HEAT WAS OVER. I DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO FIND A HEAT PARTNER! MAKING IT THROUGH A HEAT WITHOUT ONE IS-” Blue was interrupted in mid sentence.

Stretch snarled, “i don’t care about your excuses, blue! everyone in town could smell you. they were all ravening after you! i’ve never heard so many gross things in one week. if you’re going to cause problems like that you don’t deserve anything soft or comfortable. maybe if you have to sleep on the floor you’ll understand how not okay it is for you to make me that uncomfortable! now, shut up or else!”

Blue gulped and did as he was told as his mind raced to try and understand. He knew what Stretch thought he did wrong, but he didn’t know what he could have done differently. He’d done everything he could not to make his heat into a burden on others! Why did Stretch want to punish him for that? Pale blue tears dripped out of his sockets as he forced himself to watch Stretch rip, shred, and tear all of the soft things he’d used to make his nest. The drip turned into a torrent when Stretch found the stuffed skeleton. Blue cried out, “NO, STRETCH! PLEASE, NOT THAT ONE! DAD GAVE THAT TO ME JUST BEFORE-”

Stretch growled at him. “what did i say about shutting up? just for that i’m going to take my time destroying this one!”

Blue watched in horror as Stretch summoned a sharp bone and started cutting tiny pieces out of the “bones” of the skeleton. The pieces were no bigger than an ant, and he took his time to shred them and scatter them all over the mess he had made of Blue’s room. Blue closed his eyes, trying to save himself the anguish of watching this destruction.

“hey! if you don’t open your eyes right now i’m letting in the rabbit gang. they’ve been especially hungry for you this whole time. i’m sure they’d be overjoyed to know that you had offered to… satisfy their hunger.”

Blue knew exactly what his brother meant, and he opened his eye sockets in shock. Had his brother really threatened to- he had, hadn’t he? New tears flooded his vision. How could his own brother threaten to do something like that? Hadn’t he raised him better? Or had he raised Stretch right, and Blue really did deserve to be treated like this? It had to be that, right? He’d given up everything to keep his brother safe, healthy, and happy. Stretch was just giving him the treatment he deserved.

Blue forced himself to watch Stretch destroy the rest of the nest. It made him feel horrible, like the time he’d been forced to swallow boiling water by one of the gangs in Waterfall. His throat felt raw and inflamed, his hands were trembling, and the tears were pouring down his face. It felt like Stretch was destroying the only safe thing Blue had left. He just must not deserve even that.

=====

Edge stared at Blue with confusion that bordered on consternation. What was this weird little Omega doing? He could smell the beginnings of a heat on him and offered to go get him some suppressants, but that brother of his said no. Edge had accepted that. They were clearly in some kind of relationship, so, if he was his brother’s Alpha, he might have decided that Blue didn’t need the suppressants. If he wasn’t, he might know that Blue’s Alpha didn’t want him taking them, although why an Alpha would want an unprotected Omega off their suppressants was a mystery to him. Edge didn’t want to judge.

All of that made a certain amount of sense - right up until he caught Blue, half naked, washing his clothes and saw the lack of a claiming bite on his body. That changed everything. If Blue wasn’t claimed, why would Stretch get to tell him whether he could take the suppressants? Unclaimed Omegas got to choose that for themselves! Edge promised himself that he would ask Blue the first chance he got.

He did, but Blue’s reaction confused him even more. He’d looked at the ground in a haunted way and said, “IT’S NOT MY CHOICE TO MAKE.”

“NONSENSE,” Edge dismissed. “IT MIGHT NOT BE IN YOUR WORLD, BUT HERE, IT IS; BY LAW, WHICH YOUR BROTHER IS OBSESSED WITH OBEYING. WHY WOULDN’T YOU GET TO CHOOSE FOR YOURSELF?”

Blue still didn’t look up at him. “IT’S TOO EXPENSIVE, EDGE. WE CAN’T-”

“BLUE,” Edge reached out and tilted his skull up to face him, “THEY’RE FREE HERE. YOU DON’T HAVE TO PAY.”

“REALLY?” Blue asked, his voice shaking. “WE - I CAN TAKE THEM AGAIN? I DON’T HAVE TO LOCK MYSELF IN MY ROOM TO KEEP FROM BEING RAPED? I DON’T HAVE TO GET TAPED TO THE WALL JUST FOR GOING INTO HEAT?”

Edge gaped at him. Then he shakily held out his arms for Blue and knelt down on one knee to make them closer in height. “I… THAT’S… I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY. RAPE, HERE, IS ONE OF THE BIG 4. THAT MEANS IT’S PUNISHABLE BY DEATH IF THE VICTIM WANTS LENIENCY ON THEIR ABUSER AND A MAGIC CUFF FOR THE FIRST OFFENSE IF THEY DON’T. THAT’S WHY HEAT SUPPRESSANTS ARE FREE, SO NO OMEGA IS TAKEN WITHOUT THEIR PERMISSION. AND… WHY WOULD SOMEONE TAPE YOU TO A WALL FOR SOMETHING YOU CAN’T HELP? YOU’RE AN OMEGA, AREN’T YOU? YOU HAVE TO GO INTO HEAT.”

Blue stepped back from him and put on a cheerful smile. Edge knew it was fake. He’d worn the same smile himself, many times. It was as fake as fake could be. He didn’t have the energy to press for the truth, though. Pressing was something that had been Red’s forte.

“WELL, IT’S A LITTLE TOO LATE FOR THE SUPPRESSANTS NOW, SO… I CAN GUARD YOUR ROOM SO THAT NO MONSTERS COME NEAR AND TRY TO HURT YOU OR TAPE YOU TO THE WALLS. I’LL ALSO GIVE YOU MATERIALS FOR A NEST. WHAT DO YOU PREFER, WARM MATERIALS, FLUFFY MATERIALS, OR MATERIALS THAT ARE EASY TO CLEAN?”

None of that seemed like it would be a reason to burst into tears, but that’s what Blue did. Edge went to stand up to hold him, but Blue backed even further away from him, so Edge sat back on his knee. “BLUE, I’M NOT GOING TO HURT YOU. I WON’T MOVE UNTIL YOU SAY. OKAY?”

Blue had backed himself into a corner. He was shaking from his skull to his feet. Stars, Edge thought, what had been done to this poor Omega?

“I’M NOT SURE HOW I UPSET YOU. WAS IT SOMETHING ABOUT THE MATERIALS FOR YOUR NEST?” The other’s nod was barely distinguishable from his trembling, but Edge had practice with that with Red. “WOULD IT FEEL BETTER FOR YOU IF YOU GOT TO PICK OUT THE MATERIALS YOURSELF?”

Blue, finally, found his voice. “I’M NOT ALLOWED TO. I CAN’T- I CAN’T-”

“YOU CAN’T WHAT, BLUE? YOU CAN’T PICK FOR YOURSELF? DO YOU WANT ME TO PICK SOME FOR YOU?” Edge asked.

“I C-C-CAN’T BUILD A NEST. I’M NOT ALLOW-W-WED TO. NO, NOT… NOT ALLOWED. I D-D-DON’T DESERVE TO. NOT AFTER WHAT-T-T I’VE DONE,” Blue sounded like that idea had been beaten into him. Edge needed to tread carefully.

“I DON’T KNOW OF ANY REASON WHY I WOULDN’T LET AN OMEGA BUILD A NEST. THAT WOULD BE LIKE STRIPPING AN ALPHA OF THEIR WEAPONS, OR A BETA OF THEIR TOOLKIT. IT WOULD BE TORTURE; PSYCHOLOGICAL TORTURE AS WELL AS PHYSICAL. I WOULDN’T EVEN DO THAT TO A CHILD RAPIST,” Edge said quietly.

That idea made Blue flinch. Interesting. He needed to talk to Stretch later on. Privately. That’s what he thought until Blue spoke. “IN OUR W-W-WORLD, ANY CRIME IS THE FAULT OF THE VICTIM FOR NOT TAKING ADEQUATE PRECAUTIONS. I… I’M NOT VERY GOOD AT TAKING ADEQUATE PRECAUTIONS. I’VE BEEN R-R-RAPED A LOT, AND I BROKE THE RULES, AND SO I DON’T DES-S-SERVE TO HAVE A NEST.”

Edge closed his eyes to hide his anger. That was so messed up he didn’t even know where to start. Who had taught Blue that? Why did they think like that? How long had this been going on? All he could think to say was, “THAT’S WRONG.”

Blue swallowed, trying to maintain that happy smile. “I KNOW, BUT I WAS JUST A KI- NO, THAT’S… SORRY. THERE’S NO EXCUSE FOR LETTING THAT HAPPEN. I’M JUST GLAD I KEPT MY BROTHER SAFE FROM IT. HE WAS SUCH AN INNOCENT AND HAPPY CHILD. I DON’T THINK I COULD LIVE WITH MYSELF IF HE HAD HAD TO GO THROUGH WHAT I DID.”

“NO, BLUE. THAT’S NOT WHAT’S WRONG. YOU NOT DESERVING A BASIC PART OF YOUR NATURE BECAUSE YOU WERE THE VICTIM OF SUCH A BIG CRIME? THAT’S WHAT’S WRONG. YOU NEED A NEST. YOU DESERVE A NEST. I WILL DO ANYTHING IN MY POWER TO MAKE SURE YOUR NEST IS KEPT SAFE. PLEASE BUILD A NEST, BLUE. FOR ME, IF NOT FOR YOURSELF,” Edge said, clasping his hands and shaking them in the classic pose of pleading.

Blue eyed him like he was crazy. That slipped into thoughtfulness as he looked around like a cornered animal waiting for the attacks to begin. Then, as quietly as Edge had ever heard him, Blue said, “CAN I HAVE THE FL-”

“blue, what the hell are you doing out here? where’s your shirt? you’re flirting with our host, aren’t you? seriously? how disgusting. why don’t you just drag him into the bedroom and betray me completely?” Stretch’s scathing voice carried over Edge’s shoulder. Edge felt his spine stiffen and had to resist the urge to let his pheromones do the talking.

He turned around and glared at Stretch. “HE ISN’T IN HEAT YET, AND I DON’T SEE YOUR CLAIM MARK ON HIM. I DON’T SEE ANY CLAIMS ON HIM. AS AN UNCLAIMED OMEGA, HERE, HE HAS THE RIGHT TO DECIDE ABOUT SUPPRESSANTS, MATES, AND NESTS FOR HIMSELF. IT’S TOO LATE FOR SUPPRESSANTS TO WORK, SO I WAS OFFERING TO GET HIM THE NESTING MATERIALS OF HIS CHOICE. HEATS ARE AS UNAVOIDABLE FOR OMEGAS AS RUTS ARE FOR ALPHAS. I'M GIVING HIM MY PERMISSION TO TAKE OVER MY BEDROOM FOR THE DURATION OF HIS HEAT. IT’S THE SAFEST PLACE IN THE HOUSE. NO ONE CAN BREAK INTO IT ONCE IT’S LOCKED FROM THE INSIDE.”

Stretch glared back at him, flexing his pheromones and trying to seem like a big Alpha. Edge hated posturing like that. He easily overpowered Stretch’s smell and stalked him down. “YOU WILL LEAVE BLUE ALONE. YOU WILL WORK ON THE MACHINE. THEN, MAYBE, I’LL LET YOU TAKE HIM HOME WITH YOU, BUT IF I FIND OUT ONE MORE MESSED UP THING ABOUT YOUR UNIVERSE I WILL ADOPT HIM AS MY OWN FAMILY AND KEEP HIM HERE.”

Stretch slunk away from him, then ran out of the house. Edge sighed and turned back around. Blue was shaking so hard he was barely able to move, but he was trying to present to Edge like a good Omega. Edge sighed. “I’M NOT GOING TO CLAIM YOU, BLUE. NOT WHILE YOU’RE IN HEAT AND CAN’T THINK STRAIGHT. I WILL PROTECT YOU AND GET YOU THE FLUFFY NESTING MATERIALS, THOUGH. WHY DON’T YOU GO UP TO MY ROOM AND GET STARTED?”

Blue nodded slowly and crawled up the stairs to Edge’s bedroom. Edge sighed and headed for the shed. What a mess. Still, he’d managed to fix even worse conditioning in the past. Red had turned out okay, hadn't he? Edge could do this. He believed in himself.

=====

“okay, blue, i get that your world is weird. but how come you haven’t built a nest yet? is it just a thing for during your heats in your world, or do you need new materials, or what?” Red asked. Blue froze where he was chopping tofu for some tacos. Red just waited. He knew that stuff like this could be an unexpected minefield thanks to Blue’s past. He just hoped that this wasn’t going to be too bad of a pothole in the end.

“I… NESTS ARE MORE THAN JUST FOR HEATS. NESTS ARE AN IMPORTANT THING TO THE PSYCHE OF THE OMEGA. A HOUSE WITH A… PROPER OMEGA IN IT ISN’T CONSIDERED A HOME WITHOUT A NEST. AT LEAST, NOT IF THERE’S A CHILD IN THE HOUSE. THAT MEANS THAT THAT CHILD WOULD BREAK THE RULES IF A NEST WEREN’T MADE. AND NESTS CAN BE MADE OF ANYTHING, AS LONG AS THEY’RE ROUGHLY ROUNDED AND VAGUELY SOFT,” Blue answered him.

“then why haven’t you made one? is it because of some stupid thing about you breaking the rules?” he asked cynically. Most of Blue’s problems related to those stupid rules, sooner or later. Whether that was through the laws, the infrastructure, or that brother of his, his Queen was the real one at fault. She’d written those damned rules in the first place.

Blue carefully set down the knife, but Red could see how his hands were shaking. He ached to grab them and soothe them, but he didn’t want to cause more trouble like he had last time. “IT… IS. AFTER STRETCH FOUND OUT ABOUT WHAT I USED TO DO, WHEN WE FIRST MOVED INTO THE HOUSE IN SNOWDIN, I BUILT A NEST RIGHT AWAY. BUT, JUST WHEN I’D FINISHED BUILDING IT, STRETCH… HE TAPED ME TO A WALL AND MADE ME WATCH WHILE HE DESTROYED IT. HE EVEN D-D-DESTROYED THE LITTLE SKELETON DAD GAVE ME… HE SAID I DIDN’T DESERVE A NEST BECAUSE I’D CAUSED SO MANY MONSTERS TO GO WANTON WITH MY HEAT. I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

Blue gulped. His whole body was shaking now as he stepped further into the memory. “I EVEN LOCKED MYSELF IN MY ROOM WHEN HE SAID I COULDN’T GO OUT AND BUY MORE SUPPRESSANTS. BUT… PEOPLE STILL SMELLED ME. HE DIDN’T LIKE HEARING WHAT THEY HAD TO SAY, SO HE SAID… THAT IF I SLEPT ON THE FLOOR I MIGHT LEARN NOT TO MAKE PEOPLE ACT LIKE THAT. HE SAID… IF I DIDN’T WATCH, HE’D TELL THE RABBIT GUARD I SAID THEY COULD U-U-USE ME. AND I THOUGHT… I DID EVERYTHING I COULD TO RAISE HIM RIGHT, SO… IT HAD TO BE M-M-ME, RIGHT? I HAD TO HAVE DONE SOMETHING WRONG FOR HIM TO DO THAT TO ME… AND IF I REALLY DID SOMETHING WRONG, THEN I SHOULDN’T TRY TO MAKE SOMETHING THAT I DIDN’T DESERVE, AND HE SAID I DIDN’T DESERVE TO MAKE A NEST, SO… THAT WASN’T RIGHT, WAS IT?”

Red shook his head. “nope. he was being a jealous asshole of an alpha that wanted to control you. also, he was being a regular asshole, too. i’d never try to do that to an omega and i’m a fucking beta! especially with how rare they are.” Blue quivered to face him, just like Red thought he would. Blue had told them about the previous timeline, and Red figured he must have at least gotten to a heat, but the way Boss was he wouldn’t have wanted to put pressure on Blue if he was just going to leave. Red could relate, but Blue had decided to stay here, so he needed to know. “yeah, the birth rate for omegas here has been really low for a few centuries. they’re down to less than a eighth of the population. omegas who can carry a child to term? they’re rarer than moldsmaals.”

“THE OMEGA GENE ONLY MANIFESTS WHEN THE MOTHER FEELS COMPLETELY SAFE AND RESPECTED BY THEIR ALPHA,” Blue said monotonously. “THAT’S WHY THE QUEEN HAS RULEBREAKERS TREATED SO BADLY. SHE DOESN’T WANT THEM REPRODUCING.”

Red bared his teeth. “fuck that. we’ll take them all and treat them proper! starting with their nests. d’ya wanna go splurge on materials? boss and i’ve got a lot saved for this, and you deserve the best nest that money can buy. we can even find you a skeleton plushie, or maybe get someone to make you one. how does that sound? only the best for our mate.”

Blue hesitated. “IN THE LAST TIMELINE EDGE SAID HE HAD MATERIALS FOR ME TO USE. I DON’T WANT TO WASTE YOUR MONEY BUYING NEW ONES.”

Red felt safe enough now to press a kiss to Blue’s teeth. “are you kidding? those are from the public stocks. our queen made a giant stockpile for emergencies. you get to own your own nest now, baby blue. besides, most of what we’ll be getting is replacement clothes and blankets for edge and me. you’re our omega, so your nest should smell like us as well as you.”

Blue’s bright eyes filled with tears. Red could see the happiness in his face, though. “YOU REALLY WOULD LET ME USE YOUR THINGS?”

Red kissed him again, wiping those tears away from his Omega’s face with a smile. “of course, baby blue. now, let’s go raid our closet and get you some stuff to start with. then we can head out to the stores and get shopping!”

=====

The Gaster of Underswap #832 was a lover, not a fighter, and he found it odd that he found himself so much more at home in a world where people had once had to fight for a living than he had in the one he was born into. He still wasn’t into sexual or romantic love, but he had found a new form of love to enjoy after he and the other Omegas had been rescued; grandparental. He loved talking about his twin grandchildren to anyone who would listen. They were still just soulings in Blue’s belly, but he knew they were going to be amazing. After all, with parents like they had, how could they be anything else? He couldn’t wait to meet them.

Right now, though, he was content to help his son and his son’s datemates settle into their new home here on the Surface. He was amazed at how much stuff they had. Blue had 3 boxes; Red and Edge had 18. Considering that most of Blue’s stuff had been stolen back in Underswap #832, it wasn’t surprising that the ratio was so off. That just meant that Gaster got to take him out shopping like he’d always wanted to! Taking Red and Edge as well was a wonderful bonus!

Tonight Gaster had insisted that the others rest while he put away their purchases. When he was done he couldn’t help but check in on them. They weren’t in their bedroom, so the next place he checked was the room with Blue’s nest.

There, asleep in the nest lit only by the light of the moon through the blinds, were Red, Edge, and Blue. Blue was sandwiched in the middle of them, being hugged on both sides by his loving mates. His shirt had ridden up to expose his swelling belly. Two still-white soulings glowed through the light blue of his ecto. They flashed at him slightly, and he pulsed his magic back, then closed the door, smiling, on his son’s well-deserved peace.

[t100ficrecsblog]

three thoughts about john murphy (& 1 thought about folklore)

ONE

John Murphy… where to start?! I didn’t like him exactly, but I was intrigued by him from early on. His motivations fluctuated and he was hard to pin down initially, but I found him much more interesting than the other male characters so I guess that’s how it started for me. Canon tries to sell Murphy as selfish or uncaring or primarily out for himself, but only in very early s1 do I ever buy this about him. He was making efforts to be helpful & doing good deeds ages ago, so I actually find it pretty frustrating that both canon & some of fandom are now suddenly on the “we’re so proud” of Murphy train. He has matured into a better person, yes, but the seed of that was clearly visible in s1 and it’s one of the reasons I love Murphy because for me at least, the glimpses of who he really was when he let his guard down have always pulled me right in. -JENN

One of the best arcs on the show. Murphy’s grown and changed so much over the course of the show, while also staying true to himself. I think it’s been interesting to him progress, but just as fascinating to see where he stays the same or even regresses at times. I think Murphy really encompasses how good people can be bad sometimes, but learn and overcome and, ultimately, live. -RYN

he is far more fair and pragmatic than people give him credit for. i think a lot of it is him feeling the effects of being expendable. i also don’t believe this is a new development - he wanted to help finn in season two, he helped bellamy in season three, he stole medicine in season four, he stayed behind for raven in season five, he didn’t want to start a war in season six. he’s not a hero or a villain, he’s just a typical complex human. -ELLE

TWO

I’m a big fan of Murphy’s sense of humor, his ability to read people & situations, and how he’s really not much of a grudge holder, all things considered. He doesn’t get enough credit for that. I don’t view him as comic relief for the show though - to me Murphy’s arcs over the seasons have often been deeper and more complex than they first appear to be, and I don’t know that other characters would have come out of them as intact as Murphy has. He doesn’t get enough credit for that either. Yes, he’s a survivor but he’s also had to develop an incredibly thick skin to deal with the things he has been through. So basically what I’m saying is that Murphy deserves the world! -JENN

Morality. I think Murphy perfectly demonstrates the morality of t100. How it changes, ebbs and flows. How it can adapt and become better, but also lose hope and go to extremes when under pressures to survive. Then, even amongst the darkest times, there’s always the lingering feeling of hope and light.  -RYN

john murphy (thanks to richard harmon) elevates every storyline and character he’s involved with. i know i’m biased, but i feel he is criminally underused. he’s often used in the b or even c plots, but he shines so much when he’s with the rest of the mains. part of the reason i love murven so much is that i find murphy and raven so natural and electric together. they have such an easygoing banter, and their development is second to none. i feel like the characters (and actors) can bounce off one another like no other pair. -ELLE

THREE

he is more than just comedic relief or the resident “cockroach” (while i’m here: i viciously hate the cockroach joke as well as the “shut up murphy” shtick). i think a lot of people tend to overlook him, but he is actually such an interesting and compelling character in terms of mental health. i definitely feel like in the modern world, he would be diagnosed with something. that’s why so many of his fans relate to him and see something that maybe a lot of viewers wouldn’t. he’s smart and loyal and kind - but like anyone, has inner struggles. -ELLE

Dad!Murphy rights. This has been living in my mind for a while now, and I am even part of the dad!murphy enthusiasts founded by the amazing @queenemori. We all are passionate about Murphy being a dad, and regardless of our ship of choice, love to talk about it and come up with headcanons and fic that includes the dynamic. -RYN

Now that we’re so close to the end, I do regret that canon likely won’t delve more into Murphy’s ties to Abby (before and after her death) and how he connects her to his own parents. Also his isolation/PTSD in s5 & his reliance on drinking in s6/s7 are pieces I think we’re missing out on too. I think these aspects of who Murphy has grown to be are important to his character, his past and his future. I’m glad that fic writers who love Murphy will tackle topics like these though, because they are stories that deserve to be told. -JENN

what’s your favorite song from folklore?

Probably betty, though I really love august and cardigan as well! There’s just something about betty that really gets me in my feels and it’s such a poignant song. It’s been on repeat for me for a while and I don’t see that changing soon. -ryn

other than all of them? right this minute it’s maybe ‘invisible string’. though again, it’s really all of them. -elle

How dare you ask me something so difficult! Every listen this answer might change but Exile & Mirrorball are consistently in the top 3. -jenn

[thesunnyshow]

Name: Leo

Writing Blog URL(s): @hereisleo

What fandom(s) do you write for?: I write for ATEEZ, VICTON and ONEUS.

Age: ‘99 liner

Nationality: Indonesian 

Languages: Indonesian, English, Japanese and a sprinkle of Korean.

Star Sign: Leo

MBTI: INFP-A

Favorite color: Neutral but mostly black! (Other than neutral colours, I’m partial to blue, dark green and red).

Favorite food: Indonesian and Japanese cuisine! The taste of home!

Favorite movie: Resident Evil franchise.

Favorite ice cream flavor: Vanilla.

Favorite animal: Owl ever since I was a small child.

Go-to karaoke song: None. I don’t enjoy karaoke.

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering? 

Both! Recently, I’ve been ordering black coffee again whenever I stop by a cafe.

Dream job (whether you have a job or not) 

I’m interested in a lot of fields of work, it used to be Red Cross worker, paramedic and flight attendant. Now it’s barista-bartender. It’ll likely change in the future too.

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose? 

Teleportation, let’s travel the world!

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose? 

The Golden Age of Piracy! I want to sail! And such freedom to spite against governmental standards.

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you? 

Without a doubt, yes. I’m always down for changes and new adventures.

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken? 

Holy moly… 100 chicken-sized horses...

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been? 

The quiet smarty one at the back of the class. Common? Yes. But it’s true.

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures? 

This universe is too big to be only occupied by humans.

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know? 

Badminton is my favourite sport!

When did you post your first piece? 

June 2019!

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr? 

I always love writing so I wanted to share my creations and see how they fare in the world instead of keeping them for myself.

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? 

I mostly write platonic relationships, fluff, slice of life, romance, comfort and a lot of AUs. It’s what I’m comfortable with and thrive in best! I do enjoy writing mystery, crime/murder and angst once in a while. Gotta let the dark side out too.

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc? 

Usually, it’s either member centric and or ‘X reader/ + Reader’, it’s not always romance when reader insert is involved :)

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most? 

Definitely friendship and slice of life! AU wise, I’m a sucker for the supernatural side: demons, angels, mythical creatures and mythology, they are all right up my alley. I also enjoyed writing crime AU and anything dark, nothing like unleashing the inner criminal legally through words… and occasionally being questioned, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand? 

Tropes I love, I’m a sucker for friendship/platonic, slow-burn enemies to lovers, the cafe/bar occupation, single parent, the demon is suddenly your guardian angel, the breakup and the crime syndicate dynamics. Tropes I can’t stand on the other hand aren’t much, I don't actively read a/b/o dynamics, Hogwarts, hybrids and werewolf/vampire. It’s mostly AUs now that I listed them.

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful? 

Oh this is tough. I think it would have to be ATEEZ: ‘Supernatural Activities’ series. I’m proud of how ‘Dante’s Inferno’ & ‘Angels in the Streets’ turned out and they are well received too.

Who is your favorite person to write about? 

Song Mingi of ATEEZ. Somehow writing about him always seems personal. Maybe it’s the similarities we carry. It seems like a lot of the time, the bias is the one who is most similar to us.

What inspires you to write? 

Simply the need to escape reality and it’s an outlet to expel excess emotions I carry sometimes. All is well in the mind after I write and sleep.

What do you hope your readers take away from your work? 

I hope it provides you an escape for a brief moment, I hope it makes you happy. I hope you could enjoy the world with a touch more romanticism, we are all a part of the aesthetic we see in the media and more. Sure it’s a tough world but there are good in it too.

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively? 

I take a break. It’s no use for me to push on when I hit a rough patch. I’ll read and do everything else except writing. It rarely happens as I’m constantly full of ideas, it’s the lack of motivation that keeps me from creating.

What do you think makes a good story? 

To be honest, if I enjoyed it, it’s good. I’m a simple person with simple pleasures.

What is your writing process like? 

Messy 😂 There’s no getting around it. I would rewrite a paragraph three times if I don’t like it, delete a thousand words, scrap a different story to incorporate it into another. I don’t always start from the beginning either. A writing piece could take anywhere within several minutes, a few hours to days, weeks and months. It all depends on my motivation and how busy work is keeping me from writing. (Psst, it’s mostly the former).

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose?

Yes. Writing in the fanfiction world, more often than not, we are already given much of the relationship dynamics and setting. (Unless it’s AU then that's a whole different animal, it might as well be an original prose). In original prose, we have to weave most, if not all, of the world and characters building… I hope I understood the question right...

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story? 

Maybe. It’s usually the other way around. I have thoughts to repurpose an abandoned original story for a fic series. Highly unlikely that I’ll actually do it.

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you? 

A lot! Please! It’s the biggest motivation for us content creators to keep creating! You have no idea how fast my hand reaches for my phone every time tumblr notifications pop up, hoping for a reblog and comments in the tags.

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)? 

My mutuals reblogging my works. They’re exposed to new eyes and the readers, on the other hand, find a new blog.

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged? 

Yes. Fanfic writers are as important to the fandom community as the rest of the content creators are. 

Do you think art can be a medium for change? 

Absolutely. Art is a fantastic gateway to many things. 

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself? 

Only when I decided to take requests which happens like once a year and maybe even less.

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times? 

No, I don’t think so. No one has asked me to clarify any of my writings. One anon used to send me asks about world expansion and said anon turned into a dear friend. 

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr? 

NOPE. DON'T LET THEM KNOW. I WON’T LET THEM KNOW. NEVER. Leave my virtual writing world be. *puts ‘do not cross’ yellow tape all over*

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers? 

Please leave me some feedback, even keyboard smashes are fine, I can translate those. Don’t be shy to leave me asks if you want to chat, ramble, or get something off your chest. This is a safe place for you, an escape from reality.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there? 

Don’t be afraid. As hellish this platform is, it'll help you grow in the writing department. I know this is not the best advice but you have to try to see the result. 

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr? 

I don’t think so. There were moments of “Why do I even bother?” but it happens and will happen again in the future but no regrets. 

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey? 

I do! Most of the ones who were there from the beginning aren’t there anymore but it’s alright. Their lives outside of Tumblr are always more important than anything else. I don’t have to heart to unfollow their pages. My current handful of mutuals are an amazing bunch too! The sheer talent and creativity they possessed are out of this world. I love seeing their posts outside of the writing world, their personalities shine through and my heart feels fuzzy whenever I see it. Though I don’t interact often with most of them, I adore them all and consider them good friends. 

Pick a quote to end your interview with: 

Since we, writers, create in order to find escape and or brush up our skills or simply for the sake of creating. As we broaden our skill sets, “Necessity is the mother of invention. Failure is the mother of success.” Common, I know, but it’s comforting to know that failure can be a motivation to do better. Don’t stay down, always rise again.

BONUS: K-POP CONFIDENTIAL

[thezodiaczone]

Taurus Compatibility

TAURUS + ARIES (MARCH 21 - APRIL 19) The stubborn Bull locks horns with the willful Ram, nostrils flaring, heads bowed in determination. So begins a fierce but fiery courtship, as splashy and menacing as a Pamplona stampede. Aggression, however uncivilized, is part our Darwinian natures. It certainly is for your signs—who possess an arsenal of steamrolling tactics, from doe-eyed charm to old-fashioned philistine strong-arming. No weak-willed mate will survive your natural selection process. Nor should he. Neither one of you feels safe in the arms of a mate who can't protect you. Thus, your initial faceoff is simply a warning shot: Show me your strength so I can trust you. Once the fanfare is over, you make a great team—like British pop royalty Victoria (Aries) and David (Taurus) Beckham.

As tight as two mafiosos, you like to dress up and flaunt your natural superiority over the rest of the animal kingdom. The deal is sweet for both of you. Taurus gets an attractive show pony and a lusty mate to satisfy his Earthy libido. Aries has a lifelong provider and benefactor to supply creative freedom and endless playtime. Issues can arise if Taurus grows too possessive or tries to tame independent Aries. Indulgent Taurus will need to remain active to keep pace with the energetic Ram (read: lay off the nightly steak frites and vino). You both crave attention, but don't go looking for it outside the relationship, unless you want a real showdown. Like two tots in a nursery, you share a favorite word: Mine!

TAURUS + TAURUS (APRIL 20 - MAY 20) Slow and steady wins the race for these two earthy Toros. A pair of contented cows munching clover in the field, you're masters of pleasure and leisure. Ruled by Venus, the goddess of beauty and love, Taurus life is a sun-dappled serenade—when you're not locking horns in a bullfight. Fortunately, the fierce stampedes are rare between you. The most lethal "charging" for your acquisitive sign happens on Black Friday, or at the Barneys shoe sale. You govern the zodiac's second house of material gain, and while you'll work your fingers to the bone, you also adore "stuff." Taurus rules the five senses. You've got the most sharply attuned sense of smell and taste, and an eye for beauty. As a couple, your home is not just your castle, but an art gallery, listening lounge, movie theater and gourmet restaurant. Renovation is your middle name, and you're forever titivating your digs with state-of-the-art fixtures and upgrades. There's always an occasion to celebrate, and you love to invite people into your grand yet cozy salon to feast, imbibe, show off your fineries, and talk about your latest passions. But the heartbeat for this couple is friends and family. Children, grandchildren, parents, siblings—as long as you're on good terms (and even when you're not), they're a tireless topic. In fact, your true nature really shines as a parent. Warning: you're creatures of habit and you can get lazy and indulgent together. Bring on the personal trainers, nutritionists and motivating friends to keep you on top of your game.

TAURUS + GEMINI (MAY 21 - JUNE 20) ♥♥♥♥ Taurus is a traditional, grounded Earth sign, and Gemini is a free-spirited, unconventional Air sign. Despite the doubt gnawing your gut, you insist on forging ahead together. Nine times out of ten, your first instinct was correct: you don't have much more in common than hot, lusty, try-anything-twice sex. For a while, that's enough to satisfy you both. Unfortunately, the post-orgasmic glow only wanes after you've intertwined your lives—often to the point where leaving would get messy. Perhaps there are enough good reasons to stay after all. For one, you make great business partners. Gemini is creative and media-savvy; Taurus has an instinctive knack for sound financial moves and marketing. You're both visual and gifted with color and style. Blend Gemini's clever quirks with Taurus elegance, and you've got a high-end specialty brand in the bag. Want to keep the bedroom hot and business booming? The cardinal rule of this relationship, which will be torturous for you both, is this: never argue. Gemini loves to debate and play devil's advocate, which will threaten Taurus' ego, making the Bull charge with fury. Taurus is a know-it-all who loves to be right, but experimental Gemini doesn't want to hear "I told you so"—especially not from a lover. Can you go against your natures in the name of love? If you want this to last, you'd better learn how. Agree to disagree, hear each other out, and hire a mediator if you must.

TAURUS + CANCER (JUNE 21 - JULY 22) Buy those twin rocking chairs and install them on the porch: You're an old-fashioned throwback, high school sweethearts at any age. No two signs are more traditional, sentimental or family-oriented than yours. Although the sweetness can be cloying, you're a love story for the ages. In fact, you may emulate your own parents (or compensate for their shortcomings), since you share a rather conventional moral compass. Affectionate and nurturing, you crave lifelong security and a comfortable home, and you'll squirrel away a sizeable nest egg together. Not that you don't indulge. Your signs both appreciate art, culture, decorating, music and gourmet food. As parents, you're protective but firm, Taurus doling out tough love in your children's best interest, nurturing Cancer kisses every boo-boo. Framed family pictures creep like urban sprawl through your home. At times, Taurus' booming voice and blunt remarks wound the Crab's tender feelings. Like a bull in a Bernardaud shop, Taurus doesn't realize his own size, strength and intensity. Taurus will need to dial down the volcanic energy—intuitive Cancer doesn't need every point driven home. At the same time, Cancer must overcome insecurities and toughen up, since Taurus doesn't mince words or tiptoe through the tulips for anyone. Sure, there will be tears and misunderstandings, but there's nothing that any recipe calling for heavy cream can't solve. You both love pampering and feasts, and if your waistlines expand along with your joy, c'est la vie.

TAURUS + LEO (JULY 23 - AUGUST 22) This dynamic coupling is as stable as a batch of homemade explosives. Yet, you can't resist mixing those chemicals just to see what happens. The sexual pyrotechnics alone are certainly tempting. You're both proud, fierce and egotistical—two incurable hotheads—and you're attracted to each other's showy flair. When it's good, it's damn good: you get all the affection, doting and hero-worship you crave. You love to glam up like rock star royalty and paint the town together, drawing attention wherever you go. In fact, your shared vanity may keep you together past the relationship's prime. Sex is animalistic and hands-on (keep ointment at the ready for bites and scratches), and best enjoyed in the monogrammed sheets of the finest hotels. With your combined charisma and willpower, you could overthrow a midsized government, or form your own totalitarian regime. Bad days are brutal, though. The Lion assumes he's in charge of everything, but nobody bosses the Bull around. You both dig in your heels and go for the kill. Drama, shouting, and ego showdowns are your favorite weapons of mass destruction, and woe betide the day you turn those on each other. You're both capable of enacting a scene that brings down the house. Security!

TAURUS + VIRGO (AUGUST 23 - SEPTEMBER 22) You're a pair of sophisticated Earth signs who blend like cashmere and wool. Taurus adds the touch of luxe and Virgo is the solid standby. You're what could be described as a "lovely couple," with good taste, social graces and old-fashioned values. Although your earthy natures can also make you hippies at heart, you tend toward the traditional, and you both like possessions of quality. You'll set up a lovely, well-appointed home—though Taurus will have to fight neat-freak Virgo to keep the plastic slipcovers off the sofas and doilies off the appliances. Virgo is ruled by intellectual Mercury, and Taurus by pleasure-loving Venus. As a result, Taurus is more feisty, raw and direct, which can offend Virgo's stuffed-shirt sensibilities. However, the Virgin soon looses up and learns to laugh at himself. It's good to have sensible Virgo around to pull the brake when Taurus overspends, heads up to the buffet for a fourth helping or tips his glass for a refill. Responsible Virgo has far more self-control than the Bull. In private, you're both sensual and erotic, and you can spend hours wrapped contentedly in your Egyptian cotton sheets. You share a judgmental streak, and if you're too intent on fancying yourselves superior to the world, you may limit your horizons. Open your minds, and be willing to try something "lowbrow" or off your beaten paths. It keeps life interesting.

TAURUS + LIBRA (SEPTEMBER 23 - OCTOBER 22) ♥♥♥♥ Your signs are both ruled by Venus, but your disparate elements prevent this from being an ideal match. Taurus is a fixed Earth sign who builds his castle by the sweat of his brow, then lords over its inhabitants. Libra is cardinal Air, a Queen bee who buzzes around, ruling the hive without doing the drone-work. You both want to be in charge, but your clashing leadership styles create a patchwork parliament that can't agree on anything. Taurus is planted on terra firma, and Libra lives in the clouds. Of course, if the Bull is content to be the provider while Libra dresses up and plays charming host, then this can work. You're certainly an attractive pair of aesthetes, and you share high-end tastes in fashion, décor, food and all the Venusian pleasures. Shameless snobbery is a shared affliction, but neither of you cares to be cured. You love to talk about art, literature, politics, everything under the sun—though Taurus may find Libra's values superficial, and moderate Libra will take offense to the Bull's heavy handed opinions. At least your sexual attraction is strong, and that will take you far enough. However, conflict-avoiding Libra will need to build up some backbone to avoid being steamrolled by dominating Taurus. The Bull will need to turn down the volume, and Libra must get better at addressing issues head on, rather than letting them fester.

TAURUS + SCORPIO (OCTOBER 23 - NOVEMBER 21) You're opposite signs who can fall into a real love-hate dynamic, mainly since you both like to run the show. Taurus is the bossy Bull, and Scorpio rules power and control. It's like two mafia kingpins trying to rule the same territory: it works as long as you're loyal, but cross each other and you're getting whacked. Differences can be a turn-on for some signs, but for this pair, they're often a deal breaker. Taurus and Scorpio are both "fixed" signs, gifted at perseverance and holding your ground, terrible at adapting to other people's personalities. This inflexibility can lead to serious power struggles and enmity that burns bright after the relationship ends. If ever a couple needed a prenup, it's you. Better yet, you'll need to be extremely self-aware and conscious of your personal power. If you can avoid arousing the sleeping dragon in each other, there's plenty of rich material here. You both love music, food and sensual delights. You're equally intense about your beliefs and passions, and sex is a lusty, no-holds-barred affair. You'll give each other the attentive listening both of you crave. The Bull's earthy nature can be grounding for watery Scorpio, whose emotions can warp his perspective. Practical Taurus will pull Scorpio out of depressive slumps, and Scorpio will help Taurus look below the surface to see hidden motivations and agendas. You're loyal and protective of each other, so stay off each other's sacred turf and respect your differences.

TAURUS + SAGITTARIUS (NOVEMBER 22 - DECEMBER 21) ♥♥♥♥ This is a curious match that demands adaptation, as you have vastly different temperaments and tastes. You're either wildly attracted to each other or completely repelled, and there's not much middle ground. Taurus is a traditional Earth sign who knows his tastes and sticks to a simple set of beliefs, social circles and experiences. Sagittarius is a wild, adventurous Fire sign whose anything-goes nature invites friends of diverse cultures and backgrounds. The Archer's global embrace can irritate Taurus, who doesn't feel the need to befriend every person he meets, or remain lifelong pals with his exes (though he can certainly rant about them). Jealousy can be an issue on both sides. However, you can make an excellent team if you respect each other's strengths. Taurus is practical and sophisticated, a grounding force that streamlines the Archer's expansive visions. Between the Bull's business acumen and Sag's charisma, you can build an empire—especially with your driven work ethics. You both have a ribald, lusty side to your personalities and misbehaving together can be a blast. With your hot tempers, you can go from zero to sixty fast, and arguments can be explosive. Your peace treaties should always take place at the dinner table. Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, god of the feast; Taurus by Venus, planet of pleasure and love. Gorging your bottomless appetites awakens a primal instinct in you both—you'll be tearing each other's clothes off before the second course.

TAURUS + CAPRICORN (DECEMBER 22 - JANUARY 19) You're fellow Earth signs who really vibe well together. By day, you're both hard-driving workaholics. Taurus is the plodding Bull, Capricorn the sure-footed Mountain Goat. Any business venture you launch together will thrive, and you share a deep respect for tradition, family and long-term security. You're both shrewd financial planners, though your love of earthly pleasures can break the bank, too. Once you punch out and uncork the Sancerre, you morph into a pair of hedonists. Sleeping and lounging are favorite pastimes, and on weekends, a forklift couldn't pry you off the sofa. However, Capricorn is far more self-disciplined than the indulgent Bull. Taurus is ruled by Venus, the goddess of beauty and pleasure; Capricorn by strict Saturn, the cosmic taskmaster. Where Taurus is a megalomaniac forever humming his own praise song, poor Cappy flogs himself for even the slightest misstep. Saturn's repression also gives Cap an eccentric side; he can fall into melancholy or fatalistic spells that confound Taurus. The Goat is always planning for rainy days—and as karma goes, plan for a downpour, and you'll surely get one. Taurus refuses to pack an umbrella, for he can't fathom worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet, nor shown up on the radar. You both have something to teach each other. The Bull is gifted at savoring the present, while nostalgic Capricorn obsesses over the past and the future. Strive to get your timing right.

TAURUS + AQUARIUS (JANUARY 20 - FEBRUARY 18) ♥♥♥♥ Your signs have so little in common, it's hard to make a go of this. Old-fashioned Taurus craves tradition, order and security. Rebel Aquarius is an oddball who lives to defy rules and convention. Taurus is an Earth sign who plants deep roots; Air sign Aquarius is an adventurous nomad who goes wherever the wind blows. While you may start out fascinated by each other, the magic ends faster than you can say "pixie dust." Taurus will quickly offend Aquarius with his heavy-handed opinions and staunch political views. Free-spirited Aquarius will flee from the Bull's possessive grip, which only clenches tighter the more Aquarius flits about. Then there's the matter of your social circles, which rarely overlap. Aquarius habitually befriends the most eccentric people—the corner wino who's solved the string theory, the local fortune teller, his bus driver. While Taurus may humor these characters in passing, all hell breaks loose when Aquarius invites his tribe of wayward souls to spend the weekend, or to sleep on the couch "until they get their act together." Not on Taurus' leather club chair and alpaca throw pillows! You can try to compromise, but you'll only end up short-changing your natural gifts. Aquarius rules the zodiac's eleventh house of friends and society; he's the unofficial mayor wherever he goes, and is meant to spread himself among the people. Homebody Taurus has much more earthbound goals. Neither of you will get the satisfaction you crave unless you work hard to compromise.

TAURUS + PISCES (FEBRUARY 19 - MARCH 20) This is a lovely match of two pleasure-driven sensualists. Taurus is ruled by beauty planet Venus, and Pisces is governed by enchanting Neptune. You both love gourmet food, wine and culture, and you make a creative couple with sophisticated flair. You never run out of things to discuss, whether it's the latest New Yorker piece, art theory, or the obscure band both of you love. In the bedroom, the lusty Bull is happy to enact any fantasy that Pisces' boundless imagination conjures—and there will be many. Domestic bliss is assured, and your fussy decorating styles will match perfectly, much to your snobbish delight. For the long term, you'll need to regulate your energy with each other, or you can lapse into a master-and-servant dynamic. Passive-aggressive Pisces must become more assertive, and forceful Taurus should relax his domineering ways. At times, Pisces' secretive spells can cause fissures in the foundation, arousing suspicion in possessive Taurus. Even if what Pisces is hiding is inconsequential, the act itself destabilizes the relationship. Emotional manipulation infuriates the Bull, who prefers everything above board, and hates to be blindsided. However, Pisces can't always verbalize his complex feelings as quickly as Taurus demands. Too much forcefulness can intimidate the gentle Fish, sending him swimming into unreachable depths.

[hayleyarts]

Broken Without You (Jasper Hale x OC) | chapter 3

Author’s note: I’m not as proud of this part as I should be, but I’m still trying to develop some plot and character dynamics. there’s no warnings for this one, maybe some language, that’s about it. 

Previous part

Summary: Eleanor Rae visits with an old friend and contemplates her overthinking. She thinks that perhaps she simply needs to find her own safe place to calm down when life gets a little too much to handle. 

Word count: 1626

Track 03 - Nobody by Mitski 

It didn’t take long for me to arrive to the old diner downtown; I could probably drive there in my sleep. I was a frequent customer of the family owned establishment because my mom usually worked night shifts meaning I had to fend for myself for dinner. They were nice enough to let me work for a meal – doing odd jobs like dishwashing or taking out the garbage. Luckily for me, they’ve gotten to the point where they feed me for free. 

As I enter the diner, the little bell signals my arrival. Seth looks up from his spot behind the counter with the pot of coffee, greeting me with a smile, “Hey Ellie. You’re early?”

“Yeah you know, no rest for the wicked.” I smile at him. Seth Clearwater is probably the only person I’ve ever considered my friend; which I suppose is a little depressing considering that he’s almost seven years older than me and should clearly be in university instead of working at a restaurant. 

“Should I tell Cecil that you ditched?” He raises a brow quizzically at me.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” I narrow my eyes, sitting at the bar stool across from him. Seth was a lot different compared to everyone else in this town, but different in a good way. I’ve known him forever because his sister used to babysit me when I was younger. This is when my mom first started working the night shifts, and she was desperate to find someone to watch over me for cheap. Leah was more than willing to look after me whenever my mom was working; anything to get away from all her cousins who seemed to drive her crazy. I always got along with Seth, but something happened when he was sixteen; he started acting strange. I tried to ask his parents about it, but they couldn’t really say much to a nine-year-old without confusing them. He was gone all the time, and soon so was Leah; the Clearwater parents taking over the babysitting until I was old enough to look after myself. Finally, after what felt like forever, Seth finally started to spend time with me again, though he was still not the same Seth that I hung out with before. 

Seth started being really interested in my life and actually caring about me. When Maya and I had our falling out, he was the one who comforted me the whole time; threatening to beat the shit out of her friends. I always thought he was kidding, but I think he was being completely serious.

“Did something happen?” He wipes off the counter huffing a loose strand of hair out his face.

I roll my eyes, pulling the extra hair tie off my wrist and handing it to him. He smiles, taking it and quickly pulling his hair up in a ponytail. “Do you consider me a nobody?”

He raises a brow, “No? Who said you were?”

I huff, “Well no one, but it feels like everyone at school treats me like I’m invisible.”

Seth frowns, furrowing his brows, “Well you know how people are when it comes to gossip and not knowing how to move on from things,” He glances down at the counter, his knuckles clenching against the marble countertop, “You’re not a nobody and whatever people say about you is bullshit.”

“You really think people are still talking about the whole thing with my dad?” I rest my forehead down on the counter.

“I hope not, but you know how people are.” He sighs, wiping around where my head is before placing a clean mug down and pouring the black coffee in it. 

“Do you know the Cullen’s?” I glance up at him. His reaction was strange, he blinked and looked away quickly. His brows furrowed slightly before glancing back at me with a small smile. 

“Yeah, they’re family friends, why?”

I shrug, “They’re all dicks and they think they’re top shit because they drive fancy cars and are drop dead gorgeous.” I mumble quickly. 

“Okay, what did they do?” He chuckles, “They’re not all dicks. Maybe just Rosalie.”

I huff, sitting up and sipping the coffee, “They were gossiping and laughing at me at lunch today.”

“Are you sure?” Seth raises a brow, “Did you hear them say anything about you? Did you hear them laughing at you in particular?” I think about his question. I mean, technically no, I didn’t hear them talk about me in particular. They seemed to be just enjoying their lunch break. But if they weren’t talking about me, why did Jasper pay so much attention to me while they were talking? Did he know I was admiring him during history class and then again as they were entering the cafeteria? Did he care? Was that his way of showing how I was making him uncomfortable, by making me uncomfortable? 

“Well, no…” I shrug, glancing up at him. 

“Besides, maybe they just want to get to know you?” He raises a brow, “They’re good people so I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“How are you guys family friends? You’re like a million years older than them.” I furrow my brows.

Seth eyes me for a second, as if he was thinking about a response, “Carlisle and my dad were good friends.” I could tell he was lying, but I also didn’t want to question him about it considering his father passed away when he was seventeen. But there was something about his answer that didn’t sound too genuine. 

“Makes sense.” I nod, looking around the diner. It looked about how you imagine a small restaurant. After Sue bought it and fixed it up, she added some cultural art pieces on the walls of the Quileute tribe, bringing some life into the old building. The tables were completely redone with dark varnish and the seats all replaced. Seth ended up taking over when his mother got sick, trying to keep the restaurant alive. 

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” Seth breaks my thoughts, “Did you have lunch?” 

I sigh softly, “Yeah I ate, don’t worry.” I take another long sip of the coffee before standing and stretching my back, “I’m probably going to go home.”

“Okay, well text if you need anything. I can bring you supper tonight if you need.” Seth smiles that boyish smile that he seemed to never grow out of. 

“I should be okay, but I’ll keep that in mind.” I make my way to the door. 

“Don’t make it a habit to skip Ellie.” 

I roll my eyes, flipping him off as I leave the restaurant, calling out, “Thanks Mom.” I laugh along with his faint chuckling, returning to my worn-down Jeep and hopping inside. I start the engine and pull out of the lot for the restaurant. The drive through town is depressing, the scenery all the same. The buildings all consisting of old brick and wood that has been falling apart for years. It’s when you leave the town’s boundaries, that’s when you’re faced with beauty that is the forests surrounding Forks, Washington. As I drive through the trees, I roll my windows down along with shutting off the radio; wanting to be completely emersed in the sounds of nature. 

As I approach the turn off for my house, I decide last minute to skip it; continuing my drive deeper into the forest. It got to the point where paved road turned to gravel and then the road stopped altogether. I pull over, shut off my Jeep and hop out. While surveying the scenery around me, I notice a few deer off in the distance. I’ve never been this far out in before; usually I take my usual scenic drive home and that was it. Something was telling me to come out here, and I’m not sure why, but I wanted to hike deeper in. I tighten my ponytail and begin my hike on the path between the trees. 

I definitely didn’t have the right choice of shoes for a hike; wearing converse I’ve had for years. I try to take a step over a tree root, almost losing my footing all together. It was nice, however, being able to be alone in silence. While other high schoolers are out partying, I’d rather be here, in the silence of nature. It was freeing being alone. I’ve always wondered if I disappeared in the woods for a few days if anyone would notice. Within town, I’m invisible, but here among the moss-covered trees, I feel important. 

I smile as I approach a clearing in the trees, and I’m met with the most beautiful field of daises. It felt like a completely different world; the sun shining on the greenest grass and butterflies fluttering from flower to flower. This isn’t the rainy world I was used to. I run through the flowers to the middle of the clearing, plopping down on the slightly damp grass. I lay back, watching the clouds float by. 

“Wow…” I mumble to myself as I take a deep breath, relaxing back into the soft grass. This place seemed to radiate in an energy I’ve never experienced. Everything seemed happy and calm and there weren’t any worries. Why was I drawn here? Did the universe know about my stress and anxiety and wanted to calm me down? I’ve always believed everyone has their own place in the world, and I just haven’t found mine yet. Maybe my place is this meadow in the middle of my small rainy world. As I lay in the sunlight, all my worries disappear. There are no ex-friends, no gossiping strangers, and no Cullen’s. It’s just me and the meadow; a nobody in a field of daisies.

[positivlyfocused]

Open relationships: the best path to the one best relationship

The end of my marriage started with my wife wanting an open relationship. It was the best thing that happened in our marriage.

Through her desire for an open relationship, I found the best relationship ever.

Many people going through what I went through feel scared, or insecure or betrayed. I felt eagerness. What did I know that others don't? Something extraordinary was happening.

Feeling fear, insecurity or betrayal, you miss the extraordinary.

I started Positively Focused so people could get what I got: When your partner wants an open relationship and you don't, or vice versa, an extraordinary thing is happening.

Open relationships: either partner may want one

Many years ago, it was me who wanted an open relationship. My wife (now ex-wife) and I were in counseling, doing what many couples do: trying to fix things not needing fixing.

I married her because she needed to be married. I loved her, but that's not why I married her. I didn't want to be married.

She did not like not being married. I'm always the bridesmaid but never the bride, she'd say. Her mother convinced her she'd never get married. Her mother claimed her daughter had unlovable qualities. That's accurate. But ironically, those qualities came from her mother.

I know now everyone chooses their parents. My then wife chose her's and the path we walked together. She didn't know this during our early years together. Neither did I.

Back then I thought "maybe I could help her get over this upbringing by doing the one thing that would show her mother she was wrong." So I gave her what she wanted. A ring and a marriage.

It didn't help. That complaint went away. But other things happening in my wife, and in me, made our relationship....let's call it...typical.

For one, when we met, I was looking for a transgender partner. She was looking for a woman. I am out and proud about my trans-attraction, having created a website, The Transamorous Network. My online dating profile clearly expressed my preference.

She said she knew we were a match regardless.

That's true. We weren't a marriage match. We were a match for other reasons. Reasons driving us both towards our authentic selves.

I see that now. You are on the same path.

Don't think this is unusual. Many things bring couples to the alter. My father, for example, once married a foreigner so she could stay in the US. I know a guy who married a transgender woman for the same reasons. They don't live together. Never have.

A Transamorous Network client of mine, who is himself trans-attracted, knew he was trans-attracted well before marrying his cisgender wife. He married her anyway. He feared telling her the truth because he didn't want to lose her. It's not likely their counseling will fare any better than me and my ex-wife's.

Many people marry while not wanting monogamy. But like my trans-attracted client, many people hide who they are out of insecurity or inauthenticity. Some people not wanting monogamy get married anyway. Marriage will test inauthenticity. My client couldn't handle being inauthentic. So he (seemingly unwittingly) sabotaged his marriage. He hooked up with a trans sex worker who outed him on Facebook.

Your life experience trumps your marriage. It (your life experience) demands your authentic self. It finds ways around your inauthenticity so your authenticity can shine.

That's the purpose of all human relationships: they point us to our authentic selves. They aren't meant to give us love, belonging companionship and security, although some do temporarily. Relationships are processes. They're verbs. Not nouns.

Most believe relationships endure. "Death do us part" go the vows.

But relationships are "until growth do us part". You may ask, growth towards what? Towards greater authenticity.

Some people understand this: relationships reflect who we as individuals are. They do that so we live authentically. Relationships represent physical examples of our inner ideals, concepts and beliefs about ourselves. Those ideals, concepts and beliefs get presented to us through our relationship dynamic, warts and all.

People get bored in their relationships because their relationships have become, as someone I respect says, "like gum you've chewed all the flavor out of." When someone decides it's time for a new piece of gum, relationship-wise, it means they're growing into more of who they are.

Open relationships do what one-on-one relationships do, times 1,000.

One way or another it's going to happen

While in counseling, I wanted my wife and I to explore open relationships together. But I knew back then she wasn't ready. She was far too insecure to give that a try. Later, when she decided she was going to have an open relationship, it was no question whether we'd do it together. She was going to do it. Without me.

I think she justified her decision by first telling me I could sleep with whoever I wanted. I described how that happened here. It was effortless how it happened from my perspective.

But, by the time it happened, I was so far into the spiritual life evidenced by this blog, I wasn't interested.

Instead, the growth that had my wife demand and act on her open relationship desires, flung me further into my relationship with my Inner Being. I haven't looked back. And I regret none of the journey.

The best relationship I could ever want

My Inner Being relationship brings more satisfaction, joy, peace, security and a sense of invulnerability no other relationship can match. What's more, my Inner Being relationship allows a reality, a life experience, in which everything I want comes so easily, it's ridiculous. I write about these experiences in this blog.

This Inner Being relationship enriches me spiritually too. New dimensions I discover about me and life astonish me daily. I can't imagine a human-human relationship matching that.

What's really interesting though is how much love I feel. I feel a total, unconditional love moving through me...for me...from me...from my Inner Being.

I get it now. Through my experience with my wife's desire for an open relationship, I now have the best relationship I could ever want. It's not with another person. It's with me. The inevitability is clear. I got the best life through my wife having sex with other men.

These days, for me, people relationships pale in comparison to the relationship I have with me.

Think about it: what human being can and will give me literally whatever I want? No one!

What relationship with another human can give me the unconditional love I feel from my Inner Being? A wife is not going to do that. A husband won't. It's not another person's job to orchestrate the Universe in ways that bring me what I want. Or to give me unconditional love.

Love I might get from people can't match what I get from my Inner Being. My Inner Being relationship makes being in relationship with another person...well, not as high-falutin' as society makes it.

I know that's because generally, people don't understand love, let alone why we have emotions in the first place. They don't understand unconditional love. Another person will never love you unconditionally.

Why? It's not their job.

A lot of relationships are based on that premise though. That's what relationship failure looks like before a relationship fails – people looking for (unconditional) love in the wrong place: other people.

You get that from yourself. Not others. Getting lasting, inexhaustible love from yourself not only is easy, with results that are immediate, it's also fun. You'd think it magical, if it weren't so eminently logical. It starts with being Positively Focused.

Many people going through what I went through feel scared, insecure, betrayed or some other negative emotion. They don't know something extraordinary can come from what's happening. So they get pain and frustration instead of joy and freedom.

Which is why I started Positively Focused.

When your partner wants an open relationship and you don't, or when you want one and they don't, you've come to a crossroads. What happens next can be extraordinary.

Bonus content:

After writing this I received a question: "But what if I want to keep my marriage?"

The answer is, "That depends on how you think about marriage". You can keep your marriage. But not if you think that means it stays how it was, with the person you're with.

Marriage brings comfort, security, peace, relief from being alone, perhaps, companionship, and sexual satisfaction (for a while). But a person doesn't need "marriage" or a relationship to have these things. In fact, relying on another (through a relationship) to get these things is a sure recipe to sooner or later, lose them.

The best place to get these things is from yourself. When you do, people relationships that come through that connection are far stronger and more satisfying.

Remember, your marriage or any relationship reflects back to you stories you're telling that create the marriage. Fixing your marriage doesn't work if you're oblivious to stories you're telling that create the marriage you have.

If you leave your current relationship or marriage for another, while not doing anything about the stories, you're just going to get more of what you had. Only with a different person. Or a number of different persons. Open relationships don't solve anything. Nothing needs solving.

Stories create reality. Change reality by changing stories you tell about reality. Including the reality that is your marriage.

Want to know more? Write me.

[cozycosmos]

✨Pick-a-Pile Reading: Feminine Energy Communication✨

Hello, friends!

As of very recently I have fallen in love with an oracle deck I purchased called “The Literary Witches Oracle”.

This oracle deck uses powerful females in literary culture (the witches) and their materials/objects to guide the interpreter (me!) to answers or information regarding people and/or situations.

Since it is very much so a “girl power” deck, I decided to do a Pick-a-Card reading based off of WHAT YOUR FEMININE ENERGY IS TRYING TO TELL YOU! This reading consists of ONE witch and TWO materials/objects for clarification.

This reading is meant for guys, gals and non-binary pals- we all have feminine energy that we can tune into in attempt to improve our body, mind and soul!

While I picked these cards through intuition and with love, they may not apply to all of you! Please take away whatever resonates with you. I would love to hear your feedback no matter what!

✨THE CARDS✨

There are six piles. Please pick one; whichever really speaks to you!

Pile 1 (JASPER), Pile 2 (CHRYSOPRASE), Pile 3 (ANGELITE), Pile 4 (SMOKY QUARTZ), Pile 5 (MALACHITE) and Pile 6 (LABRADORITE).

Alrighty, have you picked one? Great! Let’s get down to it.

✨PILE ONE (JASPER)✨

About your Witch:

Sylvia Plath (1932-1963) was a prolific writer of intense, dark-themed poetry. She held a deep anger toward men in her life and focused heavily on death within her writings. She suffered with intense depression and ultimately took her own life.

In Terms of the Cards:

Sylvia Plath is representative of THE DARK. Her sub-categories are LIVING IN THE DARK, INTENSITY and FURY.

The objects pulled for her were APPLE and WILDFLOWERS. An apple is symbolic of THE SENSES, HUNGER and SEX. Wildflowers are symbolic of RENEWAL, ROMANCE and AWAKENING.

✨What your feminine energy wants to tell you:✨

Your feminine energy desires a physical change. Some part of your routine has grown stagnant. Maybe you hadn’t realized, but a lack of passion within your every day has led to life feeling... well? A little dull. Your energy invites you to explore new interests; to seek out new sensations. What makes you anticipate the start of a new day? What sort of activities or objects do you take enjoyment in? It is craving for something new and exciting to open your eyes to what could be a more fulfilled, enriched life both physically and mentally. Essentially, find ways to fall in love with your life!

✨PILE TWO (CHRYSOPRASE)✨

About your Witch:

Forugh Farrokhzad (1935-1967) was a ground-breaking Iranian poet. Her writings centered around nature, sensuality and sexuality. Societal norms condemned her for both her lifestyle and poetry topics.

In Terms of the Cards: Forugh Farrokhzad is representative of REBELLION. Her sub-categories are INDEPENDENCE, BARRIERS and ISOLATION.

The objects pulled for her were CHICKEN and GHOST. Chicken is symbolic for THE CACKLE, ANCIENT PAST and LORE. Ghost is symbolic for MEMORIES, WHAT HAUNTS YOU and UNFINISHED BUSINESS.

✨What your feminine energy wants to tell you:✨

Your feminine energy wants you to realize that there is something from your past that is severely holding you back. This was an event or series of events that affected you deeply, scarring your thoughts and inherently your actions. With this ball-and-chain relationship, you have effectively trapped yourself in a negative feedback loop. Your energy encourages you to break away from these bonds that you have created; healthily work through and let go of the anxiety you hold onto. Accepting your past and moving forward is key; forgive yourself for feeling held back and the doors will open for you. Free yourself!

✨PILE THREE (ANGELITE)✨

About Your Witch:

Angela Carter (1940-1992) was a feminist writer who focused on violence, sex and femininity as a whole. She created mystical fairytales that sometimes contained a bit of a psychosexual twist.

In Terms of the Cards: Angela Carter is representative of IDENTITY. Her subcategories are INVESTIGATING IDENTITY, ROLES and WHO YOU ARE.

The objects pulled for her were KNIFE and PEACOCK. Knife is symbolic of INTENTION, CONFLICT and RESOLUTION. Peacock is symbolic of SPLENDOR, THE DIVINE and CRAVING.

✨What your feminine energy wants to tell you:✨

You seem to have been asking yourself a lot of important questions lately. Perhaps you have recently underwent a big change, such as a new job or school; the ending of a relationship or a shift in dynamic. Your feminine energy detects your stress as you attempt to navigate these new changes and question how you personally fit into them. This is a great time to analyze yourself: who were you then, and how does this change affect you now that you are no longer in that time of your life? Are there aspects of your personality that you love? If you don’t have an immediate answer, explore what makes you “you”. Maybe there are some negative qualities that you have been itching to rid of- now is the time. Give yourself the space to understand who you are- be proud and love yourself! All of these changes are pulling you onto the path you are meant to be on.

✨PILE FOUR (SMOKY QUARTZ)✨

About your Witch:

Mirabai (questionably 1450-1547) was a princess who wrote devout poetry to the god Krishna instead of being a traditional ruler/wife. Harsh feelings rose within the royal family which eventually led to her disappearance.

In terms of the Cards: Mirabai is representative of DEVOTION. Her sub-categories are WORSHIP, PASSION and THE SUBLIME.

The objects pulled for her were BRAID and SKULL. Braid is symbolic of IDENTITY, SURVIVAL and OPINIONS OF OTHERS. Skull is symbolic of TRANSITIONS, REALITY and GRIEF.

✨What your feminine energy wants to tell you:✨

Your feminine energy urges you to stop valuing the opinions of others over your own as frequently as you do. You may have a history of being called “sensitive”, whether personality-wise or over certain issues. You may also have been made to feel small at times due to your beliefs or passions. It is time to speak up for yourself; letting people walk all over you is not very empowering for your feminine energy now, is it? Finally you have the inner-strength to speak up and speak out for what you love and what you believe is right. You are allowed to transition from something small to something big. You are powerful!

✨PILE FIVE (MALACHITE)

About your Witch:

Charlotte Perkins Gilman (1860-1935) was a popular social critic and is most famously known for “The Yellow Wallpaper” which commented on the disgusting “cures” women were prescribed for their ailments. She challenged women’s roles in society her whole career.

In terms of the Cards: Charlotte Perkins Gilman is representative of FREEDOM. Her sub-categories are OPPRESSION, WHAT FREES YOU, and THE SYSTEMS AT WORK.

The objects pulled for her were CAT and LION. Cat is symbolic for THE UNTAMED, SELF-OWNERSHIP and WATCHING. Lion is symbolic for SHINING, MASTERY and STRENGTH.

✨What your feminine energy wants to tell you:✨

Have you been waiting for the perfect opportunity to achieve something great? Have you had an idea that you are passionate about, but you’re not sure how to go about it? Unsure of if it’s the right time to do something you’ve been wanting to do? Your feminine energy wants you to know that the time is now. Whatever it is you’ve been holding off doing (starting a new hobby, working on something that’s difficult either physically/emotionally, kickstarting a business/project) you now have the freedom and the skills to do it. You are the key player in the decision to make your visions a reality-or, to not act on them at all. Perhaps you have felt like you don’t have what it takes to succeed with this idea; your feminine energy says otherwise. Take charge of your dreams! You can attain them.

✨PILE SIX (LABRADORITE)✨

About your Witch:

Eileen Chang (1920-1995) led a troubled youth in China due to drug-addicted parents and a mistreated illness. During her adulthood, she wrote fiction that easily mirrored her life’s woes.

In terms of the Cards: Eileen Chang is representative of FATE. Her sub-categories are OUTSIDE FORCES, EVENTS FALLING INTO PLACE, and ACCEPTANCE.

The objects pulled for her were HOUSE and MILK. House is symbolic of STABILITY, STAGNATION and FAMILY. Milk is symbolic of NOURISHMENT, PARENTS and NOSTALGIA.

✨What your feminine energy wants to tell you:✨

Something in your life is about to click into place. Your feminine energy has been looking out for you, providing feelings of calm and comfort. This maternal energy has pushed you to nurture your thoughts and feelings; to truly listen to yourself when it comes to what you want and need. You’ve noticed a shift in how you feel; a little pep in your step. The universe has been making sure that whatever tools you need are right in front of you. Whatever trials and tribulations you’ve experienced that have halted your successes have been diminished by your determination to make things better for yourself. You feel strong, powerful, independent and confident. If not now, very soon!

✨Thank you guys so much and please let me know if you enjoyed this reading!✨

[awkwardbsd]

dazai pls? :)

No problem! I am always happy to receive asks. This one was a little delayed because I napped during the middle of asking it. This is gonna get a little bit long (the other ones were long, but I never put a line whoops). This one gets into both anime (Dead Apple and otherwise) and manga spoiler territory. You have been warned! 

First impression

I’ll be honest, I almost dropped this series a few times because of Dazai. I found the way that they introduced him was very… nonsensical and almost insensitive. It was definitely not what we would qualify as “politically correct” by today’s standards, and his appearance certainly was off-putting as well with the bandages flapping in the wind. He came off as a good-for-nothing scoundrel who was a little distasteful.

Current Impression

Well, he’s certainly changed! He went from being an irresponsible reckless fool to an irresponsible reckless fool with impeccable (and overpowered) intelligence and a purpose! 

Favourite moment

Odasaku’s death scene and really any moments with Odasaku (pre and post-death). I know that those scenes were much more of a highlight for Odasaku, but it was also a pivotal moment for Dazai’s character. 

Idea for a story

I was just talking about this idea today! It was in response to my BSD Questionnaire (which I’m having a lot of fun reading the answers for)

@dreaming-of-butterflies​ actually brought it up again (hehe)

I’m about to go on a bit of a tangent. Forgive my awful writing. The last fanfiction I wrote was for Peppa Pig meeting Dazai. I wish I was kidding, but yeah, my last fanfic was Peppa Pig facing off against Dazai.

It was early on a Saturday afternoon with the exhausted sun shining over Yokohama just before the curtain call which would call it a day. The Detective Agency was slow but still running when a man knocked on the door. He opened it apprehensively.

“Is there anything we can help you with, sir?” Atsushi asked.

The man stumbled back slightly. His voice croaked and trembled, “My name is Eliot… Thomas Stearns Eliot.” He glanced over at Atsushi as if there was something right next to him.

“Is something wrong?” Atsushi asked. He looked over to his side. There was no one there.

“It’s just that…” he slowly pointed, “there is a man there.”

“Pardon–”

“He is there. He is a tall stern man in a white coat. He keeps mouthing over and over again, ‘You cannot forgive me.’”

Atsushi staggered and lost his balance. His hands were trembling. Why? What was this man saying? The man from the orphanage, the headmaster, was there? He was dead! He was ecstatic about it. Words couldn’t form from his mouth.

“Atsushi? What’s wrong?” Tanizaki asked. 

“I knew he was dead. He’s dead.” Atsushi mumbled under his breath.

The man was frazzled, “My ability… it’s called Until Human Voices Wake Us. It requires me to pass on messages from people who are dead. I must say these things or else something within me will vanish. If I ignore a spirit’s request to make contact, I lose a memory from my past. I want to know how to remove it! That’s why I came here! I want this ability gone! It has ruined too many people. I can’t take it anymore.”

“You!” he pointed to Kyouka who was on the opposite side of the room. “You have two people standing by your side. They look just like you.” He paused, “Your parents… they truly loved you. They are so happy for you. They say they are sorry for not being able to stay by your side. They wanted to protect you… they really wanted to protect you.” The man was now crying a little. “They said that they love you more than anything in the world and that they wish that they could’ve done something different than to spare you the pain of witnessing their deaths. ‘Please forgive us Kyouka. We promise to never leave your side. We will always love you.’”

Dazai walked into the room. The man flinched. The man opened his mouth, “There is a man with reddish brown hair next to you.” Dazai’s eyes opened wide. He had eavesdropped on the conversation, but he didn’t know that Odasaku would be at his side, not at a time like this.

“The man standing next to you… he has five kids, four boys and a girl. He’s smiling. He’s saying, ‘I’m proud of you.’” He was about to say more when Dazai placed his hand on the man’s shoulder nullifying his ability. Dazai looked like he had tears in his eye but not a single one was shed.

Unpopular opinion

I wish Ranpo got more of a spotlight than Dazai for his intelligence and capabilities. Ranpo is the smartest, but they always rely on Dazai to compete and solve all these problems. He’s always the one facing off with Fyodor and giving the exposition on “how we solved this”. I want to see Ranpo doing it because we don’t always get enough of it, and Ranpo is more than an ongoing side plot that plays into the main story. We need our crime-solving sleuth back! Dazai can be smart and he can solve things, but let’s not lose focus on the true #1 detective!

Favourite relationship

I can go on about Dazai and Atsushi, but I think that ones really clear on why their dynamic is so great. This time, I’m going to focus on the Dark Era Trio and Odazai!

I’m going to be copying and pasting a lot of my previous post’s points. [Source] (also, sorry for OP because looking back on it, I completely hijacked their post and I’m really sorry for that)

Dazai still lives in the same body and soul that he did when he was in the Mafia. Despite moving from the Port Mafia to the ADA, he couldn’t pull the complete 180 on himself. He still lives in a shadow of his previous actions, and that’s why he truly doesn’t believe he’s a good person.

Odasaku saw that good in Dazai even during his darkest moments. If he didn’t believe in Dazai, he wouldn’t have told him to be on the side that saves people. Odasaku saw Dazai beyond his depression, suicidal urges, and the suffering he’s been through. He trusted him to carry on the legacy he left behind.

Dazai still can’t completely get over the death of his best friend. Look at the first set of screenshots.

Dazai: “Does it look like I’m visiting a grave to you?”Atsushi: “It does. [Why?]”

That look on his face is shock. He is still shaken. He still hangs and loiters by Odasaku’s grave as if he’s still alive. It’s not like he’s expecting him to get up, but he acts like he’s still existing.

Dazai, to me, is one of those people that would buy a crab and a plate of curry. He would place the curry on the gravestone of Odasaku. He eats some of the crab he brought for himself. He brings some alcohol. He talks to him all night and says all that has happened. He talks about the agency, Atsushi, Kunikida, and he talks about how he misses the trio. He admits he didn’t know what Ango has been up to.

Just look at this Wan! cover

Ango himself isn’t over the death either. Ango is the one who covered for the both of them so that Dazai would be able to leave the Mafia.

“I made use of it only once. Four years ago… so that Dazai-kun could live outside the Mafia. I erased his past sins.”“Why did you get your hands dirty only once?”“For a friend who is no longer here. To repent, at least minimally, for my sins to him.”

[Quote Source]

That’s why they’re my favourites!

Favourite headcanon

As previously mentioned, Dazai sits by Oda’s grave and has a meal.

Another mini-excursion because I feel like it. Again, forgive my awful writing because I really can’t write (probably because I don’t read).

“Yo Odasaku!” Dazai leaned against the grave of Sakunosuke Oda. He placed a plate of curry on the opposite side of the grave. Dazai tore open the shell of a crab and began eating it. Two glasses of alcohol were placed.

“Be on the side that saves people,” Dazai mumbled. “You know, the Detective Agency is a lot better than the Mafia! There are all kinds of fun people, and best of all, I don’t have to deal with that asshat Chuuya! You know, I got to blow up his car before I left. Thank goodness for Ango.” He paused and took a bite and a swig. “Speaking of Ango, I still really miss us. Lupin just isn’t the same without you. I haven’t talked to Ango in ages either… the guy works for the government now too.” He sighed then smiled, “But yeah, the Detective Agency is great! Chuuya isn’t there, Ranpo is the world’s greatest detective, I get to mess with Kunikida, Shachou is so cool, Yosano used to be in the Mafia but managed to escape, and Atsushi… you would love Atsushi! He’s so naive and difficult, he cries so often, but his heart… it reminds me of yours.”

[one-who-reads-too-much]

home with the hollands

a/n- y’all my writing is all fluff, i need some angst. this got a lot longer than i thought it would. i didnt want it to be cliché i failed . feedback is always appreciated of course. 

Word count- 2.1k 

Warnings- fluff !! 

Request- Could you do one where tom takes the reader home to meet the rest of the fam maybe love yoyr work <3

enjoy!!

Your hands shook as you gaped out the window. London was beautiful. But it’s allure was overshadowed by the impending doom. Perhaps you were being dramatic, except, meeting your boyfriend of six months parents seemed like an acceptable reason to get a bit tense. Never mind that your boyfriend was Tom Holland, and his whole family could be considered famous. Oh, and the fact that he had probably brought home countless attractive and famous girls. Girls you couldn’t hold a candle to. Forget about it. You were panicking.

Tom, observing your distress reached out, gathering your hands in his own, grounding you. “They’ll love you. I promise,” In return you smiled weakly.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, remember when I met your parents?” he chuckled in attempt to lighten your anxiety.  “Oh god, I remember. Trust me. But they called me yesterday to say they loved you, despite you breaking my mom’s oldest china.” You replied, giggling as he groaned and buried his face in his hands.

As you pulled up to the Holland’s charming house, Tom leaned over to help you unbuckle, and exit the car. “Don’t worry, I think I’ve chatted you up enough. There’s no way they won’t adore you. My mom already talks about you like she knows you’ll be the daughter she never had.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “And remember that I love you, and I’m so glad you agreed to do this.”

Then you had grabbed your luggage, paid the taxi, and you were standing in front of the door. It swung open, and you and Tom took a stride into the foyer, hand-in-hand.

Immediately Tom was tackled by two gangly boys. They must have been Sam and Harry. You had basically met them. Tom FaceTimed them once a week and you had joined in more than once. Once the reunited brothers had extracted themselves from their pile, they immediately turned to you.

“Ay, you brought Y/N!” Harry grinned. “Hi! Wow you’re a lot shorter in person,” you smirked in return. Harry gasped in fake offense.

Next, you twisted to greet Sam. “Hey Sam!” He returned the hello, “We finally get to meet the famous Y/N Y/L/N.” He presented you a bouquet of daisies, bright and colorful, rivaling the dreary weather outside. “Here’s a welcoming present.” Your heart swelled at this considerate gesture. “These are my favorite! Thank you so much!” you exclaimed.

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl,” Harry winked, Sam shook his head in exasperation, while Tom pulled you against his side. “Stop trying to steal my girlfriend,” he play-growled, nuzzling his face into your hair. “She’s mine.”

You pushed away. “I belong to no man,” you giggled in mock-indignation. The boys’ “oohs,” were interrupted by a clattering from another room.

“Tom? Is that you?” A woman’s voice rang out.  The speaker quickly bustled into the room. A slim woman with fiery orange hair quickly enveloped Tom into her embrace. “Hi, mom!” She pulled away and did a double take, giving you a once over. “Y/N,” her smile melted off her face. Before you could respond, or even give her the bouquet you had bought for her, she was back in the kitchen. You glanced up at Tom to gauge whether he had picked up on the slight hostility his mom expressed. He was oblivious, smiling down at you.

You caught a glimpse of a small boy, with a spattering of freckles. When your eyes met he started to shrink back into the shadows. “You must be Paddy! I’ve heard so much about you!” you exclaimed, walking forward to greet the youngest Holland. “I brought you something!” You pulled a pack of football cards from your back pocket. “Tom said you’d like these,” He nodded and thanked you enthusiastically.

Dom shuffled around the corner to aide you with your bags. “Ah, Y/N, we’ve heard so much about you. You’re all Tom talks about. Jeez, what did you pack? Bricks?” he chuckled good naturedly as he hauled them up the stairs. You liked him immediately. As he showed you to your room, Tom trailing behind, he cracked countless jokes, easing the tension from earlier.

The minute Dom closed the door after jokingly laying down the law of “no monkey business, yeah?” you flopped down on the bed, taking in the room. The room Tom had grown up in. There was nothing special about it, yet you found it endearing. Spiderman action figures lined his desk (what a dork) ; posters from old bands covered the walls; framed photographs of his family, friends and co-stars were placed on a shelf above his bed. As you looked closer, you saw that pictures of you took up the majority of the limited space. The one in the center you remembered like it was yesterday: it was just a few months after Tom had confessed his feelings for you, you were on a beach in LA where you had visited for his birthday. You were laughing, head thrown back onto Tom’s shoulder, his arm was encircling your waist and he was staring at you with so much adoration, you could practically feel the heat.

You were drawn back to the present day as Tom flopped down next to you. You turned onto your side to look at him. “I don’t think your mom likes me,” you stated matter-of-factly.

“What?!” he pushed himself up onto one elbow. “Why would you say that?”

“She just didn’t seem happy to see me,” you realized you sounded paranoid, but you couldn’t help it. “Sorry, I sound stupid right now, it’s just my anxiety and-” he cut you off by wrapping you in his arms. “I know, I know. She’s just a little slow with new people. She’ll love you,” he coaxed, “Though not as much as I love you. That’s impossible,” You laughed, cheeks turing rosy.

“I’m going to go see if she needs help with anything.” you withdrew from Tom’s arms, suddenly very cold. Before you exited, you looked back at your boyfriend, sprawled out on his childhood bed, fingers tapping furiously on his phone, eyes scrunched, his lip was between his teeth. You would go through anything, even suffer through awkward family dinners, for him, you realized as your heart swelled.

As you padded downstairs, you heard muffled voices from the kitchen. You hesitated outside the doorway, not quite eavesdropping, but still hearing quiet sniffling. Peering around the corner, you saw Nicola perched on a stool, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. You meant to make a stealthy retreat from the all-too-private scene and return later, but of course you had to catch your foot on the rug, twisting in a full circle in attempt to catch yourself, only resulting in you crashing full force onto the tile floor of the Holland’s kitchen.

Nicola gave a start, “Y/N! Are you ok?” You smiled sheepishly up at her. “Yeah, I’m all good thanks, I just thought I’d make a dramatic entrance, y’know?” you replied, standing up and brushing yourself off. Instead of acknowledging your feeble attempt at a joke, she turned away, her shoulders still shuddering.

Your humor disappeared in a flash as you placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright? Anything you’d like to talk about?” What were you supposed to do in these types of situations? She let out a sob,

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s just this is the day my mother died a few years ago and it’s a bit hard for me. And I don’t know, you just reminded me so much of her. She was beautiful and witty just like you. It’s just never a good day for me.”

You were taken aback. Not really knowing what to do otherwise you gathered her into a hug. “I’m honored to be associated with someone like your mother,” you consoled, “I bet she’d be proud of you.” She responded with a watery smile.

“Thank you Y/N, that means more than you know,” she paused, then snapped into action. “Now, let's get started on some dinner!” she clapped, her previous grief disappearing.

You glimpsed Tom, who had observed the exchange. He was leaning against the doorway, a faint smile tracing his lips, his copper eyes shining warmly. When you caught his gaze you beamed, and spun back to face Nicola, who was calling in her boys to help her. Before the stampede arrived, she whispered in your ear, “If things work out the way I think they will, I would be ecstatic to have you as my daughter.” You blushed as she winked.

Cooking dinner, all crammed into one kitchen was hectic, to say the least. Tom snuck as many kisses as possible, and the twins tried to start a food fight by sprinkling flour all in your hair, to which you and Paddy teamed up on them and chased them out the kitchen by shoving ice cubes down their shirts. You took instruction from Nicola, who had since not stopped smiling, joining in on the antics. Finally you all emerged from the kitchen with a meal fit to be on Food Network, covered in flour, and in the twins’ cases, sopping wet and shivering.  

The whole family collected around the table and you all immediately dug in. At first the conversation was mundane and you were content to just observe the dynamics of the family, Tom rubbing small circles on your back occasionally, his own way of checking in with you.

Dom suddenly shifted his attention to you, “So Y/N, tell me about yourself,” your anxiety started to spike, and you looked back at Tom, who nodded expectantly.  So you started to talk animatley about your passion, you could feel your eyes lighting up, and your hands starting to wave around. You realized you were rambling so you started to fade off, but looking around at the family who were all listening intently, more so than anyone you had ever opened up to, you continued.

The rest of dinner, the Hollands took turn asking you about your life, and your’s and Tom’s relationship. You found yourself loosening up, and truly feeling at home amongst the repartee.

During dinner, Paddy had been griping about an English project, which happened to be your forté, so you coached him through it after the table was cleared. With your aide, you finished quickly and you went to find Tom.

Once again you found yourself hidden in the shadows outside the kitchen doorway when you heard your name being mentioned. Tom and Nicola stood side-by-side at the sink, elbow deep in soapy water. “So, what do you think of Y/N?” Tom asked tentatively, “Because, mom, I think she’s the one. I’ve never been happier. I just have this feeling, like she’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with,”

“Oh, Tom, that’s wonderful! I think you two are perfect for each other. I really love her,” Nicola turned towards her son.

“Okay good, because, well, look,” Tom stuttered, pulling out a petite navy blue box. You had to check yourself as you let out a muted gasp. Thankfully, Nicola reacted the same way, jumping up and down like a child.

“Tom! You’re getting married!” She squealed, to which Tom quickly shushed her.

“Mom! She hasn’t even said yes yet,”

“Oh, but she will,” she responded slyly, “Now what’s your plan?”

You slipped away before they could continue. You didn’t want to spoil the moment for both you and Tom. The minute you got to Tom’s room, you spun in a circle, overtook with adrenaline. He hadn’t even asked you, and you couldn’t stop beaming. A knock at the door interrupted your private celebration. It was Tom.

“Hey, love,” he laughed, closing the door behind him, “Whatcha doing?” You turned bright red, “Oh, nothing,”

“How are you doing? What with meeting them, and-” you cut him off, with a kiss, suddenly very affectionate. “I freaking love your family,” He chuckled, “Good, I’m glad. Told you they’d adore you.”

Harry abruptly barged into the room, with Sam trailing behind, apologizing for his brother’s brashness. “You love birds wanna watch a movie?”

And so you found yourself wrapped in a blanket with Tom, his ratty sweatshirt keeping you warm, watching an old horror movie. Paddy sat next to you, and you exchanged sarcastic comments. Harry would throw popcorn at you two every once and awhile to shut you up. As the movie progressed, you found yourself dozing off against Tom’s chest, he soothingly wound your hair around his fingers.

In the fine line between dreams and reality, you glanced around. Though you had met them only today, you felt… safe... home, with the Hollands. Like you were already part of their family. And weeks later, it would be official.