#you have to think and observe and experience outside of the box

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. gif | AO3 | fanfic directory

Homelander was born with only one terrible poverty: loneliness. He's been starved of love his entire life, made sick by his hunger for it, but he believes you might have the cure. If you want to survive, you'll find a way to give it to him.

Homelander has never been able to understand people who bird watch. Of all the things a mundane person could do with their abysmally mediocre life, why devote what little free time they have to observing a creature even more dull than they themselves are?

Perhaps it's the gift of flight. By far, it is the ability of his that garners the most attention. Or maybe it's the power trip one experiences when observing something simpler and weaker than yourself for sport. The novelty of becoming endeared by their strange little behaviors and quirks. It's this line of thinking that eventually walks Homelander down the path of people watching. During his downtime, in the quiet moments he spends perched atop skyscrapers and apartment complexes, he finds himself watching the people miles below him scurry about like insects through a colony.

Over time, he begins to recognize regulars. People moving back and forth, day in and day out, no different than ants moving grains back and forth. He has to laugh. It's no wonder god abandoned man. Man is fucking boring.

Even the god they made for themselves thinks so.

To ease the monotony, he concocts little stories for the ones he recognizes. He imagines the kinds of lives they live outside of their commutes and the routines he observes. He names one of them Peter, and every day he invents a new reason Peter is yet again running late for his train. Because he's always late, Peter never stops for the woman selling street meat on the corner across from the station.

Homelander imagines that the meat she peddles is people, and that she's got her eye on that speedy little rabbit, Peter.

And then one day, he notices you.

It isn’t that you’re especially beautiful or noteworthy. Just like all the other busy little bees, you go about your same routine each and every day of the week. Sometimes you're in a rush, other times you enjoy your stroll. Regardless, you always find time to stop and give money to the same homeless man occupying one of the few alleyways protected by an awning. Sometimes you linger to chat, other times you can only stop long enough to drop something into his hands.

It isn't always money. Oftentimes you have food for him packed neatly into a little take-out box. Despite the packaging, it looks homemade. You always have a warm smile for him, even when you’re obviously frazzled.

To the rest of the world, this man may as well be fucking invisible, but here you are handing him a box of home cooked food like he's someone who matters. Homelander is the world's greatest hero, and yet some bum on the street is being fed with more love and attention to detail than he ever has.

It's a goddamn joke. More and more, it becomes apparent to him that you’re pathetically lonely. After a few days of observing you amongst the others, he starts trailing you more actively, forgetting all about Peter and his eventual butcher.

He wants to know more about you.

You live alone, working and cooking for only yourself and your stray pet. Sometimes you cook for your coworkers or the odd friend who stops by before leaving you alone all over again. He watches from a distance while you toil away, cooking more food than you’ll eat in a week for people you see for a fraction of each of your weekdays. It couldn’t be more obvious that you’re desperate for someone to take care of.

In a way, he can relate. 

Maeve has been more distant than ever, choosing to engage him only when there’s a camera present. When it’s only the two of them, she just drinks until he barely recognizes her. Madelyn has begun her “fertility journey,” words that set his teeth on edge, and has barely had a real moment to spare him as of late. The rest of his team doesn’t help abate his loneliness either; Marathon is a washed up hack who can barely sprint these days, Lamplighter is only ever interested in clubbing, the Deep couldn’t hold a conversation in a bucket, and Noir is a mute.

And so he soothes his solitude with thoughts of you. When he isn’t with you, he daydreams about it, imagining what life would look like if your worlds were to intersect. The more he learns about you, the more vivid his fantasies become, and the more intensely he aches when he still finds himself alone in his bed at the end of each night.

It spurs him to visit you more and more.

One particularly warm summer night, you leave your window wide open. He takes it for the invitation it is, drifting towards it under the cover of dark. Your screen is loose and pops out noiselessly. Not exactly safe, even if you do live on the fifth storey.

You just never know what might come lurking out of the shadows.

Slipping into your living room, he’s met with the sound of white noise playing from your bedroom. Is it the sound of the streets below that bother you? You’d never hear it from his penthouse a hundred feet in the air. You could leave the windows open all you like and hear only the roar of the sky, not unlike the ocean waves your phone is poorly mimicking.

He could take you to the actual ocean. A beach house far away from the buzzing neon lights and incessant honking and revving of traffic. Walking through your apartment, he makes his way to your tiny kitchen. The one in his penthouse puts yours to absolute shame, and yet the only thing in it that’s ever been used is the fridge. He’s certain he’s never opened the double oven or so much as turned on the gas range. Meanwhile, your kitchen is riddled with use, each cupboard stuffed with mismatched cookware and the like. It smells of grease and spices and love.

The sad irony of it is almost too much to stomach. You don’t belong in this cramped little sardine can. You should be in a proper kitchen. 

You should be cooking for him. The thought comes to him like a flash of genius. Of course. That’s the answer that will solve both of your little dilemmas. If he is a bird watcher then you’re a songbird snared in a net. It would be inhumane of him to leave you to die before you’re ever appreciated–ever seen–by anyone who matters.

You would worship him for rescuing you. His wealth and power would see each and every one of your material needs met with ease. You would never work for anything again. All you would ever have to concern yourself with was being loved and loving him.

He walks to your room with a hand pressed absently over his heart, cradling the anxious little bundle of nerves that have gathered there. He can tell by your breathing that you’re deep asleep, and yet he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he approaches.

His first time being so near to you after weeks of simply observing.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he steps towards you. The sound of him is masked by the ambient noise spilling from your phone, not to mention the fan you have pointed directly at your bed in a desperate attempt to save yourself from the summer heat.

You clearly weren’t built for this paltry life. Mary was no one before God chose her for greatness. Is that not what he’s about to do for you? It’s the will of a god that elevates you.

He kneels by your bedside, bringing himself face to face with you. Your breathing is even, each huff smelling faintly of mint. Your lips look soft, slightly parted in sleep. Everything about you is gentler, more relaxed than you ever are in the day to day grind of your life.

You could look like this all the time without it. He has the power to change your entire life with nothing more than a couple of numbers shifting from one space to another. Money has always been inconsequential to him, so abundant that it hardly means anything anymore. You, however, are ruled by it.

For the first time in his life, he recognizes the power in his wealth.

He brushes the tips of his gloved fingers along your cheek, down your jaw. He’s never used his hands so tenderly as when he traces your sleeping eyelids with his fingertips, imagining what dreams chase behind them and make them flutter.

You don’t stir. 

Emboldened, he follows the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, imagining how soft you would feel against the bare pad of his finger. Leaning in closer, he indulges in the warmth of your breath tickling his lips. You’re a sound sleeper, the thud of your resting heart beating steadily in his ear.

Closing his eyes, he bridges the distance between your lips, pressing his own lightly to yours. For a second, he thinks he’s woken you, that you’ve caught sight of him and your heart is drumming loudly in his ears. He draws sharply back, but sees that you’re still deep asleep, your features peaceful.

It’s his heart that’s racing, a thundering sound that blocks out every other noise in the room. He’s breathing shallowly, excited in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. There’s a flush crawling up his throat, and it’s at that moment he breaks out into a wide, wondrous smile.

There’s no question of it now.

He has to have you.

The plan to acquire you ends up requiring very little setup. If Madelyn cares why Homelander’s suddenly spending so much, she’s yet to make a comment. 

Bitterly, he thinks it likely that she’s glad to see him distracted. 

He starts preparation by appropriately stocking his kitchen; you’ll appreciate the supply of ingredients, he knows. The quality of what he obtains for you is leagues above what you can afford, as is the cookware. He buys you new clothes, jewelry, imagining every step of the way how you’ll look in each piece. How you’ll look as he takes them off. He’s seeking to upgrade your life in every conceivable way, like bringing a cat home from the pound and teaching it the meaning of luxury.

You’ll want for nothing. You’ll be so grateful to him. And you, the sweet and perfect little thing that you are, make yourself painfully easy to ensnare. You come home under the cover of dark like clockwork, perfectly oblivious to his approach. You’ve just managed to fish your keys out of your bag when his hand closes a kerchief over your mouth and nose, stifling your cry. His other arm slips around your waist, holding you steady. The cloth smells overly sweet, ether-like, and though that scent has no effect on him, you respond to it almost immediately.  “Shhhhshhshh,” he soothes, letting the anesthesia do its job. Fuck, you feel good in his arms, back held tight to his chest, your delicate hands prying at his wrist as you kick, claw and scream–albeit muffled–into the cloth. He holds you with ease, keeping you close to his body, angling you in such a way that you won’t hurt yourself.

Despite your tenacity, you fight a losing battle. Your efforts grow weaker and weaker as you lose your grip on consciousness. He hushes you all the while, encouraging you. “That’s it, let it go. I’ve got you, I’ve got you...” Finally your head falls back against his shoulder, your face lolling into the crook of his neck, the rest of your body falling slack in his arms. He pulls the cloth away from your mouth, tucking it into your bag for now. He turns his head to yours, lips barely ghosting along your forehead. He takes in a deep breath of you, his eyes falling shut. Beneath the sickly sweet smell of the chemical mixture he knocked you out with, he can smell the remnants of your perfume. It’s not his favorite fragrance, but the underlying warm scent of you is intoxicating. He’ll collect whatever belongings you decide you want with you when he returns, if anything, but he doubts you’ll miss much. Your stuff will seem like a heap of rags and garbage by comparison. He’s looking forward to how the perfumes and lotions he’s bought you will smell on your skin, and how you’ll look in the clothing he’s picked for you. He adjusts you into a bridal carry in his arms and gently kicks off from the ground, holding you firm to his chest. The city is beautiful at night, a landscape of stars mirroring that of the sky above it. He’s always loved it here, and yet he’s shared it with a painful few.

Madelyn never lets him take her to the skies. Maeve had been wowed initially, but she had quickly grown disillusioned with it. With him.

You’ll be different. The trip back to his penthouse feels agonizingly slow, but he maintains a lesser pace to keep the wind from rashing your skin, savoring the featherlight weight of you in his arms at last. He lands deftly on his balcony, stepping through his open reinforced glass doors. After laying you down in his bed, he takes a moment to slip off your shoes, setting them aside. He eases your purse off of your shoulder, and places it on the nightstand. After sprawling a thin blanket over you, he takes a step back and puts his hands on his hips to admire the perfectly domestic scene he’s set.

Slowly, he breaks out into a smile. His bed swallows you up, makes you look small and lonely. He’s the missing piece, of course. He’s already looking forward to seeing himself complete the picture in the mirror above you. He imagines coming home to you like this, curled up in his–no, your shared bed, blanket pulled up over your shoulders to block the chill left by his absence.

Oh, how you’ll miss him when he’s gone.

You’ll have nothing and no one to concern yourself with except for him. No burdens, no dread, no stress. You’ll live in peace and security the likes of which you can scarcely imagine, spoiled rotten by the bounty of all that he is.

Neither of you will ever be lonely again.

Tilting his head slightly, he listens to the sound of you. Your breathing is shallow, the beat of your heart steady. Normal people don’t realize it, don’t have the capacity for it, but a heartbeat is as distinct as a fingerprint. Over the years, he’s learned to read them as such. He’s memorized yours. There isn’t much for him to do in the time that you’re asleep. He knows precisely how long you’ll be out; the anesthesia blend he gave you was straight out of Vought’s lab, and the dose he gave you leaves him with at least an hour before the two of you meet properly. The anticipation is enough to make him giddy. For all that Homelander knows about you, there is plenty he does not. The externals of your life have only provided him so much, but that will come in time. He didn’t bother with perusing your social media accounts, not being particularly proficient in them himself. 

Besides, he wants getting to know you to be an organic experience.

He remembers to take your phone out of your bag and dispose of that rag he used to dose you while he’s at it. He unlocks your phone the way he’s seen you do a dozen times before, and spends some time ensuring that no one will be expecting you anywhere any time soon. All it takes is one quick email and you no longer have a job. A few social media posts later, you’ve informed anyone who might think of you that you’ll be enjoying an impromptu sabbatical in Europe.

The power of technology. After that, he pops your phone into the safe behind one of the dozens of portraits on his wall.

When he hears you starting to stir, renewed butterflies start fluttering about in his stomach. You have no idea that your entire life–no, your entire perception of reality–is about to change. No more dodgy commutes, no more living paycheck-to-paycheck. You’ll be free to admire the world from the lap of luxury–his lap, to be specific. You make a quiet moan, the chemical fog wearing off gradually. He moves swiftly to your bedside, primed with a welcoming smile, hands on his hips. “Riiiise and shine, sleepyhead,” he coaxes, leaning forward at the waist. Still disoriented from the drugs in your system, you stare at him as if you’re dreaming. He doesn’t blame you. In almost every other reality, there’s no explanation for the fact you’re seeing America’s favorite hero, the Homelander, standing above you. He knows the side effects of the drug have left a strange buzzing in your ears, and that your tongue likely feels heavy and cottony. He’s already got water for you on the bedside table. “Home…lander?” You manage to get out. His smile broadens. That’s the first time he’s heard you say his name. You look cute like this, bleary-eyed and needy. He’s grown accustomed to seeing you as a put together provider, self-sufficient and tending to the needs of those around you, but rarely your own. Seeing you unraveled feels like a secret intimacy for him alone. “The one and only,” he preens. Now that you’ve seen him posed valiantly by your side, he takes a seat on the bed next to you, reaching out to brush his gloved knuckles along your forehead. He attributes the slight flinch to your drug addled confusion. Poor thing. If he’d had an alternative to using a sedative, he would have preferred that.

Not that it matters now. You’re finally here.

( chapter two )

[meathunt]

Little angel

I have been fighting my demons here for a second and i finally finished this lil thing, i have more things still cooking so look out for them, hopefully soon ^^u This was kinda inspired by a reddit story ngl

-----------.* ✶  ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗  ✶ *.-----------

You sat down on the grass after finishing moving some boxes for the residents of this little community you were in.

You were in an activity for extra credits for your vet degree. Your professor, Mr. Smith, gave the opportunity to your class to accompany him to a community out in a rural area, very out of the way if you say so yourself a little bit hidden, but you also haven't been near these areas before so maybe this was normal.

You guys were supposed to help out in the community with the farm animals and check if they were in good living conditions. The activity was set for two and a half weeks and you expected it to be all.

But the animals were in great shape, even if the place was a bit technology lacking, they were great structures and machinery fitting for a comfortable life for the animals. So you guys finished the hands on experience pretty early on the trip.

Some of your classmates were now taking this time as a vacation, others were seeking ways of trying to go home early, you and a couple of the others decided to make the best of this time and try to help out were you could. It was better than nothing and you wanted to give back to the community for taking great care of your group.

It felt great to be able to give back some of the kindness they have showed you. But there was a thing that was kind of bothering you, they were fairly polite, even friendly with the ones that helped out, but there was this constant feeling of being an outsider, like they all were in secret you didn't know about. This feeling of being observed constantly was feeling more of a reality.

The feeling got worst almost at the middle of your stay here, after you played with some of the kids, looking after them to give some of the people you were helping out that day some time to finish their tasks and get some rest.

It was fun for you actually, no longer having time to just play around with all your new responsibilities. The kids actually got very attached to you quite quickly, having someone new that have them cool facts and played with them when they asked was a treat for them. After a whole afternoon of that the kids were spent and after having dinner, and a story from you, they just went to sleep.

The parents thanked you profusely for the help, and you talked a bit into the night. After that the community as a whole seemed to treat you in a kinder way, even more than the others that also helped out, looking for you when they need help in small things, gifting you special treats and just chatting with you. But also they seemed to get you away from “dangerous” jobs, when something was too exhausting or too complex they will seek out some of your classmates and if you happen to be accompanying them the residents will somehow find a way to get you out of the group and doing some simpler task.

It felt weird, but you didn’t think they were doing it in bad faith, maybe they were worried the children will tail you? After all, sometimes the kids follow you around like little ducklings, a cute habit of them on your opinion, so you tried to not look to deep into it.

On the final days of your stay the residents really got used to babying you, in your opinion, someone always was asking if you had eaten something, giving you snacks and someone always had to be with you on the day. You thought it was a bit flattering in a way, about how comfortable they were with you, but also it seemed a bit strange that after all this time they didn’t seem to have half of this consideration with your other classmates. It was even a bit of a joke with some of your friends that you just got adopted by these people.

But sometimes you cached shushed conversations that stopped as soon as you got close, and even when they were taking care of you it didn’t feel exactly like a parent with a child, sure they were babying you, but it felt more like some kind of reverence? Afraid to make you tired or get hurt, but not being able to tell you no. You could have sworn that once you heard someone referring to you as a “holy child” but when you prodded about it they deflected and distracted you from asking again.

The day when your group was schedule you to leave you could sense that everyone was kind of on edge, the residents had this air of sadness and worry about them, you thought it was your idea when one of your friends also pointed that out. Before you all left they gave you all some gifts as a thanks for all the help, but you not only received slightly more than everyone else, you were also gifted a bracelet, it was very cute with a very modern design if you said so yourself, a bit strange considering that they wouldn’t have a place to get something like it out here, but you didn’t have any time to really ask because after the goodbyes you were immediately told to get in the bus.

Your professor had stayed out talking with them when you all were inside, he was talking with someone you couldn’t see very well, it seemed they were comfortable with each other, and at the end they shook hands like finishing some type of deal, when he got back he acted like nothing happened, just telling you all that he will give you reports and grades for the extra credits at the start of the new semester, the trip back going in complete calm as you played with your new bracelet.

You unpacked the last of your belongings in your new adult apartment, you found this really good place when you were hunting down cheap places for uni, at first you were planning to live with some roommates to save on costs, but then you found this extremely good deal for the apartment, something about experimental technology for ease of life, they were looking for someone that would just live a normal day to day and help them get some data to perfect it. Sure the conditions for living here were a bit harsh, just one person per apartment, or certified partners/families, the visiting privileges were a pain, having to disclose in advance if you would have visitors, no pets allowed, and a ton of other things.

BUT rent was very affordable, they had cleaning and laundry services, it was actually very close to a bus stop if you needed to go somewhere, and the neighbors were pretty calm and friendly, at least the couple right beside you were.

They were an older couple, Alexander and Nevan you learned after multiple lunch and dinners you have ended up having with them. Alexander was a business man from what you knew as when you tried to learn more about his career he always deflected telling you it was too boring of a subject for a kid like you, he was a bit intimidating having a natural no-nonsense face, you always felt a bit shy around him, his attention making you feel a bit small and nervous, but somehow he also made you crave his small smiles and words of encouragement. His partner, Nevan was his complete opposite, a warm welcoming smile adorning his face almost at all times you have encountered him, he had a warm calming voice, always there with a listening ear and words of advice when you needed it, Nevan just had an energy that compelled you to trust him and smile wildly when he praised you.

They were pretty nice to you, helping you figuring out some stuff, and dealing with problems, after some time Nevan invited you to have dinner with them when you had free time, and more times than not you would accept, you tried to help make dinner once, but when you tried to arrive early dinner was already on the table, but you could have sworn it would have taken longer to make, not trying to be ungrateful you didn’t bring it up, but you never saw them cooking if it was not to make tea or maybe a snack for you.

And that’s how most of your free time was spent as all the students were overwhelmed with projects and assignments, so having those slow nights talking with your neighbors felt pretty great. But as soon as you started to go out with friends things started to become more tense with them.

They weren’t really happy with you started to deny their invitations for dinner so you could go out with others, if you spent more than 5 minutes after 7 out they were messaging you and asking where were you, why are you late, and god forbid they catch the smell of alcohol when you were back, earning you a lecture about safety and how alcohol is bad for you, even if they did drink and you have seen them doing so, when you pointed that out they told you that children shouldn’t be doing it, ignoring that technically you already are an adult.

A notice suddenly went around from the administrators of the building about some safety concerns and that they would be a bit harder on times for some months, so now you all had a curfew on when to enter the apartment, you almost had to run from the classroom to reach the bus stop to reach your building before the curfew and to avoid the penalty of arriving late, after a few times of this, and whining about it to your neighbors, Alexander told you he could pick you up after class, but that you will need to be on time because he likes to avoid the traffic. You were grateful about not having to sprint home so you said yes.

Thanks to that you ended up having even less time to hang out with friends, and even in weekends you felt too bad saying no to them when they told you they wanted to invite you over to hang out or when Nevan asked you to accompany him to do groceries, and at the end you fell in this routine of coming after class to have dinner with them, Nevan giving you a packed lunch to take to uni and on the days that you felt a bit lazy or overslept Alex dropped you off, to then everyday pick you up and repeating the process.

Your friends and classmates started to ask if they were your parents, and even when you said no, they started to think you felt just ashamed of still being taken care of by your dads. You felt a little bit trapped, but that was overshadowed by the gratitude and feeling of being in debt to them for being so nice to you, even when they didn't need to. Everyday feeling more like their adopted child rather than their neighbor, but as the days passed you felt less annoyed by that, almost just slipping in the role without noticing. Getting them little presents that reminded you a bit of them, trying to surprise them with nice things to show how grateful you were, they were just so nice, you felt like you needed to match it to be fair to them, but it always felt like taking a cup of water out of the ocean, not making a dent on the imaginary debt you had to them.

It wasn’t until your summer break that you felt your relationship with them had something wrong about it.

It was the first of the break, your friends and you decided to plan a sleepover together as you haven’t been able to hang out together lately. You, of course told Nevan and Alex about your plans, excited to share it with them, but their reaction wasn’t what you expected. They immediately told you how that was a bad idea, how dangerous would it be for you to stay over with “strangers”, giving you every single reason why you could get in trouble, how your friends looked like trouble and how unappreciated you were in that group. After your real first fight you told them you would go whether they like it or not, that they aren’t your parents and you aren’t a child, for them to decide what you could do or not. That comment seem to affect them a bit, Alex looked as hurt as he could be, but Nevan had this look in his eyes, something that made you feel small like you just made a terrible misstep. You went to your own apartment that sadly felt more alien than theirs as you spend so little time in it.

You packed your trip bag ignoring the calls and knocks on your door, for some reason inside all that anger you felt guilty, guilty about ignoring them, about not obeying them and staying home with them. But you couldn’t understand why.

The next day you got up really early in the morning and as fast as you could get out of the apartment complex. You spent the weekend at your friend’s house, you realized how much you missed them, the whole time you kept your phone turned off, too scared to see if they were angry or disappointed with you, always on the back of your mind about how you just left them after the fight, you constantly have to remind yourself that they don't need you, you aren't even family, even if you have gotten very attached to them and saying it out loud kinda stings a bit. Your friends after hearing about your problem told you that you don't owe them anything, and you had every right to do what you wanted.

On Monday you went back to class as if nothing bad had happened, trying to ignore the guilt of avoiding them. Your plan for the day was to make sure to get out later than your normal so you could avoid them just for a bit more. You could have sworn that in the middle of the day you saw Alex’s car around, but when you tried to look for it again it disappeared.

Later you had class with Mr. Smith, but when your group tried to enter class the door was locked, which was strange because you could hear him having a conversation with someone inside. Once your classmate tried to enter they both became silent, and after some shuffling Mr Smith opened the door, looking inside no one else seemed to be there, but no one commented about it.

But as strange as it was you thought Mr. Smith seemed to be looking intensely at you, after a bit he called out your name and told you to stay after class, and when he announced a group activity he made sure to put you in a group far from your friends.

When everyone was gone he told you there seem to be some trouble with some of your assignments, and it will probably affect you being able to pass his class. That completely floored you, it isn’t like you were a straight A student, but you were a pretty decent one so this news was just bonkers to you. Thankfully he gave you a solution, to accompany him to his office so you could fix this problem together, identify your missing assignments and try to fix it.

On the way there you noticed how empty the halls were, not too strange as it was becoming very late, a better excuse for you to go later to your apartment, or not at all.

He entered his office and told you to follow him after a bit, closing the door behind you when you did so. You looked around his office for a second, noticing how messy it was, that would explain how your assignments probably got lost, but it was weird, as you knew him and being a very tidy man normally.

Before you could ask him were to start you heard some steps and a hand shot up to cover your mouth, as you felt something pricking you. You tried to trash around, but before making any significant progress on that you started to feel very droopy, limbs starting to fail you, and after a minute or two you almost dropped to the floor if not by your professor holding you.

He dragged you to a chair and left you there as he made a call. Your brain started to fog up, making harder to really understand what was happening. Words like “being ready” and “not overly harmed” swimming around the edge of your recognition. After what felt like hours someone entered the room, your professor was… bowing? To them. And some type of conversation was going on. You felt a hand brushing through your hair, it felt nice, recognizable in a way. And as they went to carry you, you felt that you could recognizes those warm welcoming eyes before the darkness took you.

Nevan took you out of his husband’s car, the moon going down as the sun started to rise. People were waiting for him on the front of the apartment complex, they bowed to him and offered to carry you to the treatment room. With a warning gaze they quickly got the message that they shouldn’t touch you for now.

He made his way to his own apartment, entering what seemed like service room, to then open a secret door, inside it was an all-white room, lights always on and no windows on sight, he left you on the bed before kissing you on the forehead.

Oh how happy he was that you were finally back home, he was so mad when that dirty trash took you from him, helping you hide even if for only a day or two. But don’t worry little angel, he will make sure to erase those silly thoughts of leaving your family from your mind, exterminating all the impurities that those pigs have put in you.  

If all goes according to plan he could take you back to the commune where you belong and his people are waiting to see his dear child once again.

-----------.* ✶  ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ₍ᐢ•ﻌ•ᐢ₎✧ ꒱ ˎˊ˗  ✶ *.-----------

Thank you for reading! Hope yall are having a nice day ^^

[sweet-pea-channie]

Shadows of the Exile - Part 9

Azriel x female!reader

Summary: It is Solstice, and Azriel has prepared a special gift for Y/N. The atmosphere is filled with warmth and anticipation as the celebrations unfold. However, beneath the festive mood, emotions run deep—unspoken words, lingering glances, and a tension that neither Azriel nor Y/N can ignore. As the night progresses, the gift he presents is more than just an object; it carries meaning, feelings that he has long kept hidden

Warnings: Emotional tension, slow burn, yearning, angst, fluff, soft!Az, comfort

Word count: 5.4k

series masterlist

The last rays of sunlight bathed the House of Wind in golden light as Y/N stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the delicate embroidery on her dress. The deep midnight blue fabric clung to her skin, a gift from Mor, who had given it to her a few days ago. Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, observing her with a gentle smile.

Her mother and her brother, Kieran, had been in Velaris for a week—for the first time. And since the Town House didn’t have enough space, they had spent this time together in the House of Wind. It had been an unfamiliar but beautiful experience, showing them Velaris and rediscovering the city through their eyes.

"You look beautiful, my daughter," her mother said, standing up to weave Y/N’s hair into an intricate braid. "And you seem... excited."

Y/N returned her smile in the mirror, but inside, a storm was raging. She was excited—and she knew exactly why. Azriel. They had grown closer over the past months, leaving unspoken words between them, words that danced in the air like sparks.

"It’s Solstice," Y/N steered the conversation toward a safer topic. "One of my favorite nights of the year. The traditions are so beautiful—the shared meals, celebrating with friends and family, the gifts. And of course, flying through the night with strings of lights around our necks." She chuckled at the memory of last Solstice. "Cassian and Feyre placed a bet last year on who could stay in the air the longest while pouring ‘their’ Solstice whiskey into the sky. It ended with Rhysand barely managing to catch Feyre before she crashed into a snowbank."

Her mother laughed softly, running a gentle hand over her shoulder. "And what did you get for your friends?"

Y/N turned to her mother and smiled. "For Mor, a new pair of boots, handcrafted from Illyrian leather—she swears she’ll never give up her old ones, but I think that’ll change once she tries these on. For Cassian, a book of legends about the great Illyrian warriors—even if he won’t admit it, he loves those stories. And for Amren..." Y/N grinned. "A small jewelry box filled with fine gemstones from the Dawn Court. Maybe I can bribe her into finally teaching me how she controls her magic."

"And Azriel?" her mother asked quietly.

Y/N’s heart beat faster. She had spent a long time thinking about what to get him. It shouldn’t mean too much, but also not too little. Something personal. "A new pair of gloves made from the finest shadow silk," she finally said. "I enchanted them myself to retain warmth. I hope he likes them."

Her mother nodded knowingly. "I think he will love them. And perhaps, tonight, you should give him the greatest gift—honesty."

Y/N was about to respond when she felt it. The shadows. Quiet, whispering, barely noticeable—but there—right outside her door. She was certain it was Azriel. Her mother noticed it too and grinned knowingly. She had observed all week that something remained unspoken between her daughter and the spy. That they were both too cautious to take the first step. So she simply shook her head with a smirk as Y/N hurried to the door, nearly tripping over her dress in the process.

She yanked it open—and there he was.

For a moment, Azriel looked as if he had just regained his composure. But he hadn’t. Not truly. He had only meant to check on her, to ensure she was well before the evening’s celebrations. But now, standing before her, he was utterly, hopelessly transfixed.

The dress was stunning—there was no doubt about that. Mor had excellent taste. But it wasn’t just the deep blue fabric that held his attention, nor the intricate embroidery that seemed to shimmer with the faintest starlight. It was her. The way the material clung to her curves, the way her skin glowed under the fading light. The way her eyes searched his, wide and uncertain, as if she wasn’t sure what he was thinking.

If only she knew.

Azriel’s breath caught, and his shadows curled around his shoulders, shifting restlessly, mirroring the chaos within him. He had always thought she was beautiful, but tonight... tonight she was something else entirely. A vision. A temptation.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to touch her, to brush away the strands of hair that had escaped her braid. He forced himself to stay still.

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Did he feel it too? This pull between them, these unspoken words tangled in the air?

Azriel cleared his throat softly and stepped closer. "I haven’t seen you in two days," he said gently, his voice a dark, familiar timbre. "And I wanted to ask if you might spare some time for me tonight."

Y/N blinked. "Time for you?" she repeated, confused. But when she saw the small twitch at the corner of his lips, the way his shadows curled softly around him, she finally nodded. "Yes… of course."

Azriel seemed pleased, but then his gaze drifted over her shoulder. Only now did she realize that her mother was still in the room. He gave her a respectful nod. "I hope your stay in Velaris has been pleasant."

Her mother merely smirked and was about to reply when another figure suddenly approached.

"Oh, there you are." Kieran stepped to the door, arms crossed. "Is everyone ready for dinner?"

Azriel let his gaze flick from Kieran back to Y/N before nodding. "Yes. Let’s go."

Y/N took a deep breath before joining him. Something told her that this evening would be more than just an ordinary celebration.

As Y/N stepped out of the room with her family, the hallway was already filled with voices. Mor stood with Elain and Lucien, laughing as they waited for the others. Elain looked at ease, almost happy, while Lucien leaned against the wall with the elegance of a High Fae, his amber eyes scanning the arrivals attentively.

Azriel remained by her side, his wings rustling slightly as they walked. He didn’t say anything, but she could feel it—the way his presence lingered close, the way his shadows brushed against her own. And when their hands accidentally touched, when his fingers grazed hers for the briefest moment, she knew.

This night would change everything.

When Lucien’s gaze landed on Y/N, his eyes widened briefly before he gave her a warm smile. "By the gods, is that really Y/N from the Dawn Court?" He opened his arms, and without hesitation, Y/N stepped into them, letting him pull her into a tight embrace.

"Lucien! It’s been ages!" She laughed as she pulled back to take him in. "I never thought I’d see you in Velaris. And for Solstice, no less?"

Lucien grinned and shrugged lightly. "Well, Elain convinced me that it was time." His gaze flicked briefly to Elain, who smiled shyly, then back to Y/N. "But what about you? I hear you’ve found your place in the Night Court."

Before Y/N could answer, Kieran stepped forward and extended a hand to Lucien. "Who would’ve thought we’d see you again?"

Lucien studied him briefly before shaking his hand with a polite nod. "Kieran, as charming as ever."

Azriel, who had remained silent beside Y/N, shifted almost imperceptibly, his shadows drawing closer around him. The conversation between Y/N and Lucien stretched longer than he would have liked—familiar, almost playful. And when Lucien, with a charming smile, said, "If you ever need a change of scenery, the Day Court has its own appeal," that was enough for Azriel.

His gaze narrowed slightly as he watched Lucien’s amber eyes flick over Y/N’s dress, her hair—lingering just a second too long for it to be accidental. Azriel’s jaw tightened, his wings shifting ever so slightly—a telltale sign of his displeasure.

He cleared his throat and stepped closer to Y/N. "If you’re finished, perhaps we can go?" His voice was calm, but Y/N recognized the possessive undertone.

She blinked in surprise before shaking her head in amusement. "Of course, Spymaster. I didn’t realize we were in such a hurry."

Lucien chuckled as Azriel walked past him with a curt glance. "Well, it seems you have someone here who is very intent on making sure you don’t get lost."

Y/N couldn’t suppress a smirk as she followed Azriel. His wings twitched slightly, and even though he said nothing, she knew he had heard every second of that conversation. And he hadn’t liked it one bit.

The food was served, and the conversation shifted to stories from the Dawn Court. Y/N’s mother, full of pride, began recounting anecdotes from Y/N and Kieran’s childhood.

“Oh, you should have seen her as a child,” she began with a smile. “Y/N was an absolute troublemaker. I still remember when she convinced Kieran to pour paint all over a statue of the High Lord – as an ‘artistic enhancement.’”

Y/N groaned and let her head sink against the backrest of her chair. “Mother, please don’t.”

“Oh, yes! And then there was that one summer when she insisted that she would one day become both a warrior and a healer. I think she swung a wooden sword around for days – until she stabbed herself in the leg with it.”

Amren snorted in amusement, while Cassian laughed loudly. “Sounds like we missed out on a great talent for the Illyrian army.”

“Or a danger to herself,” Nesta muttered dryly.

Azriel had leaned back during the stories, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Every now and then, his dark eyes flickered to Y/N, who was sinking deeper and deeper into her seat.

“I love these stories,” he finally said with a distinct grin.

Y/N shot him a narrow-eyed look. “You don’t have to grin like that.”

“Oh, but I do,” he replied calmly. “Oh, I definitely do.”

His voice had that soft, dark tone that always sent a shiver down her spine. And she knew he would remember every single one of these stories – and most definitely use them to tease her in the future.

Y/N sighed and took a large sip from her glass. “I should never have introduced you all to my family.”

Kieran grinned and leaned back. “Too late.”

Then, something flickered in Kieran’s eyes – mischief – as he turned to the table, seemingly casual. “But you know what’s really a story worth telling? Y/N’s first great love.”

Y/N almost choked on her wine. “Kieran!”

Cassian, immediately sensing an opportunity to test Azriel, leaned forward with interest. “Oh, this sounds good. Tell us more, Kieran.”

Kieran pretended to think. “Oh, she was quite young, but so in love. A healer apprentice from our town. He always brought her flowers, and she thought he was the most romantic fae in the world.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched slightly, but he said nothing, simply watching Kieran with a calm gaze.

“And? What happened to him?” Cassian asked with a broad grin.

Kieran shrugged. “Oh, she dumped him eventually when she realized he had no backbone. But until then, she was completely smitten.”

Cassian roared with laughter. “No backbone, huh? Sounds like you already had high standards back then, Y/N.”

Y/N shot her brother a venomous glare. “I really hate you right now.”

Azriel still said nothing, but his gaze remained fixed on Y/N – attentive, calm, with an expression only she could decipher. She couldn’t decide whether it was amusement or something entirely different.

Kieran grinned widely, satisfied that he had managed to push Azriel just a little bit. But Cassian, who could sense the tension exactly, only shook his head with a grin and whispered to Azriel, who was sitting beside him, “Honestly, Az, at some point, you need to open your mouth.”

Azriel merely raised an eyebrow, took a sip of his wine – and said nothing.

Y/N felt her heart beat just a little faster.

Later, as the evening progressed and the conversations around them grew more lively, Y/N, Mor, Nesta, and her brother Kieran sat a little off in a cozy corner on one of the many balconies. Comfortable chairs were arranged around a low table, and another glass of wine was pressed into Y/N’s hand as she leaned back and watched the soft flickering of the candles.

Mor, always the curious one, stared at Y/N with a mischievous grin that made Y/N almost uneasy. “Okay, now tell me, Y/N. What happened between you and Lucien?”

Y/N, who had just been focused on her glass, tried to react as inconspicuously as possible. “I don't know what you mean.” Her voice was too calm as she brushed off the question.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Mor pressed further, leaning in a little closer. “The way he was looking at you…” She grinned even wider. “It was so obvious!”

Kieran, sitting next to Y/N with a glass of wine in his hand, couldn’t help but smile. He had seen everything that had happened between Y/N and Lucien, but he knew it was an entertaining topic for the evening now. So he just kept sipping his wine and said nothing while Mor and Nesta leaned in toward Y/N, eagerly waiting for her to spill something.

Nesta, noticing Y/N’s discomfort, chimed in with a grin. “You know, we’re not letting this go until you tell us. You owe us this much, Y/N.”

Y/N groaned and shook her head, trying to defend herself. “It was nothing, really,” she murmured, but her cheeks had already taken on a slight shade of red, betraying her words.

“Oh, come on, you can’t just leave us hanging!” Mor laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Tell us everything.”

The two women, relentless in their teasing, kept pressing Y/N further. She knew there was no point in resisting any longer. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and leaned back.

“Okay, fine,” she finally began, rolling her eyes slightly but knowing she could no longer escape. “Lucien and I may have slept together a few times.”

Mor stared at her with wide eyes as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “Wait, WHAT?” Mor was absolutely shocked. She hadn’t even had the slightest suspicion that something like that had happened between them. “You and Lucien?”

Nesta burst into laughter and clapped her hands in the air. “Oh my gods! You kept this a secret from us, Y/N! I never thought you’d keep it hidden for so long.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Y/N defended herself, crossing her arms. “We just grew closer when I often went to the Spring Court to collect herbs. I got to know Lucien there, and… that’s just how it happened.”

Kieran chuckled softly. “Of course, she didn’t tell me. But I figured it out. Didn’t he visit you in Dawn that one time?” he said teasingly, taking another sip from his glass.

“Oh, I’m really shocked,” Mor said, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I mean, who would have thought that Lucien…”

“Yeah, me neither,” Y/N quickly interrupted her. “But it just happened. And after that, we… well, we saw each other every now and then. But that was it.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Nesta said, still laughing. “But now you have to tell us… how was it? What was the best part?”

Y/N stared at her in horror. “Nesta! What do you mean?!”

“Come on, we need the juicy details!” Mor teased further.

“No, I’m not telling you that,” Y/N said, crossing her arms, her cheeks still flushed, but she couldn’t hide a crooked smile. “Let’s just say it was… nice. That’s all you’re getting from me.”

Kieran, still grinning, set his glass down and stretched lazily. “You know, I actually caught Lucien sneaking out of the clinic once,” he said, his voice carrying just enough drama to pique everyone's interest.

Y/N groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Oh no. Kieran, don’t.”

Nesta and Mor immediately perked up. “Oh, this is going to be good,” Mor said eagerly, leaning forward. “Tell us everything.”

Kieran smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “It was late—past midnight, I think. I was walking by the clinic, and I heard the door creak open. Thought it was a thief at first.” He paused for effect, watching their reactions. “So, of course, I went to check. And who do I see sneaking out, looking suspicious as hell?”

“Lucien?” Nesta guessed, grinning.

Kieran nodded. “Lucien. His hair was a mess, his shirt was buttoned all wrong, and he looked like he’d just been caught committing a crime.”

Mor let out a laugh, covering her mouth. “Oh my gods.”

“Oh, and the best part?” Kieran continued, eyes gleaming. “He tried to pretend he was just ‘checking on Y/N.’ Said she had been working late and he wanted to make sure she was okay.”

Nesta burst into laughter. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Y/N, who had been sinking deeper into her seat, groaned. “I hate you all.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sister,” Kieran teased, giving her a playful nudge. “We only laugh because we love you.”

Mor wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. “I need more wine. This is the best story I’ve heard all night.”

The atmosphere was light, the conversation among the women a lively mix of curious questions and suggestive remarks. With each sip of wine, their words grew bolder, their laughter louder. But just as Y/N thought the worst of the teasing had passed, Mor’s eyes gleamed with renewed mischief.

“Alright, Y/N,” Mor began, a wicked grin stretching across her face. “I still want to know… how was he?”

Kieran, who had been nursing his drink in peace, groaned dramatically and leaned back in his chair. “Again, can we not do this? The last thing I want to hear about is that red head trying to impress my sister in bed.” He shuddered for emphasis, earning a round of laughter.

“Oh, come on, Kieran, it’s all in good fun,” Nesta teased, nudging him with her elbow. “But it’s cute how you’re the one so desperate to protect Y/N’s secrets.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “I hope none of you actually think I’m going to answer that.”

Mor leaned in closer, her expression triumphant. “Oh, we know you won’t. But that’s not going to stop us from getting it out of you one way or another.”

Nesta smirked, her gaze flicking to Mor knowingly. “And if you don’t tell us,” she purred, “we could always have a little chat with a certain someone. Maybe let slip how you’ve been having the wildest fantasies about him.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped, her face heating instantly. “You wouldn’t,” she hissed.

Mor’s delighted cackle said otherwise. “Oh you know we’ll do anything to reveal your dirty little secrets.”

Azriel who just wanted to join the small group, heard the teasing tone in Mor’s voice, but instead of making his presence known immediately, he had remained in the shadows of one of the pillars. His shadows had warned him that a heated discussion was underway—and when he heard Mor’s amused voice, he knew it was about Y/N.

For a moment, Y/N debated putting up more of a fight—but she knew them too well. They wouldn’t let this go. So with a dramatic sigh, she leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a scandalous secret.

“I just hope Elain likes it vanilla,” she murmured, lips curling into a smirk. “Because that’s all he can do.”

Mor gasped, Nesta nearly choked on her drink, and Kieran groaned so loudly that it only made them laugh harder.

Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she registered what she had just admitted.

“Oh my gods,” Mor wheezed, wiping away a tear. “I was not ready for that.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. This was exactly why she should never have let them get started on this conversation. And something told her this wouldn’t be the last time they used it against her.

"Who would have thought? Our quiet little healer likes it rougher in bed."

Azriel tensed involuntarily. His jaw clenched as he watched Y/N’s reaction. She raised a hand to cover her heated cheeks and laughed awkwardly while Kieran merely sipped his wine with a grin. Nesta shook her head in amusement as Mor continued to prod gleefully.

Azriel didn't know why this conversation bothered him so much—or maybe he knew exactly why. The thought of Lucien... No. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. But just as Nesta was about to make another comment, he stepped out of the shadows and cleared his throat.

The conversation came to an abrupt halt. Four pairs of eyes turned to him. Y/N blinked in surprise, her lips still slightly parted as if she had been about to respond.

"Sorry, but may I steal Y/N for a moment? I have something to show her."

His voice was calm, almost casual—but his gaze was locked on Y/N. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but something in his posture, in his expression, made her heart race.

Mor and Nesta exchanged a look. Then Mor grinned. "Oh, of course. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a gift. Have fun, you two!"

Y/N slowly stood up, almost hesitantly. She was relieved to escape this conversation—but at the same time, Azriel’s sudden presence made her heart stutter.

As they stepped outside, the cool night air hit her. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at Azriel. "What’s going on, Azriel? Do you really have something for me?"

A small, mysterious smile played on his lips. "Yes, actually. I haven’t given you your Solstice gift yet."

Before she could reply, he looked at her seriously. "But... there's a condition. I'd like to take you on a flight."

Y/N froze.

Azriel knew her story. Knew the truth about what had been taken from her. He knew that she avoided flying—not because she was afraid, but because every time, it painfully reminded her of what she no longer had.

Her fingers tensed slightly, and she averted her gaze. But then he said softly, "Only if you want to. I’ll hold you."

Y/N slowly lifted her head, searching his gaze. Azriel was never one to pressure—but in this moment, she felt that he wanted her to try.

And maybe she wanted to as well. She took a deep breath, then nodded. "Okay."

Azriel stepped closer, took her hand, and gently pulled her toward him. When he lifted her into his arms, Y/N instinctively held her breath.

Then, with a powerful beat of his wings, he pushed off the ground.

The wind tugged at her hair, and for a moment, Y/N instinctively tensed, gripping him tighter. But Azriel’s hold was steady, his arms wrapped securely around her.

"I've got you," he murmured close to her ear, his voice a dark reassurance amidst the roaring wind.

And slowly—very slowly—Y/N began to relax.

The sky above Velaris stretched endlessly before her, the city lights shimmering like a thousand tiny stars below them. She had forgotten what this felt like. The freedom, the silence of the night, the tingling in her stomach.

But the best part wasn’t the flight itself—it was Azriel.

His warmth, the way he held her, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She dared to look up at him, only to find that he was already watching her.

Their eyes met.

Something flickered in Azriel’s gaze—something that made Y/N’s breath hitch.

But then he turned his head back forward, focusing on their destination. They landed softly in front of the Town House, and Y/N felt the cold earth beneath her feet as Azriel slowly set her down.

She didn’t know what to say.

But Azriel just smiled slightly. "Did you like it?"

Y/N swallowed, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "Yes," she whispered. "It was... beautiful."

Azriel watched her for another moment, then nodded in satisfaction. "Come on. I still have something for you."

She followed him into the house, still feeling as though she were floating—not because of the flight, but because of something else entirely.

He led her through the house, but something was different. He kept positioning himself in a way that prevented her from seeing ahead, which only piqued Y/N’s curiosity further.

Y/N couldn’t contain her curiosity. The moment Azriel took her hand and guided her into the Town House, she began questioning him.

"Where are we going?"

Azriel sighed, shaking his head slightly, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. "You’ll see."

"But what is it?"

He shot her a meaningful look but ignored her repeated question, leading her further into the house.

"Is it something big?"

"Y/N."

"Something small?"

Azriel rolled his eyes. "Cauldron, you’re worse than Cassian."

"Oh, that’s rude." She laughed, unable to hide her excitement. "But come on, give me at least a little hint."

"No."

"You’re impossible."

He only grinned as he led her through the rooms, always making sure to block her view. Every time she tried to sneak a glance past him, he was faster—distracting her or positioning himself so his wings completely obscured her sight.

Finally, at the end of a long hallway, they stopped in front of a door leading out to the garden. Azriel turned to her, his gaze shimmering in the soft night light.

"Look," he said with a mysterious smile.

He stretched out his arms as if to block her view for just a moment longer, and when Y/N tried to step to the side, he playfully unfurled his black wings, completely shielding her sight.

"Azriel," she whispered in astonishment, laughing softly. "What is this?"

She couldn't help but admire him in his elegant outfit, his majestic wings casting shadows in the dim light. It was a captivating sight. Azriel stood before her, in a moment so quiet that she simply couldn’t look away.

"I spent the last week building something for you," he finally said, his voice as calm and serious as ever, but with a hint of pride. "You’ll see in a second."

With a swift motion, he stepped aside, and when Y/N finally saw what had been hidden behind him, her breath caught.

Before her stood a beautiful greenhouse, its doors wide open, lights twinkling in the dusk as if illuminating the night itself.

"I built it for you," Azriel said, his voice full of meaning.

Y/N could hardly believe her eyes. "You built this for me?"

Without hesitation, she ran toward him, throwing herself into his arms. It was a spontaneous embrace, as if she wanted to pour all the words she couldn’t say into this gesture. She held onto him as tightly as she could, and for a moment, it felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Azriel looked surprised for the briefest of moments, but then he slowly lifted his arms to return the embrace—yet before he could fully hold her, she had already pulled away.

Almost breathless, she spun around and ran toward the greenhouse.

"This is incredible, I can't believe this!" she exclaimed as she stepped through the open doors.

Azriel followed her with a small smile, leaning against the doorframe. "I take that as a sign that you like it?"

Y/N turned to him, her eyes shining. "Azriel, I love it."

He held her gaze for a moment—and in that moment, he knew that something had changed that night. Something between them. Something he could no longer ignore.

Azriel opened his mouth to say something—to finally speak the words that had been burning on his tongue for weeks, no, for months.

But before he could even begin, Y/N turned around with bright eyes and ran deeper into the greenhouse.

He took a deep breath, let his hands fall back to his sides, and watched her.

How she moved through the space with excitement, her fingers gently brushing the wooden frames of the garden beds. How she was already in her element, even though she hadn’t planted a single thing yet.

"This is amazing," she murmured, more to herself than to him. Then, she turned with a beaming smile. "I can’t wait to plant everything! I think I’ll put medicinal herbs up front so I can reach them quickly. And over there—" she pointed to a corner, "I could grow a small selection of flowers. Not just for potions, but just because—because it would be beautiful, wouldn’t it?"

Azriel leaned against the doorframe, his heart tightening in a way he couldn’t control.

"And here," she continued, still wandering through the greenhouse, "I could plant some of the rarer species. The ones that need more care. I’ll probably need some trellises for climbing plants—oh, and a small worktable would be good, maybe here?"

She didn’t even turn to look at him, too lost in her thoughts.

Azriel had never seen her this happy.

Then she reached a raised garden bed at the far end of the greenhouse. Her steps slowed as she crouched down, running her fingertips through the dark soil. There was magic woven into it, and she could feel a warmth here that wasn’t present anywhere else in the greenhouse.

Her brows furrowed slightly.

"Azriel…" she began cautiously. "Is this…?"

He stepped closer, his voice quiet but certain.

"Yes," he said. "I also made sure to bring soil from the Spring Court, so all the herbs and flowers can grow in here."

Y/N inhaled sharply. Her eyes sparkled in the gentle lantern light, and for a moment, she seemed almost speechless.

Azriel could see how much this meant to her. He could feel it.

He wanted to reach out, to touch her—her cheek, her hand, something. But he held himself back.

And with each passing heartbeat, he realized this was not the right moment to tell her what she meant to him.

She was happy. She was so completely immersed in this moment that he didn’t want to interrupt her.

So instead, he simply watched her.

Because for him, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing Y/N’s eyes alight with joy.

Y/N ran her fingers along the edge of one of the garden beds, feeling the fine earth between her fingertips, and shook her head ever so slightly.

"I can’t believe it," she murmured, her voice barely louder than the soft rustling of leaves in the faint evening breeze.

She turned in a slow circle, her eyes sweeping over every corner of the greenhouse. Her mind was racing, ideas swirling, and before she knew it, words were spilling from her lips.

"I could put my best pots here…" she gestured toward a free space near the door. "The heavy terracotta ones, so they don’t shift. And there—" her hand flew to a shelf along the wall. "That’s where I could keep my glass bottles with extracts and dried flowers. Maybe I could even fit a small alchemy set…"

She took a few more steps, looking up as the soft moonlight filtered through the glass ceiling.

A quiet, reverent smile touched her lips.

"Look," she whispered. "The moonlight falls in just the right way here. I won’t even need many faelight lanterns at night. It’s… perfect."

Azriel still stood at the entrance, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, saying nothing.

He just watched her.

How she moved through the space with such excitement, how she noticed details he hadn’t even thought of. How she didn’t just see this as a gift—but as something that was truly hers.

He saw the way her lips moved softly as she kept planning, half-speaking, more to herself than to him. She barely noticed him anymore, too lost in her thoughts.

Azriel could have watched her like this forever.

He knew her as a healer, as a warrior in her own way. But now, he saw her in a kind of happiness that didn’t stem from battle or duty—but from pure, unrestrained joy.

And in that moment, he knew:

This was the best gift he could have ever given her.

Taglist: @princesssunderworld@tele86@quiet-because-it-is-a-secret@rose-girls-world@iluvyewman-blog@gluecksbaerchieee@lreadsstuff

[astrolook]

Decode the Universe: Why astrology and tarot are the ultimate power couple! #6 - Final

Aquarius - Jan 20 -Feb 19 : Venus / Mercury / Moon in Aquarius

Venus in Aquarius - King of Swords - "Love me for my mind… or don’t. Either way, I’m good."

These people looks good, thinks even better.

They are loyal but detached.

Their style of romance is an intellectual exercise.

Straight to the point, no sugarcoating.

Logical, futuristic, and somehow attractive? That's Venus in Aquarius for you.

If venus is afflicted, can be cold as ice and too logical in love. Can be too blunt and ignores others opinions.

Mercury in Aquarius - The Fool - "I have no idea what I’m doing… but it’s brilliant!"

Thinks so outside the box, they forgot boxes exist.

Their ideas sound crazy—until they work.

Spontaneous thinker and quirky AF.

They text at 3 AM with life-changing thoughts.

Conversations with them? A rollercoaster.

If mercury is afflicted, they say wild stuff, then watches your reaction like a science experiment. Believe in crazy conspiracy theories. Easily distracted and reckless curiosity. Loves saying weird things just to confuse people - Troll energy.

Moon in Aquarius - The Star - "Weird? Nah, I’m just from the future."

No matter what happens, they believe in the glow-up.

Feelings? Managed. Chaos? Observed, not absorbed.

Always thinking light-years ahead of you.

They have an unconventional wisdom. Might drop life-changing advice mid-meme.

Their dreams are bigger than the solar system.

If moon is afflicted, they love you from a distance. Loses hope easily and gives up easily.

Pisces - Feb 20 - Mar 20 : Saturn / Jupiter / Mars in Pisces

Saturn in Pisces - Knight of Cups - "Hopeless romantic, but with a five-year plan."

These people now love isn’t a fairy tale—but still believes in magic.

Dreams big, but also does the work.

Will write poetry about you and show up on time.

Soft heart, strong spine.

If saturn is afflicted : wants and waits for the perfect moment, which… never comes. Carries emotional baggage - neatly packed. Trust issues and the walls they built for themselves aren't gonna go down soon.

Jupiter in Pisces - Hanged Man - "Going with the flow… straight into another dimension."

Sees life differently. Finds luck in weird places.

Spiritual AF. Probably has deep conversations with ghosts.

Knows things without knowing how they know.

While others rush, they marinate in wisdom.

Believes the universe handles things for them and trusts the divine timing.

If jupiter is afflicted, they could be the master of procrastination. Could be delusional. Zero sense of urgency. Sacrifices too much and cannot pick a path. Could be staying in an abusive relationship and be waiting for the right time to come out.. No, it won't come.

Mars in Pisces - The Moon - "Fighting battles… mostly imaginary ones."

Mysterious AF and a spiritual warrior.

Could be having prophetic dreams.

These people are the defender of underdogs, lost souls, and stray animals.

Can turn daydreams into reality.

If mars is afflicted, jealousy arises. Passive aggressive. Uses guilt as a weapon. Plays the victim and the villain at the same time.

I hope you all liked it. I'll come back tomorrow with another topic and stay tuned!

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

[sirensea14]

Doey headcanons bc my son is crying

Doey cries offscreen and when he does, his tears are either red, yellow or orange based on what hes feeling: angry + crying = kevin (red), sad + crying = jack (yellow), emptiness or burnout or regrets + crying = matthew (orange) he usually cries during the first months after the hour of joy

Kevin—the kid/humanoid with the angry eyes in Doey's monster form—glows the brightest among the three cuz he's consumed by anger (ik it doesnt exist in his model but imagine💔)

Altho its already shown thru a tape, Doey often does self-therapy and self-talking to comfort himself whenever he's distressed. Since he's the role model of the safe haven (after poppy was captured), he was always expected to remain calm in most situations. And he does it so well that almost no one can sense whether he's stressed or not. He may also not talk much about his feelings cuz he doesnt want to cause any more distress among the already distressed toys.

Blud is ALWAYS confused at what he should feel or think but he just hides it well in the game. And before being promoted as the leader, he mightve always answered "i dont know" to most questions he has no knowledge to answer to or whenever he's in a new situation. Jack is panicking badly but Matthew also tries to calm him down and take reign of Doey. Until anger reaches his head for Kevin to move,,,,, He's just as distressed as the other toys, he was just used to it

He hugs himself cuz he has no one to hug 😭😭😭 he's often outside, searching for scraps of food

He prolly hates himself too, adding his confusion with himself

I kin him sm

His hat is made if metal /j

He's eating other toys, his remorse or mercy for them is gone (idk if he felth what riley felt durinv his first days)

One of the kids hate cold weather

Depending on what he feels (goofy/sad, angry, calm), the one or two hand colors on his body would be more saturated than the other

He likes to play pretend kitchen and tea time with some toys whenever they have freetime. He also lets the toys use his clay to create and mold things

He sometimes says "mommy", "daddy" and "home" out loud without realizing it and the toys would just stare at him flabbergasted

He likes to be the leader but he also doesnt like it

He has so much pent up fustration and rage

He's like the "forced to be a parent" child

When kevin is inactive, he would sometimes playfully call some workers as "mom" or "dad" to mess with them and get some good laughs (he thinks jumpscares are funny) He def did mess with their hearts

Doey and kissy are the best characters so far, too bad we had to kill doey😔

Also, ngl the sounds of vehicles that i hear outside reminds me of Pianosaurus' sounds😭 rlly disappointed that we didnt get to see much of this bud🕯️

Also i have a lil bit of observation for the experiments nos. Those with 1100 to 1199 seem to have no ability to talk while those above 1200 have it so. Meaning their experiments were getting more advanced and painful😭😭 (1006 aint counter cuz he has some kind of robotic voice box mimicker)

-a thought not fully well-thought cuz i need to sleep

Thats all for my ted talk, thank you🍫

[internetskiff]

Its important to note that while GLaDOS is completely capable of outright killing people, she seems to very often resort to excusing it as some kind of experiment, lying either to her victims or perhaps even herself. You have to REALLY set her off for her to drop all pretense and get completely murderous with you. Viewing it from that perspective, its really interesting that she used the "Schrodinger's Cat" thought experiment as an excuse to gain access to some neurotoxin, because.. When you think about it, she didn't even lie in this case. The scientists never considered that while traditionally the experiment involves a literal box with a cat inside of it, Aperture can easily serve as a "box" with plenty of employees that can easily serve as the "cats". From an outsider's perspective, she has actually perfectly recreated the exact conditions of the thought experiment - with no employees ever leaving, and the company going completely radio silent, an outside observer perceives Aperture's staff as simultaneously alive and dead. And the raging Resonance Cascade on the surface means that, at least for a good while, there won't be a single soul that could open up the "box" and break the illusion.

[senku-ishigami-official]

qUaNtUm EnTaNgLeMeNt

senku, i once read that because all the matter in our universe is entangled, we experience time only bc of entanglement (this is very bad paraphrasing)

so, if one were to observe the universe outside of entanglement (theoretically) time would appear to be standing still

what do you think about this?

You're talking about Wootter's solution to the problem of time. This is all just theoretical physics, and the entire point of the problem is that there's no available concrete information, so I don't devote a lot of my brain power to it, but I'll do my best to answer.

For readers who don't understand, basically, scientists have no idea what the hell time actually is. So there's a theory floating around that time is actually related to quantum entanglement, which is this idea that 1) an object is either or neither until observed (it's hard to explain without an example, so let's use the classic cat in a cardboard box: the cat is theoretically both alive and dead until you open the box and see if it's actually alive or dead) and 2) the objects in question that are "entangled" are bound to be in the same physical state no matter what (if you have two cats in two boxes, and the first cat is alive when you open that box, then if they're entangled, the cat in the second box is undoubtedly alive -- you don't have to observe it to know this).

The basic idea (even though there's nothing basic about this idea) is that time is an entanglement relationship of some kind, where -- let's say we have those two cats in the boxes again. We're in the box with one of the cats, and that cat is alive, so according to quantum entanglement, the other cat is alive, too. We know that the cats are alive because we're in the box, but there's someone outside the box that hasn't seen either of the cats yet. So the cats, from the perspective of that person, are both alive and dead right now. Applying that to time, since we are in this time frame, we're able to feel and understand time moving forward. But this theory suggests that someone or something outside of our time frame would not be experiencing time at all because they haven't observed it yet.

Personally, I don't have many thoughts. It's not a really well known theory and there's not even a millimeter of evidence to suggest that any kind of entity outside of our scope of time exists to not observe time, which means we don't have sufficient evidence to prove this theory and we probably never will. It's an interesting thought but it's impractical and not worth my energy. I'd think about it more if there were more evidence to support it.

[shiftingfawnnn]

Quantum Physics and the Many Roles of Reality: How Every Choice Shapes Our Path

Quantum physics has long fascinated scientists and philosophers alike, offering mind-bending insights into the nature of reality. One of its most intriguing concepts is the Many-Worlds Interpretation (MWI)—the idea that every possible outcome of an event actually happens, each in its own separate universe. But what if reality isn’t just passively splitting into infinite timelines? What if we are actively moving through them, shifting realities with every thought and decision? This perspective suggests that reality isn’t simply branching outward but that we, as conscious beings, are navigating an infinite web of possibilities, constantly shifting into slightly different versions of ourselves.

The Quantum Nature of Reality

At its core, quantum mechanics describes the universe in terms of probabilities. Unlike classical physics, where an object has a single definite state, quantum physics tells us that particles exist in a superposition of multiple states until they are observed or measured. This idea is famously illustrated by Schrödinger’s cat—a thought experiment where a cat in a box is both alive and dead until someone looks inside. This strange behavior of quantum systems has led to deep questions about the nature of reality itself.

One of the leading interpretations of quantum mechanics is the Many-Worlds Interpretation, proposed by physicist Hugh Everett in 1957. According to this theory, every time a quantum event occurs, reality “splits” into multiple branches, each representing a different outcome. For example, if you flip a coin, one universe exists where it lands heads, and another where it lands tails. However, rather than these universes being separate and inaccessible, it is possible that we are constantly moving through them, shifting into different versions of reality based on our decisions and thoughts.

Shifting Realities Through Choice and Thought

If the Many-Worlds Interpretation is correct, then every choice we make—no matter how small—pushes us into a different version of reality. When you decide to take one path instead of another, speak to one person instead of another, or even think a certain thought, you are effectively nudging yourself into a slightly different timeline. Rather than reality simply branching outward, we are shifting between these already-existing possibilities.

Consider a simple choice: deciding whether to go for a walk or stay inside. In one reality, you go outside, breathe in fresh air, and perhaps encounter an event that alters your day. In another reality, you stay indoors, leading to an entirely different chain of events. From a quantum perspective, both realities exist, and your consciousness moves into the one aligned with your decision. This means that rather than reality splitting apart into infinite versions, you are the one shifting, aligning with the version of yourself that corresponds to your choices.

This concept also applies to thoughts and beliefs. If you begin to believe in a new possibility, you might shift into a reality where that possibility is more likely to manifest. Many philosophers and spiritual thinkers have drawn parallels between this idea and the Law of Assumption, which suggests that our beliefs shape the reality we experience. From a quantum standpoint, believing in a certain outcome may make it more probable by influencing the reality you shift into.

Quantum Superposition and the Multitude of You

Quantum physics suggests that particles exist in multiple states at once until observed. If this principle applies on a larger scale, then every possible version of you exists simultaneously, each living out different outcomes. However, your consciousness experiences just one at a time. Instead of reality being a single linear path, it is a vast web of possibilities, and your awareness moves through it like a traveler shifting between destinations.

This aligns with experiments in quantum mechanics, such as the double-slit experiment, which demonstrates that particles behave as waves of probability until observed. Some interpretations suggest that observation doesn’t just reveal reality—it helps select which reality we experience. If our consciousness acts as this “observer,” then our focus and choices play an active role in shaping the reality we perceive.

Shifting as a Natural Process

Many people associate “reality shifting” with the idea of consciously traveling to different realities, often through mental or spiritual techniques. However, if every choice and thought shifts us into a slightly different timeline, then shifting is something we have been doing our entire lives without realizing it. Every moment, we are choosing which version of ourselves to experience. The difference between unconscious shifting and deliberate shifting is awareness—realizing that you have the ability to direct your movement through reality rather than drifting passively.

This means that we are not static beings living in a single timeline. Instead, we are dynamic travelers, constantly moving through an infinite landscape of possibilities. If we embrace this perspective, it changes the way we approach life. Instead of feeling stuck, we can recognize that we always have the power to shift into a new version of reality—one that aligns more with our desires and intentions.

Conclusion

Quantum physics suggests that reality is not fixed but fluid, with infinite possibilities existing simultaneously. The Many-Worlds Interpretation proposes that every choice creates new branches of reality, but another way to look at it is that we are shifting through these realities rather than creating them. Every decision, every belief, every thought nudges us into a slightly different version of ourselves. This perspective suggests that reality shifting is not just a mystical or spiritual idea—it is a fundamental part of how we navigate existence.

If every moment is a crossroads leading to infinite possibilities, then understanding our role as conscious travelers can empower us to choose our path wisely. Whether we seek to shift into a different reality deliberately or simply become more mindful of the shifts we are already making, recognizing this quantum nature of existence reveals that we are never truly stuck. We are always moving, always shifting, always becoming new versions of ourselves—one decision at a time.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Monster Hunters

Summary: Relativity/Reunion Falls, Stan realizes he and Ford have some common interests.

Masterlist

...

“Stanley?”

Despite the low volume, the fear in Ford’s voice wakes Stan up, and he jerks upright, finding him standing right at the edge of his bed.

“What?  What time is it?” Stan asks, rubbing at his eyes.  It’s light outside, but seems to be only just.

“It’s 6AM,” Ford whispers.

“And you’re awake, why?” Stan asks.

“Well— I was downstairs trying to make Grauntie Mabel some breakfast as a surprise, and— and Jeff broke in and stole her edible glitter!”

Stan snorts.  “Oh.  Yeah, he does that.  Don’t worry about it,” he says.  He moves to lay back down on the bed, but Ford grabs his arm and pulls him back up.

“You don’t understand,” he whispers.  “Grauntie Mabel was so mad at him when it happened last time!  What if she finds out it happened under my watch?”

“Uh… I don’t know how to answer that question.  She’ll buy some more edible glitter?”

“But what if she’s mad?”

“Grauntie Mabel?  You’re kidding, right?”

“We have to get it back!” Ford says.

“Woah, okay, calm down,” Stan says, holding his hands out.  And despite the fact that he really thinks Ford is making a big deal out of nothing, he looks desperate enough that after a second Stan sighs and pulls his covers back.  “Okay, let’s go find it.”

Such obvious relief enters Ford’s eyes that it makes Stan a little worried for a second, but Ford’s running across the room and grabbing his shoes before he can ask about it.

Stan groans and reaches down to fumble for his shoes.  It seems to take him a lot longer than Ford wants, judging by the way he stands nervously in front of Stan fidgeting with his gloves for the last half a minute of Stan putting his shoes on, but they get there.  Ford hurries them both downstairs and outside after that, and then starts dragging Stan off towards where he says he saw the gnome go.

Stan has more than a little experience tracking gnomes, but he doesn’t tend to do it at 6-in-the-damn-morning times, and he’s pretty sure this shows over the next half hour or so, because he’s barely awake stumbling after Ford.  He does manage to shake some awareness into his brain eventually, though, and finds that Ford seems to be doing an alright job tracking Jeff on his own— at least, if that tiny trail of glitter is anything to go by.

“Hey, when did you…” Stan yawns.  “Learn how to do this?”

“I observed the gnomes in their natural environment after Jeff stole the glitter the first time.”

“You… huh?”

“I snuck out to spy on them.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes?  How else was I supposed to learn anything?”

“I dunno, just didn’t take you for the type,” Stan mutters, trailing his eyes over the glitter on the tree to their left.  “You’re a nerdy book kid, aren’t ya?  I’m friends with one, they don’t tend to sneak out to spy on monsters.”

“Well, it sounds they’re missing valuable data then,” Ford says.  He stops.  “The trail’s gone.  Where did you see it last?”

Stan yawns again and points a thumb at the tree behind them.  Ford looks back at it too, then runs towards it.

Stan follows just in time to see Ford run his fingers over the glitter and mutter, “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Stan asks.  He leans back against the tree, only to immediately lean forward again when he hears an audible clang.

There’s a loud familiar shout from what sounds like inside the tree.

“Jeff!” Stan snaps.  “I know you’re— in there?  Where are you?”

“Nowhere!” comes Jeff’s very recognizable voice.

Stan and Ford exchange a deadpan look, and then Stan runs his hand along the tree.  When his hand slips over a gap that shouldn’t be there, he pulls, and a section of metal tree opens to reveal Jeff, sitting on top of a weird metal box and holding the jar of edible glitter close to his chest.

“Ah!  I’m not here!” he yells, and starts to leap away.  But Stan has tangled with far too many gnomes in his life, and reaches out and catches Jeff by the scruff of the neck.

Ford gives him a grateful grin and grabs the glitter from Jeff, who cries out in despair and continues to squirm towards it.

“Give it back!  That blue bake off ribbon will be mine!”

Stan grins at Ford.  “You want to do the honors?” he asks.

Ford blinks.  “What?”

“Nah?  Next time then,” Stan says, and before Jeff can call for help, Stan drop kicks him hard into the woods.

Ford barks out a laugh and puts his hands over his mouth.  Stan grins at him for a second before turning back to the opening in the tree.

“Now what the heck is this?” he asks, gesturing at the metal science-looking box.

“You don’t know?” Ford asks, stepping forward next to him.

“Nope.  I’ve never seen this thing before.  What do you think it does?”

Ford shrugs.  “Only one way to find out.”  He reaches forward and flicks both of the switches on top.  As soon as he flicks the second one, though, there’s a loud whirring, and both of them turn to see a different patch of ground open up.

They turn to each other for a moment with an excited grin, and then rush forward to peer down into the hole to find—

“A book?” Stan groans.

“An old book!” Ford exclaims, sounding ecstatic.  He bends down and pulls it out, then blows the dust off the cover.

The book sure does look old, alright.  It’s torn and the blue cover is faded.  On the front is a golden pine tree with the number 3 on it, but it’s started to chip off at the edges.

Stan kneels down next to Ford as he pulls it open, because he’s admittedly a little curious, even if a book is a lame prize for the end of a gnome hunt.

“‘It’s hard to believe it’s been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon,’” Ford reads from the first page.

“Wait, what?” Stan asks, leaning closer.  Ford turns the page, and to Stan’s shock, reveals pages on eye bats, gnomes, and all kinds of other monsters, some of which Stan had seen and fought, and some of which he hadn’t.

“It’s like, notes on everything weird Grauntie Mabel said I’d find in the town,” Ford breathes.

“Woah,” Stan breathes.  “That’s so—”

“Cool!” he and Ford both say at the same time.

Stan turns to him in surprise.  “Wait, really?”

“Yeah!” Ford exclaims, turning to him with a huge grin.  “I’ve been wondering if anyone else has ever wanted to study the monsters around here!  This is awesome, I can have other observations to compare my own with!”

“Your own?” Stan asks, eyes widening.  “Like, you’ve been looking for monsters on purpose?”

“Duh!  Are you kidding, I’ve never seen this much weird stuff in one place before, it’s amazing!  I feel like I finally fit in somewhere!  I’ve been meaning to ask you if you had a guide of some kind, just cause Maria told me I shouldn’t really go looking for monsters without any kind of background knowledge, but now this can—”

“Dude,” Stan grabs Ford by the shoulders and shakes him back and forth a couple times.  “Ford.  Dude.  Bro.  You have to tell me these things!”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“Dude, I’ve been looking for monsters since I was a little kid!” Stan says, bouncing a bit on his feet.  “I thought you were a boring nerd who wouldn’t want to go anywhere near them at first, and you know, then I didn’t want to freak you out!  You’re telling me we could have been going on sick monster hunts together this whole time?”

“You… you want to find monsters together?” Ford asks, looking like Stan’s just presented him the meaning to life on a silver platter.

“I’ve been looking for someone who wants to find the Gremloblin with me all summer!” Stan exclaims, throwing his hands out in excitement.  “You want to go find a monster that shows people their worst fears with me?”

“That. Sounds. Amazing!” Ford cries, leaning right into Stan’s face with a huge grin.  “When do we go, where is it?”

“Breakfast first!” Stan calls happily, grabbing Ford’s arm to start pulling them both back towards the house, after giving Ford just enough time to tuck the journal into his jacket.  “Trust me, you do not want to monster hunt on an empty stomach.  Oh this is gonna be the coolest!”

That plan is put on pause as soon as they both get back, however, and find Grauntie Mabel sitting on the porch looking very unhappy with them.

Oh.  Right.

“Hi there,” she says, crossing her arms.  “Do you want to explain why you two snuck out of the house before I was even awake?”

“Uh,” Ford says, with obvious fear in his voice.

And really, he’s overreacting a bit, and that’s not gonna do.  If they’re gonna start going on monster hunts together, Ford needs to know he can go to Grauntie Mabel if they get in over their head.

So, Stan takes a step forward and says, “I saw your edible glitter get stolen, Grauntie Mabel,” gesturing at the glitter Ford’s still got clutched in his hand.  “I wanted to show Ford how monster hunts go around here, cause he said he wants to do some with me!  Isn’t that cool?  I thought gnomes would be a good first option, but I kinda forgot to let you know.  Sorry.”

Grauntie Mabel sighs, but seems considerably less irritated, which thankfully makes Ford seem considerably less scared.  “Alright, but let me know next time, you hear?  I need to know if you two are in danger and I need to come save your butts.”

“Will do, sorry Grauntie Mabel!” Stan calls.  He lets Ford give her the glitter back, which Grauntie Mabel gives him a grateful smile for, and then grabs his arm again to pull them both up to the attic.

“Dude, you seriously need to chill around Grauntie Mabel,” he says, turning to Ford as soon as they get there.  Ford blinks at him.  “She’s not gonna get mad at you for stupid little stuff.  And we’re gonna need her help sometimes if we get into trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Ford asks, looking baffled at the idea.  “Parents aren’t for helping you out of trouble, they’re for yelling at you if you get caught doing something you’re not supposed to.”

Stan wrinkles his nose.  “Ugh.  Well, good thing she’s a Grauntie, then.  Because that’s not what Graunties are for.  I can always count on her if I need help.  And she like, seriously loves you, which means you definitely can too.”

Ford still doesn’t seem to know what to do with that.  “I… that’s weird.”

“Yeah, but weird is cool, remember?” Stan says, grinning at him.  “That’s what the gloves mean.”

Ford looks down at his gloves and flexes his fingers a couple times.  Then, after a second, he starts to smile, and looks back up at Stan.  “Okay,” he says.  “If you say so.”

“I totally do.  Now come on.  Let’s go convince Grauntie Mabel to add edible glitter to our breakfast!  We earned it after getting it back for her.”

He turns to start for the kitchen, only for Ford to stop him by grabbing his arm.

“Hey, uh, thanks,” he says, and Stan turns back around.  “You know, for getting up and doing all this with me when you didn’t have to.  I’ve never had a partner in crime before.”

“Ooh, partner in crime, I like the sound of that,” Stan says with a grin.  He holds his hand up to Ford.  “High six?”

Ford grins back and smacks his hand.  “High six.”

[leeknot]

Chapter 13: The Final Step

masterlist

Previous | Next

The days had stretched into weeks, and though you still carried remnants of doubt in your heart, something had changed. There were still moments of hesitation, moments when the past reared its ugly head, but those moments were no longer all-consuming. The pack had become a part of you in ways that you hadn’t expected. Slowly, quietly, they had carved out a space for you—one that didn’t demand anything, but gave everything.

It had taken time for you to let yourself relax, to truly believe that you didn’t have to hide, that you could belong. But now, as you sat in the living room with the others, laughter filling the air as you all joked around, you could feel it. You could feel that weight lifting, piece by piece, as you began to open up more. The warmth of their presence was no longer something you questioned—it was simply there, steady, constant.

Today, the house felt even more alive than usual. There was a comfortable chaos in the air as the pack buzzed around, preparing for a gathering of sorts. There would be food, games, and plenty of laughter. The mood was lighthearted, and for once, you didn’t feel like an outsider looking in.

You stood in the hallway, just outside the living room, watching as the pack milled around. Han and Felix were putting up decorations, while Seungmin and Hyunjin argued over the playlist for the evening. Changbin and Jeongin were carrying boxes of snacks, laughing as they tried to keep their balance.

You had always stood on the sidelines, unsure of how to enter the mix, but now, you felt different. You didn’t feel out of place. You didn’t feel like you were just here to observe—you were a part of this. This chaotic, beautiful, loving pack.

Changbin caught sight of you standing there and grinned, making his way over. “Hey, Y/N, you’ve been quiet. You good?”

You smiled up at him, nodding. “Yeah, just thinking. I was wondering how I ever managed to survive alone before I came here.”

Changbin laughed, his eyes softening. “You didn’t have to. You were never meant to be alone. You’ve got us now.”

There it was again—those words that had become a constant refrain in your mind. You weren’t alone anymore. They had proven it time and time again, through their actions, through the way they always showed up for you.

“Thanks, Changbin.” you said quietly, the sincerity in your voice surprising even yourself. It felt like such a simple thing to say, but it carried more weight than you had ever anticipated.

He ruffled your hair, laughing. “No problem, Y/N. We’re a pack. We stick together, no matter what.”

You took a deep breath, looking around at the bustling pack. There was no more hesitation, no more fear of rejection. You didn’t need to hide, to keep your distance anymore. They were here for you, not just because they had to be, but because they wanted to be. You could feel it in every small gesture, in every shared moment, in every quiet exchange. They had welcomed you into their fold, with open arms and hearts, and now, it was time for you to fully accept it.

As you stepped further into the living room, the others turned to greet you. Felix waved excitedly, Han grinned, and Hyunjin sent you a thumbs-up. You felt a swell of warmth in your chest as you realized something. They weren’t just your pack. They were family.

You moved to sit down with them, your heart light as you nestled between Jeongin and Seungmin on the couch. You felt at ease, like you were finally where you were supposed to be. It was a feeling you hadn’t known you could experience, and now, it was here, wrapping itself around you like a soft, reassuring blanket.

For a moment, everything was still. The noise of the pack, the chatter, the music, the playful banter—all faded into the background. You looked at each of them—Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, Han, and Lee Know—and realized they weren’t just people you shared a house with anymore. They were your pack. Your family. Your home.

And as the evening wore on, with laughter ringing in the air and food being passed around, you finally felt it. You had made the final step. You had let them in. And more importantly, you had let yourself accept that you belonged here.

For the first time in a long time, you could finally say it with your whole heart:

You were home.

To be continued...

taglist: @thatgirlangelb @eastjonowhere @babygirlskz98 @realrintaro @piscesrising01 @astro-des @justiceforvillains

[simp-ly-writes]

Time Stands Still

Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader

Summary: John is not one to change his accessories, yet after your wedding he seems to have a knack for it.

Warnings: cuteness!

A/N: Saw a post on my insta feed recently of this and just thought immediately that i should write something about it.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

It had been a few days since you and John had gotten married in the cool fall air, leaves falling onto your shoulders - reminiscent of the day you both met outside a local cafe; flower blossoms falling upon both of your shoulders and hair all those years ago.

You and John were laying on the couch in an unpacked living space, boxes stacked towards the ceiling like skyscrapers. John had decided to move the rest of his furniture fully into your home just before the wedding. Yet after the reception and all following celebratory events; time had appeared to slip through your fingers alongside your combined energy.

Yet you both decided to have this moment together soaking up what would soon before habitual; smiling at the thought. You played with the captain's fingers that laid across your stomach; twirling the golden wedding band that encased your initials and wedding date currently sitting across his ring finger thoughtfully. As he raked his fingers through your hair and across your scalp while humming to himself a tune that you couldn't quite recognize.

--

Soon your hands made their way up his fingers and pushed past the cuffs on his dress-shirt that you had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago. You couldn't help but notice the watch that was placed across his wrist; angling his hand to see it better you noticed that the usual seconds ticking by had not changed in the slightest.

Furrowing your eyebrows you began to unbuckle the band and try to think of ways to solve the apparently broken watch. Having not prior experience you looked towards John concerned and asked him where he had purchased it; maybe a refund could be issued...

Price looked down at you laying against him thoughtfully as he let out a thoughtful hum in recognition of your question. He then open and closed his mouth, trying to think of the right way to place his words; eyebrows furrowing slightly.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he called you overly observant in a loving manner and that it was supposed to be a surprise for later. Pulling out another small black box from his jacket pocked that laid across the back of the couch. You began to feel your heart race in an all to familiar memory.

He handed the present to you and watched closely as you opened it slowly; for dramatic effect of course, you giggled slightly to yourself as you felt John tense behind you- awaiting for your reaction.

Inside the box sat a matching watch, leather band and detailed carving in all, with the same issue- the seconds hand would not move. Turning around to face your husband fully, you looked towards his worried that he picked up a scam of a deal as he began to laugh at your clueless reaction.

Apologizing almost instantly, he cupped your cheek and said that you were being too cute, he began to explain why the hands would never move as he rubbed circles into your skin; cheeks becoming red.

The watches are purposefully broken by yours truly. I had Soap stop them both when each of us said, 'I do.' While at our wedding, I know that it is nothing grand but I thought it would make for a great reward after moving in fully.

Tears. That was your reaction, large happy and all encompassing tears stained your cheeks that pulled into a wide smile as you reached up and pulled his face closer to yours. Whispering thank you and pulling your lips together, smiles touching and hands holding.

--

Life would carry on for you and John in your intertwined futures, yet time would always stand still for you both in moments like this.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Do you have any tips for ADHD writers, especially for motivation and getting WIPs done?

Outlines don't work for me like 99% of the time, so outside of some worldbuilding/character notes and such, I just pants my way through my stories for the most part.

Tips for Writers with ADHD: How to Stay Motivated and Outline Stories

I actually am a writer with ADHD myself, so I completely understand. I tried my best to give you good insight on how you can write a story with ADHD (also tried to make it sound as professional as possible.)

Writing can be a challenging task for anyone, but for those of us with ADHD, it can feel like an insurmountable mountain to climb. Staying focused, motivated, and organized can be a constant struggle. However, being a writer with ADHD also comes with its own unique set of strengths. In this blog post, I'll help you explore some practical tips and strategies to help ADHD writers stay motivated, outline their stories, and unleash their creative potential.

Living with ADHD means that our minds are constantly buzzing with ideas, making it challenging to stay on track and follow through on our writing goals. However, with the right tools and mindset, we can harness our creative energy and turn it into a powerful force for storytelling. So, let's dive in and discover how we can thrive as ADHD writers.

Disclaimer: Remember that everyone's experience with ADHD is unique, and not all strategies may work for everyone. It's essential to find what works best for you and adapt these tips to fit your individual needs.

Embracing Your ADHD Superpowers

Living with ADHD is often seen as a disadvantage, but it's crucial to reframe our perspective and recognize the unique strengths that come with it. As ADHD writers, we possess a natural ability to think outside the box, make connections others might miss, and generate innovative ideas. Embracing these superpowers can fuel our creativity and make our writing stand out.

One of the most significant strengths of ADHD writers is our hyperfocus. While it may be challenging to concentrate on mundane tasks, when something truly captivates our interest, we can enter a state of hyperfocus where time seems to vanish. Use this to your advantage by creating a writing environment that sparks your curiosity and allows you to immerse yourself in your story.

Another superpower we possess is our ability to think quickly and make connections. Our minds are constantly jumping from one idea to another, which can be overwhelming at times. However, this unique thought process can be a goldmine for storytelling. Use it to your advantage by allowing your thoughts to flow freely during the outlining process. Don't be afraid to explore different angles and possibilities.

Lastly, ADHD writers often have a heightened sense of empathy and emotional intelligence. We are incredibly perceptive when it comes to understanding complex emotions and human behavior. This can be a powerful tool when crafting realistic and relatable characters. Draw on your own experiences and observations to breathe life into your fictional creations.

Cultivating Motivation and Consistency

ADHD writers often struggle with maintaining motivation and consistency in their writing practice. We may start projects with great enthusiasm, only to lose interest or become overwhelmed as time goes on. However, there are several techniques we can employ to cultivate motivation and stay on track.

Set small, achievable goals to create a sense of accomplishment. Break down your writing tasks into manageable chunks, whether it's writing a certain number of words each day or completing a specific scene. Celebrate each milestone, no matter how small, and use it as fuel to keep going.

Create a structured writing routine to establish a sense of consistency. Our ADHD brains thrive on routine and predictability. Designate a specific time and place for writing, and make it a non-negotiable part of your daily life. Over time, your brain will associate this routine with creativity and focus, making it easier to get into the writing mindset.

Find an accountability partner or join a writing group. Sharing your progress with others can provide an extra layer of motivation and support. Whether it's a writing buddy who checks in with you regularly or a critique group that offers feedback, the sense of community can keep you motivated and inspired.

Outlining Strategies for ADHD Writers

ADHD writers often struggle with organizing their thoughts and creating a coherent structure for their stories. However, outlining can be a powerful tool to bring order to the creative chaos and provide a roadmap for your writing journey.

Start with a brainstorming session. Let your ideas flow freely without judgment. Write down every thought, character, and plot point that comes to mind. Don't worry about organizing them just yet - the goal is to capture the essence of your story.

Once you have a wealth of ideas, it's time to categorize and organize them. Create a visual representation of your story using tools like mind maps or index cards. This allows you to see the connections between different elements and identify any gaps or inconsistencies.

Use a flexible outlining approach that suits your ADHD brain. Traditional linear outlines may not work for everyone. Consider using non-linear methods like the "snowflake method" or the "puzzle piece method." These approaches allow you to work on different sections of your story simultaneously, keeping your mind engaged and preventing boredom.

Conclusion

Being a writer with ADHD certainly presents its challenges, but it also brings a unique set of strengths and talents. By embracing our superpowers, cultivating motivation and consistency, and employing effective outlining strategies, we can overcome the obstacles and unleash our full creative potential. Remember, there is no one-size-fits-all approach, so experiment with different techniques and find what works best for you. With perseverance and a little bit of creativity, you can become a successful writer, ADHD and all.

[fishnapple]

As a professional tarot reader, I imagine you got a busy life outside of that whether it's another job or social obligations. I like how you conduct yourself both on your blog and when making personal interpretation reports for others. How do you tend to manage yourself, schedule, and energy to make the creative-spiritual content that you do? You seem to genuinely enjoy what you are doing. 🥰 Do you have any general or practical advice for people thinking of starting out in becoming a reader for others? 🤔

Hi, thank you for such a lovely message💓🌰 (I feel like sending some chestnuts). Somehow the word "conduct" reminds me so much of Saturn, and then Saturn reminds me of chestnuts.

Your question took longer to reply to than I expected. As I wrote, I realised that this is quite a broad topic. If I were to write to my heart's content then it would turn into an essay, so I will try to keep it concise as much as possible 👀

A bit of context: I quit my corporate job that used to take up more than half the time of day. After being a corporate clown for 9 years, now I just live as a hermit and do freelance jobs. Maybe I will stay as a hermit for the next 9 years then begin another journey, who knows. I'm not that good at self management, but my life right now is pretty simple, so it's easier to manage. I will share some of my personal experiences and observations about time management, creativity and spirituality here:

Time

Routine: Doing readings at a certain time of the day. I just found out recently that I do divination reading best at night time, rather than during daytime. I keep a general timetable in my head so I can have a general idea of when to do something (and not following it).

Checklist: I also keep a checklist of tasks I need to complete on time (PACs, personal readings), the feeling of ticking off boxes can be pretty satisfying 😆.

Space out readings: For PACc, I only read one group/day to keep the energy and length balanced between each group (if I do all the groups in one go, later group's reading length will suffer). For personal readings, I do the opposite, I tend to read all the questions in one go, but won't read for more than one person in one day.

Productivity

Enjoyment: Are you doing readings for your own enjoyment or as a duty? Do you genuinely like the questions, the topics? Do you feel comfortable doing readings for certain topics, for certain people? I don't think divination can be something that you can force yourself to do, especially when reading for other people.

Motivation: What are you trying to achieve when doing readings? for fun, for practice, for gaining knowledge, for digging out people's deep dark secrets, for money or for other reasons? Being clear on what motivates you will give you a better direction.

Perseverance: I like how every time I ask Tarot about my path, I always got the 8 of pentacles. Routine practice is good, don't compare yourself with other people, keep your gaze on what you're doing.

Guilt & Fear: I have productivity guilt sitting in the dark corner, ready to nag and whip any time I dare to be idle. Thanks to this, I was actually able to do lots of things. Doing something creative is also a good way to relieve stress for me, so the more stressed I am, the more productive I become *quietly, begrudgingly mumbling a "thank you" to Saturn aspects*. Guilt and fear, sometimes, can be such great motivators, with the right dose of course. (on the topic of fear, I once asked my friend if they didn't have any fears at all, what are the things that they would do? My friend answered "nothing, If I didn't fear anything, I wouldn't do anything at all")

Creativity/ Energy

Creative energy pool: Not to be confused with general energy pool. I don't know if other people feel the same, but for me, creative energy has a definite allotment for each day. If I use up that energy for one creative activity then I can't do another creative activity in that same day. So cramming many creative activities in one day can be counter intuitive. Doing divination, in my opinion, can also be a form of creative act, as it's about translating the messages inside you into a visible form of communication. So be mindful of that aspect.

The cyclical nature of creative energy: Some people are able to maintain a constant flow of energy, but in my case, it can be sporadic, it waxes and wanes like the moon so if I ever find myself feeling uninspired, I will just leave it and do other things, because I know it will come back later. If you find a topic or a question unappealing, maybe leave it for a while, read other topics then come back to it later.

Energy level: This is about the general energy level. Each person will have a different peak time for doing something during the day. Find out about yours and ultilise it. The tone and quality of a reading will reflect your energy, doing a reading when you're tired or physically unwell will have a negative impact on both the reading and you, not to mention the receiver of that reading if you read for others.

Interaction with energies: Be aware of your interaction with other people's energy, reading for others is a two way connection. Having your moods and thoughts be influenced by other's energy is real. Some will energise you, others can leave a bad taste but don't let that discourage you.

In the end, the most helpful advice I can think of is take it easy, keep doing what you enjoy and keep it fun & meaningful (even the soul searching, deep introspection readings needn't to be all dark and heavy, facing your demons can be like those dark fantasy novels, but it can also be slice of life comedy, none is less meaningful than the other)

I hope this can be helpful somehow. Have a great weekend ahead. 🌼🎐

[darcytaylor]

There has been something that has bothered me lately after reading some of the stuff out here on Tumblr and then watching some of the WT press. I 100% get the notion of choosing to only believe and give value to the things we’ve heard Nic or Luke say, but, I have to wonder if that’s truly the best approach considering the context. There are a lot of things in the WT that really seem to be played up or exaggerated or even just very influenced by the circumstances of the tour. The talk of being “best friends” and such really seemed to be something that they played up or even was just something they were feeling in the moment of the experience of filming and touring. They’ve never actually seemed to overlap socially, the family follows don’t happen between them like they have with others, and we know that in terms of interests/hobbies they don’t seem to really align.

Obviously these are all superficial things that don’t have to mean anything, but I guess my point is that in a lot of ways we really should be considering how much of an unreliable narrator the situation of promoting a tv show that relies on them convincing an audience to believe they are playing two people who are friends to lovers might have made them. I’m not trying to call them out as liars, but I just think there has to be a bit more skepticism when it comes to what they said.

This is an interesting perspective, but I think it leans too heavily on external observations rather than acknowledging the complexities of relationships/friendships - especially in a work setting. Yes, the press tour was part of their job, and naturally, there will always be an element of performance involved. But that doesn’t invalidate the connection they’ve spoken about or the bond they’ve shown during the press tour.

Coworker relationships are unique, and I’ve talked about this before on my blog. In many ways, they can be just as deep, if not deeper, than "normal" friendships. Coworkers often see us in ways our family or outside friends don’t. They’re there on your bad days and good days because, well, you have to be at work. There’s something about sharing long hours, challenging projects, and high-stress environments that can create incredibly meaningful bonds. I'm saying this from personal knowledge.

Friendships like this don’t need to fit into the neat, public boxes that some people seem to expect. The absence of visible "evidence" like family follows or shared hobbies doesn’t negate the type of relationship they do have or could have. Private interactions exist, and just because we don’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Social media, especially for celebrities, is performative. It’s a tool of their job, not a definitive reflection of their personal lives.

Ultimately, we’ll never know the full story because we’re not in their lives. Speculating too much based on limited public information leads to oversimplified, black-and-white conclusions. Relationships - whether between coworkers, friends, or a mix of both - are nuanced and multifaceted, and they don’t need to follow any specific mold to be valid or real.

[thewarfox]

DEI is racist.

I wrote this as a comment to a youtube video, but I am relatively certain that it will get shadowbanned. I'm pretty happy with the thoughts I wrote down, so I decided to bring them over here: The reason DEI has a negative inclination is the same reason that Affirmative Action has a negative inclination. Even if the person being hired is qualified, you cannot be certain they got the position because of their merits, or because of their 'diverse' qualities. Let's say that, hypothetically, you have two equally qualified candidates that have to be decided between. One has to be picked. The only difference between them is that one is a white man, and one is a black woman. Same age, same education, same records, everything else is equal. When you have a culture of DEI, you immediately run into a problem. If you DON'T hire the black woman, you risk being called a racist and a sexist. If you do hire her, you risk being accused of picking her for her immutable characteristics instead of for her qualifications. On the side of the hypothetical black woman, if you get picked for the job, you can't be completely certain that you were picked for your qualifications, or if you were picked for your God-given characteristics. On the side of the hypothetical white man, if you get picked for the job, you can't be completely certain that you were picked for your qualifications, or if you were picked because your employer is a racist or sexist. There are obviously other possibilities, but we're trying to narrow the thought experiment for simplicity. By utilizing DEI, you are putting discrimination on the table. You are stating that you have an agenda to shape your workplace based on categories that have nothing to do with qualifications. You are subjecting people hired under it to be insecure about the circumstances of their employment, and their true role in the organization. Are they there to do a job, or are they there to check off a box? Have they really earned the position, or are they being used to signal to outside observers? And finally, like any system humanity creates, people take advantage of it. Does it happen very often? Hopefully not. But it certainly does happen, however rarely. And the fear that the people you're hiring might be a grifter of some kind does poison the well. A rotten apple can spoil the bunch. It can breed distrust of potential selectees based off of the actions of a few bad actors. It opens the door for behaviors and worries and conflicts that don't need to exist. There are places where DEI has no place, and everything works fine. Take basketball for instance. You don't see anyone saying that a certain percentage of asian or white players need to be on every team to reflect the population. Any team that does such a thing will likely be at a competitive disadvantage to the teams that don't do it. They are composing the teams of the best players, and they happen to mostly be black, and no one has a problem with this. DEI didn't have to be implemented to get black people onto the teams, their own skill, ability, and effectiveness got them there. If they failed to get onto the teams because the rules forced them to hire other people for the team, how many black basketballers would not be able to get on the team when they otherwise would? In fact, one could say that DEI-like thinking kept black players out of basketball in the early days, and only when teams started taking risks by hiring them, and they started winning games more as a result, the inherent competitiveness of sport demanded that other teams had to hire black players as well if they didn't want to be left behind. It was only by abolishing a policy of composing a team by race that the sport was allowed to take its modern, superior shape. DEI is not a recipe for competitiveness. It is inherently anticapitalistic. It promotes unhealthy discrimination. It opens the door for ugly and unhealthy criticism. It calls into question the capabilities of people, and whether they are qualified for their positions.

[jojo-schmo]

Okay first of all, I love this au, like, with all my heart, thank you for existing

Second of all, what do you think Elflis (Hope I am spelling that right) sounds like? Like, voice head canon??

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! <3 I'm so glad you like it!

I talk more about how I imagine Elfilis sounding here, and my voice actor head canon for them here! They're older posts but still hold true for me.

Someone commented on a comic page a long time ago how they imagined Elfilis sounding like Midna from Twilight Princess, WHICH I LOVE.

But outside of a game context where he'd have full speech instead of "animalese text boxes" I think he'd have a similar voice to the computer at Lab Discovera with the same bouncy and staggered vocal inflection. But pitched a bit lower. And while they understand the language everyone from Pop Star speaks due to listening and observing the Waddle Dees for a while, speaking is a different story!

Especially like here where he talks a lot, I imagine his delivery of each word is staggered with inconsistent timing. It doesn't help that they don't fully understand the sentence structure and vocabulary of Dreamland's language yet, so it takes a second to think about the correct words to say.

Someday when it's easier for him to speak that language, the pauses in his speech will go away but I think it'll always sound just a little artificial. Kind of like that TikTok text-to-speech voice.

(I'm drawing a little from my own bilingual experience here haha... My folks' first language is Spanish so I can totally understand what they're saying! But having a conversation and responding with my own correct sentence structures and vocabulary is still tricky for me sometimes. I tend to trip over my words, it takes a while to get my thought out in the correct language, sometimes my tongue won't roll an 'r' correctly and I sound like my mouth is full of cotton... And sometimes I give up halfway and finish the sentence in English lol)