#'i was given a heart before i was given a mind' describes her perfectly

[marivenah]

What is your OC's love language?

I was tagged by @natesofrellis @socially-awkward-skeleton @echo3-1 and @purplehairsecretlair to do this really interesting uquiz! Thank you for the tags, beloveds 💙

sending out tags to; @sstewyhosseini @risingsh0t @poisonedtruth @hoesephseed @thomrainer @confidentandgood @aceghosts @indorilnerevarine @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @strangefable @ghastlyrider @noetikat @jackiesarch @jacobseed @leviiackrman @shadowglens @shellibisshe and you!

a story that ends in blood

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

consumption of a heart unloved

Here’s a dining table, here’s a set of plates. Here’s your heart, red and bursting with love. You have tried to love people all your life, but no one seems to understand you. Your own mother perhaps forgot to teach you how to protect yourself, maybe people whom you trusted chose to look the other way when all you wanted was a hand full of love. All you want is someone to take from you, all you want is someone to dig in your heart and eat it and kiss you afterwards - bloody and red. You want them to tell you that you are what they have been looking for, you want to be the one who ends their hunger.

an undoing influence

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

a knife called grief

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything. You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

#oc: paz acosta #oc: mags wilhelm #oc: laurie devin #oc: shireen oqir #oc: carol kovacs #tag game #uhh be careful when opening the tags lmao #we got A LOT to unpack here wow ok let's go #these are all so extremely accurate it hurts and scares me #mags' result is probably the most surprising one #replace 'mother' with 'father' and it would be a lot more accurate #i guess you could say it applies to her before she met genji and after she escaped talon hmm #she did give him her whole heart (served on a plate) so maybe that's how talon could not take it from her later on #because she didn't have it anymore. it was always safe with him #or maybe i'm talking complete nonesense #paz is an obvious one. a tortured and broken soul looking for redemption in the form of love #it's all there really is for her. all she can believe in. wants to believe in. and when she finally finds it she'll do anything to protect #this is the part where i can finally talk about how 'blood in the wine' is THE song for laurie. it was written for her i know it #'i was given a heart before i was given a mind' describes her perfectly #because that's how she acts. out of love and compassion. not necessarily the most logical way. but it's always others before her #not only has she been neglected by others but also by herself #and the stitching part can honestly apply to both jacob and faith #it's almost as if this quiz knew shireen's partner is maul 😩 and to her he's obviously not the monster everyone else only sees #she doesn't deny the atrocities he's committed and she stands by him #how they're sort of?? in a force bond and they're the only ones for each other kinda hnnnnn #this whole result is just about carol and her dad tbh. she can't deny him nor run away from the memories. they're rooted. #all she ever wanted to hear him say was 'I am proud of you' but she never did. and she blames herself for not being good enough #and she carries this with her throughout her whole life. talk about daddy issues #if you made it this far i am kissing you on the mouth #these are just notes for myself but hii!! if you're reading this lol

[theewokingdead]

Breaking Free - Francisco "Catfish" Morales x Plus Size f!Reader

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Plus Size f!Reader Summary: You’ve always felt insecure about your body, especially since your last relationship. It isn’t until you meet Frankie that you wonder if there is more to life than worrying about your appearance. He tells you he loves your body, worships it, makes you feel things you've never felt before. Can you finally feel confident in your own skin? Can you finally break free from your body-hating demons and let yourself love who you are - and let Frankie love you? Word Count: 8.8k+ Rating: Mature – 18+ ONLY POV: First Person Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.  A/N: I took over the following ask received by @musings-of-a-rose: "Frankie and the reader (Fem) has been dating for a year and they are completely in love especially Frankie, but the reader is extremely insecure about her body, even if Frankie says he love her body and everything about her, so every time they are in private they have to do it with the lights off but Frankie doesn't really matter about, he give you the time you need, until one night you decide to face your insecurities and surprise Frankie, please do it with all the smut you can." I’ve never answered an ask before because I’m terrified of disappointing people. I guess this is me, like Reader, facing some of my insecurities. I hope you enjoy! Hope this is enough smut! **Reader is plus sized with stretch marks and cellulite, but is otherwise not described. **Post-Triple Frontier but no mention if he has a child or not Please follow @theewokingdeadwrites to get notifications when I post new fics

Masterlist

“What?” I question, leaning towards Frankie, who’s standing next to me with a wide smile and a look of absolute adoration in his eyes while looking at me. The crowded bar bustles around us, filled with people and music and chatter, an atmosphere of excitement filling the room with Christmas just around the corner.

“Nothing,” he replies, practically having to shout over the noise of the bar. He seems embarrassed that I caught him admiring me, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle. He never is. “It’s just…you look incredible tonight. I mean, you always look incredible, but…” He awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. “I just can’t believe you’re mine.”

I dip my head, hiding a shy smile, never one to easily accept a compliment. “Thanks,” I say softly but sincerely before sipping the drink in my hand.

It’s odd, hearing someone compliment my appearance. I’ve given up on ever finding myself beautiful; it’s never crossed my mind that other people could still find me attractive. I’ve never heard as many positive things as I’ve heard from Frankie these last few weeks. It feels strange and wonderful, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to believe him.

Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that this is normal. This is how a relationship should be, how a boyfriend should treat his girlfriend. Just because I can’t see my body through his eyes doesn’t mean I shouldn’t trust his words.

Slowly, I tilt my head back up, my eyes meeting his gaze. I can feel the corner of my mouth curving into a sly smile. “I’m pretty sure you don’t own me though,” I reply teasingly, my voice playful. My heart is pounding in my chest as I bask in the thrill of our interaction, waiting for his response. Though we are just two people standing in a bar, it feels like we are each other’s entire universe.

As he stands there before me, I am struck by how the light catches in his deep brown eyes, causing them to twinkle like stars. His broad shoulders fill out his shirt perfectly, making him look both strong and gentle at the same time.

Frankie laughs, his eyes sparkling with joy. “No, I don’t own you…” he says, his voice trailing off as he leans in closer to me. “But say the word and I’ll make you mine.”

I smile, mischievously. “I thought I was already yours, Francisco?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “I meant in a different way, bebita,” he whispers. “I want to make you mine in every way possible.”

A shiver runs down my spine at his words, my heart pounding faster as I look up at him.

The corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk as he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across my cheek. His hand slides down to rest on the small of my back. He leans in closer, brushing his lips against my ear. “I want to take you home with me,” he murmurs.

My eyes go wide, my cheeks flush as I realize the heated implication behind his words. My body is already responding to his touch. I lean in closer to him, the noise of the bar fading into the background as I focus solely on him.

“I want to worship you,” he continues. His voice is low and raspy, sending a shiver through my body. “I want to make you feel so good that the only name you remember is mine.”

My heart races at his words, my stomach clenching with anticipation. I never thought I could feel this way about someone, never thought I could be so deeply in – dare I say it? - love. But with Frankie, everything feels different.

“Okay,” I reply, my voice quiet. “Make me yours, Francisco.”

The ride to his place is silent, but my mind is racing. Anticipation bubbles up from my stomach and makes its way through the rest of my body, like a hot drink sloshing in a cup. I steal glances at Frankie, drinking in his rugged features and muscular build. The way his hand grips the steering wheel makes me ache for him, imagining those strong hands on my body, the rough skin sliding against the softness of mine. I almost tremble with need for him. But I’m also afraid that he’ll take my clothes off and doesn’t like what he sees.

It's been longer than I care to admit since I’ve been completely nude in front of anyone. And Frankie has told me that he loves my body, but until now, I haven’t been comfortable enough with him to take my clothes off. We’ve never done anything more than making out and heavy petting before, and I’m terrified.

As we step inside his apartment, I can feel my nerves intensifying. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before turning to face him. He stands before me, his eyes roaming over me hungrily, making my heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. His gaze lingers on my curves, and for a moment, I feel self-conscious, but then he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush my hair from my face.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips closing in on mine. I melt into his kiss, my arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to me. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, his hands roaming over my body, igniting every nerve in me. I moan against his lips, unable to resist his touch any longer.

Frankie breaks away from the kiss, his eyes dark and lustful. “I need to have you,” he growls, his hand sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me closer to him.

I can feel the sharp jut of his erection pressing against me, and the thought that he wants me makes me burn with desire. Somehow, we reach his bedroom, Frankie kicking the door closed behind him. He turns to reach for the light switch on the wall, but I quickly grab ahold of his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” I blurt out, my voice echoing through the room. The light filters through the blinds from the moonlight and streetlights outside – enough so that it isn’t pitch black, but the shadows still lurk in every corner. It’s all we need – I don’t want him to see my flaws, to see my heart racing like a wild animal inside my chest. I want, more than anything, to share a passionate night with Frankie, but I can’t let him see me – not when my body is the way it is.

I stand there frozen, watching as he moves closer, a small part of me knowing that he’s not looking at my imperfections. He sees something else entirely. Something that makes me feel seen for the first time in years.

“Are you okay with this?” Frankie questions, concern laced in his voice. “I don’t expect anything from you just because you got this far. If you’re not ready-”

“I’m fine,” I reply as casually as possible, but my words come out almost a bit harsh. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m here because I want this,” I say with more conviction. “It’s just…” I hesitate, thinking about how to explain the truth without revealing too much of myself. “It’s been a while for me.”

“How long?”

“I-I don’t know,” I respond with a shrug. “I stopped counting. At least a year.”

“No pressure then, right?” he jokes, his eyebrows raised and cheeks puffed out in a boyish smile. He reaches for my hand, his fingers warm on mine as he grips them. “I really want this. I want you.” He smiles shyly. “I, uh…” His throat bobs and his cheeks flush. “I think I’m falling for you.”

Smiling softly, I reply, “I think I’m falling for you too.”

Frankie’s lips boldly meet mine as his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close. His tongue slips into my mouth and swirls around mine. I can feel the heat radiating from his body as it crowds mine, both arousing and protecting me at once, making me feel like nothing else in the world matters. The smell of him invades my senses, a mix of musk and sandalwood that makes my knees weak. I’m too lost in temptation to think straight at the moment and waste no time in removing my clothes, Frankie following my lead. I barely get a moment to get a good look at him before his lips are back on mine.

The air around us crackles with an electric intensity as our naked bodies come together for the first time, my breasts brushing against his chest. His hands roam over me with fervor, memorizing every curve of my body as we move together. The feeling of his bare skin against mine raises goosebumps all over my flesh. And for one shining moment, nothing else exists but the two of us, lost in each other's embrace.

Frankie runs his fingertips across my sides, tickling me slightly before moving down to my waist. The sensation shoots sparks of pleasure throughout my body. He lets out a low growl in the back of his throat, tangling his fingers in my hair as he kisses me. I moan into his mouth, my body aching for more.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you. I bet you taste so fucking good.”

His words only make me want him more. I can feel myself dripping as his hands caress my body. His lips meet my neck, and I can feel his hot breath against the skin of my throat. He gently scrapes his teeth against the tender flesh, and I can feel it throbbing beneath his touch. I could come just from his kisses and soft touches. Moaning, kissing, I rub my slick pussy up and down his leg, my clit practically ready to burst.

A high-pitched whine fills the air, and it’s an embarrassingly long minute before I realize I made that sound. I haven’t felt this turned on in – well, fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on. As the thought hits me, I lose the feeling, lose the edge I’m riding.

The man I was with prior never made me feel special, never made me feel beautiful. He never pulled out the stops to make me feel appreciated—instead, he treated me as an object of his physical desires. Tears start to well up in my eyes, but I try to hold them back.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby,” Frankie says suddenly, and I realize he’s stopped kissing me.

“It’s nothing,” I reply, an obvious lie.

“Bebita, please,” Frankie begs. “Tell me. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

I snort at his statement. My cheeks burn with fury and humiliation. I feel tears pressing against the backs of my eyes, wanting to break out. Every time I take a breath, it hurts, like I’ve torn something inside me that shouldn’t have been torn. It hadn’t been just one man who had reduced me to this; the last was just the worst. I’m angry at myself for not loving my body the way I should, but mostly, I’m angry that I ever let anyone tear me down the way they did, to reduce me to a shell of who I was or could be.

Putting both of his hands on my face, Frankie forces me to look at him. My vision is blurred from the tears I won’t allow to fall, but I can see the worry in his eyes.

“What do you see in me, Frankie?” I question, my voice a whisper. “I’m not in shape…I’m not pretty…I-”

His lips seal themselves around mine before I can say anything more, causing me to gasp in surprise. His tongue slips into my mouth, tenderly. I relax into the kiss, and after a moment, he pulls away.  

“Are you crazy?” Frankie questions. “Each and every single thing about your body is beautiful.” His hands fall to the slope of my waist. “You are so fucking gorgeous that it hurts how gorgeous you are.”

I let out a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a sob. “That’s cheesy.”

“Yeah, I know,” Frankie chuckles. “But it’s true. My dick is so hard it feels like it could burst. That’s what you do to me.”

I smile.

“Do you believe me?”

“I want to.” I mean.

Frankie holds my face once more, his eyes staring at me softly. “You. Are. Beautiful.”

Who is this man? I wonder as I stare at him, pleasure blurring the edges of my vision. He wants me. He desires me. It’s clear in his face, in his eyes as they smolder with desire. His full lips are parted as he breathes more heavily, his broad chest rising and falling as he devours the sight of me standing before him. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks now but it feels like this is where I have always belonged, like this is what I am supposed to be doing. Is this real? Am I dreaming? Is this only going to lead to more hurt?

I don’t know…but a part of me wants to find out.

He pulls me in for a kiss, his lips soft and gentle against my mouth. Our teeth click together as he kisses me more fully, sweeping his tongue into my mouth to taste me again and again. His warm scent fills my head as our tongues find each other. When I break away, trying to catch my breath, his mouth immediately moves to my throat, kissing a hot trail to the spot behind my ear, where my pulse leaps madly.

“You deserve to be adored and worshiped,” he murmurs into my ear. “I look at you and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you.” He nibbles on my lobe before growling. “Can you feel how much I want you? Can you feel what you’re doing to me right now?”

“Yes,” I breath.

“I want you so fucking bad.” His teeth grab onto my lower lip and tug, making me moan again. Then he spends some time kissing along the line of my jaw before returning to ravage my mouth with his tongue. “Do you know the things I want to do with you? Do to you?”

“Tell me.”

“I want to lay you on the bed, spread your legs, bury my face in your pussy, and eat you out until you can’t remember you name. I want to make you come on my mouth, around my cock…”

My eyes go wide and I feel my cheeks flush with color. He isn’t even touching me and I’m so turned on I can feel my body clenching, wetness pooling between my legs. He makes me want him so much I think I can explode from the intensity of it. I’m shaking now, trembling with need and anticipation, and a little fear.

Frankie moves down to my neck, his lips and teeth working against my skin. His fingertips gently cup my breasts, pulling at my nipples. “I want you to scream my name.”

“Fuck,” I whimper, my hands clutching his back. “Touch me.”

“Greedy girl,” Frankie teases, grinning. He presses warm kisses against my throat and chest, moving slowly down my body.

“Please,” I whimper, taking his hand and gently guiding it down my body. “I want you to make me feel good. Please.” His fingers slip between my lips

Frankie groans as his fingers sink into my wetness, teasing my clit lightly before he gently makes contact with it. I shudder as my legs move apart, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, my pussy practically screaming with pleasure. It’s so intense I can’t even think straight.

He slips a finger inside of me and I let out a gasp, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through my body. Frankie’s lips trail up my neck, pressing against my ear, and his voice is harsh, but gentle. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.”

Shivers run down my spine. I sink against him, capturing my lower lip between my teeth.

I whine when he removes his fingers from me, his hands returning to my face, lips crashing to mine. He backs me up until the back of my legs hit the bed and I fall onto the soft mattress. He climbs on top of me, his body weight pressing me down, a delicious feeling of submission washing over me.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes. Always.”

“Close your eyes.”

My eyes search his, a soft smile forming on my lips before doing as he commands.

“I need you to relax. To just feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm.” I’m nervous, but I do as he says, my body sinking into the mattress as I try to relax. I sense him drop to his knees at the foot of the bed. He plants a kiss on my thigh, and I shudder beneath the feel of his warm, soft lips on my skin. I breath in deeply, the shakiness apparent.  

“You are breathtaking,” Frankie praises between kisses. His hands grab either side of my hips, pulling me towards his face. He gently nuzzles my mound, inhales my scent. “And you smell like heaven. I can only imagine what you taste like. Fuck, I need to taste you.”

Need. Not want, but need. Fuck, yes.

“Taste me, Frankie. Please.”

My breath hitches when he licks his tongue against my clit. My hand fists the sheets, my thighs already shaking from the rush of sensation pouring through them.

“Oh, God!”

“You taste so good,” Frankie rasps. His deep voice sends a shiver over my skin. “I could eat you for breakfast, lunch, dinner and still not have enough of you.”

As I writhe, he slides a finger inside me, then a second, reaching the spot that helps lead me to detonation. My stomach clenches, the muscles in my legs tight.

“Frankie, yes! I’m…I…”

With all sense of rhyme and reason lost, I begin to shudder. He presses his fingers deep inside me, thrusting them slowly in and out. His tongue laps against me relentlessly, taking everything I have to give him. The cry of pressurized release that escapes my mouth is startling and loud.

“There it is,” I vaguely hear Frankie praise. “Good girl.”

He crawls on top of me, wiping the wetness from his facial hair with one hand as he hovers above me. God, I love the way his skin feels pressed against mine. “You did beautifully.”

“F-fuck. Fuck me,” I plead between pants.

“No,” Frankie states, planting a gentle kiss on my collarbone. “I don’t want to fuck you, baby. I want to make love to you. Please.” He is sincere. Desire burns in his eyes, free of the disgust of my last partner. “Please, let me have you.”

I nod, unable to speak. He kisses me, and I allow his tongue to seek mine, but he’s soon gone.

Frankie leans toward the nightstand and opens a drawer, pulling out a condom. Quivering in the dim light, I watch him tear the wrapper with his teeth and then roll the condom over his cock. It’s the first time I get a good look at it. Long, thick, and smooth – just like I’d pictured him.

He lines himself up at my entrance, looking me deep in the eyes as he pushes inside. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man inside me that I’m not sure I can take him all the way in, but he pushes in slow, giving me time to adjust.

“Frankie,” I gasp in surprise.

He groans, face nuzzled into my neck. “You feel incredible. So warm and tight.”

“Please, stop torturing me and move,” I beg, loving the feel of him stretching me but needing more. “Move!”

He grins and pulls out slowly, teasing me with just the tip before plunging back in. My back arches off the bed as I moan in pleasure. He kisses me, swallowing my moan as he pulls out once more then thrusts harder into me. Each thrust he makes shoots waves of pleasure through my body. I can feel the buildup of pleasure again, like it’s a ticking time bomb about to go off. He sets a steady rhythm. My nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck,” he moans. “I love your pussy. I love the way you feel. I love…I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I manage to utter before his lips crash against mine.

As he picks up the pace, I feel my body begin to tighten. I’m almost there, but I want him to come with me. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He groans and pumps into me faster, his breathing ragged.

“Come for me,” he breathes. “I’m close, but I need you there first.”

With one hand, I reach down and circle my clit. He kisses my neck, opening his mouth and swirling his tongue on the skin. I come so hard, screaming and going boneless. He slams into me one last time, burying his face into my neck, groaning long and low before collapsing beside me on the bed.

Once his breathing slows, he moves from the bed, leaving me with insecurities. Did I do something wrong? Did he not enjoy himself?

“I’ll be right back,” he utters then stumbles off to what I assume is the bathroom.

My heart races in my chest as my thoughts turn to everything we just did. I’ve never felt so adored, so appreciated, so loved. No one has ever made love to me like he did or talked to me the way he did. My ex-boyfriend hated how I looked and would insist that I cover up because of his discomfort with my body. I remember one night vividly – the night that absolutely broke me. I put on a sexy lingerie set hoping it would help make me feel beautiful. The moment he saw me, his face twisted in disgust.

“Can you put on a shirt or something?”

I try to shake the memory from my head, not wanting to taint the moment I just shared with Frankie. But it’s too late. The tears are already falling from my eyes. I turn onto my side, pulling a blanket over my body as I do. Then I cover my face with my hands, trying to will them away before Frankie returns.

Moments later, I feel the bed shift as Frankie climbs back in behind me, beneath the blanket. The warmth of him presses up behind me, holding me tight against him, his hands warm yet damp. It didn’t cross my mind until then that maybe he was going to get a wet towel to clean up – after-care another thing I’ve never experienced – but he no longer seems concerned about cleaning up.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I just…I thought…” I close my eyes tight, wishing I could will the tears away. As much as it hurts, I want to be completely honest with him. “I’ve never been comfortable in my skin, Frankie. I mean, cellulite? I’m gross. Stretch marks? I’m not beautiful. Thigh gap? What the hell’s that?” I huff, a tear rolling down my cheek. “Loving myself has always been hard. Nobody has ever tried to make me feel good. Then, the last time I tried a relationship with a guy… He never wanted to have sex with me with the lights on. He made me wear a shirt so he wouldn’t have to see me. He made me feel disgusting.”

I turn onto my back, allowing myself to look at him. “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me, but I can’t help it.”

Rage flashes in his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips, but it disappears as quickly as it came. “He wasn’t the first, Francisco, and I don’t know that he’ll be the last.”

“He’ll be the last,” Frankie promises. His lips press against mine, his grip on my waist like a brand. I know he means it. He won't treat me that way because he’s nothing like the men I've dated in the past. Frankie will protect me from them.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice choked with emotion as I reach up to wipe away the trail of fallen tears on my face. “I know you didn’t sign up for all this baggage. I know I need some serious therapy. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable enough to have sex with the lights on. And it's not you that makes me feel this way - it's all me. Knowing my body is on full display… I just can’t focus, be present in the moment.”

I sigh, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as I speak the truth. The darkness of a room is comforting, a soothing balm against the anxieties that plague me. My skin prickles at the thought of being seen under harsh lights, every imperfection laid bare for scrutiny.

Silence stretches between us before he speaks again, his voice gentle but firm.

“You’re right. I didn’t sign up for baggage. I signed up for you, and if that means helping you sort through your shit, then so be it. We’ll work through it together.”

“And if I can’t work past it?”

Frankie slides his hand up and cups the side of my face. “I don’t care about the lights. If I have to move into a cave just to be able to fuck you whenever I want, I’ll do it. I’ll install dimmer switches in every damn room of the apartment so you can find the level of light you feel comfortable with. And, if you didn’t already know, I really fucking love lingerie.”

“Yeah?” I question, raising an eyebrow while I roll onto my side and lay on an elbow.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Just thinking about you in some little lace number is making me hard again.” He throws back his head and groans. “God, I’d come on sight.”

I giggle. I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t give me a little confidence boost.

“My point being…,” Frankie continues, looking at me again. “We can work together to find ways to make you comfortable.”

I melt at the thought that he’s already thinking about ways we can make this work, that he’s not pressuring me to do something that would make me uncomfortable for his pleasure. “Thank you for understanding, Frankie.”

He pulls me to him, and I rest my head between his collar and his jaw, my hand splaying out on his naked chest.

“I love you,” Frankie says, echoing the words he spoke early.

“I love you too.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve got a lot of insecurities, too, you know.” His voice is quiet.

“Hm?” I question, rubbing my hand along his chest. “Like what?”

“Like the fact I can’t grow a facial hair for shit,” Frankie responds, sounding a bit grouchy about it. “It’s all patchy - like I’m a dog with mange or something.”

I can’t help the laughter that escapes my mouth, knowing he looks absolutely nothing like a mangey animal. I look up at him and cup his cheek, feeling his stubble prick my fingertips. “Are you serious? I think your patches are adorable. One of my favorite things about you.” I kiss the bare spot on the cheek closest to me.

He smiles. “And in case you didn’t notice, I have worse scars than a few stretch marks.”  

“I have more than a few,” I point out. “Also, your scars are sexy. They’re proof of your bravery, your sacrifice, your honor. You should be proud of them.”

Frankie’s chest heaves as he scoffs. “Not all of them.” He falls silent for a moment, his gaze drifting away as if contemplating whether he should say more. And then, as if making up his mind, he gently takes my hand and guides my fingers to his left cheek. Beneath my fingertips, I can feel the roughness of scar tissue along his cheekbone, harder than the smooth skin that surrounds it. The warm touch of his skin sends shivers down my spine and I realize that I have noticed the scar there before but never questioned its appearance. It’s like an old friend who is always there but never talked about.

“I got this in a helicopter crash a few years ago – in Colombia.”

I can tell by the way he says the words, by the look on his face as he says them, that he hates remembering that time in his life.

“What happened?” I question, gently encouraging him to continue. To my surprise, he does, and it was unlike anything I’d ever expected.

Frankie tells me the whole story – how Santiago talked him and the others into conducting a reconnaissance of a Colombia drug kingpin’s compound on the pretext that they were aiding the government, then how they ended up deciding to raid the compound themselves, killing the narcos and leaving with the hundreds of millions of dollars hidden there. How Tom, who I've heard mention of before, became greedy and forced Frankie to take more money than their escape helicopter could carry, resulting in the crash. But he doesn’t end there. He tells me about the hostile cocaine farmers, about Tom’s death, the car chases and gunfights they endured transporting their friend’s body and whatever was left of the money back to his family.

A job that spiraled out of control into a mission from hell that cost lives.

“Jesus, Frankie…,” I utter when he finishes, shocked that he has been carrying the weight of that secret, but even more surprised that he felt comfortable enough to share that with me. “That… That’s a lot. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Frankie’s eyes are focused on the ceiling. He closes them, inhales deeply. “I’ll understand if you want to walk out the door and never come back. I won’t blame you.”

I lay my hand back on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks at me, resting a large hand on top of mine. “Neither am I.”  

I offer him a smile. “What happened in Colombia…it wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to do to survive. I hope you know that.”

Frankie nods, like he wants to believe me. “Anything bad that anyone has ever said about you or your body – it’s bullshit. You’re beautiful. And I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll spend every waking moment trying to make you believe that I need and love every inch of your body.”

My heart swells in my chest as he leans in and seals his promise with a kiss.

Frankie’s head turns, as if he can sense me watching him from across the room. The moment our eyes meet, his lips curl up in a mischievous grin. I smile back at him, unable to wrap my head around the fact that he has been mine for just over a year. A year filled with hurt and pain as we’ve dealt with our demons, far outweighed by all the laughter and love. A year where I finally understand what it means to be in a healthy relationship. A year where I’m finally starting to learn how to love myself – all thanks to the wonderful, patient, handsome man across the room.

I watch as he exchanges a few words with Benny before making his way toward me, patting his good friend on the shoulder with his beer-free hand as he passes him.

“You can’t just eye fuck me from across the room,” Frankie teases when he reaches me. “It’s Christmas, and there are children present.”

“Technically, it’s not Christmas,” you point out, the Miller brothers having gathered all their friends and family for a party the weekend before the holiday. “And unborn children don’t count,” I add, gesturing to Will’s girlfriend. “Which means I can eye fuck you all I want.” I gently jam a finger into his chest. “And don’t you dare act like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes all damn night.”

“Well, it isn’t a surprise that I want to unwrap you when you look like the most tempting damn gift under the tree.”

I giggle to myself then take a sip of wine. If he only knew that I'm internally begging him to remove my clothing when we get back home. He has no idea about what I have underneath my dress or the things I have in store for him – it’s been a year in the making.

“I didn’t know you have a fetish for nicely wrapped presents. Probably something you should explore in therapy,” I tease.

It’s no secret that we both have entered therapy in the last year, Frankie for his PTSD and me for my body image issues. It was time. Frankie has been nothing but patient and understanding of my insecurities—and our sex life certainly isn’t lacking thanks to creative positions, blindfolds, and Frankie’s obsession with lingerie—but I realized I couldn’t ignore my demons forever. There is more to life than worrying about my appearance. I’m ready to experience it…tonight. I feel just bold and confident to finally give all of myself to him.

He just doesn’t know it.

“I only have a fetish for you,” Frankie playfully replies.

“Ugh! So cheesy!” I groan, playfully rolling my eyes. “You really think you’re going to get me in bed tonight with a line like that?"

Frankie chuckles, but takes it as a challenge. “You know, I told Santa not to even bother with Christmas gifts this year – because you look better than any present I could ever hope to open.”

I laugh. “Cheesier. Want to go for three?”

“Alright.” Frankie takes a step closer to me, bending close to my ear so only I can hear. “I hope you’re ready for a not-so-silent night”-I bite down on my lip, hiding my smile, anticipating whatever ridiculous thing is about to come out of his mouth-“because when we get home, I’m going to fuck you so long and so hard that you’ll be hoarse from screaming my name.”

I gasp, my eyes going wide, wearing a combination of surprise and excitement on my face. My heartbeat is erratic.

Frankie smirks, knowing exactly what his words are doing to me.    

I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not going to let you get away with saying something like that in public.”

I feel the tip of his nose graze me, his lips moving closer to my ear.

“I’m counting on it,” he whispers, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

I turn my head to face him, and our eyes lock. I see the mischief and desire in his gaze, and I can't help but feel drawn to him.

“Think anyone will notice if we get out of here?” I question.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Without another word, he takes my hand and leads me out of the crowded house and onto the quiet street, leaving our drinks behind. The cool air hits us as we step outside, the night sky sparkling with stars above us. We walk in silence, the tension between us growing with each passing moment. Finally, he stops and pulls me close, his arms wrapping around my waist. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, and I know I won't be able to resist him for much longer.

He leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and gentle at first, then growing more urgent and demanding. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and the passion between us ignites.

We stumble back against his truck, our bodies pressed tightly together. Frankie’s hands roam over my body, teasing and tantalizing me, and I can’t help but moan in pleasure, my skin tingling from his touch. The stubble along his jaw rubs my chin raw, but I hardly notice – I’m addicted to kissing him, and I want nothing more than to kiss and kiss and kiss for the rest of our lives. He tastes so good, and just the touch of his tongue against mine is enough to make my entire body tingle with lust. His erection presses into me, hot and throbbing even through the rough denim of his jeans, and I grind against him.

“Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

I dip my head back and moan, thinking how hot it would be if he came in his jeans right here, right now.

“Don’t tempt me,” I say as I grab his shirt and pull him in for another kiss, making sure I brush against his cock one last time before we break apart. “Alright. Fine. Let’s go.”

Frankie groans, then opens up the door of his truck and helps me inside. I scoot across the bench seat, wanting to be as close to him as possible. The entire drive home, our bodies are pressed up against each other, his hand on my thigh, rubbing my skin. I want him so bad, and it’s all I can do to not rip his fucking clothes off and fuck him right here in the truck.

Frankie pulls into the driveway of our home, one I moved into just weeks after he bought this past summer, then cuts the ignition and switches off the headlights. He hops out then grabs my hand, leading me into the house, straight to the bedroom. As soon as we reach the room, he kisses me like he needs me more than air. I could spend eternity kissing this man, and it would never be enough. But I want to feel him, his skin on mine, his lips on my body. I break the kiss, breathing hard, my lips tingling.

Frankie watches me, his eyes fixed on my every movement. He swallows, his throat moving with the action. I kiss his stubbled cheek and move to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one by one. I push his shirt off, then help him remove the t-shirt beneath it, staring at his muscular arms and bronze skin. I trail my fingers down his stomach, following the trail of hair that disappears beneath his jeans, helping him unbuckle his belt and push his pants down.

“Your turn,” he says.

Smirking, I turn my back to him. “Turn on the lights, then help me with my dress.” I brush my hair to the side, allowing him easier access to my zipper, then look over my shoulder. His eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted. He stands there for a moment, as if trying to process what I just said.

I nod, letting him know it’s okay. “I trust you.”

My words force him to spring into action, flipping on the light and dimming it just enough to not be too bright and overstimulating. Then he steps behind me. His warm breath caresses my skin, his fingers nimbly lowering the zipper of my dress painfully slowly. He skims his fingers down my spine, making me come alive with sensation. My eyes flutter shut as he presses of series of tender kisses to my exposed skin.

Finally, my dress slides off me, leaving me in the satin and lace bustier set I had purchased especially for tonight, complete with garters holding up my stockings. I knew this set would drive him wild.

“Let me look at you,” Frankie says, helping me step out of the fabric pooled at my feet, then turning me towards him. He steps back, and I am suddenly feeling self-conscious as he devours me with his eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he utters. He grips my hips, bringing me close to him, then falls to his knees. “Fuck, baby. Do you know what you do to me?” He plants a kiss to my covered stomach.

I smirk, reaching down to tip his chin up toward me. “How bad do you want me?”

He looks up at me, desire and need in his luminous eyes. “Bad. So fucking bad. I need you.”

I bite my lip, not quite ready to give myself to him yet. “You know, you never told me what you want for Christmas.”

“You,” he growls, planting a kiss on my thigh. “I only want you.”

“You can’t unwrap me,” I point out.

“I could. Will you let me?”

“It’s not Christmas,” I remind him, trying my best to sound stern.

“Baby, please, let me unwrap you.” He breathes heavily against my thigh while planting wet kisses, his hands gripping my hips. It’s clear he wants me desperately. How can I say no?

“Merry Christmas, Frankie,” I say, giving him all the permission he needs.

“Fuck yes.” He slowly runs his hands up my thighs, causing me to sway. Unhooking one of my stockings, he slides it down and kisses my thigh inch by inch, lifting my foot to slide my stiletto then stocking. He continues with the same action on the other leg, then places his hands on my hips. His fingers hook around the elastic of my panties and pulls them down, his eyes locked on mine as he does so.

When my panties join the floor, he is back at my center, his breath hot on my skin. I don’t dare move. Don’t dare say a word. I simply wait for his next move while reminding myself how to breath.

“So beautiful,” he mumbles.

“Wait. One more thing,” I manage to say, reaching back to unclasp my bra. I allow the final piece of my undergarments to fall to the floor, and, for the first time, I am completely on display for him to see.

Frankie looks up at me, his eyes dark. He is trembling with desire. “You’re perfect…but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

I blush, feeling self-conscious, but I’m not going to let my thoughts consume me. My body is worthy of love and respect as it is. Frankie is right: I am perfect.

“I want to. Now, fuck me with your mouth, Francisco.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

My muddled brain screams as he gently runs the tip of his nose up my center. His grip strengthens on my hips, kneading my flesh beneath his fingers. Then his mouth meets my lower lips. A gentle, wet kiss. Then another and another. His tongue darts out and flatters against my seam as he slowly licks up my center. He hands cup my ass and tug me closer, bringing me to the center of his mouth, his tongue licking up my lips again, tasting me with unmatched hunger, flicking at the small bundle of nerves.

My breath escapes in small gasps. I can no longer think. My brain has shut down, only allowing me to feel, and he feels incredible.

“You taste so fucking good,” Frankie groans.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp out, gripping his head with both hands and rocking my hips toward his face. “It feels too fucking good.”

I buck against him, pushing his face harder and harder against me. His breath is hot as he moans into me, sending vibrations through my sensitive flesh. His stubble scrapes against my skin as he presses harder and harder into me. The tip of his nose nudges me, just beyond the hooded flesh. It’s too much and not enough. My orgasm refuses to crest over the edge, an elusive peak that lies just before I can feel happiness wash over me in a torrential wave of pleasure.

“Frankie,” I pant. “I need your cock.”

“No,” he growls, his eyes intense when he gazes up at me. He slips a finger inside me and watches as it slides in and out of me, thrusting through the hot wetness with practiced ease until I’m soaking wet with need for him.

“Please,” I beg, my frustration growing as the tension builds inside me, refusing to snap.

“I want you to come,” Frankie says, looking up at me. “You deserve it.”

“I-I can’t,” I admit, ready to throw in the white flag. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” he assures me. “You’re doing so well. You’re so close, but you’re holding back. I know this is scary for you, but you can do it. Just focus on what you feel. Okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Let go, baby, and I promise I’ll give you what you want.”

I nod, and Frankie dives back in, assaulting my clit while fucking me with his fingers. He swirls his tongue around my clit before sucking it into his mouth and lightly biting down on the tiny nub. I cry out as waves of pleasure start to sweep over me. The heat between my legs is spreading, pooling outward until there's a tingling in my chest that makes me huff for breath before I moan.

“Frankie… I’m gonna… I…”

“Come on, baby… There it is…”

“Yes!”

My entire body tightens, stills, melts all at once. My fingers dig into his shoulder blades, scrabbling for purchase in case I fall over with the pleasure of it all.

I am completely unaware of my surroundings until I feel my back hit the bed, Frankie crawling up my body and spreading my legs with his knees. He kisses up my throat, stopping at my chin.

“How do you want it?”

“Ride you,” I breath. “I want to ride you.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Frankie, please. Let me ride your cock.”

He nips my chin one last time. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

Frankie rolls off me then pulls himself up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. He holds out his hand and I take it, helping me climb on top of him so that I'm straddling his thighs. I push up on my knees and grip his cock, positioning it near my opening.

“Look down while you take it,” Frankie commands. “Watch as your beautiful pussy swallows my cock.”

I rest my hands on his shoulders for balance, then look down, my eyes locked on where our bodies join while slowly sinking down. Our skin is wet with sweat, and I can smell the sweet scene of my pussy and a hint of Frankie mixed in with the salt and musk. He fills me like our bodies are meant for one another. For a moment, I imagine that this is all either one of us will ever need; there is no doubt that we were made for each other, and we have more love for each other than most couples ever know.

Frankie’s groan echoes off the walls. “Fuck…” His head falls back against the headboard. He rests his hands on my hips and holds me there. “You’re killing me. You feel so good.”

“You sure you can handle me, Frankie?” I ask with a smirk, running a hand over his chest.

“Your pussy is like fucking magic.” He squeezes my hip with one hand then cups my breast with the other, like he wants to touch me everywhere all at once. “Let me see you ride me, baby. I want to watch you ride my cock.”

I stop torturing us both and work my hips in slow circles, adjusting to the feel and fullness of him. I look into his heavily lidded eyes, watching as he winces in ecstasy with every slow and sensual roll of my hips. He keeps his gaze on my face, never moving his attention as I ride his cock.

My gaze drops, landing on my body as it ripples and jiggles with the movement of my hips. The pleasure rises within me, but I am embarrassed at the sight of my own flesh moving to that rhythm. God, is this how he sees me? I want to hide. Would it be ridiculous to reach for the sheets and cover myself?

“Eyes on me, bebita.”

Immediately, my eyes meet his. His gaze burns into me as if nothing else matters, and I don't care about anything except him and how much he loves me, how good he makes me feel.

“You ride my cock so well and look amazing doing it. Think you can come on my cock?”

Heat pools inside me. I move faster, shamelessly grinding myself against him.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Take what you need from me.”

My nails score his skin as I ride him fast, like we’re in a race to the finish line. Breath rasping, teeth clenched, a wild determination fuels my movements.

“Take it, baby,” Frankie encourages, giving me all the power, making this all about my pleasure, my enjoyment. “Use me to get where you need to go.”

He presses a palm flat against my lower stomach. The extra pressure sends a sharp ribbon of euphoria spiraling through me. My movements grow erratic, and I babble absolute nonsense. All the tension inside me explodes, rippling and spreading to every nerve ending.

“Yes, baby. That’s my girl.” He drives himself up into me, brutal thrusts that draw out my own pleasure. He curses and thrusts again, once, twice, then his body stills. He groans, releasing inside me.

Frankie brushes my hair back, pulls my head to his, and captures my lips with his as my jumbled brain regains consciousness. After having his fill, he releases my lips and smiles at me.

“Hi.”

I return his smile. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

I nod, my smile widening. “Yeah. I-I did it.”

“You did it,” he echoes. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

I move off him and lay beside him, tucked safely in his arms, not knowing what to say next. He pulls a sheet on top of us and we lay in silence for some time, enjoying the feel of the gentle rhythm of his breathing.

“I love you,” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“I love you too.”

I nestle in closer to him, loving the way his voice rumbles though his chest to mine when we’re this close.

“What are you thinking?” I question, sensing that his mind is running a million miles a minute.

“About how I wasn’t lying when I said I only want you for Christmas. Nothing you can buy me will be better than the last year with you, and I want more. So much more.”

I hum, completely blissed out. “Me too.”

“Marry me then.”

I laugh, then move my head to look up at him. “I swear to God, Francisco, if this is another Christmas pun-”

“It’s not.” His face reflects his seriousness. “I’m asking you to marry me.”

I push myself up in bed, my mind reeling, wondering if I came so hard that I passed out and I’m dreaming.

“I was going to wait until Christmas morning,” he continues. “Had this whole thing planned out. But I can’t wait anymore.”

My mouth falls open, and I try to wrap my head around his words. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.” Frankie reaches out, laying a hand on top of mine. “If I could have picked the woman I wanted to spend my life with, I never would have been able dream up you. You’re kind, beautiful, gorgeous, funny, you have a heart of gold, and most importantly, you love me for who I am despite my imperfections.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, seeming to watch the flickering emotions that must be passing across my face.

Emotion tears through his throat, causing his voice to become husky. “I love you, and I want to spend every second of the rest of my life reminding you just how beautiful and amazing you are. I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night – always. Will you marry me?”

Tears course down my face as I shift to my knees and throw my arms around his neck. My lips meet his, giving him his answer. I’m insecure and hesitant about a lot of things in life, but there is not a single doubt in my mind about this.

I pull back, my hands cupping his neck. “Is this real? Like, really real?”

A small laugh escapes his lips before nodding. “It’s real. I have a ring. It’s hidden in the branches of the tree in the living room.”

My heart pounds with happiness. “I don’t need the ring. I only need you.”

A chuckle rumbles through him, and he kisses me with a greedy kind of joy that makes my toes curl. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes."

#frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fanfiction #pedrostories #catiewrites #triple frontier fanfic #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal smut

[lanitalay]

Cowboy like me

a/n: besties be warned this is my first time writing smut

azriel x reader one shot inspired by the Taylor Swift song

word count: 1.3k

warnings: smut!

Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon.

Azriel looked at her like he was looking in a mirror. He remembered how she laid on his bed, curled up on her side, snuggling with the thick covers. It had been lifetimes, centuries since they had seen each other. Last he heard she was in the Continent, living as a courtesan. She must have a fortune. With her devastating beauty, quick wits and disarming charm it was never difficult to discover interesting, compromising and incriminating information. That’s why she was one of his most trusted spies. 

He never thought he’d run into her in Adriata. She stood on the main balcony of the Summer Court palace, looking at the ocean. He admired how she could adapt to any environment. In Night Court black she was intimidating. In Summer blue she was dazzling. The wind made the flowy fabric of her dress hug her curves. Her hair was shorter now. Back when they knew each other it came down to her waist. Now, it did not touch her shoulders. He could recognize her anywhere, with any hair, any dress. He could recognize her in the dark, blindfolded.

He knew every inch of her skin. Every scar. Every freckle. 

His wings tighten as he makes his way over to her. She must be expecting him. There is no way she did not know he would be visiting on official business. “Summer suits you” his words reach her before he does. He takes the next few steps slowly as he comes to stand next to her.  “Must be the sun and salt air” he knows she won’t look at him yet. “Night also suits you” his hands are placed behind his back. “Maybe, in another life” she brings her hands to the railing of the balcony. Azriel can’t help but notice there is no ring or any marker that indicates she is in a relationship. It did not surprise him, they were similar in that way. Whatever intimate relationship they once shared had been strictly nocturnal and he was perfectly fine with that. It was only when she had given him her letter of resignation that he yearned for more time with her. The nights suddenly not enough. 

“Are you residing here permanently?” Her lips quirked up at that “permanent is not a word I would use to describe anything about me”. He could use that word to describe how she had a perpetual place in the back of his mind and, if he was being honest, his heart. 

“How long are you here for?” The question brings him out of his head “until tomorrow”. She hums. “You never told me why” he had been wondering ever since she had gone. “It was time for something new” now she turns her head to meet his gaze. “Was it something I did?” She looks away again “no”. “Then what was it?” She breathes, her chest rising from the action. “You know what it was”. He goes to ask again but before he can formulate the question she says “I have a meeting, see you around”. She walks away and into the palace, disappearing through a hallway. 

A knock wakes him up. He goes to open the door, already knowing who’s on the other side. “Sorry to wake you” she says and steps into the room. “It’s alright” she’s in a nightgown “why are you here?” He had never seen her look nervous “you know me better than anyone Az” she said gently and he had a feeling that was the voice she used to get men of power to fall to their knees “and…” she closes the space between them “I’ve missed you”. 

He forgoes the mask of indifference and grabs her face, meeting her lips in a searing kiss. Gods, he missed her. His whole body ached at the thought of her. A surprised sound escaped her as he bit her lower lip and slipped his tongue in her mouth. Her hands instinctively went to his hair, like they had done for years. She pulled him away from her and he could  have moaned at how her pupil had blown out and her lips had gone puffy “what?” His voice was desperate and she smiled “I just have a feeling that this is gonna be one of those things” and kissed him again. He wasted no time in lifting her hips up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he walked back to the bed. 

She fell back on the mattress and he swore he had never seen anything more beautiful. He crawled on top of her kissing and biting his way to her lips. He wanted to take his time with her, savor every inch of her skin, every moan and every movement. She had other plans and made it so she was now on top of him. His hardened cock smothered beneath her dripping heat. She removed her robe and nightgown in one motion. Her nipples peaked with arousal. Azriel growled and sat up to bring her right breast to his mouth, sucking and biting with his other hand he pinched and pulled at her left breast. Her head fell back, loving the sensations flooding her but needing more. She pulled him away and took her panties off and threw them at his face. Azriel caught it and breathed in the concentrated scent of her arousal. She got up from his lap and made to undress him. “Az I need you now” he flipped her so she was on her back and at his mercy. 

He pulled out his cock and gave it a few rough strokes. She was aching for him, her cunt fluttering around nothing. He took her in, legs bent and spread wide just for him. He ran a hand up her leg until it reached the apex of her thighs and without warning pushed in two thick fingers. He brought them to his mouth and tasted just how needy she was. “You wanna taste?” She nodded desperately and she moaned as he pumped his fingers a few times before bringing them to her mouth. She sucked and slurped up the liquid. When he took his fingers out she begged “Az, please” he loved seeing her plead for him. “You want my cock?” She nods “say it”. “I want your cock” he thinks he can see tears welling up in her eyes. 

Her pussy is throbbing, he brings his cock to her cunt and slides the tip from her sopping hole to her soaking clit, teasing. Her tears spill “Az, please fuck me”. With one slow, frustratingly slow stroke he sheathes himself inside her. She grabs his face and kisses him, she can taste herself on his tongue. His thrusts turn into pounding. The pace brutal. She moans when he bites her neck and thumbs at her clit. With trembling hands she runs her finger along the lines of his wings, like she knew would drive him crazy. He hisses and bites down harder. Her pussy is throbbing, her climax near. “Cum for me, baby. Be good for me” she has no control as a wave of pleasure crashes into her. She moans his name until it's just incoherent mumbles “where do you want me to finish?” She’s still spinning as she wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him deeper “fill me up” he thrusts into her until he reaches his high, his cum coating her walls. Her legs are still wrapped around him as he bends down to meet her lips. 

“Stay with me” he says, arm draped around her waist keeping her back flush against his chest. She thinks for a moment. “I can stay with you if you promise me forever”. They don’t speak the rest of the night. They drift to sleep in each other's warmth and he knows that by morning she’ll be gone.

#acomaf #acotar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acowar #jurian acotar #lucien vanserra #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #acosf #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel smut #smut #acotar smut #acotar x reader #acotar fic

[quietwingsinthesky]

I completely agree with your post about 11 and how well Matt Smith embodies the exact necessary tone/expression for each beat of the script! I can't imagine someone else being able to bring to life that incarnation of the Doctor. Obviously 11's era and writing has its misgivings and flaws, but I still find a lot of joy rewatching those episodes, because you see this scared, lonely doctor who's still so enthusiastic and hopeful, even when the grief and rage gets to him. It's like seeing those emotions reflected in you, and a reminder that you'll feel that hope and appreciation for life/nature again, too. I think that emotional catharsis and sincerity is the heart of doctor who and what attracts us all to the show, to be given reminders that compassion and hope are a strength, not a weakness. Seeing his expression change during that part of The Doctor's Wife always, always moves me because of the kind of honor and awe that dawns on 11's face at his tardis using the exact words he uses to describe how he stole her. It's such beautiful, tender reciprocity between two beings that couldn't communicate their feelings in this way until right then 💜

yeah, couldn’t have worded it better myself if i tried.

i think i’ve said before that eleven is my least favorite doctor, but i need to make it clear that that doesn’t even come close to me disliking him, or even feeling neutral about him. he’s still incredible, like if we put these guys on a line from bad to amazing, all of them are so close to the amazing side that you’d have to zoom in to see the order. he’s just got the unfortunate fate of being in the weakest seasons of the show that i’ve seen so far, but if i was judging this solely off of the performance of the doctor himself? he’d be tied right there with david tennant, if not above him.

no matter the quality of the writing, matt smith is bringing his A game to the table. tennant’s performance before him has moments where his doctor is serious and cold, but he’s so generally affable that those moments sort of slide off to the sides. not that you forget about it, but that it feels like a lesser part of him. and matt smith’s performance follows that with a doctor who is silly and energetic and sweet, but I think he pulls off keeping the harder parts of the doctor to swallow in mind, the scary sides of his grief and anger. some of my favorite scenes for eleven are when he’s given the space to show the full range of the doctor. the two that really come to mind are obviously that moment in the doctor’s wife, and my other stand-out favorite, his scenes with river in angels in manhattan, where we watch him lash out at her when he’s scared and angry at the fact that it was her name on the book that’s fated his friends to be pulled from him, and then a scene later, he heals her wrist by sacrificing what little regeneration energy he has left, because he does love her, he does know he was wrong to let her be hurt, but he also doesn’t ask if he can do this to fix things beforehand and upsets her again.

it’s just such a delicate balance to pull off there to make that scene work, and he does it perfectly, brings across both how much potential he has as the doctor to hurt and to heal the people he loves. i think, in the hands of any other actor, i would find eleven really hard to watch, really unlikeable. but just like he manages to never let you forget those unbearably painful parts of the doctor’s personality, you also never doubt that, even when he lashes out at the people around him, he loves them so much. he’s just. you know. Going Through It.

(also, personal touch, i so love how physically affectionate he portrays the doctor to be. it’s a small touch that means the world to me. really pulls the whole thing together when you know this man is just jumping for an opportunity to hug and hold onto and kiss the people around him. rory getting a forehead kiss when the doctor sees him for the first time in months, my beloved, rotating that moment in my head forever.)

there’s just so much going on with him. he was a fantastic doctor. (hell, all the people that have gotten to play the doctor so far have been, in my eyes, which is astounding to me. just straight bangers the whole way through, i’m incredibly impressed by how much love and work you can see go into these performances.) i think if i rewatch his seasons again, knowing exactly what to expect this time around, i’ll enjoy them much more than i did the first time.

sorry for rambling on so long, but i just need it known how much i really do love eleven. i needed a bit to warm up to smith, i’ll admit, but he earned every last bit of praise i can give him.

#ask #doctor who #the doctor #eleventh doctor

[themidnightghoul]

I'll Be Your Gravity, You Be My Oxygen

After protecting his pack and changing his very existence, Dew is broken from the inside out. It doesn’t help that the Ministry demands a new Water Ghoul be Summoned before he’s even fully recovered. What’s worse? The new Water Ghoul is beautiful and Dew is immediately enamored with him.

Chapter One: The Spark in My Eyes is Gone

Rating: Explicit (eventually…right now it’s just angst) Word Count: 2078

Read on AO3 or below!

Authors Note: My Raindrop fic is finally here! This is my baby and I’m very anxious finally sharing it but…I hope you enjoy the beginning of this story. If you end up reading, thank you so much for taking time to read my silly little story 🖤

There was a time before, he remembers, where there wasn’t just pain. Surely he hadn’t always felt like this, right? There had to have been a point in time where his entire genetic makeup wasn’t being rewritten, his atoms splitting apart and reforming while he felt every single bit of it, his skin flaking off in burnt chunks. It was agony, if only because there wasn’t another word that could adequately describe the pain that he was experiencing. 

But he wasn’t exactly given another choice so what was he supposed to do? Imperator had made it perfectly clear that if he wasn’t the one to go through with this process that she would just do it to one of the others. And he knew that was her plan all along; she had preyed on the love that he had for his pack, his mates, and she had used it against him. The memory of the moment he signed his very essence away flashed through his mind, a welcome break from the flames that were currently consuming his entire being.

“We are in need of a new Fire Ghoul. Ifrit has been…let go, to put it gently. And unfortunately, Fire Ghouls are the most difficult to Summon.”

His hands had clenched so hard at the mention of Ifrit that he was sure he had drawn blood. “I don’t understand how that involves me, Sister.” He knew he had to keep his composure but his mind was spiraling, trying to figure out where Ifrit had gone, why he was the one currently standing there. “I’m a Water Ghoul, not a Fire Ghoul.”

“Yes, well, from what I hear you’re not a very adequate Water Ghoul, now are you?” She spoke so calmly that it terrified Dew. How could she be so cruel and barely even flinch?

“I…I do my best, Sister.” He knew he wasn’t anywhere near as good as the other Water Ghouls but it still stung to hear her say it out loud. Mist put him to shame when it came to using their Element but never once had she made him feel lesser than her for it. Dew wasn’t ashamed of himself, or his lack of proficiency with Water, and he knew his pack loved him just as he was.

“And your best just isn’t good enough. Lucky for you, we may still have use for you in a different way.” 

Dew’s heart was racing, his palms were sweaty and he felt like he was going to throw up all over Imperator’s desk. “H-how?” 

“Well I’m so glad you asked!” She stood up from her desk and walked over to the shaking Water Ghoul, her hands clasped behind her back and a horrible grin on her face. “There is a Ritual that will allow us to alter your Element from Water to Fire, saving us the enormous trouble of Summoning a new Fire Ghoul. Water Ghouls are much easier, less hassle, to Summon.” Her hand waved around dismissively, like she didn’t just suggest he change his entire being so that things would be more convenient for her.

“But Sister…I’m a Water Ghoul I don’t-“

“If you don’t do this, I will be forced to take one of the others in your place. You wouldn’t want that now would you, Dewdrop?”

It was one of the few times he was grateful for his mask, so that she couldn’t see the panic cross his face at the mention of one of the others being hurt. He couldn’t allow that to happen, would rather die than know he had condemned one of them to this horrible Ritual. “Please…whatever it is, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt them.” Trying not to let his voice betray how terrified he was at the moment took more effort than he realized it would. But she couldn’t see him panic, he refused to let her see that.

Her smile when he agreed sent shivers down his spine and he was sure that she heard him sob, unable to hold it in. But it was only one small noise and he decided that was better than a full breakdown right here in her office. “Good, I’m glad you understand the importance of this procedure. You are to be at the Ritual room at midnight, do you understand?”

Another wave of pain and he’s pulled from the memory, a scream ripping its way from his throat. He can feel his skin cracking and burning and he feels like he’s choking, like he can’t get enough air. His vision and hearing are almost nonexistent; there are shapes moving around him but he can’t tell who or what they are, and there are noises but he can’t decipher them. When he feels pressure on his arms holding him down, he screams again. Don’t they know that it hurts him to be touched? Can’t they see that he’s burning from the inside out right now? Surely the flames dancing up and down his skin are visible to more than just him.

He cries. He cries for himself, for the loss of his Element, for his pack losing their beautiful Water Ghoul. He cries for who he’s becoming and because he does not know who he will be now. He cries for the new Water Ghoul they will summon before long, probably even before he’s even healed. He cries for Aether, not knowing how he is right now, but feeling in his very soul that he’s a wreck. He cries for Mountain because he knows that his sweet Earth Ghoul will be destroyed over this but will do his best not to show it. He cries when the memory of telling his mates hits him like a wave of sorrow and agony at the same time.

“You can’t do this, Dew. I won’t let you!” Aether cried, more than Dew had ever seen him cry before. He didn’t know his mate was even capable of the emotions that he was going through at lightning speed, his eyes flaring a dark purple. They only did that when he was truly losing control of himself, when he was feeling too many things at once to keep up with everything. He walked around the den, hands running up and down his face. 

“Water Lily, please, there must be another way.” Mountain brushed his hands through his hair, holding Dew close to his chest. Dew could hear the heart of the normally calm and stoic Earth Ghoul racing, his breathing slowly picking up as he realized what Dew was about to go through for them.

Dew was strangely calm, having accepted what was going to happen and knowing there wasn’t another way. “I can’t…I won’t let her hurt you. I wouldn’t survive knowing that I had let something like this happen to any of you.”

“And what if you don’t survive?! I’m not living without you!” Aether screamed, fell to his knees, sobbed until his chest hurt and continued to sob.

“I have until midnight,” Dew whispered, barely holding back tears at the sight of Aether on his knees. He stepped out of Mountain’s embrace and walked over to Aether, falling to the ground next to him and taking his hands. “Be with me until then? Please?”

There’s a feeling of weightlessness, like he’s being lifted. He still can’t hear, can’t see, and every inch of his body is burning, but he knows he’s moving. If he had to guess, he’s being taken to the Infirmary. All his brain can focus on is Aether and how he can’t let his mate see him like this. He tries to talk, if he can scream then surely he can talk, but nothing comes out. It’s scratchy feeling, tight, and he can’t breathe again. Why can’t he breathe? His gills…they should be helping him, right? But he can’t feel them anymore when he reaches up to claw at his neck, desperately clinging to the last vestiges of his Element. Former Element, something cruel that sounds a lot like Imperator, reminds him.

He’s brought to a place that he can’t see, but he knows within himself that someone did, in fact, bring him to the Infirmary. He’s spent so many days and nights here, most of them on purpose just so he could see Aether. Scraping his knee, cutting his arm, bumping his head, anything to get him around the Quintessence Ghoul that he loved more than life itself. It’s brighter here, a sick sterile feeling surrounds him. He wishes he could see, deludes himself into believing that if he could just see something that he would feel better. It’s all bullshit, he knows, but he’s desperate to feel anything but the pain that’s been drowning him for what feels like an eternity.

A wave of relief and calm washes over him and his body instinctively reaches out, knowing who was behind the feeling. Aether Aether Aether, his mind screams, recognizing the magic like it was second nature to him. There’s sound again but it’s muffled, like his ears are stuffed and he can’t manage to clear them, but he just knows that it’s Aether trying to calm him. He tries not to think of the look on his face when he sees the burnt skin that covers his body now. Will he still love him, now that he’s no longer Water? He can’t imagine that he will be as beautiful as he once was now that Fire flows through his veins. He’ll burn everything he touches, everyone he loves. He’s now dangerous when he was once graceful, volatile where he was once calm. One final flash of his last moments with Aether hits him like a knife to the gut and he winces, allowing it to pull him under.

Aether held him close against his chest as Dew cried, choked silent sobs eventually replacing the tears when they finally, somehow, managed to run out. They hadn’t spoken in a while, neither one of them sure of what to say. Aether had tried a few more times to get him to relent, to not go through with the Ritual, telling him that he would figure out another way. But Dew had accepted that it was going to happen and just wanted a few hours with his love before everything he knew was burned away.

“Aeth…” Dew finally broke the silence, unable to go another moment without hearing the familiar voice that always managed to settle him, no matter what he was feeling.

“Yeah?” Aether’s voice sounded so broken, so far away, and Dew’s heart clenched at the thought of already having lost him before he even went through the Ritual.

“When I’m…when it’s over…will you still love me?” He whispered it, like he was afraid to voice his thoughts but wanting, needing, to know if he would still be loved after it was all said and done and he was no longer the Water Ghoul that Aether had first fallen in love with.

“I will love you until the galaxy swallows me whole and returns me to the stardust from which I was created, my love. Nothing will ever change how much I love you, don’t ever forget that.”

The two had laid together until the very last minute, when a Sentry Ghoul arrived to ensure that Dew didn’t back out and made it to the Ritual room on time. Aether cried again, holding Dew against his chest one final time and promising that they would be together again soon. Dew did his best not to cry as he kissed him goodbye, only allowing a tear to fall once he was out of sight of Aether. As the two Ghouls walked, neither spoke, Dew not very familiar with any of the Ghouls outside of his own pack and content to walk in silence, contemplating his final moments as a Water Ghoul. When the two finally reached the doors to the Ritual room, the unfamiliar Ghoul stopped and turned to face Dew.

“You are far stronger than anyone will ever know, Dewdrop. Never forget that you’re the best of us.” With a nod, the Ghoul departed, and Dew was left to walk through the Ritual room doors alone.

Before he finally, mercifully, either fell asleep or simply blacked out from the pain, he swore he heard Aether’s voice whispering in his mind. “Nothing will ever change how much I love you, Dew.”

#midnight writes #raindrop #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #midnight is anxious to share this but here we go #i hope you guys enjoy #and thank you so much if you read #seriously it means so much #yes the titles are bring me the horizon lyrics #follow you inspired me heavily #okay bye

[yourturntofnaf]

taking a shot at working through this deleted scene... 

Our research has finally taken shape and borne fruit. / The artificial intelligences created by humans thus far have mostly excelled in their learning capabilities and been developed to support humans. / AI is anticipated to achieve growth and efficiency far beyond humans. But at the same time, something is being discarded there. / Emotions. / Emotions, which one would think have an inseparable connection to the formation of intelligence, have been treated as a nuisance. / Yet AI development that prioritizes emotions is a difficult prospect in this country. / They are unwilling to fund researchers who do "romantic" research with no clear profit. So it is extremely difficult. / Under normal circumstances, that is. / We gave the researchers the best possible environment for their work. And at last, they achieved things they could not have in the world above. / No need for growth or learning. / It's an artificial intelligence that simply has "a human heart." / An absurdly fascinating... and absurdly pointless... artificial intelligence. / I want you to imagine it. The family member, the lover, the friend you adored will stay unchanging on a screen. / Your parents when they were young and lively. Your innocent girlfriend from when you first met. Your friend who would talk with you untiringly. / If you wish it, you can have it, anytime. / ~The Green and Gentle Peace Committee~

first, I would like to point out the use of the word "discarded" which is also used by Safalin during the Liazer scene.

this dialog also says emotions have been viewed as a nuisance which I feel corresponds to Gashu's view of positive emotions. he saw them as a problem, a burden getting in the way of the perfect Asu-naro candidate.

less relevant to the point, but I took notice of the note of the "best possible environment", which seems to tie into Michiru's recruitment file which stated she could be drawn in with the ideal work. if this is about Namida, this may be placing her recruitment on the timeline around a similar time to Ranger's development. 

now, I want to make note that this is not exclusively about Ranger and there's a clear issue as to why: they describe that they created an AI with a human heart. this is something that is specifically stated to not be given to Ranger until the Laizer scene. I don't think this dialog is about only him, and I'll get into who else I think may be involved soon.

While we are here though, I would like to throw out a possibility that the Ranger with a heart, aka Laizer, was the original creation. As I mentioned Safalin says the emotions were discarded, not that they were never present. I could see a world where Ranger was created in full replica of Sei and Gashu, likely very early in Ranger's existence, decided that was not good enough and made Michiru change it. This could have happened before Ranger was even fully conscious, or something akin to being shut down and remodeled occurred. this could be similar to dying, and Ranger himself told us the AIs could not be programmed to handle memories of their deaths. At the same time though, it's extremely possible this was about Sei, and she was explaining that what he was originally modeled off of possessed these emotions that were discarded from his creation. 

anyways, back to the point at hand.

rather than being about one specific AI, I think it's a declaration of the radical development of Asu-naro. it's a statement of their ability to perfectly replicate a human using artificial intelligence. 

so, now for the more speculative part. the examples they give of the purpose of this intelligence can line up with some actual creations we have seen. 

the family member would be Ranger being created in Sei's vision. the lover could be Emiri's fiancée (that one is a big stretch, but I'll explain why this came to mind for me). finally, the friend could be the Shin AI, created for Midori who "adored" him, for better or worse. 

the section following this could be the corresponding human who would request the creation of these AIs. 

"Your parents when they were young and lively" referring to Gashu, references back to when he was more alive in the times before Sei was killed.

"Your innocent girlfriend from when you first met" would be Emiri/Miley. this specific line is what made me connect the lover to her fiancé. the word innocent fits into her before asu-naro, back from when they first met at their workplace before she would have been lured into asu-naro, the company that took innocence out of her. 

"Your friend who would talk with you untiringly" loosely fits Shin and Sou's dynamic. this line differs from the others by not giving a positive descriptor of the other such as lively or innocent, rathee simply describes what the other benefited from their bond. in my eyes, this fits how Hiyori seems to perceive relations with others. 

in support of these lines referring to the requesting human, we can safely say Hiyori selfishly made the Shin AI. I think it is likely Gashu was the original requester of creating Ranger, which might have been hinted at when Sara recognized the importance of Ranger by thinking he may exist in the placement of a son Gashu has missed having. 

so, what does my interpretation mean to me? 

1. this brings up the possibility of Emiri's fiancée returning through the means of AI, if he hasn't already. we could tie this in with the theory of Hayasaka being her partner who we have already seen returned in AI existence. 

2. this could give context to what Emiri and Michiru were recruited for, and what their role in the company was pre death game. this dialog could point to them being brought into the ideal environment, something Michiru specifically desired, to model these new AIs. I think this recruitment context could also be evidenced by another deleted scene describing researchers coming together to "build a human: 

these two obviously don't line up directly with Michiru and Emiri going off of the given names, but I wanted to point out this example of a dialog that once again describes researchers coming together to create a human-like AI. now I will say it's interesting both of these scenes are deleted, so perhaps this concept may have been scrapped anyways.

3. it's interesting to see that Nankidai has had Ranger and Sei's story planned out this whole time. looking back at chapter 2 it feels so obvious. the previously mentioned Sara line about Ranger being a stand-in for Gashu's son was picked up as being about Kai at the time, but now clearly fits Sei. the way Safalin explains Ranger's existence to him feels like she was boarding telling him about Sei; saying that he isn't complete, that he lost what he once had, and that Ranger isn't his true name. even the surrounding setting of Ranger's death, dying next to a Yabusame being comforted by their sibling hurts so much more thinking about Kai being with Sei when he was killed. it all makes me appreciate Nankidai's planning and execution. 

thank you for reading if you made it this far! just want to say this is only my interpretation and I'm sure it's not fully accurate to whatever the original intentions were. also, this scene is deleted so even if any of this is correct it may now be totally irrelevant.

#your turn to die #yttd #yttd theory #yttd analysis #rio ranger #michiru namida #emiri harai #gashu satou #shin ai #sou hiyori #long post

[smexyanimepotatosstuff]

Vampire shenanigans

A hogwarts legacy fanfiction which contains vampires and shenanigans in at least one chapter.

This will be the intro to the fic and the MC so it's shorter than regular chapters will be. I make no promise of consistency at all, but I will pour my heart and soul in finishing the whole which will consist of at least 10 chapters. Later in the fic there will be chapters that may be unsuited for minors, and I will mark it accordingly, but this intro is perfectly fine.

I'd like to thank @sebswebs and @choccy-milky for inspiring me with their writing and amazing personalities and give them credit for at least 70% of my new found bravery to post something.

TRIGGER WARNINGS WHOLE FIC:

Female MC, blood and gore, death, eventual smut (which will not be too important to the plot and can thus be skipped), mostly made up vampire lore, toxicity, Mentions of loneliness, SHENANIGANS.

TRIGGER WARNINGS INTRO:

Female MC, tiniest bit of blood, mentioned loneliness, Anne being a sassball, mention of death, sadly no vampires yet.

By clicking 'more' I will be under the assumption that you read the warnings :)

If you were to ask anyone at Hogwarts who knew MC to describe her in one word, the answer would be, with frightening consistency, kind. A trait many students admired her for. She was a nurturing type of witch who excelled at potions and herbology as well as healing charms. The first two being given in the regular curriculum and the latter being taught to her in the medical wing where she volunteered some of her free time in exchange for knowledge and experience. Anyone in need of anything could always count on her to offer her help when she felt she could provide it, causing her to get a small reputation as the mom of their year. Whether it was a snack, a quill or discreet healing of singed eyebrows, everyone who knew her didn't doubt to ask. 

Her amicable reputation however didn't necessarily translate into social prowess.    Even though everyone liked her well enough, there weren't too many people she considered her friends, never mind the seemingly unreachable position of what she imagined having a best friend would be like. This was fine by her seeing as she much rather tended to her plants and studies than chat most days. Still, she'd have the occasional longing stare to those bands of friends who seemed joined at the hip. She could walk up to most classmates and have a lovely conversation but she could never quite reach a level of friendship beyond the 'wave and smile when I pass you in the halls' and 'small talk should we happen to be sitting next to each other' stage of getting acquainted. She blamed this to her aspirations of becoming a skilled healer and just being too infatuated with her work and studying, but deep down she still felt a pang of loneliness books just couldn't rid her of. Still, MC remained kind and studious and mostly in solitude for the first of her Hogwarts years. That was until she, quite literally, ran into a certain group of slytherins during her 4th year. 

It had happened whilst she was a bit distracted walking towards the great hall. Her tendency to finish a chapter before doing anything else had caused her to be a bit late and less careful about where she was going. She rounded a corner right as a boy dramatically extended his arms causing her to stumble and immediately after trip over the legs of someone who was sitting on the floor. She let out a surprised yelp and hit the ground with a thud and a soft 'ow..'. "Merlin Sebastian, look where you're flailing your arms! Are you okay!?" She heard a girl say right beside her. MC nodded her head and gently rubbed her arm which had taken the brunt of her fall. "Don't worry, it was just a bump." MC said sheepishly as she let the girl and the 'arm flailing' boy help her up. 

Upon closer examination she recognised them as the Sallow twins and connected the trip-inducing pair of legs to Ominis Gaunt. "Nonsense, these dimwits should stop blocking the halls and mind their bloody surroundings… and go to dinner because I'm starving." Anne said, looking at boys with visible irritation. "Hey! I was the epitome of elegance, gesturing to make my point even more clear to Ominis. There just happened to be an unfortunate collision." Sebastian quickly retorted, clearly not one to take blame. "Yeah well if you had been the epitome of eloquence you wouldn't have been gesturing in the first place because I'm blind." Ominis shot back, standing up from his seated position. "Well if you hadn't-" Sebastian had started until he heard Anne gasp. The bickering boys turned to the source and quickly shut up as Anne examined the small scrape on  MC's elbow, surrounded by a slightly bigger bruise that produced a miniscule trickle of blood. "She's BLEEDING from her WOUND and you haven't even apologized." Anna chastised whilst MC stood frozen watching the chaos unfold around her. 

That was until she couldn't take it anymore and started laughing due to their antics. The three of them immediately shut up and had to laugh for a moment as well. "Don't worry it's an easy fix." MC said after a moment of collecting herself and nonverbally cast a charm to fully heal the minimal damage on her arm. Sebastian and Anne gawked at her for a moment whilst Ominis was left in the dark, until Anne yelled out. "You just cast a nonverbal and perfectly healed your bloody arm!" She gently took hold of MC's elbow and traced the scrape-free skin with fascination. "You did? That's quite impressive" Ominis said whilst Sebastian was eerily quiet. Anne was just about to comment on MC being the cause of another miracle when Sebastian closed the distance between them and looked at her with stars in his eyes as he burst out: "teach me. Please teach me how to do that." MC was a bit startled by his sudden enthusiasm and nearly stumbled backwards again but Sebastian firmly grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly as he continued. "I've never seen anyone cast a nonverbal with such ease, let alone of our age. I have been trying to figure it out for ages an-" before he could shake her to nausea Anne smacked him up the head and pulled him off. "Back, you Neanderthal. Mind your manners you giddy geek. You haven't even asked her name and you're already harassing her with questions."

 Right as Sebastian tried to interject, Ominis added: "Worst of all, we still haven't apologized to…?" "MC" MC said with a small smile. Anne gestured to Sebastian and with the look of a guilty child he began: "I'm sorry for hitting and effectively pushing you.." " and I'm sorry for accidentally tripping you.." Ominis added "And I'm sorry for not catching you." Anne said to conclude the triple apology. MC couldn't help but feel a bit warm inside from their visibly close relationship and fun personalities. "Each of you is forgiven. How about we walk to the hall now and get Anne that dinner. I was on my way there as well. "A woman after my own heart, let's go!" Anne said, locking their arms and immediately dragging her along before the boys could react.

 MC chuckled at her spontaneity and looked at her side when she felt Sebastian who had caught up, slotting his arm with her free one as he said: "Seriously though, what you did back there was nothing short of incredible. I've heard about you helping out in the hospital wing but I didn't expect this. I'd beg on my knees for even some pointers." He said with a playful smile. A small blush creeped onto her cheeks and MC let herself be guided by the twins. "I could try to teach you. But it may not end up being a healing charm, would that still be okay? It would take some effort from both of us, but with some dedication we could pull it off." "I want to learn too! Please teach us both." Anne interjected, pulling MC a bit closer to show off her puppy eyes. Before she could answer Sebastian spoke up again: "yeah right. First making me beg for it and then reaping the rewards yourself you little sneak" Elle laughed and promised to at least try to  teach both the Twins and Ominis should he want it. (He did). Between the bickering and the hasty goodbye at the entrance of the hall MC caught herself wanting to speak to the slytherins again after today. 

If you were to ask anyone at Hogwarts who knew MC to describe her in one word, the answer would be, with frightening consistency, kind. A trait many students admired her for, but unbeknownst to anyone, would be the cause of her untimely death. 

#hl #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt #anne sallow

[kindred-sims]

"I don't think I feel like going on a stroll today, Caleb, I'm sorry..."

Caleb had come into the parlor following the long work day to find his wife seated in the rocking chair he had built for her. He usually wouldn't think much of it, except she hadn't really moved from it from the entire day.

Which made him extremely worried.

"Are you feeling alright, Jo? Should I go get someone--"

"No. No, I'll be fine, I just--I think I just need to sit here for a while..."

Despite her assurances, it didn't ease Caleb's mind in the slightest. He ended up hitching the buggy and driving over to the O'Sullivan's home to fetch Maeve, in spite of Jo's continued protests that she was fine.

They both returned a few minutes later, Maeve looking appalled to find Jo still seated upright in the parlor.

"My goodness, you shouldn't be up right now!" she exclaimed. "Come along, love, we need to get you into bed."

"Why must everyone keep overreacting? I said I was perfectly fine--"

Jo was shortly proven wrong as she stood from the rocking chair, as a terrible wave of pain shortly overtook her. She cried out, nearly crumpling to the ground. Caleb was quick to assist his wife, holding her close and leading her into the bedroom, just as Maeve had instructed.

It was clear now, that the baby was coming, whether anyone was ready or not.

Jo had mostly been in denial of it all evening, trying to brush aside her pain as more typical pregnancy discomforts. It didn't fully sink in that she might be having the baby until she'd settled into bed, and the pain she'd experienced in the parlor only increased as the hours went on.

Unbearable torture was the only way she could describe it, as all she could do was writhe and scream with each contraction that shot through her body. It didn't feel as if it would ever end, and she was beginning to feel diminished, weakened. As if she would pass out at any given second.

"I don't think I can do this, Maeve," she tearfully confessed to her friend. "It hurts so much, I just want it to end."

"I know, dear, believe me, I know," Maeve grasped Jo's hand, squeezing it gently. "But I promise, it will all be worth it. You just wait and see, you'll forget about the pain soon enough..."

Meanwhile, outside of their room, Caleb was a wreck. He hadn't been very thrilled when Maeve had shooed him out, it was absolutely tearing him apart to have to stand out here and listen to his wife's anguished screams and be powerless to do anything about them.

He couldn't help but let his mind wander back to all the stories his mother told him, of the siblings he had lost before he himself had been born. He thought of Jo, terrified and in agony, and it was enough to make him start anxiously pacing the halls.

By the time he'd finally settled himself in the parlor, the screaming had subsided. He held his breath, tense, and nearly broke down in relief at the sound of a newborn letting out its first cry.

Maeve had come to meet him with a wide smile on her face, and led him back to the room. Jo was resting in bed, and beside her, lay a tiny, wriggling bundle.

"Its a beautiful, healthy girl," Maeve told him, as she picked the bundle up, carefully placing the infant in his arms. "And your wife did amazing, bless her soul. Congratulations, Caleb, you should be very proud."

"A girl..."

Caleb couldn't tear his eyes away from his daughter as she cooed in his arms, all his doubts, all his worries, slowly but surely fading away. He held the child close, his heart so full of love, so full of adoration he'd never felt until this exact moment.

"Hi...hello there, Caroline. Its so nice to finally meet you..."

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 history #ts4 historical #decades challenge #wakefield legacy #1890s

[azsdiary]

This is an exposition of my once broken heart

[press play, then read]

This song is so beautiful I had to look up who it was inspired by. Who was worthy of it?

The last time I did that it was with “Complicated” by Nivea and I found out the man she wrote it about she divorced shortly afterwards.

In the lyrics of Complicated, Nivea sings that her friends warned her this isn’t how love is supposed to go but she ‘refuses to believe’ because she’s convinced the red flags turning green is really happening to her. She states this love was life giving her something back, like she was owed it. And then declares her love before a sad guitar solo. The song even opens with the sound of rain.

I used to cling to that song as the ultimate love song. I see it as the antithesis of ‘So into You’ - so we can use it to explore how my mind’s view of love has matured by contrasting these songs against one another.

‘Complicated’ even by the title sounds like a sad song. The long rain sound opening and entire vibe of the song is completely sad sounding. How could it have been my ultimate love song of choice?

Because that was the love I knew. Love inseparable from toxic complications, doubts of commitment and a sad love that said ‘I’ll prove them wrong these red flags actually have a perfectly good explanation. They’ll see.’

I know this post is God. This morning I just happened to see this throwback of Lauren London pregnant- with lil Wayne’s child?! I never knew that happened… then now, looking for Nivea’s muse I find out she was pregnant by Wayne at the same time as Lauren. All in the same morning. Wayne was the complication she sung of when comparing him to her muse in ‘Complicated’.

One of the biggest red flags of complicated as a song was the lack of description of the muse she was in love with. It sings of a fairytale where only the woman’s journey is described. There’s no reason given for why she loves him or even if he loves her back. It sounds like a love that takes place in the singers head. Thinking and dreaming about him in her head all day, but no stories to sing of to match.

All we know is he made her his wife. The entire rest of the song is not bout him at all. As if there was nothing to say.

Tamia sings of thoughts of him running through her head but also of the real life reflection of how he is actually worth these thoughts.

Psalms shows when you love someone there’s a lot to say about what they’ve done.

It sounds like Nivea’s in love with the feelings she gets from thinking he loves her and repeats how she loves him will do whatever he asks, Tamia sings she loves what he’s Done to her and how he makes her feel is right. But also about ‘how you speak to and hold me. And you love me.’

Tamia sings of dreams too but also that they’re together firmly in the very next sentence and is aiming for a committed love.

Tamia sings let’s stay together - a combined effort, Nivea sings I’ll never let you go as if she’s the one holding them together

Nivea sings that she has no idea what’s happening or what he’s doing and is just grateful he’s in her life. That love is magic it can’t be described. Tamia sings that she can’t explain it but she is awake and aware of what he does and sees that what he does is good.

Nivea sings she dreams about him all day. Tamia sings he’s a dream come TRUE. It moved beyond fantasy of his potential - it was real love manifested in reality.

So I thought Love was something I was owed from the same man for the pain I would go through to stick by him despite the trouble and pain he put me through, correcting and improving him along the way.

Can I expose him for a second? His thoughts are thrown up in my mind for years to come. I feel nothing but I know how poor he was now. Poor in the mind. Poor in the heart.

“I would never call my wife or gf beautiful, that’s just not how I operate.” Never apologised for leaving me up waiting for calls several times, Late into the night. Said he finally decided to stop being petty only bc he realised being petty is a woman’s thing. Said wives obey their husbands bc they know if they disobey there’ll be consequences. He was colorist. Genuinely thought his country was supreme to others of the same race. girls are replaceable. Left me in a 3y unclear talking stage, had a rumoured gf for part of the first year that I had to find out about myself when he just said she was his prom date, announced he lost his ********* since after we started talking on livestream just after I joined. Told me id get no where in life overthinking when I explained how I felt. Said women are just another h** until he’s met their family. Thinks women can never be needed (marriage), just added to a life optionally.

When I told him I described some of his behaviour to a friend who said he would use me and discard me his reply was “Even if I did that’s none of their business it’s nothing to do with them.“

I was Nivea.

2.

They Don’t Know - Jon B is the male answer to Nivea’s Complicated. A man expressing how her friends are just jealous and he is a player but he just happened to quit when he met her. It used to read love to me but it sounds more to the tune of gaslighting, now. It was the voice I listened to, to reaffirm that he would change for me. Because the man I listened on behalf of would never tell me himself.

I thought he would change because I prayed enough for it. Because God wanted him to, I thought. I just had to hold it together for a while whilst he breaks me. Not God, him. No. That’s trying to love someone but it is not Love. If you’ve seen that Bruce Almighty scene then you know you can’t change someone who chooses to remain the same willingly.

3.

& now, our happy ending.

“So into you” is the only expression of stable committed love song I know by a female voice. The rest have an air of uncertainty like full commitment is still in question. Like best part by H.E.R “won’t you give yourself to me?” As if all was not already given. Listen closer to the lyrics of your favourite love song. Is It healthy?

Tamia sings of a Stable Love that she has already and wishes to continue, that she loves and is loved in action and word. Heaven sent.

It opens with the most beautiful warm sound and carries into a slow beautiful stable melody that sounds so relaxed. Like a warm day.

And who did this worthy man turn out to be? A fine then NBA Star, man of God who stuck though his wife coming 25 years now through illness and challenges on both ends. Real Love.

Of course - a marriage built on Christ can only stand. He invented it.

I’m praying for it.

Outro: well I came here to try and write about the new in my life which I wasn’t able to express and I guess the exposition of my heart up until the present which I then stopped at instead- and still can’t write about - shows I still can’t. But I love what I wrote today. I didn’t know what was happening to me I was so confused and darkened about love but these 3 years I’ve Studied Gods word I can see that I know that He is love. And so I know so much clearer what Love is.

1 John 4:7-12 “Whoever does not know love does not know God because God is love. This is how God showed his love among us; He sent his one and only son into the world that we might live through him.”

#nivea complicated #the-dream #2000s nostalgia #black girl diary #black it girl #heartbreak #healing #black love #toxic relationship #toxic love #healthy love #y2k black girl #lauren london #khloe kardashian #Tamia #grant hill #so into you #2000s rnb #love and hip hop #lil wayne #Jon b #they don’t know #2000s aesthetic #y2k #2000s black culture #black culture #christian girl #music studies #Black culture article #toxic masculinity

[gunsli-01]

So, good thing about the shadow realm I've seen none of the leaks because I've been avoiding the Milgram tag on here out of pure spite and mostly looking at stuff on Twitter. I really want to try to Milgram lottery going on but I can't aaaa... Though I did get an ask recently about Shidou that got me thinking about the bad doctor.

I couldn't give it as much thought as I wished to at the time because things were frantic that day. (It was my father's birthday.) So, a lot of family in town, rushing and extremely uncomfortable shoes.

I'd like to elaborate on my thoughts around Shidou though. I feel for me personally I'd either be very biased against him or in his favor once more information comes out which makes it difficult for me to vote on him. I know weird coming from someone who may have seemed very bias against Mu but I find Mu likeable at least.

However, for Shidou there's this ominous lack of bias I've recognized within myself that to me betrays the very concept of Milgram as a series.

At least with everyone else I can in some way relate or understand why they'd do the things they did on a human level.

Yet, with Shidou there's this question of "Are you even human?" that wells up in me when I think about not what he's done but his response to it. The lack of concern he shows not only to his current circumstances but his past situation.

It's been in the back of my mind since I watched Milgram the idea of Shidou being Guilty is an easy one to fall into he even asks us to not forgive him. In that moment he uses the victims, their families, the idea of everyone his actions have impacted as a prop to get the verdict he desires. It seems like everything is a means to an end with him.

It could be my intuition flaring up that makes me want to wait and see. Yet, I can't help but feel this quote strongly when I look at Shidou, "It's been on my mind since the moment I laid eyes on him...the reason I find this man so disgusting." And I feel I find Shidou so disgusting for the same reason he states he doesn't feel scared in Throw Down, "Because I don't know."

I know I'm quoting Pandora Hearts a lot but I'm gonna do it again because there's a great quote from Oswald that sums this up perfectly and directly follows the quote I used before, "I feel he is like water. A body of water with a silent surface, where the water is so pure and clear that no fish can live in it. Even if I gaze into this water, only my figure is reflected back, and I cannot know his true form. He's right in front of me... Yet, there's a grating sense of unease, the sense that no one is really there."

I feel the use of water something that has been so heavily tied to giving life to describe the absence of it not only chilling but incredibly apt when discussing Shidou. Someone who was meant to do their best to preserve lives and ended up taking them away with that same expression regardless of who came. He's right there singing with the rest of them putting his feelings on display. Yet, for me all I see is the mirror reflecting the environment that sits in front of it.

Water so pure and clear that no life can thrive in it so calm and steady that beings around it dare not disturb it, like a void. I can't feel the ill will, malice, or even a shred of selfishness from Shidou or his circumstances and that in itself disgusts me. I can't pin down the motive to him which makes me curious, puts me on guard, and just gives me a feeling of unease.

I do know one thing if Shidou is voted guilty, then there definitely will not be a doctor in Milgram by trial three since Amane and Kotoko seem to be annoyed with him. Plus, given Mu and Haruka's current verdicts and the fact that we are uncertain if Kotoko will stop attacking prisoners who were voted Guilty before but Innocent now given her first videos stance on pardons Shidou isn't wrong to want to continue to be voted Innocent in order to take care of the injured if necessary.

It's logical but there are just too many factors in play to believe the verdicts really guarantee anything for anyone at this point. So, it's all pretty up in the air. Though I did want to ramble about the guy for a bit.

#milgram #kirisaki shidou

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elucien | Gwynriel | Elriel

No one asked for my two cents on the ships, but still I am going to share my opinion on the whole Elucien, Elriel, Gwynriel thingy. Feel free to read and share your opinions <33

(!!!! I want no rude comments or attacking someone; this is fiction and no real people are involved!!!)

Sooooo, first things first: I hate that people say the bond between Lucien and Elain is fake. Why should a bond all of a sudden be fake? Maybe Feyre & Rhys bond is also fake and she is actually Tarquin‘s mate? Or Nesta is actually Eris‘s mate and her bond with Cassian is fake?

It makes no sense to me, it is described that Elain feels Lucien’s heartbeat and feels him tug on her chest —> there must be a bond otherwise SJM would not have included it if it is anyways totally unnecessary

Secondly: yes, I do believe Azriel fancies Elain (a crush) which is perfectly fine. She is a beautiful female why should he not fancy her. He definitely has feelings for her which surely go beyond physical attraction. But that does not mean that on the long run he cannot fall in love with Gwyn (or Eris, okay I shut up now).

Feyre loved Tamlin before Rhys, so why can Azriel not like or love someone else before.

Gwynriel

Thirdly, I would also be fine with Gwyn and Azriel becoming really good friends (as a tiny part of me also ships her with Balthazar). But to my mind Azriel and Gwyn fit each other perfectly, they sing, they are competitive, Gwyn is a sunshine and Az definitely needs a bit of sunshine in his dark life. They do have a connection in many areas. If they do end up together (which I think will happen), I honestly hope they are not mates but will solely and simply fall for each other and choose each other regardless of a mating bond (not everyone has to be mates!!!)

Elucien

Fourth: Concerning Elain and Lucien. This ship owns my whole heart. Honestly, it is the same for Elain. She can also fancy Az which I believe she does. He is charming, cares for her and is handsome. But that does not mean that on the long run she cannot fall for Lucien (she will fall for him I know it). They have to be given chance to get to know each other and I hope there will be more insight into their lives and minds in the upcoming books. Elain has to get to know Lucien and see the amazing male he is and then there will be no way back for her—she will fall head over heels. Lucien clearly is interested in getting to know her. He cares about her well-being and wabts her to be happy and feel safe. Even though they are mates he stays away from her, which I think neither Rhys nor Cassian really did with their mates. But Lucien gives her all the freedom she wants and lets her make the decision.

And yes, they do not like each other that much yet but it was the same with Rhys and Feyre (Feyre tossed her shoes at his head) and Nesta and Cassian (Nesta insulted Cassian). None of them got along at the beginning and still they found to each other, that is what SJM does and what we like to read.

Elriel

And lastly concerning Elriel. Of course there would be potential and I totally see why people ship them (I did until ACOSF). As stated before Azriel clearly has feelings for her and probably also vice versa (at least until Solstice). They shared lovely moments, moments where Azriel showed he cared and that he likes her and Elain did the same. But I just don’t see it happen anymore, that does not mean the ship is stupid and that it won’t happen.

Considering all points above, ship wars are frustrating. Sometimes they can get harmful and people tend to forget that this is actually fiction and should not matter that much.

So, ship whatever you please and don’t insult other people for not liking your ship or shipping someone else.

It is fiction and everyone should ship who they want if it makes them happy—you do you. It is all fine and good.

Thank you for listening to my Ted Talk, have a good day!! <33

#acosf #acotar #azriel #gwynriel #elriel #elucien #elain archeron #elain x lucien #elain x azriel #gwyn x azriel #lucien vanserra #gwyn berdara #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses

[brigittttoo]

hehehehe yes. 17, 40, and 87!

(For the fanfic writer's ask game)

17. What is your favorite line you’ve ever written? -- I have a lot of favourite lines, that I usually realize in the moment of writing them when I've done something well, like described a facial expression perfectly, or used someone's simple action to convey something that the reader can tell is much deeper. BUT then unless I re-read my fics I forget about them completely! I probably have at least one favourite line or phrase from every work I've written, but I've tried to trawl through to find some real shiners:

"The man is tall, with a downward tilt to the head that reminds Obi-Wan of the hawks that perch on the pines and peer down at the rest of the forest below, calculating and observant and severe." from Drudenfuß (good description of both looks and demeanour)

"The closest casualty department had let him stumble in through the doors in bloody, stunned silence before suddenly spurring into action, and Cody had nearly said, “Jango,” when they’d asked for his name, he’d been so in the forefront of his mind." from Seeker, Prospector (nice concise description of both action and state of mind)

"It’s sadness, yes, but it’s coiled up in frustration and possessiveness, a satisfied yearning that is now blocked, his hand now invisibly barred from reaching into that bowl where he could take little pieces of his desire like individual petals off a larger flower." from As before the loved one (stolen flower imagery from a Rilke poem in a fic about nature in art)

"She’d been hovering in Damen’s periphery since the auction at the livestock show, and when her brother’s ranch had bought a number of this year’s calves, she’d come along to observe the loading of stock into the transport, and had given her business card to Damen by slipping it into the front pocket of his work shirt, her hand delicately sliding past the opening of Damen’s jacket and brushing his chest." from Lambswool (description of an action that also silently reveals the secondary intentions of a character)

"A thorn on one of the branches catches a leaf belonging to its neighbour, and they stick together for a moment until the next breeze blows them apart again, and Laurent thinks so desperately and abruptly of how this serenity has always been here, in one form or another, waiting for Laurent to come back just to show him how nice it could be. In the idyllic hush, Laurent imagines his life leading up to this liminal moment in time, and then, with a smile, what it could be like to carry on after." from Rubus ulmifolius (using a simple image to trigger the internal thoughts of character, and progress his arc)

"He says it like Laurent’s name is the one thing he has made sure to perfect in his commandment of the language, prioritised over greetings, food, the weather." from Ideal Bounds (pretty romantic description of POV character's feelings about things a non-POV character does, perhaps unknowingly)

There are also a lot of good lines that maybe aren't necessarily that exceptional on their own, but come at exactly the right time in the fic to really clinch a bunch of things I've seeded along the way. Those are great ones :)

40. Best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten? -- If by feedback you mean something constructive, I'm not sure I've actually received much? Otherwise I'm sure something would be coming to mind right now. I tend to take my writing advice from other things I've read (non-fiction, experiential, etc) and practice incorporating them as I go along. But, as we all know, no piece of writing advice should ever actually be followed. (That being said, while answering question 87 I did think of many pieces of advice I do follow, but have never personally been on the receiving end of.)

If by feedback you mean something complimentary, the comments that show someone has figured out my story like it's been assigned for critical reading in an English Lit class--those are the ones that really hit my heart in the best way <3

87. Does your writing style change depending on the genre you write? -- Because of the amount of AU stuff I write, it definitely does. If something is set on Earth, or in a different era (or canon equivalent of one) then I do adjust the narration appropriately. Just like the mention of turning on a light switch in a century that relies solely on gas or flame would pull a reader out of the reality that you're trying to create, so can a character's way of speaking, or a description of the surrounds. I never 100% commit to very historical genres, usually just meeting things halfway; for example, I once wrote a fic that was set in the sort of Mary Shelley 1820's gothic novel era and tried to incorporate the darkness of those themes into my descriptions, but didn't exactly make everyone talk in 1820's british lingo (not that everyone in the fic was british either).

Sometimes I try new writing styles out for fun, and it doesn't necessarily have any bearing on the genre. I'll experiment with trying to make a fic short by only using descriptive scene storytelling, and minimizing dialogue. Or I'll try using the POV character's internal view more, adjusting the scope to just their viewpoint or keeping the narration as wide-lensed as possible.

#thank you for questions chel!! #writing #now go ask me about what words show up in my wip <3

[ramrodd]

COMMENTARY:

Derek, where did you leave to? You say you left Christianity, but you are still flogging the same Evangelical dollar of Campus Crusade for Christ and all things Pro-Life Christian Nationalism, You are a different side of the same Marxist dialectic, It has to do with the Post Modern Historic Deconstruction you believe is a superior method of inquiry than Hegel's Historic Gestalt, I mean, it's the difference between what you need to be able to do to win at Call of Duty and what they teach you in the Army Ranger School. All you podcast contrarians and Jesus Freaks, you devolve the literature of the bible to a video game based on some double bind that is necessary to take Pro=Life women seriously, A problem is that you guys believe, in your heart of hearts that problems like Gaza and Ukraine and the Korean DMZ can just be turned on and off like the apps on your iPhone,

Abram was a Pagan God Fearer like Cornelius was before he met Jesus,

As I mentioned previously, I don't do any original scholarship, My method is based on the axiom that the Gospels can shed a great deal of light on the commentaries. Rec, Dr, Frank Wade, National Cathedral, said that was advice he was given in Seminary he always found reliable.

So, I listen to shows like yours to pick up the scholarship I can't do any more, Fore example, you had Paul Davidson on talking about Melchizedek and he provided me the evidence of Yaweh, Queen of Battle, fighting along side Abram in Genesis 14, Also, he is correct about the tithing: I;ve heard it explained by all the Prosperity Gospel Preachers that it went to Melchizedek, but was was aalways incongruous to me, intuitively, The Bread and wine makes perfect sense, The tithe to Melchizedek, not so much, This ties in perfectly with the tithe of the Maji in Matthew, whether Dom Crossan likes it or not, the nativity narrative in Matthew is reliable, It only seems to clash with the other narratives. They represent gaps Quelle couldn't capture, like the career of Paul described in Acts, Anyway, Davidson's scholarship around Genesis 14 and Genesis 15 reveals Yaweh, Queen of Battle, Goddess of Decision, in legend and that's close enough for government work for me to complete the Hellenistic ontology of the Bible, The only thing missing in the scriptures before Jesus was Jesus to complete the ontology, Tertullian presented the incomplete ontology with his epiphany regarding the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Elohim the verb is presented in Genesis 1:1 and Elohim the demi urge , the Spirit of God which still hovers over the waters, and caused the clouds to clear at Niagara Falls this afternoon during the Total Eclipse is presented in Genesis 1:2.

And The Satan is presented in the Book of Job, All these are identifiable as Jungian Archetypes and available for fun and profit or in the line of Duty, That's what both the Jesus Seminar and Campus Crusade for Christ is missing with your asshole legalistic solo scriptura and mechanistic Marxist dialectic.

So, if you are leaving Christianity, how do you leave all that shit behind? You can't, That's why Bart Ehrman's apostasy or born again is a fraud, Dracula is an example of Fascist sophistry in literature: he can only happen on paper. Like John Galt. Ayn Rand lost track of John Galt's actual status, humanity wise, Inher own Metaphysics, John galt had achieved metaphysical existence in her mind and an apparently compelling literary figure in the minds of millions of Objectivists and anti-DEI executives. But, in the final analysis, John Galt and Dracula hung out with the Wereworlves of London and Roland, the Headless Thompson Gunner.

Who you gonna call, Derek? Ghostbusters? , I mean, leaving Christianity: wasn't that a John Denver song Mary Travers' covered, back in the day, It was a favorite with officers in Vietnam.

#Youtube

[electricbluebutterflies]

Jess/Leto + “i don’t know what you want from me.”

How these babes became my primary comfort / fluff ship, I have no idea. PG-ish and early-era. Usual queued-crosspost fun / also on ao3

He knows what will happen years before it does.

Knew from the moment he saw her, really, though he’ll never admit that to anyone. There was just something about her, beautiful and powerful and tragic as all of her order are but… something about her, something he couldn’t pin at the time, was different. Defiant in her eye contact, in her body that has been chosen to make him weak in ways that she herself could never be. At the time he wouldn’t have described himself as a romantic, but…

A few years have passed, and she remains cold and serpentine, and every day the affection deepens.

He knows the legends and rumors about what she is – respected but not trusted, extent of powers unknown to any man, to be given one of them is a mixed blessing and every day since what had amounted to a warning he has been cautious. No way to prevent what could be done, but he tries, he finds peace in consistency and…

A few years in, he is starting to suspect that she’s holding back around him.

It would be tempting to assume something is wrong with her, defective or less powerful than most of her kind, pawned off on him as a distraction for him and punishment for her. The punishment part is probably more accurate than anyone will ever admit, but… differently, not because there is anything wrong with that woman but because she is everything that could be feared given her past, because she is-

She has… done things, these past years. That is all he will ever want to know. He has chosen to trust her, to not know where she wanders in the middle of the night, to not ask when things happen that line up with her more likely skills. And this is real, he is sure of it, this boundary that will make them strong. Never discussed, never-

He trusts her, and that is not a bad starting point for everything else. For getting used to the sight of her first thing in the morning, how she keeps her body perfectly still if she wakes up first, the fearlessness of her as she learns to allow familiarity, as she-

There is time for this, for playing with her hair like she only tolerates when she’s not fully awake, for enjoying in the most innocent ways. For wondering if, perhaps, there is a way to go forward and not lose her.

It would be easier this way. He’s known for months – on some level since a week since she came here, in the deepest part of his heart since the first moment he put his hands on her, but the volume has gotten louder recently. Easier to try to have a life with her, with this woman he is trying to know and who sees right through him, than to tolerate some…

Status means one cannot marry for love. He leads a planet; the best he has ever hoped for is to be able to avoid the issue entirely, to wait out storms and find every reason not to make such an alliance, to be polite but distant when that luck runs out. So far so good. But what if…

Anything that could be done would have to be slow, careful, and not legally binding levels of formality. But it is not impossible. A perfect idea in early-morning light, nothing to rush into – nothing he could rush into – but at least worth discussing, at least-

“You’re too in your head,” his partner says, face still buried in a pillow and clearly no desire to move. “I can feel it. Something’s wrong.”

He loves how direct she is when something’s on her mind, proof enough that he has made her feel safe. Fearless and comfortable and a little impulsive, he’s not so sure about that last bit just yet but she could be, she could-

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says just a little too quickly.

She turns her head just in time for him to see her roll her eyes – she is not a morning person, he is well aware, and she was out doing something last night and he suspects she barely sleeps even when she’s not occupied by shadow work, but even allowing for those factors she looks distinctly unimpressed right now. Her default mood, he thinks sometimes, but there’s something that might almost be affection in it and-

“Let me help, then. Whatever weight you carry…”

Not weight but the absence of it, he wants to say, this beautiful realization that there may be solutions to all of their problems, a way to keep her close if…

“Are you happy here?” With me, he wants to say but won’t, won’t add any pressure to what is already a tightrope, won’t-

“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” So much conviction in her voice – she has bloomed, but not enough, not enough to erase a past he could never untangle, not-

“It does to me.”

She is quiet for a few moments, quiet as she changes her position and takes his hands under the blankets. This is progress, at least; there have been times she didn’t initiate touch for weeks but melted whenever he reached out, and he knows he will never understand her and never stop wanting to, and-

“I am,” she says, voice too soft but at least she’s looking at him. “I just… I don’t know what you want from me sometimes.”

Everything, he’d say if he were a braver man, if he were half the person the outside world thinks he is. Everything she is would be enough. Every night of their lives with bodies tangled up, every formal occasion made easier with her there in finery to fixate on and anchor to, every one of her abilities and talents used in their favor, a deep appreciation for how she speaks damage control like one of her many dialects, the perfect faith he has that he is enough for her desires, a child that would add her stubbornness to the family traits…

It is this last thought that clarifies solutions, conscious for the first time. If she were the mother of his heir, and he at least has power enough to choose that regardless of what else he is forced to do politically, that would be a tethering that would be challenging to undo. Excuse enough to keep her close and treat her well, even if everything were to go sideways and she were not the only woman in his spaces, even if…

“Life,” he murmurs, because there are no other words. “Something to live for.”

She replies with a blank look, like this was not at all what she expected, tragic woman who has been assigned roles by everyone who’s ever known her and how many of those have ever fit right and how many have been like those horrific black dresses she insisted on wearing for all but the most formal occasions for the entire first year she was here, how many-

“And how would I do that?” she asks after a few heartbeats, and there is something almost like fear in her voice, something he never wants to hear again, confused and-

“Tether yourself,” he says, and he knows so little of what she is but the total control she has over her body has been proven enough in what time they have had. “No one could ignore you if I-“

“We wouldn’t survive the scandal.”

“We’ve survived everything else. A child wouldn’t-“

“You would take that risk? You would ruin yourself so easily?”

“Not ruination,” he murmurs, slipping a hand free to push her hair out of her face. “I want… I am allowed that choice and I want you. I want your strength and intelligence and-”

“You could do better.”

“It’s an idea. Just… think about it, alright?”

They have lingered enough; there is a day to take on, schedules that can still be maintained but not if he gets any more distracted. Enough to lean in for a heartbeat kiss before morning routines, an echo of hidden softness, and… now that the words have been said, now that the idea is in the air, he has never been more sure of anything. A solution to several problems, and damned near perfect, and-

“I think I understand you and then you go and suggest something like that,” she says, back turned to him as she slips a day dress over her head and oh it is not wrong to look and be reminded of her beauty.

“Isn’t that why I have you in the first place?”

“I’ll let you know if I ever figure that out,” and it’s almost a laugh, and this is how life begins, to be so delighted by each other, to be-

“You were saying you needed a project…”

“Letting me actually supervise those renovations would get me in less trouble.”

“Or you could multitask.”

“Or I could do that.”

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

[percontaion-points]

Crave chapters 36-38

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 36

“Blank” doesn’t describe what happens to his face. It goes beyond blank, beyond empty, until there’s absolutely nothing there. No sign at all of the Jaxon I watched the meteor shower with. Definitely no sign of the boy who kissed me until my knees buckled and my heart nearly exploded.

I’d like to remind everybody that it’s been four days since Grace came to the school. 

“I keep telling you that it doesn’t work like that here.” He shoves a frustrated hand through his hair. “Don’t you get that? You’ve been a pawn since you got here, a chess piece to move around the board to get the desired result. But now…now we’ve upped the stakes. This isn’t just a game anymore.”

Again, from Grace’s perspective, imagine how fucking ridiculous this must sound. 

Hell, I have some inkling of what’s going on, and even I’m rolling my eyes so hard that I hurt myself. 

But not only is he not lying broken on the ground three stories below, he’s nowhere to be seen at all. He’s vanished, right into thin air.

Chapter 36 summary: Grace finds the hall empty, but knows he couldn’t have gone far. She finds him with some of his friends on the stairs, and calls out to him. He’s like “what we did was a mistake. I’ve put you in grave danger, Grace. Stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you.” Grace is naturally upset over the entire thing, and doesn’t understand. Because how can she when literally the entire school is hiding the truth from her? So she’s forced to watch as he literally walks away from her. 

Chapter 37

“More like, everything here is designed to kill you in ten seconds or less.” 

“I thought that was Australia?” 

“I’m pretty sure it works for any place that begins and ends with an A.”

I’m from Arizona, and the number of things that can and will kill you out here (including going outside) is insanely high.

So yeah. This checks out. 

“Yeah, we talked about this before. Everyone wants me to just move on, and I can’t. They tell me that nothing has to change, that Jaxon’s a perfectly good replacement—” 

“Jaxon?” My whole body tightens up at the mention of his name linked with hers. She can’t be serious…can she? 

“I know. It’s absurd. He and Hudson are nothing alike. And I don’t care about politics or family dynasties even if he does. I just want Hudson back.” 

I’m reeling under the news that she and Jaxon are supposed to be together—and the implication that he’s willing to go along with it. But she looks so small when she says it, so exposed, that my heart twists for her. 

Besides, it doesn’t make sense. Not with the way he held me earlier. Not with the way he kissed me. He didn’t do either of those things like a guy who had another girl on his mind.

Even without context, even I can sense that it’s less because Jaxon is in love with Lia, and more because their families are hoping for some kind of political marriage. 

There are a couple of messages from Heather—about how much Calculus sucks and how she wishes she could work up the nerve to talk to Veronica (her current crush).

LESBIAN FRIEND?! GIVE IT TO ME. NOW. 

And it’s these thoughts that have me peeling back the bandage I promised I wouldn’t lift for at least a few days and staring at the cut on my neck. 

Or, more precisely, at the two perfectly round, perfectly spaced puncture marks about an inch below a jagged cut.

Oh gee. 

Or, more precisely, at the two perfectly round, perfectly spaced puncture marks about an inch below a jagged cut.

Chapter 37 summary: Jaxon literally “disappeared”, and as Grace is looking around for him, Lia shows up. She’s like “man girl, you don’t look so good.” and starts walking Grace back to her room, clearly worried Grace is going to faint at any second. 

As they’re going, Grace randomly asks how Lia is doing, in regards to her dead boyfriend. Lia says that she’s as fine as to be expected, given the circumstances. She goes on to say that everybody expects for her to “get over” Hudson’s death, and to hook up with Jaxon as a replacement. Reading between the lines, it’s painfully obvious she means more in a political marriage sort of situation, but Grace only hears it as “Jaxon is secretly in love with me!” Because yeah. Our main character, folks. 

Lia gets Grace back to her dorm right as Macy comes out in search of her cousin. Macy thanks Lia, and Grace insists that she only wants to go to sleep now, so Lia leaves. Macy hovers over Grace until Grace eats some cookies and juice. Then, she goes to bed. 

But Grace can’t sleep, and keeps thinking about everything. She eventually gets up to look at her wound in the mirror, despite the nurse telling her not to remove the bandage. And to the surprise of literally nobody but Grace, there are vampire puncture marks on her neck. 

Chapter 38

“The truth is, Grace, sometimes the most obvious answer really is the right one.”

Chapter 38 summary: Grace naturally freaks out. She thinks that this is the lingering effects of whatever the nurse drugged her with earlier. But eventually, after a lot of mental back and forth, she reaches something that I liken to “When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

She paces around for a while before she puts on the school uniform and goes racing up to Jaxon’s room. But he’s clearly not there, so she sits down to wait for him to come back. 

His friend, Mekhi, shows up instead. After a little bit (I’m serious; it was only a page) of back and forth, Grace shows him the bite marks. He gets upset, and texts Jaxon before admitting that Jaxon went off “into the mountains”. And he wants for Grace to sit there and wait until he comes back. 

Grace wants to know why Mekhi isn’t more freaked out. He says that he is, and then goes on to insist that Jaxon didn’t bite her. But Grace is of the opinion that Jaxon must have, because it wasn’t the goddamned nurse. 

She tries to leave to go to class, but Mekhi stops her. Says that Jaxon wanted her to wait up there. Eventually, the two of them compromise and he agrees that she can wait down in her room instead. 

#Crave series #Crave (Crave 1) #Chapter 36 #Chapter 37 #Chapter 38 #Grace (Crave) #jaxon vega #bad timeline #i'm done goodbye #Lia (Crave) #HEADDESKING #comprehension is for squares! #Macy (Crave) #random background characters are random

[carpisuns]

miraculous holders symbolism

Something i found super interesting about miraculous is how the miraculous holders seem to either match their miraculous perfectly or be kind of the opposite.

Take a look at the OG hero squad:

Marinette wields the power of creation, which is a perfect match for her. she is an incredibly creative and intelligent problem solver, and creation is just what she does 24/7 in her regular life—whether she’s designing clothes, drawing, baking, or whatever. And the positive energy she exudes constantly for everyone around her makes her a perfect Ladybug.

Nino is another one that fits his miraculous perfectly, imo. He wields the power of protection, and it he’s incredibly loyal and protective of the people he loves. In Anansi, he faced a supervillain on his own to protect Alya. In the Bubbler, he stood up to Gabriel Agreste and was then akumatized just because he wanted Adrien to have a nice birthday party. In Origins, he sensed before anyone else that Adrien was a good egg and needed a friend, and he immediately decided, “I will love and protect this dude with my entire soul. He’s is now my Bro™️” lol. Nino is a protector through and through!

It makes sense that Marinette and Nino would be perfect matches for their miraculous, which have powers with positive connotations. But what about the miraculous with powers that seem more negative?

Although Adrien wields the power of destruction, he’s definitely not a destructive person. On the contrary, he’s super thoughtful and kindhearted and takes great care not to hurt other people. He’s a sunshine boy who loves his friends and family and also has huge goofy side, which counterbalances the serious, chilling nature of destruction. The person who wields the power of destruction needs to be chosen carefully. It has to be someone with a genuinely good heart, who would destroy only when necessary, and who would do it in a constructive way. And that’s Adrien.

As for Alya, she has the power of illusion, aka deception. We’ve seen with Volpina how damaging that power can be in the hands of someone who matches it too closely. But Alya is the opposite of it. She’s a very direct person who doesn’t beat around the bush. She hates liars, but she’s usually careful not to jump to conclusions, and she tries keep an open mind when she follows her hunches. As a journalist/reporter/blogger, she is dedicated to uncovering and declaring the truth. The person who wields the power of illusion has to be someone who would deceive only when necessary for the greater good—never with malicious intent or to get gain for themselves. And that’s Alya.

And then we have Chloé.

The bee miraculous wields the power of subjection—i.e., the power to bring other people under your control. This sounds like a negative power that would need a holder who embodies the opposite characteristics be its balance. But Chloé fits it to a T. She forces her own will onto everyone within her power—her father, her butler, her best friend. Even the hero name she gives for herself—Queen Bee—implies that she is the ruler and that everyone else must become her subject. She’s incredibly possessive, both of things and people, and the way she treats the miraculous and her role as Queen Bee just reinforces that. The miraculous was never given to her in the first place—she stole it, and from that point on insisted that she was entitled to use it, calling it “my miraculous” and getting angry that Ladybug wouldn’t bring it to her again.

It’s made very clear that Chloé is not a worthy holder of any miraculous, least of all the miraculous of subjection. The opposite of subjection is humility—a ready willingness to learn from your mistakes, accept your role graciously, and submit to another’s will (when it’s the right thing to do). It means treating other people as equals, not subjects. Most of all, it means accepting that you have flaws and actively working to overcome them and become a better person. And absolutely none of that describes Chloé. As of now, she is the exact wrong person to wield the bee miraculous.

At this point, there’s really no telling whether Chloé will end up being redeemed, but I do love the idea that she could eventually become humble enough to be a good match for the bee miraculous. I think that would make a very compelling and meaningful arc. Humility is a base requirement of redemption, so if Chloé actually wakes up and puts in the work to redeem herself, she could make herself into arguably the perfect match for the power of subjection. She would know the danger of misusing that power and would be committed to never abuse it again, and she would have to take a good look at her herself and acknowledge her weaknesses and come out the other side as a much more humble and compassionate person.

I would love to see that, but again, we really don’t know if a Chloé redemption will happen (and it certainly doesn’t have to). For now, we’ll have a bee holder who is actually worthy of it, unlike Chloé. And even if Chloé does turn herself around, that doesn’t mean she’ll ever wield that or any other miraculous again. Which is fine! Her redemption would be just as meaningful even if she never became Queen Bee again.

And either way, whether she’s redeemed or not, I think the symbolism of each miraculous and their chosen holder is a really cool detail in ML—showing why certain people are the right fit for a miraculous (or in Chloé’s case, the wrong one).

#ml #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ml meta #ml analysis #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #mine