#In a way where it makes sense why every single one of the endless is the way they are

[cryptidhyrst]

Working on some Sandman stuff and I realized that Dream loves so deeply (like throws his whole being into a romance that literally just started days ago; the type of guy who'd most definitely say "I love you" in a week, and the type of guy who'd try to make a paramour the regent to the Dreaming in less than a year).

All because his own parents never gave him love and affection. You can't exactly have your own ideal of what a healthy (romantic and familial) relationship looks like when your parents had a bunch of kids, but called quits on their relationship immediately after and can't stand to be in each other's presence. You also can't have the basis of what a healthy relationship looks like when your father has blatant favoritism toward your elder brother. And your mom? Somehow worse, in the regard that she heavily favors Dream and isn't bothered to keep up with her other children, much less remember the smallest details about them.

#Like I really wonder if the once a year family dinner's where Death's idea #It feels like Death's idea #Because there's no way any of the other endless would have come up with #I don't think they're as bad as Dream in that they're capable of expressing their emotions fully but I also think #that they just don't have a basis for what a healthy familial relationship should look like #So I'm very much leaning toward the idea that Death behaving like a mortal once a year and seeing how humans interact with each other #gave her this idea to try and get the family together for dinner once a year as well #Like she is both parentified and suffering from eldest daughter syndrome at the same time #In a way where it makes sense why every single one of the endless is the way they are #Why they're all constantly fighting with each other #and why they have all these arbitray rules about staying in their own lane #never helping each other #or rules about being in a relationship with a mortal #This is also me pushing my hidden agenda of Hob taking over these family dinners #And cooking a giant meal #and trying to make these endless dinners as jovial as he possibly can #god help him though #At least they he might be successful enough to upgrade the dinner to once a year plus something like Christmas #the sandman #When will I ever learn to not type out a whole essay in the tags? #Probs never #cryptid speech #the sandman meta

[d10nyx]

paint the town red

ft. pyramid head x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, snuff(i think it counts for written work idk), big size difference, stalking, murder, physical injury, heavy non-con, gore, blood, violence, p in v, monster fucking

a/n: i'm so nervous to post this idek why 😭😭 um it's very dd:dne so proceed with caution! i lost followers after the cannibalism fic lets see if it happens again lmao

word count: 1k words

You've been running for so long that your lungs burn. In the distance, the loud screeching of the metal of that creature’s weapon grating along the concrete is the only thing letting you know he’s still hot on your tail. There's a heavy thumping of footfalls as he follows you, seemingly aware of every move you make. No matter how fast you run, he always seems to be close by, never faltering in his chase.

The fog is endless. The air is thick and starved of oxygen, making it harder to breathe and worsening your fatigue as you try to escape. You should be thankful for the creature's noise, as you can barely see two feet in front of you. You'd been drawn to this town, and now it would not let you go. Not until you had paid your debts - it appeared the Executioner himself would be the one to claim the price.

One wrong turn was all it took. It was so easy to get turned around in the fog, and you find yourself growing uneasy as an eerie silence settles around you. You can feel his presence, even if you can no longer hear him. There's an unmistakable terror that rises within you when he's nearby, like your subconscious can sense him even when there's no sign of him. The heavy thuds of his footsteps stop, and your steps falter as you try and figure out where to go next.

You didn't get the chance to make that decision.

You hear the familiar screech of his blade dragging along the floor right behind you, but before you can run, a strong arm settles around your waist, dragging you back against the hulking figure. He doesn't speak as he grabs hold of you, but you can hear the heavy breaths coming from underneath his large, triangular helmet.

You try your best to fight your way out. No matter what you do, he doesn't flinch. His breathing doesn't change. There's not a single sign that you're even hurting the thing. You kick back against his legs, hard enough that if he was human, his knees would give out. You claw, scratch, punch…

Nothing works.

He drops his weapon, and you don't stop panicking. He's no less intimidating without it - his hulking figure is a looming presence over you, and you're sure that he could snap every bone in your body without even trying. You scream as loud as you can, your throat turning scratchy and your ears ringing at the sound.

It doesn't matter. Nobody's coming to help you, and the creature only gets more excited by your torment. When you feel the evidence of his excitement, your blood runs cold.

You can feel his hardening cock pressing against your back, and you know any attempt to fuck you would kill you. It was long, and probably thicker than your forearm. You beg for him to let you go, plead until your voice grows weak. It just watches with sick satisfaction, waiting for the moment you give up and go limp in his arms.

In one fluid motion, he's got you pinned to the floor. His hand is harsh against the back of your head, slamming you hard enough against the ground that your nose breaks, blood pouring out steadily. You scream in agony, and the thing behind you lets out a pleased grunt, reaching under his bloodied apron to free his cock.

It ignores you as you beg for him to stop - to just kill you. His large hand rips right through your jeans and panties, leaving just enough access for him to push inside of you. It grows increasingly frustrated as any attempts at entry fail, eventually deciding to stop playing ‘nice’ and just thrusting his hips forward as hard as he can, tearing right through you.

Your throat is raw from how much you're screaming, your fingers clawing helplessly at the concrete below you. Your thighs are coated in a wet substance, which you vaguely register must be your own blood.

You're sure you're going to pass out soon. The pain has your body going numb, your body growing slack underneath him as he begins to thrust. Your mind tries to go somewhere else, but it's impossible to ignore the intrusion. Your stomach bulges grotesquely, the outline of the monster's cock visible even as he pulls back before slamming back in.

Your pulse weakens as he forces himself further inside, thrusting as deep as he can manage. You're barely conscious, bleeding and drooling all over the concrete beneath you. His thrusts falter slightly, and you feel a flicker of hope that this would all finally end.

Hope that is quickly ripped from you as soon as he grips your neck from behind, his hand squeezing your throat and cutting off all your oxygen. Good things don't survive in Silent Hill, and you should have known your brief respite wouldn't last. You raise your hands to try and pry him away from you, but it's no use. He's too strong, and you're too weak, only seconds away from passing out.

His thrusts resume, knocking you forward jnti his vice-like grip on your throat. You hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to your family. No one would know where to look for you - you'd just become another body lost to the horrors of this town.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to take in breaths. Your body consorts unnaturally as he starts to tug you back into his thrusts, a sickening crunch echoing in the air before he drops you back to the ground, your lifeless body thudding against the concrete.

The pain finally stops, the release of death smothering you like a warm blanket. The Executioner peels away from you, your blood joining the other victims’ on his apron. His punishment has been delivered, and he returns to stalking the town of Silent Hill, his knife dragging along the floor with that sickening sound echoing through the fog.

#dead dove do not eat #dark content #pyramid head #pyramid head smut #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head x you #red pyramid thing #silent hill smut

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Once More, With Feeling ♡

♡ Pairing: poly!hyunlix x gn!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/angst

♡ Summary: Unable to sleep after a major argument leads to a breakup, you return to a place that's close to your heart to find comfort and end up with something much more special.

♡ Word Count: 1.4k-ish

♡ Warnings: None.

♡ A/N: I was listening to dreamy low-fi indie music and got in my feelings so, like, come get in them with meeee.

It’s 3:23am and you can’t sleep. Two tablets of melatonin, three cups of chamomile tea, and an endless loop of soothing rain sounds have done nothing to change that. Your heart aches, it’s unbearable, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. Rolling onto your back, you rip the covers off, only now realizing how much you’ve been sweating from the anxiety of cycling through last night’s events over and over in your head.

None of this feels real, losing Felix and Hyunjin, the ones you love the most. Maybe it was a bad idea from the start, the three of you being together. Maybe you weren’t as well equipped to keep them both happy as you thought. Every “maybe” hangs over you as if it’s written in glow-in-the-dark paint on the ceiling, taunting you from the void. Does any of it even matter now? Whatever it was that led to the eventual downfall of your relationship, the argument that ended it all, you can’t go back and fix it.

Even still, your heart longs for the possibility that you’ll be together again someday. You’ve always liked to think that when you truly love someone you’ll find each other no matter what, in this life or the next. It could be wishful thinking, the musings of a hopeless romantic. What does it hurt to wish, you figure, if that’s all you have? You take a long, deep breath in, allowing your breath to slowly flow back out as you squeeze your eyes shut. If I lay here long enough I’m bound to fall asleep. Right?

“Fuck it” you groan, popping up out of bed and throwing on your fuzzy bunny slippers. Felix thought it’d be cute if the three of you got matching pairs. You hate how right he was. You’ve been fighting tooth and nail with yourself all night not to drive down to the pier. For years it’s been the destination of endless late-night drives. It’s where you snuck away together when the rest of the world felt like it was too much. Your memories of being there, as much as they might sting, are the dearest things to you and you need to drown yourself in them now more than ever.

So, before you know it, you’re headed out the door pulling a hoodie over your head, car keys in hand, desperately seeking solace in nostalgia. It’s a long, lonely ride to the pier. The combination of empty streets and too-long traffic lights gives you the sense that the world has come to a screeching halt. Whether it has or not for everyone else, it has for you. The light flashes neon green, bringing you back down to earth just as you begin to drift away, and you’re making the right turn that takes you to your usual parking spot. 

Turning the car off, you take a moment to sit and inspect the other cars around you. There are a few on your side, a dozen more on the other, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone out here. Probably all people who live nearby. Confident that you’re alone, the wall you’ve put up comes crumbling down, tears falling down your cheek faster than you can wipe them away. Why am I doing this to myself? You shake your body in what would look to a passerby like a cute, albeit strange, dance of sorts in hopes that some of the emotions overwhelming you will fall away like leaves.

Get it together. Summoning all of the courage you have, you make your way to the stairs leading up to the pier. You almost slip on the gritty, sand-coated steps, but manage to make it to the top without breaking your neck. As you venture forward you already hear the waves crashing to shore. You feel the stars watching you, their gaze intense and overwhelming. Only it’s not their gaze at all. There’s someone at the end of the pier staring back at you, teary-eyed and stunned. That intensity, that overwhelming emotion, it’s his.

Felix? No, no, no. You turn on your heels, racing back to the car before you lose it completely. “Wait!” he yells, running after you. Felix hadn’t expected to see you here either. He’d typed a million text messages asking you to come but he’d deleted all of them, thinking you wouldn’t want to see him with everything being so fresh. He’s been wishing too, as much as you have, and he can’t let this moment slip away. Your car door’s halfway open when he reaches you, your fingers held tightly around the handle.

“Can we talk?” he asks, his hushed voice skimming your neck as he pushes the door closed. You don’t fight him. You don’t want to. The feeling of his chest against your back, the wind blowing his hair so that it tickles your cheek, makes you want to melt into him. Turning to face him, melting is the first thing you do, straight into his arms. He doesn’t hesitate to hold you tight to him, the tension soothed by the simple act of having you near him again. “I’m really sorry” you weep, “I should’ve seen that you weren’t happy.” 

Felix shushes you, his fingers stroking your neck, “Stop, don’t say that. I was happy. Me and Hyunjin…working with each other, we just get frustrated sometimes and it wasn’t supposed to come home but it did. I should be sorry” “What? No invite to the family reunion?” you hear Hyunjin ask and you’re positive that you’re hallucinating. But when you look up he’s standing there staring at the two of you with an expression you can’t quite make out. “I…no…we didn’t…” Felix stutters but Hyunjin’s already walking away, heading for the edge of the pier, ignoring you like you’re strangers.

You’re so much more than that and he knows it. Enough time hasn’t passed for him to erase what you shared from his mind. Even if he could, he wouldn't. Why else would he be here? Hyunjin shoves his hands in his pockets, stopping to make a half-turn toward you. “If I admit I’m an asshole will you come with me?” “I mean, we already know you’re an asshole so…no” Felix teases, getting a laugh out of both of you. “What if I say I’m sorry and that I’d really like to not be alone…to be with you two?” A long stretch of silence separates his question and your answer.

“Wait up,” you smile, taking Felix’s hand and dragging him along with you to catch up to Hyunjin. Meeting him at the center of the pier, you take his hand too and the three of you walk to the edge together. Any other time the minutes would fly by, all of the laughter and kisses making hours feel like minutes. But, in the presence of lingering pain, minutes feel like hours. “It’s not the same,” Hyunjin sighs, picking at his already chipped nail polish and flicking it into the sea. You want to deny it but you can’t. “No, it’s not.” Felix sits down, crossing his legs as he frustratingly tousles his hair, “So that’s it, then? We’re done?” 

You take a seat beside him on the ground, sick to your stomach at the thought, “I mean, is that what you want?” “Of course not. It’s never what I wanted. We are what I want.” You turn to Hyunjin and he’s already sitting down on the other side of you, his head resting on your shoulder. “Me too” he yawns, “But what about you? It doesn’t matter what we want if you don’t—” “I do. I always will.” Their faces brighten up, even in the midst of their exhaustion. Felix takes his jacket off, gathers it in a little bundle in your lap, and lays down. “Maybe it shouldn’t feel the same this time,” he muses, “We should make it better.”

You pet Felix’s hair, “I’d like that.” Hyunjin nuzzles up closer to you, seconds from falling asleep, “Better sounds nice.” Stroking Hyunjin’s cheek, you lean into him too, every sleep aid you tried kicking in at once. Suddenly the world feels like it’s moving again, bursting with life even in the dead of night.

You’ve always liked to think that when you truly love someone you’ll find each other no matter what, in this life or the next. How beautiful it is that it turned out to be this one after all.

#hyunlix x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #lee felix fluff #lee felix angst #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst

[j-niret]

“ let’s stay in ”

✩‧₊˚ pairing — bf!hyunjin x curvy!gf!reader warnings — fluff, mild mentions of insecurities, lots of kissing and hyunnie being needy for his bby, size kink if you blink??? is pretty suggestive but i wouldn’t say this categorizes as full-on smut tbh

✩‧₊˚ requested? yes!

debuting this acc as my skz writing blog hehe (๑ > ᴗ < ๑) i had fun doing this request! pls lmk your thoughts on this <3

“almost ready yet babe?” hyunjin’s muffled voice through the door asks for the third time in a row. your brain kicks in to panic mode knowing he’s been waiting patiently for the past half hour yet no progress has been made. you were both supposed to meet with chan, changbin, and minho for dinner reservations but you loathed every single thing in your wardrobe right now. nothing was cooperating and you felt a meltdown beginning to transpire with the piles of clothes scattered across your bedroom floor. “y-yeah just um- give me a few more minutes be out in a jiffy!” that was a total lie but at least you stalled for more time. you’ve scoured your whole closet for a nice outfit to wear tonight but today was just not your day… almost everything you tried on was seemingly inadequate, fit weirdly, or accentuated that one particular body part a little too much for the other boys to see.

you huff in frustration, sifting through the tornado of a mess you’ve created, nothing was going your way; you still had no clothes on and hyunjin will start to grow suspicious any minute now. it’s not like you even have ugly clothes either — you buy the cutest stuff that matches your pretty aesthetic. you own a million and one dresses, skirts, frilly tops that hyunjin always says makes you look like a fairy princess, you had endless options but none lived up to your standards in this moment. time was ticking and you were only digging a deeper grave from procrastinating. “y/nnn, what’s taking so lo- you aren’t even dressed yet?!” hyunjin barges through the door without even knocking first. his eyebrows lift in confusion at the sight of you still completely undressed, you attempted to shield your body with your hands but hyunjin glares at your reaction. “what’s to hide? i’ve seen you in much less, no sense in being shy with me now babe.” he teased, snaking his arms around your waist while proceeding to litter kisses all over your flustered face.

usually you’d welcome this type of action with open eager and delight but your mind was being cruel to you, inability to focus on any positive attributes at this point. you wiggled in his arms to let loose from the tight grip he had on you but this only made him question your resistance, “what’s the matter bun?” he asks sweetly, voice notching up several octaves. “nothing’s wrong hyune, why would you think that?” you’re a terrible liar, hyunjin could notice something off with you instantly. “we’ve been dating almost a year now y/n, you can’t think i’m that oblivious to when you’re upset about something… talk to me, i’m here for a reason.” he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, pulling you closer into him. your timid nature makes it harder for you in expressing the way you feel, looking down at your feet clad with a pair of cinnamoroll socks. you hesitate to speak up but it was only fair to be honest with your boyfriend, “i just don’t feel like myself today…” your voice trails, unable to choke up another sentence. “how come? what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” his hands roam your curves, delicately massaging your body. “i don’t necessarily… like the way clothing draws attention to my bum…” you admit, sulking in his arms “i get insecure about how large it is.”

hyunjin couldn’t tell if you were actually being serious or not, is this really something to feel insecure about? he thought to himself. he loves every inch, nook and cranny of you — it was a shock to him you could even think so poorly of yourself. “i’m not sure i understand where you’re coming from.. i mean look at you, you’re literally the cutest girl ever. i adore your body, and you have the nicest bum i’ve ever seen might i add!” he twirls you around to face him, eyes glimmering with twinkles in them as you looks at you. you couldn’t help but pout, although his reassurance was sincere you were still unable to get out of the funk your mind settled in. “heyy, don’t give me that look— turn that frown upside down for me doll.” his finger probes the side of your lip to curl into a faux smile. large, ring clad hands drift down further to scoop your toosh firmly in his palms. puckering his lips for a kiss as he leans down to close the space between you, you scrunch your nose while hesitating to kiss back — you still felt uneasy in your own skin, the sweet sugary taste of him was distracting you well though. you soon melted into his touch, forgetting about your problems once the kiss grew heavier, lips hastily moving together as he squeezes your rear, giving it a light tap to make you squeal in his mouth.

smirking into the kiss, he kneads the plushness of your cheeks while you sigh into him. you were on your tippy toes since his height towered over you like crazy, one of your favorite polar opposites you were most fond of. as you pulled away a huge grin was plastered on the brunette male’s face, admiring you in awe, he still can’t fathom someone as ethereal as you being fully his. “you’re perfect just the way you are babe. i’ll tell you everyday ‘til you get sick and tired of hearing it, even then i won’t stop!” he assures lovingly, “my juicy booty cutiee.” you burst out laughing at that silly little nickname, he never fails to turn your sour mood sweet again. he peppers a soft kiss to your forehead as he rubs your sides, he’ll never get enough of you, truly addicted by your existence.

the buzz of vibrating echoes in the air, interrupting the shared moment between you; hyunjin dug into the back pocket of his jeans to answer his phone. “yello?” he responds, you could faintly hear what you think was changbin on the other end asking if you two were still coming. “ahh right, about that… i think we’re gonna have to skip out on this one hyung, y/n’s not feeling too well right now and i need to take care of her.” your eyes grow wide at the excuse hyunjin came up with, it seems he’s changed his mind about the plans too. uttering a few more things before hanging up he shoves the phone back into his pocket and faces you again. “you know you didn’t have to cancel right? that was rude of you!” you felt slightly guilty but deep down you were relieved. “it’s okay really, let’s stay in and order takeout instead. i’m sure they’ll understand.” he shrugs, voice sounding like honey as he bends down for another quick kiss. “i just want all my attention on you tonight, my darling.”

#hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x female reader #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #hyunjin fic

[interconnectedmatrix]

What if...?

A silly way of Solomon's devotion. Where was this at the start of the game? I'm not so sure. Although, I'd love to expound on this idea — atleast, for the purposes of a trope I come to love. Let's call this: "Tell me please, why can't I?"

♡.. Imagine a time where it began as the other way around: MC pining after Solomon. Had the human exchange student crave for human interaction in the literal incarnate of Hell? Go figured, it's in their nature. Of course they'd cling to him. Who else was the safest option?

♡.. Many moments pass and MC connects to Solomon like a missing thread. MC is his constant reminder of his lingering humanity, no matter how far gone he thought he was. Seeing the MC talk more about the Human realm: friends, family, places and even the most mundane things like ignoring stupid injuries, or multitasking on errands— it's almost nostalgic despite the many years the sorcerer had lived.

♡.. When MC finally builds up the courage to finally confess to Solomon, he was... shocked? Humanity was an odd topic; anthropology explaining the details of this race to a T. Solomon at this time thought that MC might as well have fallen for the demons. Like the toy they all were.

♡.. And what did he say? What did he say that determined the course of their relationship?

— "It'll pass."

♡.. He had an advantage. He was supposed to be able to become the first to MC's heart — the advantage of both being human. He and MC getting together causes the least amount of issues, but what did he do? He let them be. Let them bond with the brothers. With the others.

♡.. He only viewed them as a pawn in this endless game of life.

♡.. After that as some time came by, their relationship seemed to have continued on as normal. One might say that he and the MC had developed a friendship of sorts. This bond strengthened further when he sees them alone at the school dance — "shall we lonely singles dance together?"

♡.. That's how it should've stayed. His heart shouldn't have had a mind of his own. At night, he couldn't help but recall all their moments spent together. Solomon could no longer count the days he imagined their smile, their laughter, all that made them human...

♡.. As soon as he felt that spark — like a truck ran over him in his deepest nightmares, he realized: "oh fuck..." the platinum blonde muttered in cold sweat, panting as his mind continues to wander. He's awake. He is awake. But is he? Why is it that he's stuck in this dream?

♡.. Like a demon, Solomon felt tempted. Although, isn't that just human nature? — "what have you done to me?"

♡.. Now he knew how MC felt. And even if they was an attempt at the confession, MC's options were limited.

— "I love you like no other. Please, I... I don't want to lose you."

♡.. So they picked the least broken of the bunch.

— "I'll learn how to love you again."

♡.. It was a sentence of bliss, but to the sorcerer, he lost. Which is why when they were given the opportunity to go to the past, Solomon got to spend every moment with MC.

Every moment to enter their heart again.

To quote: "The whisper of love in the morning. Do you hear it? It's beating for you loudly."

Ah yes Solomon, aka mister "shady sorcerer who can't cook" but also "I lost my chance and now I'm taking it again." Inspire by the "fell first, didn't fell" and "fell later, fell harder" dynamic. I was inspired by how domestic Solomon acts towards MC in NB — like they were a married couple. As much as I love the demon brothers, this one got my heart... Again, just a "what if," takes inspiration from canon but I tend to deviate a LOT if that makes sense ;v;

Anyhow, have a nice day~! Tell me what you think of this scenario? Let me know your thoughts! 🫶

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me! #obey me solomon #canon x reader #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #what if #ideas #fanfic ideas #fell first fell harder #he's so devoted in the game PLEASE #to win them over #fluff? angst??? a guilty pleasure

[actual-changeling]

Welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner! I am fuelled up with coffee and my adhd medication, so this is about to be a RIDE.

Apologies in advance, since this post will probably get quite long and also scientific at some point, but I will try to keep it as plain and easy to understand as possible. Combine two of my special interests (Good Omens and chemistry) and you get absolutely insane infodumps; it's a blessing and a curse.

As always, this is simply a theory, and maybe I'm wrong, maybe we'll never find out. But it's an option, and I have canonical proof.

There have been endless theories about why the Gabriel-Hiding-Miracle (which I will shorten to GHM) set off alarm bells in heaven and reached a strength of 25 Lazarii. Are their half-miracles really combined that strong? Does it depend on their relationship or love?

Well, today I am here to tell you that, actually, there is no such thing as "half a miracle".

We are going to have a closer look at miracles themselves, but the first important thing to keep in mind is that most of the time, Crowley and Aziraphale are incredibly unreliable narrators and have barely any inside into how heaven and hell work. Remember, they have been on earth since 4004 BC, they are certainly not used to any of the internal routines and functions.

They can tell us all kinds of things, but that does not make them true.

Now, miracles!

Both angels and demons are capable of performing them, though they only seem to be counted as actual miracles when they happen on earth, seeing as they measured in Lazarii.

One Lazarus equals the miracle power it takes to bring one human being back to life—the consequence is that miracles must be bound to the earthly plane, since that is where their unit originated from. When they are performed in heaven or hell, they are still miracles in a broad sense—celestial beings using their powers—but not in a way that ascribes to the measuring system.

Neil once answered an ask about Lazarus as a unit, and he stated that miracles tend to be measured in Centi- or Millilazarii (mostly the latter), meaning that the GHM was about 1000x as strong as your usual, daily miracle. The labeling also tells us that the scale for Lazarii is the same as the metric one.

If we treat Lazarus as a base unit, we need to find a way of defining it that is unique to this specific unit.

Globally, we have a collection of agreed-upon base units, the SI units (coming from the French Système international d'unités, aka International system of Units). Those seven are second, metre, kilogram, ampere, candela, kelvin, and mole, and every single one has a very specific definition—they are too bloody complex. None of them can be expressed with one of the other SI units, which gives you great definitions such as these:

A little excursion for those that are interested: For a very long time, the kilogram was defined by. well. A cube. The "true kilogram", which is still in a vault somewhere in Paris. However, you can probably imagine why basing a unit on a physical objects isn't a great idea long-term, so back in 2018, the kilogram was redefined, along with three other units.

Now, all SI units are defined by natural constants, not physical objects, making them accurate and (more or less) absolute.

Back to miracles!

The reason I am telling you all this is that we need to find such a basic definition for miracles, too, or at least an approximation.

My proposal is that a miracle itself is the force exerted on matter by a a celestial being. That force is then measured in Lazarii, with one Lazarus being equal to the force required to bring one person back to life. This is where it gets a bit tricky because how do you visualize that kind of force?

Matter cannot be destroyed only created, so all the particles currently making up our bodies will continue to exist long, long after our deaths. Meaning when a person dies, the amount of matter that was them is still there, the consequence of which is that their body can be recreated at will. Now, souls seem to be separate from matter, making them metaphysical and thus irrelevant for this conversation. I am going with the assumption that once a body has been recreated, the soul can be put back into without additional cost in miracle power.

There might be another base unit hidden in the metaphysical, but that's a conversation for another time.

All of this amounts to one fundamental hypothesis:

A miracle is either done, meaning matter gets changed, or it isn't, meaning matter remains unchanged.

There is no in-between stage here, a "half-change" is not possible, either you exert a force on particles or you don't. What kind of change that is might not be tangible for us, but a change is a change.

When Crowley and Aziraphale try to hide Gabriel, they change the way he gets perceived, how others perceive him, aka they change the way his presence is processed.

The closest thing to compare it to, in my opinion, is the superior mirage—the Fata Morgana. At its core, it means that light bends as it passes through air layers with different temperatures; your eyes perceive the bent light rays and your brain processes them accordingly. You see images that aren't actually there.

Celestial beings look at Gabriel but see something that isn't actually there, so the "true" image remains hidden.

If we stick to this metaphor, then Crowley creates a mirage for any ethereal beings, and Aziraphale creates one for occult beings. The creation of that mirage is one miracle—not half a miracle, but ONE singular miracle. Both of them change matter, and both of these miracles can exist independently of each other.

Crowley and Aziraphale could have created their mirages on their own, meaning that two miracles were performed, not two halves of one miracle.

If you listen to the sound of the miracles, you can hear that it's different from the other ones they have performed on their own, with the "combined" miracle having two sound peaks instead of one. Tumblr hates it when I upload audio files, so have it like this.

In order, the miracles are Aziraphale lowering the chandelier and moving the shelves, Crowley removing the paintball stain, and the GHM.

IF they had both performed half a miracle, the end result would have been one miracle, meaning it should have sounded like any other—but it didn't! Two connected sounds, two simultaneous miracles.

There is still one thing left to talk about, which is the power of their miracle. Here is where my previous definition of Lazarus as a unit comes into play again.

Heaven measured a miracle power of 25 Lazarii aka a very high amount of force exerted on matter. You might think Alex, if they both performed their own miracle, how come that the alarm bells rang?

If we keep up the mirage metaphor, we can explain that! Crowley's intention was to make it so that ethereal beings cannot perceive him, so his miracle changed matter in a way that aligns with ethereal perception.

However, Aziraphale intended to change matter so that occult beings cannot perceive Gabriel, meaning his miracle changed matter in a way that is adapted to occult perception.

This is where science comes into play again!!

You see, particles aren't just particles, they are waves too. Wave-particle duality describes exactly that, e.g. an electron being both a particle and a wave at the same time. A connected theory to that is the Uncertainty principle, which describes the inability to measure the exact value of two different properties at the same time.

Or, to put it more plainly, if you try to figure out the exact position of a particle, its momentum becomes blurred, unclear. If you then focus on the momentum of the same particle, you can no longer describe its exact position.

You are probably looking at me now, thinking where the fuck are they going with this and why are there suddenly so many principles of quantum mechanics in a Good Omens meta post???

Crowley changes matter in way A.

Aziraphale changes matter in way B.

Those changes can co-exist, like an electron being a particle and a wave at the same time. However—and this is scientific theory adapted to celestial miracles—when an angel looks at Gabriel, then they are focusing on state A. When demons are looking at Gabriel, they are focusing on state B.

Focus on A and B becomes blurry. Focus on B and A becomes blurry.

Maintaining that double-state requires power though, because compared to wave-particle duality, these states aren't natural, they're inflicted—matter was changed. It's like the matter around Gabriel is flickering between those two states, a light switch trying to find a neutral position when there is only on and off.

How do we measure that power? In Lazarii.

The miracle energy that heaven measured is not that high because they each performed half a miracle and combined it into one, it is that high because they each performed one miracle that stands in opposition to the other; as a result, two different states need to be maintained at the same time, meaning the manipulation is ongoing, meaning it needs a fuckton of power.

If you want to keep balancing your light switch, you need to keep trying, you need to keep up the pressure, otherwise you either click it off or on. Same thing with the hiding miracle.

Twenty-five Lazarii.

The power you need to exert on matter to reshape twenty-five people—or to continuously hide one being from two opposing observers with rapidly-switching state changes.

While I think the whole "it's because of love" theory is fun and cute, scientifically it really doesn't make much sense because their powers have rules similar to our base units, so me must approach and treat them as such.

With that, thank you to everyone who made it this far and managed to survive our little excursion into the field of quantum mechanics.

Questions, thoughts, additions, etc. are very welcome!

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #good omens meta #half a miracle #alex's unhinged meta corner

[gojos-fr-bae]

Liar pt.8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Pairing: Gojo x fem!eader

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, but fluff at the end, cussing, drinking, grinding, NOT PROOFRED, i don't think there's anything else but as always lmk if there is.

Note- the italics is a flashback, actually, Satoru's entire section is a flashback from pt 7.

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: VFYVKD. Guys, I think this might be the last part to this series😭😭😔😔 This has been a journey, thank you so much for everyone who has read this far, I truly and deeply appreciate every single one of you❤️❤️ I don't want it to endddd, so lmk if you would like me to keep writing for this au bc I would LOOVE to.

(Requests open)

Satoru

He was beginning to feel like he was slipping. He hadn’t had a glass since the shot he took before Kaito came to spend the night with him. Although it was now night and hours since his son had left, he naively thought that he had overcome his addiction since he hadn’t felt the urge to drink the whole time he was with Kaito. 

Oh how wrong he was. He needed to get a drink and fast. He jumped into his car and began speeding to the nearest liquor store, only to find it with an eight-person line. He didn’t have the patience to wait that long and made his way to a bar. Any bar, honestly speaking, he had no idea where he even was. 

He quickly went over, ordered, and chugged five tequila shots consecutively. Once the alcohol finally kicked in, he finally began to feel like himself again. 

‘He was is disgusting. What kind of pathetic, sorry excuse of a man can’t survive without drowning himself in alcohol? How was he supposed to win you back and be a father for Kaito in such a state?’ 

These were the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind as he ordered a glass of whiskey, this time much more relaxed, seated on his stool, staring lifelessly into the endless abyss. 

He was slowly sipping his drink when he felt a pair of hands clutch his shoulders before slowly gliding down his arms. Because of his inebriated state, he wasn’t able to sense them approaching, however, he just chose to ignore, only seeming to amuse the stranger. He slowly turned his seat to face them. 

He was completely unamused when his eyes landed on a young woman clearly intent on getting into his pants. She clearly thought that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, therefore disarming a chance at him, but all he could think of was how ugly she looked in comparison to you. He just rolled his eyes, trying to go back to wallowing in self-pity. The lady just wouldn’t let up, turning around before she began grinding against him to the beat of the music. Foul, Satoru thought, feeling his patience run out.

“Get away from me you fucking slut,” he hissed, venom lacing his words as he placed his hand on her waist, trying to push her away when next thing he knows, a palm is making contact with his cheek, landing a harsh slap across his face. It was only then that he finally sensed your cursed energy. He quickly turned to face you, heart plummeting when he saw tears streaming through your face. 

Shit, he can only imagine what this looked like to you. He tried to reach out to you but you just screamed at him and ran away from him. 

He began to panic. 

His heart was racing. 

The world around him was spinning and despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t move a single inch. His vision was getting spotty and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He felt like he was going to vomit. 

WHY! WHY HIM, WHY NOW! WHY COULDN’T HEJUST CONTROL HIMSELF AND STOP FUCKING DRINKING! He was absolutely torturing himself in his head as he spiraled. 

He finally mustered the strength to run after you, leaving the unnamed girl where she stood, utterly confused.

He ran as fast as his legs could take him but you were nowhere to be found. 

He leapt into his car and drove as fast as the vehicle could go. He was at Jujutsu tech in about five minutes but that was the longest five minutes of his entire life. He had to get to you. He needed to explain, he needed to make sure you know that it wasn't what it looked like.

Y/N

After crying your heart out on the sidewalk, you eventually made your way back to Jujutsu Tech. You texted Shoko and asked her if she could take care of Kaito for the rest of the night. You felt so guilty for staying away from him for two nights in a row but you just couldn’t bear to have him see you like this.

Just as you were about to close the dorm door behind you, you heard running and frantic breathing approach. You didn’t even bother trying to fight Gojo as he forced his way through the door you were trying to shut.

“Y/N p-please” he took a pause, slightly hunched over as he attempted to catch his breath, “I pro- I promise it wasn’t what you looked like!” he tried to explain, clearly panicked. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s not what it looked like, Gojo.” you questioned, putting emphasis on how you said his name. It felt like you were continuously stabbing him with a jagged dagger and he felt his knees getting weak but he couldn’t let you go, not now.

“My love please! I swear on my life it wasn’t! I wasn’t trying to do anything with her fuck! I don’t even know her name!” “Then what was it Gojo! She was grinding on you and you were FUCKING ENJOYING IT, DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME! I KNOW WHAT I SAW!!” You yelled your throat raw.

“I was trying to get her away from me! Please, believe me, I promise,” He dropped on his knees, reaching for your hands with his own shaking ones. Tears began to trickle down his face as his breathing grew heavy.

A small part of you wanted to believe it, but you were struggling. Deep down, you were telling yourself that he was telling the truth. But that was a part of you you hadn’t seen since Gojo was sealed. You survived this long without listening to it, so why start now?

“Gojo…let’s get a divorce-”

“NO! NO! BABY PLEASE! Don’t do this to me! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE, MORE THAN BREATHING, MORE THAN MYSELF MORE THAN ANYTHING! DON’T LEAVE ME-”

“Gojo you were gone for years! I LIVED WITHOUT A HUSBAND FOR YEARS! And from what it looks like, you CLEARLY didn’t feel my or Kaito’s absence! And from what it looks like, you’ve moved on-”

“BUT I HAVEN’T! I HAVEN’T! I GO TO BED HOLDING A PICTURE OF YOU CLOSE TO MY CHEST EVERY SINGLE NIGHT! I HAVE NEVER TAKEN OFF YOUR RING SINCE THE DAY I GOT BACK AND FOUND YOU GONE!” He cried, showing you your ring, which laid on his fingers. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice it, but you just assumed that was due to how expensive it was. It would’ve been a waste to let it collect dust in a drawer.

“Y/N, you and out baby boy are the only fucking reason I wake up every day. You two are the light of my life and when I lost you. I was so distraught I even started drinking and you know better than anyone how much I hate that shit but it’s the only thing that takes my mind off of everything!”

You were now crying too, touched by what he was saying. You could see in his eyes that he meant every word and it shook you to your core. 

You stayed anchored where you stood, sobbing now as Satoru got up off his knees and took you into his arms. Hugging you as tightly as he could without breaking your ribs.

You couldn't even move. You just stood there and cried with him, feeling the weight of everything that had transpired over the past couple of years wash away.

All that grief, suffering, and pain over the past few years was washing away in your tears.

You love him.

You had pushed down your feelings for him so deep that for a moment, you forgot they were even there. But you love him, and he you, and you knew that there was know way either of you could live without each other any longer.

You love him, and he loves you, and nothing was going to change that. 

Not now, not ever.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

The End...?

@porridgesblog , @giannitaa , @c0pkiller , @havens-not-here, @starlightanyaaa

© gojos-fr-bae

#gojo satoru #gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #jujustu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk anime #Liar

[gretavanlace]

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol consumption, flirting, light impact play, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), etc

Inspired by this gorgeous little bit and this one, too. You’re all evil geniuses ❤️💋

“Seriously, what is wrong with you three?” Danny grabs the pool stick out of Sam’s hand and shoves him aside. “Is being a shitty pool player a prerequisite for being a Kiszka?”

“In fact, it is!” Josh sounds off, leaning against the table, finger idly dragging over the kelly green felt. “They pull us all aside in the hospital directly after birth, and say…hmm, I’ve forgotten, it seems. Samuel?”

Sammy takes a long chug of his fruity pink drink around a nod. “They say,” he gestures grandly, so much like his eldest sibling at the moment. “Be as useless as possible if you ever get your hands on a pool stick. Fuck every play up royally, for this…this is your duty. It’s all very dramatic.”

“Ah yes,” Josh raises his glass in thanks. “That’s it, little brother. Good man, better memory.”

“Idiots.” Danny shakes his head, and sinks three striped balls before scratching and turning in your direction. “Jake, you’re up.”

Jake rises from his stool beside you where he’s been watching the scene unfold with a gentle hand on your bare thigh.

“My time to shine, kitty cat.” He plunks his neat whiskey down and swaggers away, calling over his shoulder. “Prepare to witness mediocrity at its finest.”

“Mediocre would be a compliment.” Danny adds with another shake of his head that sends his mane of curls swaying.

“Hey,” Jake points a lazy finger at him, “you chose me as your partner.”

“Only because the other two are even worse, somehow.”

He sounds baffled by it, and you suppose that makes sense. Normally, the brothers Kiszka float through life with seemingly endless layers of talent. It’s more than fun for the both of you — strangers to such endless grace — to witness their struggle.

Danny hurries to your side, so that you might enjoy the moment together, falling into you as you both dissolve into a fit of half-drunken laughter when Jake flawlessly (and accidentally) sinks the 8 ball.

“Tired of this, is all.” He shrugs, lying his ass off. “We never do anything real. Let’s do something real.”

“I’m real,” You taunt jokingly after a swig of the whiskey he’s left you in charge of, “you could do me.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He scolds half-heartedly, with a wavering point your way.

“I love it when you talk ‘shitty british accent to’ me, jakey.” You wink with another pull on his glass, draining it to the dredges.

Daniel tries an accent of his own on for size, mimicking his band mate. “Name’s Jacob, love.” He reaches forward to kiss your hand, and you allow it with a giggle and a blush Jake pretends not to see. “I’m terrible at pool…and that’s not the only stick I don’t know how to wield.”

The brothers erupt into laughter as you roll your eyes affectionately.

“Laugh it up, pricks.” Jake sounds unbothered in the sexiest way…it takes a bulldozer to get under his skin.

“Aw, that’s alright, you gorgeous thing, you,” Josh allows his stare to fall dark upon you after a conspiratorial wink. “If my perpetually stupid twin wants to waste opportunities, I’ll allow it and take care of you myself.”

“Sounds perfect, josh…” you lend a breathy tone to your words. “Upstairs in your room or right here on the pool table?”

He pretends to think it over, “I’d say table, but look at all the balls left on the felt. That doesn’t exactly scream comfort. If only Jake could actually sink one or two.”

“Yeah,” you nod with a solemn sigh, “such a shame. Upstairs then.”

“Me?” Jake sloshes more whiskey into his glass and slides it away from you while miming a kiss so you’ll know he realizes this is all in good fun. “You didn’t land a single fuckin’ ball, Josh. Why do you even have this?” He raps his knuckles quickly against the shiny wood framing the table.

“I happen to enjoy telling people I have a billiard room.” Josh smooths his shirt flippantly. “It makes me sound refined.”

“Yeah,” Sammy speaks up from the bar where he is chaotically preparing himself a refill. “Break out the brandy and Tchaikovsky, already. I’m not feeling cultured enough.”

“It makes you sound stupid, because this isn’t even a billiard table.” Jake points out. “Totally different game.”

In reply, Josh sends a square of chalk sailing through the air directly at his head. His twin ducks at the last minute, avoiding impact. “You’re just mad because your girl wants me to take her upstairs.”

“Is that true, kitty cat?” His stare lands on you with mischief glittering there. “You wanna go upstairs with the sun, or stay down here in the darkness where you like it best?”

He saunters forward and pulls you in close, lips soft against your pulse point…but for a split second, you can’t help the way your line of sight lingers, locked with Josh’s.

Jake’s knee slides between your thighs, just high enough to be a little inappropriate. He’s claiming you. Reminding the room to whom you belong, though it isn’t necessary…the whole world can see you’re his.

It’s all right there in the way you look at him. In the way you move with him like a devoted magnet. In the way your body comes alive with electric love when he walks into a room.

Yes, you’re his. Implicitly. But sometimes…..

Shoving the thought away, you push him aside as well, with an embarrassed swat. “Quit it.”

“See?” Josh teases, never one to shy away from giving his brother hell. “She’s ready for the superior twin. Aren’t you, pretty?”

He sends another wink flying in your direction. “And who could blame her? She’s seen me in a jumpsuit or two.”

“Here we fucking go.” Sam groans loudly. “If you’re going to start in on a big dick monologue, I’m calling an Uber.”

“I’ll split it with you.” Danny concurs.

“Ah, fuck off,” Josh waves a hand in the air wildly, dismissing them both “jealous bastards.”

He moves to grab his drink, drifting through the room with that careless elegance that follows him around like a shadow, and you find yourself unable to look away the way you sometimes fall victim to when he’s owning one stage or another.

At times, Josh is like a song you can’t get out of your head. You don’t want to sing it, you don’t want to listen, but there it is all the same…dominating your attention.

You shake it off, but when your eyes reluctantly abandon him, you find Jake’s gaze, narrowed and knowing, tracking and all seeing. It burns into you, lighting a tortuous flame of shame, and something else, within you.

It’s an unsteady feeling. Unsure. Mostly because you can feel emotion radiating off of him like wandering hands reaching out to stroke over your skin. He’s live-wire-alert, thrumming with galvanic energy, but he isn’t angry. Far from it.

It’s analytical, this look he has fixed upon you. It’s hot, there’s no questioning that…but it also boasts a peculiarity. He’s honed in on something you’ve tried very hard to keep hidden, and he doesn’t necessarily hate it.

Brushing away what can only be labeled as intrusive thoughts - he can’t have seen through you that easily - you watch as Dan and Sam begin a game of darts, squabbling over who should throw first.

The night drifts by languidly, becoming a little fuzzier and more dream-like with each trip to the bar to top up.

Jake has disappeared, but that’s nothing new. He tends to wander when inebriated. Likes the quiet. You’ll catch up with him sooner or later. Or perhaps you’ll find him curled up in the guest room that has been unceremoniously reserved for the two of you each time Josh hosts.

You’ve fought it as long as you can, ignoring the nagging ache in your bladder, unwilling to readily ‘break the seal’ that will render you popping off to the bathroom every ten minutes.

Josh is contemplating a song that has been trekking about in his mind, remaining hidden away despite begging to be written.

You nod sympathetically, offering up a squeeze of his hand in solidarity. “Hold that thought,” you smile, tripping on your slurred words so mildly no one but yourself would ever notice. “Off to the ladies room.”

“The ladies room?” He laughs, trotting out that barking belly laugh that is nothing short of infectious. “You make my home sound like an Applebees.”

“Applebees?” You hear Sam pipe up as you ascend the basement stairs “Are you ordering? ‘Cause they’ve got that queso I like.”

Danny’s reply comes muffled as you slip onto the main floor. “Applebees is fuckin’ disgusting, and anyway…”

Hands washed, and a smudge of eyeliner wiped away, you emerge from the bathroom, ready to rejoin the party when a hand slithers out in the dark, quick as a striking snake, to pull you into the spare bedroom.

“Hello, kitty cat.” Jake’s voice comes smoothly in the dark.

“Jake,” you’re working hard to quiet your hammering heart as your eyes fight to adjust in the darkness. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’d tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You can nearly hear the smirk in his tone.

“Have you been hiding up here all this time?” You ask, as he holds tight to your hands, barring you from actually being able to touch him.

“Yes. Kept myself busy by going through my brother’s things.” He whispers, licking a soft trail along the side of your pinky. “Did you know he owns a vibrator? Wonder what he uses that for?”

“Probably the same thing you use mine for.” You breathe back in the pitch black of the room, picturing the way he sometimes holds it against his cock for you when you feel like watching. “Stop teasing your poor twin. And you shouldn’t go through other people’s things, Jacob. Naughty.”

“Oh? Shouldn’t I?” His lips skate across your own as he leans in. “I wouldn’t have found this if I hadn’t.”

He has timed his moment perfectly, and as the light flips on, the ability to form truly coherent thoughts becomes unattainable.

A completely self-assured expression warms his features as you stare on with parted lips and softly panting breaths.

Josh’s jumpsuit, stark white and swimming with mermaids and winking glitter, hugs his body like a second skin. It renders the tan of his complexion even more pronounced, leaving him standing before you like a sun-kissed god.

His hair is pulled back in a loose, low slung bun. It’s lazy and effortless. Obviously not executed before a mirror, and that makes it all the more right.

“Fuck, I…” you falter, unable to find the words for your thoughts. Probably for the best, lest you come off as some fucked out ninny in a poorly scripted porno.

“Will this do?” He bites down on his lip, hiding away a flash of insecurity that you spot anyway. It’s gone as fast as it came. Replaced quickly by that cocky smirk that makes your cunt ache for his touch. “Or should I go and gather my brother?”

“Jake…”

Your eyes are fixed on his cock, half-hard and deliciously on display behind the suit. So very much like his twin.

“What?” He yanks you in close and ghosts his mouth up along your pounding jugular until his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. “I see the way you watch him sometimes. You look so pretty when you stare. Do you want to fuck him? Because you can. If you want him that badly, that is. You can have him.“

A moan in the negative is all you can hope for in the moment.

“No?” He’s got you up against the door now, grinding his fully hard cock against your clit, inching his fingertips up along the outsides of your thighs, higher and higher under your skirt. “You’ll settle for me, dressed up in the emperor’s clothes?”

“You’re the fucking emperor.” You correct, burying your hands in his hair, further loosening his haphazard bun. “I just like to think about it now and then.”

Oh, where did that little bit of honesty come from? Some things are better left unsaid.

“You like to think about fucking my brothers?” He couldn’t be further from angry if he tried. You can hear it. Territorial, perhaps…but that will do perfectly.

“Never said brothers,” you gasp, clinging to his bare shoulders for dear life when his fingers curl into the sides of your panties. “Just Josh.”

“Why?” He’s beginning to shine with sweat and need.

“I like his mouth…oh, fuck…” you whine when he slips your underwear down, mid-thigh. “It’s pretty. And the way he moves his tongue sometimes…”

“Alright, shut up…” he lands a harsh crack of a smack against your swollen clit. “That’s enough.”

“Jealous?” You smile, taunting him just a little before leaning in to dip your tongue into his warm mouth. He tastes of liquor, and cinnamon, and Jake.

“Maybe.” He smiles into your kiss.

“You’ve given me permission to fuck him, but you can’t handle listening to me talk about it?” You’re taunting him mercilessly, but he loves it and you both know it.

“Maybe you’re just needy.” He teases right back, easing two fingers snug into your warmth without warning. “Yeah? Maybe you’re just feeling slutty because you need to cum. Is that it, baby? Do I need to pet my pretty kitty cat a little?”

“Please…” you’re begging, and much too loudly given that there’s an audience one floor below, but you can’t find a fuck to give.

“Mouth or cock?” He curls into you, pressing perfectly inside your silken walls as you arch away from the door.

“Mouth.” You whimper, sounding as pathetic as you feel in your desperation.

It’s the correct answer. Had you said cock, he’d have worked himself into a frenzy thinking about the way you spoke of Josh’s mouth but didn’t ask for his.

He drops to his knees, without a word, eyes on yours until he disappears beneath your skirt, beautiful features now cloaked and hidden away.

You blush under the scrutiny of no one in the empty room when you hear him draw in a deep, lingering, lungful of you with his mouth on your dampened thighs.

“Pink and pretty,” his voice rasps from between your legs. “She’s just a little messy right now. Don’t worry, kitty cat…I’m gonna kiss her all better.”

A feral sound chokes out of you as you yank his face in close, burying him in your cunt.

At first, he’s louder than you are. Murmuring hungry little grunts and moans against your slick skin…sucking at you ravenously until the room is stifled up, full and hot, with the wet sounds of your cunt and his mouth.

Soon, though, you grow hotter, and lose yourself little by little, fucking against his face as he loves on your clit obscenely. Lapping at it, nibbling delicately, drawing it into his kiss tenderly as his fingers delve deeper inside.

He fucks you slowly, nudging you along as you whine and beg above him.

“Shh…” he warns around your pulsing bundle of nerves. “Or do you want him to hear you?”

“Only you.” You promise, rocking your hips frantically to meet him. “It’s all for you. Don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop.” He swears, licking away at you like the sweetest lollipop is playing over his tongue.

It’s intrusive and definitely not called upon, but when the picture begins to tumble about in your mind on loop— both of them nestled between your legs at once with those gorgeous mouths of theirs, you’re cumming hard and fast…pouring over his fingers, likely ruining the front of a jumpsuit neither of you can claim ownership of.

Its blissful and for a moment, your soul is robbed from it’s earthly confines, spending a suspended breath ruminating with the universe.

“God damn…” Jake’s winded response scratches out of him as he peeks out from under your skirt, eager to get a look at your flushed face.

He’s covered in you. Glistening and catching the light in your release. “You came everywhere.”

His observation is beyond pleased, but when your eyes slide away, he presses you for answers while still on his knees. “What? Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” You smile, stroking a bead of sweat away from his temple.

“Liar.” He grins lazily, licking the taste of you off his plush lips. “Tell me what got you off so hard.”

It takes a massive amount of charm on his end, but eventually, you admit that you’d been thinking about them both.

The look in his eyes is nothing short of devious when he goes to speak, only to be quieted by a soft knock on the door.

Your eyes meet in panicked anticipation when a familiar voice breeches the wooden barrier. “It isn’t nice to talk about someone behind their back, you know?”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @greta-flanveet-admin @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @agirlwithmanytastes @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @dvrkblooms @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @mckenna4 @tripthelight-fanfic @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordierama @calumspretty

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van smut #fanfic #greta van fic #gvf fic #josh kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #jake kiskza #jake gvf #gvf jake

[violetmarkings]

How Stray Kids would cuddle (based off of tarot readings)

Genre :: Fluff, Reaction, Tarot reading based

Pairing :: skz members x gender neutral reader

Word count :: 1750

Warnings ::  This is literally a poetic interpretation of tarot readings, lots of metaphors and comparisons, CUDDLES, kisses, hand holding, sappy and romantic, mentions of having wounds, scars, fears (they get soothed), a bit of possessiveness in lee know's, butter croissants, hyunjin wants you to avoid responsibilities, Felix is a cuddle addict, magic (?)

A/N: You guys really enjoyed my poetical take on heartwarming things skz would do while intimate (18+) , so I thought I'd do something else in that writing style! This is the first time I ever do fluff on this account though lol. And since I also do tarot and we've reached another follower milestone, I thought I'd write this as a gift to you guys to celebrate :D  Thank you for the love and follows, guys! <3

Chan, healing cuddles - V of Wands R, IV of swords R, Wheel of fortune, Justice

The sword, it must be glued to your wrist ;; your body turned into a shield, slashed at - you're weary, full of battle scars from your battles. But to Chan, it doesn't matter if you won or not, all matters that you came to home into his arms. His soldier, his brave, strong soldier, you're back. So many nights he's spent calling you home, sending you doves with secret letters, so that he could hold you again and have you rest ;; let him heal you. The battle's been fought, it's time to let it go now - but how can you, when the wounds still sting? He'll make it better, he promises. He'll be the magical, healing salve you need. The scars, they will always be there, yes ;; but he loves every single one of them. Your heart doesn't need to drum that hard anymore. You don't need to be hyper aware of your foes. It's okay, you're safe. The pain, he's absorbed it, it's gone, disappeared. And no matter how many times you go to war, you can always know, your refuge is always waiting with baited breath, for you to return home, so he can hold you and make all the bad go away.

Lee know, tight cuddles - VII of pentacles R, X of swords R

Minho's truly like a feline ;; he likes to play with you, play with your heart and nerves. When you want his affection, he'll joke, no you can't have me, but then pull you right back. But please don't misunderstand, you're not just a play mate to him, and he'd never feel ready to let you go. Why? Because although a feline, he's a domesticated one - he can't go on without you, you're his home, his water, his food, he needs you. He might jokingly push you away, but he never ever would want you to leave. Stay, please stay, he'd even beg. The way he'd hold you, although you'd never know - would be as if he was scared you'd disappear the next second, like sand between his fingers. When he'd hold you, it'd be tight, glued to him, you're his, his, he refuses to let you go. Waking up without you would mean breaking to shambles, so please excuse him. Excuse him for squeezing you to his heart, for wanting to drown in your perfume, for putting your body in love arrest. His love birthed demons, and they whisper to him, if he doesn't entangle himself with you, weave himself to you - one day he'll wake up without a home.

Changbin, royal cuddles - Spirit of pentacles, Lord of pentacles, Nine of pentacles R, Dreamer of Swords

Teach Changbin how to love you, show him who to be, how to be. Nothing is off the table, no, anything for his love. How do you like to be held? Where? When? Your word is law, and he's an abiding citizen ;; he wants to be fair and righteous for you, your figure of justice, your hero. For you, he'll provide, turn himself upside down, there's no limit ;; he'll make sure there is none. He can't only give you one thing, one domain, no, no. Love is complex, love is tangled in a labyrinth of endless ends, and he must explore every path, he must fulfil every sense. A pillow to rest your head, sweet scented sheets for comfort, the warmth of his body he gives to you so you won't feel cold, his fingers are now made to soothe you and his voice is whispering to you, caressing your heart too, how could he ever forget it. You'd think it'd be impossible for him to fetch you hot butter croissants in the morning and serve them to you like your royalty? Well you're wrong. Royalty would envy you, kings and queens stirring in their graves over how well he spoils you.

Hyunjin, escapist cuddles - VIII of Wands R

There was something pressing on your shoulders before Hyunjin's arms enveloped you. The weight of the world, some sort of societal confection, something urgent, causing you distress. But what was it, again? You can't remember. Good, good, you're in the loop now. You're in his infinity loop, in his hold that seems to repeat itself forever ;; but it never bores you, not at all. But what it is this loop? It's his hold on you, his comforting touch, warmth, smell. Society is calling you? Don't go. There's something urgent? No, it can wait. But you can't always run away from responsibility in his arms, right? Wrong, wrong. In his arms, he can protect you. In his arms, he knows you're safe. In his arms, he can make you happy. Like a broken vinyl player, he'll keep scratching the same note, don't go, stay with me instead. Even if to most it's illusionary, an oasis is the better than the unforgiving desert - so stay. Enjoy the magic and lose yourself in the joy.

Han, binding cuddles - Spirit of Pentacles, The lovers R, Five of Wands

Jisung loves you with everything he has - he won't be stingy about absolutely anything. His heart? You have it. His body? Yours to move, to feel, to breathe. There's nothing of his that isn't yours, no moment when he'd want to be apart from you. You're entangled in body in soul, only to grow closer and closer and even more inseparable, like two trees weaving their roots with one another. But as trees, you don't need to speak, now do you? No, you can just communicate through the mere touch of branches, that mess you've woven yourself into. Telepathy, that's it. He'll hold your hand, yes baby I hear you. He'll pull you closer, I'm listening, tell me more. He'll kiss you gently, we'll get through it together, I swear. And as your head lies on his chest, on his heartbeat - you can hear them, his thoughts. They're all calling for you, your name sounds so soft and angelic repeating in his mind, and he proclaims his undying love again and again with the voice of his touch. So if your lover is ever being quiet, close your ears and use your other senses ;; because he's speaking, oh he's so loud - he wants to tell you how impossible it is to ever remove his roots from within the grasp of yours.

Felix, consistent cuddles - Knight of swords, VIII of wands R, Four of wands

Love doesn't need a specific timing, Felix thinks. It comes from a deep place, rooted in the heart, it grows roots and remains there only to grow stronger and taller ;; to hold you close, it doesn't need to be grand, it just needs to be genuine. And genuine he is, yes, when he says there won't be a moment when he won't want you in his hold. He's introverted himself into your arms, and just like the comfort of home, it won't become old or stale to him. So he'll want you, want to cling onto you and warmth and soul, at any point, through any feeling. Sadness, happiness, comfort and it's opposite ;; truth be told, he doesn't need a reason, it's an impulse, an instinct to run to you. Sometimes he'll apologize, that's he's too much, that he's weighting you down, holding you hostage, craving you like an insatiable beast, no matter the time, place and situation - and he hopes, wishes, begs that you won't feel his hugs, cuddles, and affection would lose meaning due to overuse. But he always loves you, in body and soul, without the need of an occasion - so please understand, if his arms are always around you, that doesn't mean it's a meaningless habit ;; every single moment mean the world to him, just like you do.

Seungmin, dreamy cuddles - Two of wands, Maat, Ten of Swords

You are where he dreams and what he dreams, both at once. Brimming at the edge of an inception, Seungmin dreams of dreaming with you, next to you, of you. Tangled with you, all is right - he can rest his head, his soul, his heart, they're safe with you, in your loving arms. Only by you can he feel at ease to rest, to let himself overcome by slumber ;; because when he closes his eyes and journeys to Dreamland, his body is protected by yours - but even there, in the astral plane, he'll search for you, to inspire him of paradise, of perfection to plaster a smile on his face in the real world. But he doesn't even have to be asleep to dream, no, no. Not when you're around, he doesn't. He's awake, but he's dreaming, looking at you with galaxies in his eyes, caressing your face with gentleness ;; you're the moon in his dark sky, you light up his soul - and then he dreams with you, too. Into the night, he tells you all he dreams of, all his desires of the future, reveals his secrets wishes to never let you go ;; but they won't remain just dreams, no no. They will be plans, they will be real, your future together will happen, paradise is achievable. And as words stop falling from your lips and eyelids slowly close, once again all is well because you're together.

I.N, magical cuddles - Queen of Cups, II of Swords R, Page of Swords

You've probably never felt something as unique and special as Jeongin's magical touch. His hold on you, it's anything but physical. His trust is holding the hand of your trust, his fears are caressing your fears, his doubts are kissing away yours, his wounds are hugging yours, his vulnerability is cradling your vulnerability with upmost care ;; he wants you to know you're safe. Your thoughts are safe, your emotions are safe, in this bodily hold that serves completely other purposes. And yet, there's some physicality to it too, since your bodies are vessels, communicators of the mind and soul ;; his aura, his effect on you, makes you think you've gone delusional sometimes - because you can swear there's a certain sparkle to his fingertips, and when he glides them above you, it's like he's casting a spell. A spell that heals, a spell that nurtures, calms, fixes absolutely everything. A spell that replaces any evil, any pain - mental, emotional, physical - with purity and goodness. And just how he can caress your mind and heart with his fingers, your thoughts and emotions can smile when he's around.

---

With some members I needed to pull a lot more cards lol, don't mind the inconsistency pls. I also used two different decks in case you're wondering

-Admin Starlight ⭐

If you wish to tip/donate to my work, you can do so on my Ko-Fi!

#stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #tarot #stray kids drabble #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x gn reader #stray kids reactions #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids fanfic #bang chan fluff #lee know fluff #changbin fluff #hyunjin fluff #han jisung fluff #felix fluff #seungmin fluff #i.n fluff #kpop fanfic #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #i.n #admin starlight

[doctorofmagic]

Why magic in the MCU has failed

I remember the "good" old days when Doctor Strange was about to debut back in 2016. I was obsessed with spotting every single little magic detail in the MCU in the hope that magic would slowly grow in status and importance, only to give up after so much disappointment.

But the major issue? The moment Feige stated that every side project was a part of the MCU. People who experienced phase 1 and 2 will remember that magic was a taboo. "It's just science we don't understand yet". While it's a common line quoted by Marvel's greatest geniuses, we all know it's pure arrogance on their part. Otherwise, they'd be doing what magic users do.

It was not MCU's case. Magic was INDEED treated as science. From Ghost Rider's portal being reproduced by a robot through the Darkhold to Wanda's powers being a product of an experiment but not explained at all. From a loooong season of Cloak and Dagger taking its time to finally introduce magic elements to Nico's staff almost falling to the same old "technology" trope. From whatever is happening in Asgard to Loki's limited magic. It's frustrating, but we'd still find a way to turn the tables, right? The Dark Dimension was introduced (twice?), the (third) Darkhold was finally attached to Chthon, Morgana and Lorelei debuted, Nico's powers were finally acknowledge as magic... So what happened?

My best guess? Structure.

There's no structure to define what is magic in the MCU. Doctor Strange (2016) tried. Really hard. And, although it got several things right, it failed in two fundamental aspects: pre-established comic book knowledge and magic deities.

Remember how we got three Darkholds? The first was just so detached from magic that it became a book used to create a VIRTUAL world in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. The second was used by Morgan le Fey, but how was she associated with the Dark Dimension? Moreover, that was NOT the Dark Dimension from the first DS movie (or any comic book, really). Its last appearance, as seen in WandaVision and DSITMOM, finally mentioned Chthon, but it literally did NOTHING it was supposed to do. That MCU!Wanda has nothing to do with her 616 version, this is not new. But if we're going to use comic books as foundation to adapt a story, the very bare minimum you can do is do it right. Point is, the book does corrupt people, but it's because of Chthon's influence and his connection to Wanda. Where's Chthon in the movie? The corruption was badly explored and her journey towards evil and redemption doesn't make any sense from a magic point.

Now, the "main" magic cast in the MCU could have worked... Except that there's little to no information regarding how Kamar-Taj works as a temple/school for new sorcerers. And worse even, magic isn't connected to its deities. Sure, there were a few name drops, but does it explain where it comes from? And who chooses the next sorcerer supreme if the Vishanti isn't involved?

The truth is, magic was all over the place, and the creative minds were either too oblivious to the importance of learning about how magic works in comics (to the point of adapting a second Dark Dimension that has nothing to do with the original one) or too shy to introduce a magic hierarchy (as in, deities).

There's an actual attempt to create this structure now, but it's too late. Sure, you can ignore past tv shows, but the mess remains. Eternity was supposed to be an abstract entity, deeply connected to magic, cosmic aspects and life itself.

Loki is still so embarrassing because the very foundation of Asgardian mythos started wrong (and why is that? Because no magic, of course!). While I find funny that Stephen trapped Loki in an endless freefall, there's no way the god of stories would be humiliated like that. Loki being taught magic by his alts is infuriating (and it's, again, mostly illusions).

Remember when Stephen was beaten by math? That also happened.

This is the moment I completely give up to see magic portrayed at its fullest, in all its beauty and complexity. Because it's not treated the way it deserves. It has never been.

And here's my boldest take: if you really wish to see the full potential of magic in the MCU, go for What If. The price you pay, the cosmic proportion of being misused, the creative elements... It's all there. Which is sad because it's not the main timeline. Anyways, this is it.

PS: This post may age poorly as DS3 comes out in 20 years. Let's wait and see.

#ds3 being my only source of interest regarding magic bc agatha and loki are NOT it #i keep loosing #mcu #mcu discourse #analysis #magic

[heilith]

You are spoiling us!! 😍 ! Okay I wish you would write something with Boromir, maybe where he is tired and reader takes care of him :") something soft ♡

@noldorinpainter So sorry it took me long. :) Also I deviated from your request, but just a little. Hope you enjoy. Oh, in case you're interested, the songspiration was Gorod 312 - Pomogi mne - loosely, but still. The art is by The-Wizard-of-Art

Tagging @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @lathalea @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @court-jobi @middleearthpixie @sotwk @emmyspov @evenstaredits @guardianofrivendell @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @asgardianhobbit98 and sorry, sorry if I forgot anyone, I got lost somewhere between Discord and Tumblr.

Ok, here it is:

Before the Storm

“Your lips are softer than they look,” you lean out of the kiss unhurriedly, basking in the feeling of his breath upon you face.

“Hmm?”

“Your…lips…are…soft,” you alter your own statement – and the sense of it, too, “But only when I kiss you. Why aren’t they soft, when you kiss me?”

You don’t need the answer as much as you need to see that deceitful mouth twitch and tighten, as too predictable images float up before his mind’s eye. The sight is fleeting, yet you cherish it better than any words he could say.  

“You utter the strangest things, dove,” your Captain states with no particular expression.

His eyes are still closed. Your heart forgets how to beat, shrinking in sweet pain, as you touch the very tips of his eyelashes and stroke them as carefully as you can afford it.

“I do them, too,” you whisper more to yourself than to him.

He looks so distant, and so close, and stern, and defenseless.

The armchair by the fire is built sturdy enough to hold the weight of you, curled on his laps and clinging to his exhausted self like bindweed.  

It is unkind – wicked of you to enjoy such moments, when you have to thank his tiredness for that.

For a blissfully long sting of minutes all you can think of is how his breath becomes more and more even, tamed by the movements of your hand, running through his hair over and over again.

“I must go down.”  

“Yes, do,” you agree easily, “Nobody wants you here.”

“Shall I stay and make them?” there’s no single kind note in his voice, but the gleam in his eyes makes up for it to the full.   

You allow yourself a laugh that is more of a sigh.  

“Stay and sleep. They will look for reasons to put up with you meanwhile.”

The arm, which was up to now slack around your waist, gains strength and presses you to him too hard for a caress.

You lose yourself in another endless kiss.

“Consider this one,” offers he as evenly.

You nod, not ashamed of letting him see how you’re learning to breathe again. Lifting his spirits is worth the fear of denial in your book.

“I’ll bring you the furs,” you say, as he finally relaxes back into the tattered seat.

“No,” the protest is sharp and almost order-like.

Startled by this sudden harshness, you pull back, yet he doesn’t let you to slip away too far. It is not his embrace, but his look that stops you this time. The weariness and despair in it drive a knife through your chest, wiping out everything except your love for him – that and pity you hope he’ll never know you harbour for him.

“Please, dove,” asks he under his breath, “I need…”

“I know,” you cut in, unable to bear it any longer, “Take your rest, Boromir.”     

 His palm ghosts against your cheek in gratitude, and you wish you could shut out every emotion that comes with it. You wish for it to end and to go on.

You close your eyes, too, and dissolve in his arms, longing to be reborn into a safer world tomorrow.

With him.

#boromir #boromir x reader #requests #drabbles

[endthedream]

Teaser

pairing: siren!haechan x human!reader (she her)

summary: Insanity isn’t what she expected to receive when she joined her father and his crew on an expedition, full of men who think she isn’t capable of anything. But it’s all that she got after seeing nothing but endless water every single day. Maybe that’s why her mind started imagining a strange boy who finally shows her the appreciation she deserves. Maybe that’s why she ignores the way she can’t escape the trance he puts her in whenever he sings a melody for her. Or maybe everything is real, and the boy isn’t who he pretending to be.

words: 10-12k

story colour: green

release date: Friday 8th, 2023

click here to go to the finished story

August 27th, 1878

Day 50 on sea

I am losing my mind.

This can’t be real. I am writing this down to make sure I am wide awake and not dreaming.

I woke up from a noise. At first, I thought I was imagining it, because lately I’ve been imagining a lot of things. I wanted to go back to sleep, being exhausted from, well, doing absolutely nothing all day long, but then I heard it again.

It wasn’t just a noise. It was a melody, a very beautiful one. It sounded like the gateway to heaven, like it was sung by angels. And it made me feel drowsy.

I knew I needed to rest more, but something about this melody pulled me in. It made me forget the throbbing pain in my body and the events that happened days before. All it made me want to do was reach it, engrave it into my skin. It made me want to never hear anything else.

I was in a trance, no thoughts inside my head anymore.

So, I got up, walked out onto the deck of the ship to find out where this melody comes from. But when I reached the deck, I didn’t expect to see a boy sitting on the railing.

But it wasn’t an ordinary boy. Oh, no. Not like the ones I’ve seen in my town growing up. I can’t describe him in any other way than captivating. His jet-black hair softly swayed in the night wind, covering his eyes every few seconds. His cheeks adopted a soft rosy color from the coldness, contrasting the tan of his skin. And his eyes were almost as dark as the night sky.

I don’t know why I stared at him for such a long time, and I don’t know why he let me.

“You’re here.” Those were his first words. The first time I heard his voice. A voice that made time stop for a moment. I couldn’t hear the waves crashing against each other anymore, or the cracking of the old wood the ship was built with. I couldn’t even hear my heartbeat pumping against my chest. All I could hear was him. “I was waiting for you.”

“Who are you?” That was not what I wanted to ask him at that moment, but the sane part of my brain must have sensed that something wasn’t right. Something about the way my body reacted to this strange man was dubious.

“Haechan.”, he spoke with a soft voice, turning his body so that he fully faced me. A smirk was placed on his lips, only intensifying his tantalizing physique. “And you are?”

“Y/n.” My name came out in a mere whisper, fearing that my voice might have broken if I spoke any louder. I couldn’t stop staring at him, still having being sure that my mind was playing a trick on me or, well, still is.

For days no one has checked in on me, no one has talked to me more than five words. I’ve been on this ship for way too long seeing nothing but the endless nothingness of the sea. My mind has been plagued with recuring thoughts, never once having a quiet moment. Maybe this is the final sign. Maybe this is it. I am insane. So insane that I’m imagining a boy sitting on the rail of the ship just so that I have someone to talk to.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Reaching one hand out, the boy signaled me to come closer to him. Every part of my body longed to take his hand and sit on the rail with him, but doubts started to float my brain.

“What are you doing here? How did you get on this ship?” Haechan, as I learned his name, just chuckled, a low sound that was so different from his honey voice. He looked amused at my asking, almost like he was making fun of me.

“Why did you come out here, Y/n?” I remember frowning at him, clearly feeling upset that he chose to ignore my question and ask one of his own. I felt upset that this boy, which I probably made up in my mind, didn’t show any respect for me at all. He, just like the others, ignores what I have to say, and I didn’t want to get treated that way, not after what happened last time.

So, instead of answering him, I turned around, heading back to my bed. But before I could even take a step, the melody I heard earlier started again. All the thoughts that I had in my mind at that moment flew away and I was, yet again, caught in a trance. It was like I couldn’t escape, even if I wanted to.

“It’s you.”, I whispered, but he still heard me. I knew that because the melody got louder, clearer. I closed my eyes, letting his voice enter every part of my body. I let it fill me up and shut me down at the same time. I let it rearrange my mind and mend my wounds, but I also let it cut me open and bleed me dry. I gave myself into the sweet penetration of his honey laced voice and wanted nothing more than to make all his wishes and desires come true. I would have given him the world if it was possible. My whole body felt like it was floating on top of a cloud, high up in the sky and there was no way of ever coming down again. I was trapped.

“Come closer.”, he murmured, voice deeper and almost impending.

“No.”, I quivered, suddenly scared of ever opening my eyes again.

“Please, Y/n.”, he pleaded, and I could nearly hear the desperation in his voice. “Just please look at me.” And so, I did. He was not sitting on the rail anymore, he was standing right in front of me. A small smile on his lips and one hand stretched out to me. “Come closer please. I don’t want anything else from you.”

And as I was about to take the step towards him, give in to his demand and the growing need inside of me to grant all his wishes, I heard a voice behind me, calling out my name and breaking the trance I was in.

“Y/n?”

#lee haechan #lee haechan x reader #lee haechan imagine #lee haechan imagines #lee haechan fluff #lee haechan nct #lee haechan nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #lee haechan nct 127 #nct dream x y/n #nct 127 x reader #haechan #haechan fanfic #haechan imagines #haechan x reader #haechan x you #haechan x y/n

[mecachrome]

Hi k! I love reading your ojp scholarship, as he has crept up on me and taken over my brain. Weird question but why do you think he picked Lando as his guy to be a bit weird about?

hi anon 🥺 first off thank u for indulging me & also that is not a weird question at all!!!

ok obviously this is just me saying Anything so i apologize in advance T__T but tbh i think a lot of it ultimately goes back to the idea of lando's ~Proximity~ and how a very specific mélange of career circumstance laid out a foundation for oscar's interest extremely early on... which. let me explain!!! more behind the cut:

not to go on too much of a tangent but if you look at the current drivers in f1 who are roughly within a few years of oscar's age and could have feasibly been someone he'd looked up to coming up the ranks, i'd say the cutoff is like, 2018? so the group is basically charles/george/alex/lando, of whom the first 3 were alr in intrepid together (albeit in diff categories) when oscar had barely started karting at all. also alex moved up to single-seaters very early and his career/road to f1 is obviously a lot more complex than the others, so in reality the only ones oscar would have properly "followed" are lando and george, and then having gone through rfm & british f4 himself it makes sense that he'd lean more toward lando.

...idk how to put this succinctly but basically it's Like: so you're a kid in australia who believes in yourself so much you're willing to move halfway across the globe and attend boarding school by yourself while all your friends and family and the World As You've Always Known It grows and changes without you, and the team you're determined to prove yourself at has semi-recently achieved victory with a guy named lando norris, who is now british f4 champion and runs three separate series the same year you move to europe and goes on to win them all, who is extremely accessible on social media and is kind of awkward but charming and uses dumb unfunny gifs that match your level of online humor exactly, and all the while you're learning to navigate a new country, learning what it really means to prioritize the endless grind of motorsport, and you wouldn't dare look too far ahead into the future but sometimes you see him and think if he can keep winning everything then why not you?

So. also i think what always krills meeee about young_814 lore is that you have to really envision what they looked like circa 2016 like they were undersized dweebs for a majority of their lives!!! anyway. but also nasdlfnagk every time oscar is like i thought you were 30 with your goatee going on haha xD it's like U knowww he's flashing back to that image of little baby lando in his mind..... ok i need to relax.

there are of course other people oscar could have been weird about but in the end it's kind of just a Skill Issue thing / matter of attrition. like from the rfm pack max and logan and guanyu never progressed the same way lando did, and you also have to remember that by the time lando was a mclaren junior he was genuinely their Golden BoyTM, and i know we often talk about lando's competency kink but oscar is also similar to that but in like a ........ he needs to respect you on some fundamental level to be obsessed with you. so the fact that he genuinely rates lando contributes (imo) massively to the fundamentals of their dynamic!!!

also tbh to me one of oscar's biggest mental strengths is specifically that he isn't a very sentimental person, as in if he left to another team i don't think he'd be torn up or anything about not having lando as a teammate lol. but i DO believe he's someone who adapts very well to unfamiliar environments and is always willing to match someone's energy/meet them where they're at (again - especially when he respects them), so he's basically the perfect person to vibe with lando's idiosyncrasies and engage in all the lighthearted push/pulling they have going on. because like he genuinely thinks lando is funny and is more than happy to follow along his meandering bantz and the weirder lando is the weirder oscar is in response and that's just how they Work ?__? so At the end of the day it's: oscar was once a teenage boy who followed (still does) at ladbible instagram and watched the same gaming streamers lando likes or whatever and has seen lando grow into the man he is today (way more confident and "visible" and successful, very much a menace, brutally honest as ever) from this Very Specific vantage point of basically the only other junior after lando to have followed the same path to f1 and been Equally as good / achieved the same stock.

*__* does any of that make sense. 

do u ever think about how lando (extensively nurtured by the team as their only junior) and oscar (basically crashlanded belatedly into his seat) are the only driver pairing in team history to have both debuted with mclaren........ do you ever think about how in a way lando's karting success indirectly influenced oscar's move to europe. do you ever think about how if alpine weren't an abject mess we would have never gotten 814 as teammates and lando would have just been Another Guy On The Grid to him........ 😮‍💨

#ask #me: i'll be brief. also me: (writes 20 paragraphs)

[amethystina]

A health update (and a general explanation of my long Covid)

So while I've been pretty open about living with long Covid, I realise I've never taken the time to explain what that actually means for me and my quality of living. It's a phrase I toss around but I can imagine it doesn't feel all that substantial to a lot of you.

So I figured that now that I'm feeling a bit better (more on that later) I should do so. Partly because I figure it will make it easier to understand why I sometimes have to disappear for weeks on end.

So, if you're interested, feel free to keep reading under the cut :)

But be warned: It's long and kind of whiny. But also ends on a high note! So there's that.

The first time I caught Covid was around Easter 2020, long before there were any vaccines, which meant that I was hit hard. But no matter how bad I felt during the illness itself, the aftermath has been ten times worse. I've been living with my long Covid symptoms ever since, so for four years now. They worsened for a couple of months when I caught Covid a second time in February 2021, but have otherwise held pretty steady during those four years.

A lot of people experience different symptoms with their long Covid and, sometimes, they'll change as the weeks and months go by. I actually had a very interesting couple of months during 2022 when my sense of smell just went completely whack and everything suddenly smelled differently than it should. Like, I could be smelling an apple but it did not smell like an apple. It was a weird time in my life.

Anyway. My most common symptoms are fatigue, fevers, joint pain, brain fog, memory issues, incoherent speech, and lowered blood circulation.

(The latter actually kickstarted the Raynaud's syndrome I have on my mother's side so now I struggle with fingers and feet that will occasionally go white, bloodless, and completely numb at random intervals. Fun times)

The fatigue and fevers are the worst by far. For the past four years, I have had exhaustion fevers between two to five times a week. Or every single day if I'm unlucky. It's very much tied to how much sleep I'm getting, how well I'm eating, and how many taxing things I do each day. I need eight hours of sleep to be functional and anything less than that will most likely mean I'll end up having a fever before the day is over.

Unfortunately, I've always had issues with my sleep so, on most nights, I don't get eight hours even if I try my absolute best. Sometimes it's because I wake up too early and can't fall back asleep and, sometimes — because my life sucks — it's because my fever is so high that I can't fall asleep. Cue the endless cycle of too little sleep and fevers.

Because one of the main issues with these exhaustion fevers — and what makes them so difficult to manage — is that there's no way to lower them. Medicine has no effect whatsoever. Once I have it, I just have to suffer through however many hours are left until I can sleep and hope that it'll be gone in the morning. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't.

And every day my energy level gets just a little bit lower and the fever a little bit higher. Some days, all I can do when I get home from work is to lie on the couch and stare at the wall because I'm too tired and in too much pain to even watch something. And, again, no amount of medicine helps.

It continues on like this for a while and, every third or fourth month or so, the strain eventually becomes too much and I fall ill. My body simply shuts down from the continued stress and exhaustion, to the point where I can barely get out of bed. And, usually, I can feel it coming. On top of the fevers, I start coughing, then get a headache, and then my nose gets stuffy. And, by that time, I know I have about two to four days before I get sick. It's so accurate that my coworkers have learned that when I give the sign, they have to tell me whatever tasks they need to be finished within the near future since I'll probably be out of commission for one to two weeks.

But I eventually recover, go back to work, and so the cycle starts again. And again. And again. And again.

For four years.

All of this has, unsurprisingly, affected my quality of life to a pretty significant degree. I can barely work, let alone spend time doing any of my hobbies. I can't really travel anymore and, if I do, I'll get sick from the exhaustion. Even the 50-minute commute to the office (which I have to do three times a week) usually results in a fever before the day is over.

This inability to travel was how I ended up missing my maternal granddad's funeral. My shitty relatives didn't tell us the date for when he would be buried until there were only two days left and even if I could have put myself on an overnight train to get there, I knew I would be in no shape to actually be at the funeral if I did. So I couldn't go.

I did go to sit with my paternal grandmother as she was dying but, as expected, I got sick and couldn't return to work for a couple of days afterwards.

I also have to skip most birthday celebrations and any events happening on weekdays since I'm usually too feverish or won't manage the required trip to get there. My life has shrunk so much I barely recognise it anymore. I don't recognise myself. I used to be one of those people who could do a million things at the same time and somehow complete all of them. I was firm, organised, and efficient.

And now I'm not.

(... or, well, technically I am — at least compared to many others — but not compared to how I used to be xD)

Point being, a lot of things have changed and I don't like it. But, with that said, I'm also well aware that I'm lucky to be alive and I'm fortunate enough to have a stable job and a roof over my head. So, all things considered, I'm still doing pretty well.

But I also can't lie and say that this hasn't affected me in a deep and fundamental way. My life has changed and, right now, I don't know if it'll ever return to what I used to consider normal. And dealing with that knowledge — and the grief and fear that comes with it — hasn't been easy. I have cried ugly, self-pitying tears over this many, many times. It's frustrating to have no control over what my body does and to constantly have to be careful of what I do so I don't exhaust myself. I am furious that this happened to me.

But, after four years, there's also a certain amount of acceptance. And while I'm annoyed by my new limitations, I try my best not to feel too sorry for myself. Instead, I try to adapt as best I can, even if I might not always do it gracefully.

That does mean that I sometimes push myself more than I should, though. Because, if I didn't, I wouldn't never produce anything. As depressing as it is to admit, everything I've given you in the past four years has been while I was sick. I don't think a single chapter I've written or drawing I've made has been untouched by this. I've become an expert at writing, editing, and drawing even with a fever.

That doesn't mean I regret it, though — quite the opposite. I think that if I hadn't had a reason to write and draw, I would have felt even worse. A lof of the time, the excitement I feel when I'm able to post a chapter or show off a drawing I've made has been the highlight of my week. It's an accomplishment.

But, that said, it's still hard. Writing in particular. It requires a level of brainpower I can't reach when the fevers are too bad. And so, sometimes, I just can't. I literally just can't.

And, back in January, as I was trying to edit chapter 39 of Who Holds the Devil, I honestly pushed myself too hard. I was so determined to finish it that I didn't let myself see just how bad I was feeling — not at all helped by how emotionally draining the content of the chapter was.

It was only once I finished the chapter and posted it that I realised how absolutely wretched I felt. Not because of the chapter itself, but my lack of compassion for myself, I guess? Because the fevers were bad, I was barely sleeping, and I was both mentally and physically exhausted. And, what was worse, I realised that I was displaying depression symptoms I hadn't seen in over ten years.

All of a sudden, I got annoyed as soon as a minor inconvenience appeared. Everything people said to me was dissected into its tiniest component. I feared that people were secretly hating me. I couldn't meet people's eyes anymore when I was talking to them. I didn't realise I was just sitting there, staring at a wall, until several minutes had already passed.

And, as the final nail in the coffin, I stopped talking about how I was feeling.

And that, right there, is my last warning that I need to do something — always has been, ever since I was a teenager. When I clam up completely, refusing to admit to the people around me that I'm feeling bad, that's when I'm about to spiral.

So, the very next day, I went to my boss and told her that I'm getting burnt out and I need to do something NOW or this was going to turn ugly real soon. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and, after a doctor's visit, I was put on partial sick leave. Right now, I'm working six hours a day instead of eight and, let me tell you, I'm thriving.

Or, well, as much as I can while still having long Covid.

I'm almost angry at how much better I feel because, if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner. I actually have energy now! I've only had a fever about four times in a little over a month! That's insane! It used to be four a week!

So yeah. I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. The downside is that the partial sick leave is still only temporary and there are no guarantees that I'll be able to keep it. Though, if need be, I'll just have to ask my boss to rewrite my contract and change the amount of hours I work because, man, I don't ever want to go back considering how much better and happier I feel. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I feel like I've gotten my life back. It's not quite the same as before, but close enough to it that I kind of want to cry again — but happy tears this time.

And so I've spent the past couple of weeks just... living? When, before that, it felt like I was merely existing. I've been drawing a lot since that helps with the depression symptoms (which are almost completely gone, thank god) but writing has been harder. Possibly because I forced myself to do it during a time when I felt really, really bad and now I'm instinctively trying to shy away from it. But, since I know that's just my mind playing tricks on me, I'm going to give it another try this weekend. I want to write and I miss the stories I'm working on. And, hopefully, since I'm feeling a bit better, I can maybe get back to a more structured uploading schedule. But we'll see. As always, I can't make any promises.

But that's about it, I guess? I'm feeling better and, since I am, I've been doing a lot of things that I wasn't able to before (like taking walks — I take a lot of walks). And I'm still trying to figure out my new routine now that I work less. And while I still get sick sometimes (I am right now, in fact, due to lack of sleep on Tuesday night) I always find my way back eventually.

So yeah. If you've read this far, thank you so much for your patience 💜 I admit that I don't really enjoy writing things like these since it feels like I'm whining — I was very much raised not to take up space or complain when things are difficult (an unfortunate side effect to being the middle child with two disabled, high-maintenance siblings) — but I also prefer honesty and transparency. And I feel a little guilty since there are times when I've given pretty harsh responses when people question why I'm sick all the time or why I don't upload chapters as often as I used to, but without actually explaining why. So I guess it's time to be honest?

And the truth is that I've been constantly sick for the past four years. Not only due to my long Covid, but also the emotional and psychological toll of all the loss, grief, and pain I've been through. These past four years have been rough.

But I'm not saying that to gain pity or make excuses. I actually think I've done pretty well considering just how hindered I've been. I've improved my drawings so much and have written... god knows how many words. I'm honestly kind of scared to check xD But it has to be over 600k by now, maybe closer to 700k.

I think my only regret is that I haven't been able to engage with you all to the extent I would want. I wish I could be a more active and enthusiastic participant in fandom — to seek you out, hold conversations, and give you all even a fraction of the attention you've given me. I feel like I don't offer you nearly enough.

But I also know that I have to accept my own limitations. So, for now, we'll have to settle for whatever I can give, even if it's less than I would want. But I will keep on creating, trust me on that, because I'm stubborn as fuck and even if my pace is slower, I'm still determined to finish what I start.

And that's the note I want to end this on. I have suffered, yes — more so than I may have expressed to you all — but I've still managed to create some beautiful things. And while I mourn who I used to be and the fact that some of you have never known me at my best, I don't think the me I am right now is all that terrible. Do I want things to change? Yes, definitely. But do I want to change the choices I've made and the things I've accomplished in the past four years? No, I can't say that I do. I'm proud of what I've done, especially considering my limitations.

And, if you're reading this, thank you so, so much for your kindness, compassion, and support. Some of you are old friends while others of you are new, but I am grateful to every single one of you. You have made these past four years more bearable. You have made it easier to keep fighting. You have made it worth it.

Thank you 💜

#Amethystina and Life #I don't really know what to tag this as #A rant? #A rambling? #An explanation? #It's just a lot I guess #And I admit I'm still hesitating whether to post this or not #I don't like talking about things like this #Or draw attention to it might be a better way to put it #But yeah #It's here if you want to read it #But do so at your own risk #Now I'm going to bed #And might just pretend I never wrote this because I feel awkward and embarrassed x'D

[002yb]

jaybin seems like the menace, teasing type but the second dick returns the teasing (and boy everyone knows his game is STRONG) he’s nothing but a spluttering blushy mess (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

It’s one of those days where they need something to do, so Jason takes them out of the tower and into the city to walk the streets:  people watching, window shopping.  Mindless activity to get Dick’s attention off of everything that’s gone wrong because it’s really not all that bad - just moderately so.

Jason is just as frustrated that their pending cases are at a standstill; trails run cold and leads very much dead in a literal sense.  They were working with little evidence to begin with, but being forced to wait for more (and knowing the inherent dangers in that, how more people can get hurt and the consequences of that in itself) is a heavy burden.

Given that, Dick hasn’t been in the best of moods.  Overworked and overtired because the man is too stubborn to take care of himself until everyone and everything else has been taken care of, first.

It’s a quality of Dick that Jason simultaneously admires and wants to choke out of him, really.  Same goes for Dick’s endless, unwavering persistence.  Because it’s obvious as can be that although they’re supposed to be out taking a break and getting refreshed so that they can look at everything with a clearer head and less tension, Dick is still thinking about work.  Jason chides himself for thinking such a terrible workaholic tendency is charming and cool, but he can’t help but appreciate the fortitude.  He likes it, so what?

Even still, come the fuck on.

“Is this how you are on dates?”  The, ‘so this is why you’re single,’ goes unspoken.

The unprovoked attack catches Dick’s attention, but it’s a fleeting thing.  Distracted as Dick is, Jason thinks there could never be enough going on for Dick to not recognize a chance to torment him.  Hence:  “Is this a date?”

There’s not even a raise or crack in the sidewalk to justify how or why Jason stumbles.  He trips over his own foot from surprise and embarrassment, a scowl pulling at his face as Dick smirks down at him.

“Dick.” Jason grumbles, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah?” Dick answers, stepping closer into Jason’s space to make room for a woman with a stroller who is none-to-subtle in how she watches Dick as she passes and even after, head turned to look over her shoulder until she catches Jason scowling at her.

“Dick, derogatory.” Jason clarifies.

“It’s a nickname; affection is built in.” Dick argues, just to be contrary.  Because it’s not a nickname if you’ve made it your name, surely.

“Fine, Richard.” And Dick laughs.  A cackle that’s starting to sound more similar to Jason the more they’re together only endlessly nicer to listen to.  It makes him smile to himself, just a bit, and when the titters finally pass Jason tries again, “Give yourself a break.”

Although Dick heaves a sigh at the request, he bumps against Jason softly in an unspoken acquiesce.  Jason bumps him back, a quiet assurance that they’ll figure everything out because they will.  They’re Nightwing and Robin, for fuck’s sake.  Life hasn’t been easy on them; sometimes it feels like it actively works against them, but they’re stronger for every tribulation they overcome together.  They’re good; they work together - right here, like this.

Jason smiles to himself, content with how Dick stands close enough that their arms brush up until Dick opens that damn smart mouth of his to tease him again with a playful:  “I’ll be a more attentive date.”

Without preamble, Jason shoulder checks Dick hard enough to make him sway to the side before he’s right back where he was - arm pressed to Jason’s as he laughs at his own tormenting ways.  Jason hates that he laughs himself, too.  Only, no.  Not really.  Dick’s laughter - his humor and happiness - they’re all contagious things.  

Jason snickers, complaining as he bumps Dick again, “You’re the worst.”

It’s easy after that.  Sometimes Dick’s thoughts wander to their case, but never for long - not in that self-punishing and unproductive way from before.  Jason isn’t going to get on to him for caring either.  It’s not like Jason isn’t thinking about everything in passing, himself.  Still, he enjoys the day for what it is and that helps Dick enjoy it that much more, too.

What’s weird is that it’s normal.  They walk around.  They sit at a tea shop and talk about nothing; people watching or sharing dumb things on their phones.  Jason gets a tally going of every person that double-takes Dick as they walk by.  It’s something Dick rolls his eyes at, insistent on downplaying the facts up until one too many people actually approach him and he pointedly scoots Jason’s chair next to him with Jason still in it before resting his arm over his shoulders to deter the masses.

Jason, at least, gets a kick out of it.

“Can’t take you anywhere, huh?” He snickers.

“Apparently not.” Dick says, his laughter exasperated enough that Jason resolves to be magnanimous and spare him further torment.  Fun as it is for Dick to get his comeuppance after teasing Jason so relentlessly, they’re supposed to be decompressing.

So Jason stands and leads them along because he has an idea.  The problem is just that Dick presents himself too well.  An easy fix, in theory.

Not so much in practice.

Whatever cheeky smile Jason had been wearing drops in an instant the moment he pulls the most godforsaken ugly bucket hat over Dick’s head, a scowl taking its place because, “Okay, no.  No.  Why does it look good?”

“I look good in anything.” Dick quips.  A statement of fact, the humble bastard.

“Oh?  That a challenge?” Jason asks, objective quickly switching from dressing Dick down to dressing him full send.  He’s already casting a glance through aisle upon aisle of clothing racks - picking out the brightest and gaudiest of things (and immediately dialing that down because Jason realizes Dick can quickly turn this around on him - embarrassing Jason by association).

Dick smiles at him, a small and indulgent thing, “Sure.”

The shirt Jason grabs is hideous by anyone’s standards, but Dick maintains an easy smile and easier confidence.  Surely a lie because Jason is in emotional pain just from holding the damned monstrosity.  Just to be cheeky, he smiles.  All teeth and bite as he torments, “You seem pretty fucking confident.”

Dick raises one of his shoulders in a shrug, “Have you looked at me?”

It’s such an unexpectedly dry and sarcastic boast that Jason sputters - caught off guard and laughing all at once.  Fondness hits him in a rush, damn near overwhelming him for all the affection he feels in that moment.  Yeah, he’s looked.  He looks a lot if only to enjoy what he has while he gets to have it.

Good things like this always get taken away too soon, after all.

This is fun though.  Dick meanders while Jason makes a menace of himself. He brings Jason candles to sniff.  Swearing they smell good and laughing when Jason looks at him skeptically before smelling them and promptly crinkling his nose after.  Dick buys him a book that Jason promptly smacks him with for the title alone.  And if only because Dick actually grimaces over a grungy shirt Jason grabs because it’s something Bruce would wear, well.  The day has been a win.

The battle of dressing Dick up as a fool is his utter loss though.  Completely and utterly because the bastard is so fucking attractive that everything else becomes attractive by association.  Or maybe Jason just has good taste even when he tries not to.

Still, Jason whines under his breath because, “How the fuck?”

Dick snickers at him and looks way too cool for someone dressed as offensively as he is.  He leans against the wall of the dressing room, perfectly content even with all the lingering, captivated gazes from across the store - more tallies to accompany the others - all his attention on Jason.

“What’s my prize?” Dick asks.

Jason scoffs and is quick when he deadpans, “Being handsome.”

Dick snickers, “Wow, I’m blushing.”

He’s very much not, but Jason makes a face at him and says anyway, “Yeah, I’m sure you’d make that look good too.”

And Dick - there’s something delighted in the subtle way his expression shifts.  Fond and content and soft when he takes an over-the-top sunhat Jason had pushed at him earlier and pulls it over Jason’s head, instead.  Using the brim to pull Jason closer still.

“Not as good as you.” He tells Jason.

Jason scowls, but the orneriness there falls away into a sulk at the playful menace in Dick’s smile, the mirth in his eyes.  He reaches up to hold the brim of the hat, too.  There’s no hiding how his cheeks burn, but he can at least hide how the tips of his ears flush red.

Dick’s smile softens, always endeared when Jason’s bluster and bravado falls away to this.  Something shy and boyish and petulant and bewildered; warm and wild and wonderful, just in a different way from when Jason thinks of Dick.

“Yeah,” Dick tells him, looking over Jason’s expression.  Smile brilliant as he huffs a breath of laughter at the face Jason makes at him. “Not even close.”

And Jason - fuck.  It doesn’t matter how quick witted or smart mouthed he is; he’s left tongue-tied when confronted with Dick’s earnest affections like this.  It’s overwhelming every damn time.

And he likes it.  He likes it so damn much.

=====

And then Dick has an epiphany about the case, drags Jason into the dressing room after him because they need to talk about it immediately. Meanwhile Jason is !!! because omfg it's a one person per room limit. To which Dick calls Jason a boy scout and Jason can't even really argue because when Dick starts changing, Jason is hiding himself helplessly in a corner just aiojf;aiwejfioawej until whatever Dick found out registers to him and then it's all excitement. Then they get caught in the dressing room by a blushy employee and Jason is equally blushy because no this is a misunderstanding. And Dick, the menace, just takes Jason's hand and plays the whole thing up and Jason just about dies. //u///

Thank you for the ask, anon!! You've got taste I jive with lolol. Hopefully you don't mind some adventures of nightwing and jaybin. <3

#dickjay #jaydick #dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing and jaybin adventures

[obeisancess]

scars and soulmates

Tighnari was covered in stars. 

This wasn’t so much a choice – more so that they were thrust onto him, or into his very skin.

When Tighnari was young, he had to wonder why his soulmate hurt himself so. What kind of person they were - clumsy or violent? Were they hurting voluntarily or against their own will? In this world, where Celestia above chose who would end up together, in some crazy game of matchmaking, soulmates could feel each other’s physical pain and would have stars appear on their body in place of permanent scars and wounds. 

The first time Tighnari got a star, it felt like it was being burned into his arm. 

He screamed all night, crying as his parents comforted him. 

The next morning, a merry ring of translucent stars shimmered around the width of his left arm. 

It would be the first of many. 

Over the years, he grew used to it. Tighnari learned to live with the pain. Of course, he was certainly curious, but he never went out of his way to seek out this so-called fated pair. If anything, the fox found a sense of frustration building in him. Amongst his class, he was the only one littered in tiny, iridescent clusters. 

When Tighnari met Cyno, however, all that anger dissipated. 

It clicked then, just what all of this meant.

Everyone knew the General Mahamatra – his name was a staple in the Akademiya. He sought only justice and knew nothing of mercy once you had committed a single wrong, no matter how small.

Not many people were closely acquainted with him; he was elusive and lonesome.

Tighnari wouldn’t call them friends quite yet, considering how the other had chased him down from one end of Sumeru to the other, waiting for him to make a mistake. To slip up and admit his grand, evil scheme. Not that he had one. 

Then, when the chase was over, Tighnari instead got acquainted with Cyno. Cyno wore all his scars for the world to see, unashamed of all the sacrifices he’s made and all the constellations he had forced onto his soulmate. 

Perhaps, it was silly, or that Tighnari just wasn’t looking hard enough, but he never noticed that Cyno’s tattoo bore the same placement as the galaxy he wore around his bicep. 

What really gave it away was one day at Pardis Dhyai. 

It was especially hot and humid, and Tighnari had just finished a lecture to some of his junior students about faunal conservation in the forest. Cyno had arrived as agreed, hair tied up in a look that was uncommon for the Matra.

It caught his eye then, a cluster of stars on the back of Cyno’s neck - it was the same as the scar he had from falling off a tree, the branches scraping through skin and ripping out a portion of his hair. He needed stitches and had his neck bandaged for weeks to come. 

Without thinking too much, Tighnari reached out, tracing the stars along Cyno’s skin and feeling them shift and glitter under his own fingertips, as if the stars themselves were responding to Tighnari’s call. 

The rest felt more of a blur. Tighnari still remembered the nights that came after, comparing each scar to a cluster of stars – repeating history to each other and having their stories line up. 

Even before then, Tighnari had known that he had loved Cyno like no other. To have it all click into place so perfectly, Tighnari knew better than to doubt Celestia’s plans just yet. 

Nowadays, Cyno liked to joke that Tighnari was the night sky. Though, on some nights, when Cyno’s lips cast its worship against every twinkling freckle on Tighnari’s skin, the Forest Watcher could believe it. When their fingers traced along each other’s skin, and each star would shine just a little brighter - it felt like the universe had found its place within their skin, an endless canvas for thousands of solar systems to live in. 

Cyno’s lips ghost along Tighnari’s skin, tracing the constellations of their history. 

Tighnari’s hand raising upwards to bury themselves into Cyno’s hair, breathing a whisper of his name, something so fond and adoring that he swears for a moment that he knows no other words outside of his lover’s name. 

Tighnari was covered in stars, but Cyno wore all of Tighnari’s world on his skin. 

#genshin impact #cynonari #cyno #tighnari #soulmate #soulmate marks #first post back on tumblr #gonna slowly repost all my threadfics from twt #writing