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littlejuicebox · 3 months

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The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

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If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay.

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality.

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully.

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin.

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face.

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige.

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance.

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

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You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell.

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf.

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him.

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring.

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last.

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the-travelling-witch · 6 months

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𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐦: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐱

pairing: marius von hagen x gn! reader

prompt: gift shopping + movie night

miscellaneous masterlist || hollysm event

When you came home from your gift shopping trip, you were exhausted, the bags you were holding seemingly weighing a ton. Marius next to you, however, looked as lively as life itself, the grin on his face not able to possibly be any bigger.

Of course, the shopping trip had been his idea but you had easily agreed, considering the approaching holidays and your lack of presents. Only when you had arrived in the city, though, did you remember something integral: Marius’s willingness to buy just about anything your eyes landed on for even a second.

“I still think the gem drop necklace would’ve suited you well,” the man next to you said, setting down his bags before taking the ones you were holding. Initially, he had offered to carry yours too but you wanted to do at least that much yourself.

“And I’ll remind you again, I already have a similar one,” you sighed affectionately. “One that you bought for me, actually.”

“So?” He shrugged his shoulders way too casually when your eyes had nearly bulged out of your head when you saw the price tag. Cupping your cheek, his amethyst eyes were softer with love than the pads of his fingers felt against your skin. “You should have options to choose from, so don’t hesitate to be a little greedy. For you, there should only be the best.”

Smiling up at him equally as fond, you placed your hand over his, slowly stroking over his slender fingers with one of yours before humming pensively. “But I already have you, how could there be anything better than that?”

Your squeal echoed around the house followed by your giggles as Marius swooped you up into his arms, spinning you around before setting off towards the living room. Apparently, Vincent had been working hard as you were gone, because the house was tastefully decorated with boughs of holly, fairy lights and sparkling ornaments.

“You can’t just say something like that and expect me to ever let you go again,” Marius chuckled as both of you plopped down on the comfortable couch. The festivities were still a while off but he looked like a child on Christmas already. “So, did you already think about what you want to watch today?”

“Hm, it’s a tough call,” you laughed, thinking about your options of Christmas movies. “Do you want to watch the obligatory story of a high-strung business woman falling for the guy moving to the city and opening her eyes to the beauty of Christmas? Or rather one about a rich prick falling head over heels for a woman that’s made out to be very plain but is actually super attractive?”

Marius tapped his chin in mock contemplation for a second, his lips quirking up into a grin at your sarcasm. “Let’s go with the first one. I already know all about rich pricks falling for stunningly beautiful people.”

At the end of his sentence he tapped your nose affectionately and your cheeks heated up consequently. Then you regained your composure and playfully jabbed your finger into his chest. “Marius von Hagen, you’re not a prick. You’re very sweet and attentive.”

“Who said I was talking about myself?” He laughed as you muttered a ‘Maybe you are a bit of a prick’ under your breath, then wrapped his arms around your middle tighter to subsequently bring you closer. “Well, you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met, both inside and out, so maybe it’s true. I definitely think you changed me for the better.”

From up close you could study him without trouble as your hands framed his perfect face the same way your knees bracketed his hips against the cushions. Caressing your thumbs over his cheekbones, you felt his arms unwind from you so he could settle his ringed hands on your waist.

Then, you leaned forward until your lips brushed his soft ones. The tips of his midnight blue hair tickled your skin as you deepened the kiss and Marius tugged you impossibly closer. One of your hands wandered to the back of his head to grasp at the soft locks there and he groaned breathlessly. There was no rush from either of you, your slow and sensual movements completely in sync as your hearts beat in unison against your rib cages.

When you parted for the sake of breathing, Marius’s violet eyes sparkled as if you just hung the entirety of the stars in the night sky. Holding his gaze, one of his fingers mapping out the path from your jaw down to your collarbones, was like looking straight into the universe.

“What’s this? Can’t resist my charm any longer, darling?” You could see right through his cocky exterior, your boyfriend betrayed by the redness blooming across the tip of his ears, making his silver studs stand out even more.

“Mhm…” Humming confirmentally, the blush dusted his cheeks under the pads of your fingers as well. No matter how much he teased you, he was never prepared for you to reciprocate and turn his game onto him. “I’m just being a little greedy.”

“Ah, seriously…” Marius buried his head in the crook of your neck, making you giggle. But just when the vibrations travelled against his lips, he closed them around the skin there to leave his mark on you. “The things you do to me…I know I said you changed me for the better, but in one aspect I’ve become much worse since meeting you.

“When it comes to you, I’ve grown much greedier than ever before. So, won’t you give me every piece of you? I’ll gladly give you all of me in return.”

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dolceaspidenera · 7 months

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About Astarion, Cazador, and what it means to be bad.

In Italian the word "bad" is translated as "cattivo", whose etymology derives from the Latin captivus, prisoner. I think our ancestors had profound wisdom when it came to understanding human nature, generally speaking, most people who are considered "bad" often act like that and hurt others because they are prisoners of their own hurt and fears. This does not mean that they are justified in their actions, of course, at the end of the day we are all responsible for our behaviors, and trying to understand why someone may act a certain way does not equal to justify them.

Astarion's story revolves around overcoming trauma and hurt to not repeat the cycle of abuse.

On one hand, there's Ascendant Astarion, who loses himself and his humanity, in favor of his hunger for power. A hunger that is fueled by fear, and the conviction that he can only count on himself and only the ones who have power are safe and free to do whatever they want.

"One last thrust and I'll be free of you. I'll never have to fear you again. But if I finish the ritual you started, I'll never have to fear anyone, ever."

In reality, he becomes shackled to his fears, never truly free to move on, to face his trauma and overcome it. He will forever be watching his back, paranoid and worried about being betrayed. He becomes what he has always feared and hated, he is now the monster that haunted his nightmares, and the cycle repeats.

Before Astarion, there was Cazador, who succumbed to his own hurt and trauma and ended up perpetuating the abuse. He too was tortured by his master, Vellioth, and punished by being impaled for 11 years when he rebelled, not even for the rebellion itself but because he failed. Cazador too was just a victim in the beginning, but eventually turned into a monster himself.

“The boy I was, the man I became, the monster that will not end. I sleep, but cannot rest, I live, but cannot die. I am eternal, and I grieve.”

It's even more telling when you realize that Cazador probably saw himself in Astarion, every time he looked at him he was reminded of his old self, whom he perceived as pitiful, powerless, and detestable, all his unresolved traumas were thus projected onto Astarion, who was made a scapegoat and punished. (NB This is not to pity or humanize Cazador, by the time you get to confront him, he is a full-blown-out psychopath, and he needs to go down).

On the other hand, we have Astarion as a spawn, who was able to reject the ritual. He recognized that the power on offer wasn't going to set him free.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

He retains his soul, his humanity, and by facing his fears he is able to let go. He is now able to see that true strength does not come from a dark and twisted power like the one the ritual offers, it does not come from dominating others and from hurting them before they hurt you in an endless cycle of pain and vengeance, but it comes from within. It's the strength to be kind, to be forgiving toward ourselves and others, the strength to hope and be open and vulnerable, to let others in and take the chance to see if there are others out there with a big heart like Tav's. To live again is to care again. He realizes that he is enough, just the way he is, and he can finally start the healing process. The cycle is broken, and he is finally free.

"But you saw something else in me - someone else I could be. Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago."

"You saved me from myself and let me walk a path where I can be free. Truly, honestly free. This is a gift, you know. Thank you - I won't forget it."

(I know most of these things were already discussed, but I had to share my thoughts. I love it when even the etymology of words that we usually use without thinking too much makes sense and everything comes full circle.)

Thanks to @myopic-skull for letting me borrow his super cool photo of Astarion being a glorious regal cat

#bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion #astarion ancunin #character analysis #my analysis

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broomsick · 1 year

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Personal ideas for simple devotional acts to Njörðr

Let us all praise the Lord of Ships, the Vanir King. He is the bestower of wealth and the guardian of seas, and his gifts are many! If you’re looking to start working with Njörðr, or worshipping him, these ideas make for quick and simple gestures that showcase your interest. They’re also perfect for a pagan who already maintains a close relationship with the sea, water spirits, or a sea deity. After all, spiritual practice gets hard to sustain when you’re working on a tight schedule! Which is why I hope these little personal ideas can inspire even those of you who already actively worship/work with Njörðr.

First things first: pondering on what Njörðr stands for, what you think he can bring your life and what you think he would appreciate in return.

Going for walks on windy days. Njörðr is said to raise winds that are favorable to sailboats!

Cooking and eating sea products, especially if you can find them fresh! I usually keep an eye out for fishermen’s markets. It’s a good idea to buy locally if the opportunity presents itself. The most important thing is to make sure you’re buying from sustainable fish farming companies, especially if you’re at a restaurant or buying from a grocery store.

Putting the sound of waves as background music before sleep. You can visualize the sea, or the ocean, and use this image to connect with Njörðr either by simply meditating on him and his gifts, or even by praying to him.

If possible, spending time near bodies of water: water is a network which connects the land to the ocean. In the end, all rivers, no matter how small, are bound to the ocean.

Watching documentaries on the sea, or on marine life! The simple gesture of learning about his domain, developing your understanding of it, can make you feel that much closer to the Father of Light-Bringers.

Whenever you’re at a local beach, collecting seashells or rocks which catch your eye! They’re a way to bring a piece of the sea home with you!

Since I cook a lot, there’s this little habit I’ve come to develop, of adding a pinch of sea salt (or fleur de sel) to every recipe. Of course, I won’t do this if I’m cooking a simple sandwich for myself: I’m talking about large pots of soup, meat pies, stews, etc. It’s a way of reminding myself that the Vanir bring about the fertility which allows us sustain ourselves.

Learning sea shanties!!! Did you smile? That’s because sea shanties are fun, and what better way to honor a God than by having fun in their name! One of my favorite songs ever is a folk ballad about an old woman who begs her husband to leave the city and go back to the island where they used to live, where she could watch the seagulls and where he would fish their dinner. Songs such as these can make for beautiful and deeply personal offerings. Once you’ve learned a fisherman’s song, you’ll find yourself humming it in your day-to-day, and thinking of Njörðr as you’re doing so.

Making offerings of coin to him. I’ve heard that he was particularly fond of the coin-shaped chocolates that are wrapped in gold foil! Generally, anything that is made of gold or silver makes for a beautiful offering to him. You can, of course, keep such objects after offering them! The act of sharing them with Njörðr is symbolic, as are many offerings, and you are as entitled to keeping these valuables as you are to drinking offering alcohol after the ritual is done. Placing your silver/gold object on a windowsill or an altar for a day, a week or a month is enough to act as an offering.

When it comes to the Vanir, you usually can’t go wrong with buying local products! What does your area specialize in, in terms of food? Now that summer’s at our door, we’ve reached the perfect time to look into local farmer’s markets. If, like me, you’re in the habit of offering alcohol to some or most of your deities, local draft beer is a great idea for Njörðr. In my area, grocery shops sometimes sell this one beer that’s made using salt water! It’s my go-to for Njörðr, understandably.

Acting generously, taking opportunities to share with others! It’s a way of honoring and embodying the Vanir King’s own benevolence.

As a follow-up, working on your ability to be compassionate: putting yourself in somebody else’s shoes, forgiving a wrong that has been done to you, finding compromise during a conflict with loved ones... If you are put in a position of leadership, lead others with care and attentiveness. Njörðr’s mythological son Freyr is heavily associated with peace. By protecting peace, you are honoring them both.

Keeping a symbol of his on you as an amulet: representations of fish, anchors, lighthouses, ships, or anything else that symbolizes the sea all make for beautiful reminders of Njörðr’s presence. Especially if they are silver or gold-colored! In fact, a simple silver or gold coin, or even just a coin with special meaning in your heart, is the perfect amulet to keep in your wallet/purse in his honor.

Learning to tie knots, or any other simple skill that is useful on a boat is fun and a great way to feel connected with the sea. This goes without saying but if you’ve got the chance to go for a boat ride, take it in his honor!

Asking him to grant you a safe journey before traveling long distances.

Art, Njörðr statue

#Njordr #Vanir #deity work #deities #norse gods #sea deities #sea witchcraft #paganism #norse paganism #heathenry #polytheism #offerings #devotionals #norse polytheism

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camojacketfag · 1 year

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Thoughts on Hunger

After 18 years of knowing I liked men I finally made the decision to fully embrace it and come out to my loved ones. I was very fortunate to have their acceptance at the time, despite their obvious discomforts. I felt that perhaps the shackles I always carried would finally cease and I’d be liberated and absolved from the growing pains inside my stomach. I then spent that whole year hanging out with a plethora of different men for the first time in my life. This was something I learned to be ashamed of as I grew older. The stigma of giving yourself up to strangers caused me to recoil and carry an insurmountable weight of guilt I’ve only just come around to. When I first told my therapist this she said it made sense. 16 year old me had been shown that his body was a possession that was so easily disposed of. The brain therefore finally made the decision to go out and try and reclaim what was once mine. At first I seemed to accept that possibility. The more I ruminated on it however I realized that subliminally it was just a fraction of what I actually was desperately craving at the time. The men I met that year, in time, became a gift in my life. Some were ill, some men suffered from severe addiction, some were older, all were kind. Each distinct and personal and even then, a ghost, far before I’d ever left them behind. That’s what happens when you’re condemned to living in the shadows. I knew that then as I know it now. For us love and pleasure is sought deep within the tight confines of this world. It must be whispered. It must be shown in quiet seclusion for fear of public degradation and humiliation. Among those men I finally found someone I could love. And he loved me back. And it was vibrant and desperate and profusely dramatic as so often our first taste of love is. Soon it ended and I felt heartbreak for the first time. Even still, the gnawing of my stomach never settled long enough. No matter how brutally I worked to reclaim my body, no matter how much time i spent conversing and sharing my mutual experiences with all of them, it still never was satiated enough. So as time passed I embraced it as an immature escapade and learned to live alongside it with deep shame and remorse. Both things I had never felt as I was experiencing the company of those men. Time will often remind you it’s best to leave the past as is and never return. That’s the way my mother raised me as well. Often however, everything in life seems to stupidly contradict itself. I find it incredibly funny that for periods of time throughout the year even the earth “appears” to spin backwards in retrograde. I too believe that life is meant for the present, however, the past always forcefully demands its share and eventually we all must find a way to make peace with it. Lately I’ve allowed myself to finally go back and embrace those memories that plagued me with so much shame. How wonderful it was to be given an opportunity to finally meet other men like myself. How desperately I wish I could’ve thanked them. It was during that year I finally found the right people who still remain in my life and have given me a space in which to grow and heal in. How beautiful it was to feel pleasure for the first time. To feel love and understood and intimate as someone who grew up hearing men like me were condemned to a life of endless misery and suffering. As a result, I finally have come to understand the savage pain in my stomach. I understand it’s driving force. I understand that my actions were more than a reclamation for something that was always mine. All this time It was a deep seated hunger for living. A hunger for experience. A hunger who was equally as desperate to rid me of the shackles I’ve long abandoned now. Those men allowed me to finally consume and heal my growing hunger if only temporarily. Those men were the foundation my brain and body needed to finally be released from its disassociation and live passionately amongst the present. The shame, it seems, has long gone now only leaving me with a feeling of gratitude and fortitude for what’s ahead

#personal #if you read this whole fucking thing… I love you man.#just rambling thoughts as I spend my days alone with my dog

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enbysiriusblack · 11 months

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"I'm in love with you."

Narcissa stopped in the middle of the corridor; she spun on her heel, turning around to the sight of Alice, half out of breath and still in her quidditch uniform, covered in mud. She smoothed down her mini skirt, having just changed out of her own uniform, and walked closer to Alice. Within an arm's reach.

"You can't."

"I can't help how I feel."

"I can't be with you, Alice. You know that. I told you that. Don't- don't confess your feelings to me now, when I can't relay my own. You know I can't. I'm with Lucius now."

Alice grabbed Narcissa's arm as she tried to walk away, "But do you love him?"

"You know I don't, Al."

"And you deserve more than a loveless marriage, Cissy. I want to give everything to you."

"I can't! Just- date Frank. You love him."

Alice frowned, "Not like you. I'll never love anyone as much as you."

Narcissa sighed, "Love... Love isn't something that just happens. Maybe I don't love Lucius yet, but I will in time. I can learn to love him."

Alice let Narcissa go, turning around.

Narcissa made no move to leave. Staring at the back of Alice, she stood still. Alice turned to her.

"Don't marry him."

"We're set to be engaged."

"Don't marry him."

Narcissa brought a hand to her head, pulling slightly on the dyed blonde, "You ask of too much from me."

Alice took her hand, bringing it down to rest in hers, "I liked your black hair. You still look beautiful, of course. You could never look anything less than stunning."

Narcissa stroked Alice's hand, "Malfoy's are always blonde."

"You're not a Malfoy, Cissy."

"I will be."

Alice searched her eyes, "I love you, Cissy. Does that not mean anything?"

"It can't. I've- I've spent my entire life preparing myself for a specific lifestyle, for riches, for status, for early marriage, and careless men. Don't do this to me, Al. I would leave everything for you and then what?"

"We'd be happy!"

Narcissa shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek that Alice wiped away, "Bella would be left alone. I won't do that to her. You mean everything to me, Al. But never more than my sister. You'll be happy, you can live without me in your life. But Bella won't, she can't. She's already lost one of us, I'll never let her lose us both."

Narcissa took her hands out of Alice's, "I think and feel things for you I dare not confess to my very soul. But it shall hold in your heart. You know how I feel, let that carry with you as a reminder of our past. But it must lie in the past. I'm sorry, Al."

Narcissa turned on her heel again, dashing down the heel, towards the Slytherin common room. Wiping tears as they fell from her eyes.

Alice stared at Narcissa leaving. She touched her heart, feeling the heart shaped locket Narcissa had once gifted her. Alice opened it carefully, a tear rolling down her cheek and resting itself on the small polaroid inside. They had been at a party for Frank's band; Kingsley had passed around a camera, and as it came in the hands of Alice, she had leaned over to Narcissa and kissed her cheek with a snap of the camera. Narcissa had blushed, a large smile on her face, and a lovesick look in her eyes.

The only image of the two that would ever exist.

#mostly writing this for darla <3 #it's also VERY little women inspired in case you couldn't tell #this was meant to be cute nobleflower fluff for zara. and it turned into this in an instant.#sorry marls!!!#hope you dont mind angst instead #marauders era #marauders #narcissa black #alice fortescue #nobleflower #my writing

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witch-and-her-witcher · 4 months

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For @asnowfern, a gift for @acotargiftexchange! The support and positivity of your responses left me brimming with creative inspiration, so please enjoy this Nessian First Hybern War (and after) AU.

Thank you @popjunkie42-blog and @wilde-knight for your beta reading and handholding. <3

Ao3 | 1, 2, (3)

nessian | E | marriage of convenience, first hybern war AU, angst, whump, emotional slow burn

War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

It becomes commonplace to come home and find Cassian and Elain sitting at the table, oftentimes with a meal prepared, at random times of the time of day.

Nesta has been watching the children for Lara once more, apparently the only woman in the village desperate enough to contact her. It makes sense, a former free Lady and a former prostitute seeking company with each other, both on the fringes of society. Well, as much sense as Nesta can suss in this post-fae ruling world.

Breathing in the air of her home with this new male presence that's become something of a fixture, it fills her with an odd sense of settling. Whatever emotions she’s been carefully bottling up for the day — and there’s many she fights, cycles of deep melancholy and boiling rage alike — quietly shelves itself so she can observe and take in these exchanges.

The first two visits, they’d remained mostly in silence aside from rehearsed pleasantries. Cassian for his part managed to keep his foot out of his mouth and Nesta was cordial enough, throat too sore for much talking and unwilling to disturb Elain in her first adventures out of her bed in over a week.

It’s plainly a struggle for the soldier, so accustomed to being on the move. But as Nesta waits for him to break, to lose interest and call off whatever scheming has him trying so dutifully to win over her and her sister’s affection, something else occurs. The twitch in his limbs die down, he stops shuffling his wings, his feet, his ass in the seat.

Like releasing a long-held breath, Nesta can see the moment Cassian gives over to the stillness of the home. The fight of the war temporarily leaving him, centering himself in the quiet moment instead.

“I don’t know the last time I’ve sat down regularly for tea,” he says to the kitchen cupboard, before flashing an abashed smile across the table to Elain. Nesta hovers by the stove, arms crossed and eyes piercing between them. “Thank you for reminding me how nice it is to take a load off every once in a while, Elain.”

Elain blushes and stares at her teacup. “It’s nothing really. It must seem like such a wasteful past time …”

“It reminds me of home, Bahay.” Cassian raps his knuckles on the table. “Don’t discredit yourself for offering a slice of that. I didn’t realize the constant noise I’ve been living in until now. Now it’s like I can hear myself think again, just like at home.”

And what more can a warrior far away from home wish for?

Elain blinks dewy lashes, but this time she’s moved to a few tears out of happiness for her accomplishment.

Since then, they’ve become livelier. Understanding that Cassian appreciates the reminders of home, Elain asks about the weather or plants where he’s from. He uses a lot of words that don’t translate, but Elain listens with a wistful gaze that’s nearly coherent.

It’s when Cassian asks her about her own interests that Elain begins to perk up. There’s an odd connection between them and sewing. Nesta understands even less than when he uses his mother tongue to speak when they begin on stitches and patterns.

Occasionally he spurs her ire with his male ego. A youthful cockiness that she feels the instinctual need to press back into line, despite Elain uncovering he is only in his late thirties — practically infancy for an immortal, Nesta quips.

But mostly he watches her out of the corner of his eye with that boyishly charming smile that only shows a hint of his sharp canines.

That’s how he’s watching her enter the home now. Removing her jacket, dusting the road from her pants, all while trying not to blush as Cassian tracks her movements with an outward happiness to see her.

Nesta looks anywhere else. Catalogs the state of the house, whatever doesn’t pose a threat to tie her stomach into a worse fluttering, jumbled mess.

Have the floors been dusted? Curtains beat? Windows washed? Even the tallest panes that Nesta struggles to reach …

There’s a whisper of a smile on Elain’s mouth as she sips from a mug of tea, knowing exactly what conclusion Nesta will draw as she takes in the details of the cleaning.

Something tugs sharply in Nesta’s chest.

There’s none of his normal swagger as Cassian prattles on about a cow that only allows one particular male to touch her in camp, how they assigned him a special guard during battles out of fear they’d lose out on all of the by-products of the finicky creature’s milk. He doesn’t take any credit for the cleaning, goes right on ignoring the exchange of glances between the sisters.

The dazzling red of the stones on his gloved hands catch in the unfiltered sunshine through the streak-free window.

Tomas strikes fear into Elain. She’s never liked or approved of him, and yet here’s a male they hardly know pulling a smile from her shell of a sister, cleaning her home when Tomas only disrespected it …

And those stones. The light that had cut through the darkest hours, a promise of security. To protect and keep.

Latent heat smolders in those hazel eyes when Nesta looks back at Cassian.

And what she needs to do has never been so obvious.

#nessian #nesta x cassian #acotar winter gift exchange 2023 #my writing #CYLMWIHAM

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loulislife · 7 months

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Chasing Shadows

chapter 1: a dangerous game | Viper x fem!Reader |

The night air was cool and crisp as I sprinted through the dimly lit streets of an unfamiliar city. My heart pounded in my chest, matching the rhythm of my swift footsteps. I couldn't afford to slow down, not with the Kingdom Company hot on my trail.

I was a Radiant, one of the most sought-after and powerful beings on this Alpha Earth. My abilities were unique, a gift or perhaps a curse. I could absorb and replicate the powers of other Radiants. It was a skill that had the potential to change the balance of power in this world, and the Kingdom Company knew it.

I had spent most of my life on the run, evading their relentless pursuit. They wanted to harness my abilities for their own gain, to use me as a living weapon in their bid for dominance. But I couldn't let that happen. My powers were not meant to be controlled by any corporation or government entity.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I quickly glanced at the message. It was a warning from an anonymous source that the Kingdom Company had activated the Valorant Protocol. They were escalating their efforts to find me, and that meant I had to be even more careful.

I ducked into a narrow alley, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The faint hum of distant sirens echoed through the city, a chilling reminder that time was running out. I couldn't stay in one place for too long, and I needed to find a safe haven.

As I rounded a corner, I stumbled upon an abandoned building, its windows shattered and walls graffitied with faded symbols. It seemed like the perfect place to lay low for a while. I slipped inside, the darkness swallowing me whole.

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trying to calm my racing heart. I needed a plan, a way to stay ahead of the Kingdom Company and their relentless pursuit. The thought of using my abilities to defend myself crossed my mind, but I knew that would only draw more attention.

Hours passed as I huddled in the abandoned building, my thoughts racing. The world outside was still and silent, the calm before the storm. I couldn't stay hidden forever, but for now, I had to bide my time and wait for the right opportunity to reveal itself.

In the distance, I heard the faint wail of sirens growing louder. The Kingdom Company was getting closer, and I needed to move again.

Day after day, I continued to elude the Kingdom Company's grasp, but the pressure was mounting. The Valorant Team, their elite Radiant operatives, were now on my heels. Their determination matched my own, and their skills were formidable. I couldn't afford to underestimate them.

I moved from one abandoned safehouse to another, leaving behind nothing but fading traces of my presence. My days became a blur of constant vigilance, always one step away from capture. I knew that I couldn't hide forever, but I was determined to make the Kingdom Company's pursuit as difficult as possible.

One evening, as I crouched in the shadows of a decaying industrial complex, I sensed a presence nearby. It was subtle, but I had learned to trust my instincts. Someone was watching me, studying my every move.

A faint, sardonic laugh echoed through the darkness, sending shivers down my spine. A figure emerged from the shadows, her silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. It was Viper, one of the most enigmatic members of the Valorant Team.

Viper was known for her cunning and her ability to manipulate her surroundings with toxic chemicals. Her eyes bore into mine, a predatory glint dancing in their depths. She tilted her head, a mocking smile playing on her lips.

"Well, well, well," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed malice. "It seems we've been chasing our elusive little Radiant for quite some time now."

I remained silent, my muscles tense and ready to react at a moment's notice. Viper was not to be underestimated, and I needed to choose my words carefully.

"You're a tricky one, aren't you?" Viper continued, circling me like a predator stalking its prey. "But you can't hide forever."

I took a step back, my mind racing. I had to find a way out of this situation, to outwit Viper and her team. But she was a master of psychological warfare, and I was treading on dangerous ground.

"Tell me, Radiant," Viper hissed, her eyes narrowing, "do you really think you can escape us? Your powers are impressive, but they won't save you from what's coming."

I clenched my fists, my resolve hardening. I couldn't let fear or doubt cloud my judgment. I had a duty to protect my abilities and prevent them from falling into the wrong hands.

"Time will tell, Viper," I replied, my voice steady. "But it was a smart move to send you and not one of your Radiants."

Viper's laughter echoed through the empty industrial complex, a chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. She stepped closer, her eyes fixed on me like a predator closing in on its prey. Her intent was clear: she wanted to capture me and bring me into the fold of the Valorant Team.

I frantically searched my surroundings for a source of Radiant power, my fingers brushing against the cold, damp walls of the abandoned hall. My abilities were formidable when there were other Radiants nearby, but in this desolate place, my options were limited.

I could feel the panic welling up within me as I realized the gravity of my situation. Viper wasn't a Radiant herself, and that meant I couldn't tap into her abilities. The only powers at my disposal were a flash of bright light and a power field, which would destroy everything in my surroundings.

Viper's grin widened as she saw the fear in my eyes. "Running out of tricks, Radiant?" she taunted. "You can't escape me now."

With a sudden burst of desperation, I summoned a flash of blinding light, hoping to disorient Viper and create an opportunity for escape. The corridor was momentarily bathed in brilliance, and Viper shielded her eyes, cursing under her breath.

I seized the moment and dashed toward the exit, my heart pounding in my chest. But Viper was quick to recover, and she lunged after me, her fingers grazing my shoulder. It was an electrifying touch, sending a jolt of adrenaline through me. I was so close to escaping, and yet, she was even closer.

Before I could make it to safety, Viper's swift movements closed the gap between us. With a forceful shove, she pressed me against the cold stone wall, our breaths mingling in the dimly lit corridor. Her green eyes bore into mine, a dangerous glint of desire mixed with something darker.

"Running away won't save you," Viper murmured, her voice low and seductive. Her gloved hand traced a line down my cheek, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

I couldn't help the shiver that ran down my spine, both from fear and an undeniable attraction that pulsed between us. It was a dangerous combination, but in this moment, it was impossible to ignore.

"Is this how you plan to capture me?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly, though not entirely from fear.

Viper's lips curved into a wicked smile, and she leaned in closer, her breath hot against my ear. "Oh, my dear Radiant, capturing you is just one option. There are so many ways we could play this game."

Her words sent a shiver of anticipation through me, and for a moment, I considered the unthinkable. The chemistry between us was undeniable, a dangerous dance on the edge of pleasure and peril. But I couldn't forget the stakes—the Kingdom Company's relentless pursuit, the fate of my abilities, and the potential consequences of giving in to temptation.

With a surge of determination, I summoned my power and pushed against Viper's chest, creating enough distance between us to break free. I didn't dare look back as I continued my frantic escape through the labyrinthine streets of the city.

But I couldn't shake the memory of Viper's seductive gaze, the lingering taste of our dangerous encounter, and the knowledge that our paths were destined to cross again. The hunt was far from over, and it was uncertain who would be the predator and who the prey when we met once more.

#valorant #valorant viper #valorant viper x reader #sabine callas #sabine callas x reader #valorant x reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant viper fanfiction

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ineffablefate · 27 days

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Getting it all out...

I've been feeling strange and I just want to write it down so that it might stop bouncing around in my skull so much. I've been checked out and numb while also feeling anxious, helpless, and grieving deeply for the world.

I am overwhelmed with too much information, distrustful of almost all of it, intensely annoyed at the constant barrage of opinions, disagreements, demands, and incessant reactivity of my fellow humans. I feel disenchanted and disillusioned with myself, wondering if my former mystical experiences that fueled so much of my spiritual convictions were not simply weed-induced delusions of grandeur.

Intrusive thoughts goading me to commit senseless and spontaneous acts of violence have been at an all-time high, and my meditations and prayers seem to bear no fruit. My inspiration remains blocked, my desire to connect with others feels stunted, my hope for the future is bleak, and a sense of our collective impending doom lurks firmly on the horizon. It seems everyone else also senses this, but so few have the courage to stop what they're doing and truly band together to face it, to make any organized effort to stop it without devolving into useless and unhelpful arguments with each other.

My voice feels small and inconsequential in a sea of chaos, my wisdom is tired and worn out, and the old trick of letting go seems like a Sisyphus circuit that inevitably leads to hopelessly pushing the boulder back up the hill from the bottom again, for lack of anything else to do.

This is the darkest of it. There are glimmers of light and laughter and joy and romance and discovery with my partner. Moments of peace and short-lived reminders of growth, remembering this is as much a ridiculous comedy as it is a grave tragedy.

And on the surface, in the present, in my personal life, almost everything is great. I have an amazing woman who loves me dearly, wonderful friends and family who adore and support me, decent health, many gifts, the privilege to take a two month vacation through Europe.

And yet my own country seems to be barreling toward a second Civil War shamelessly instigated by its own political system while funding inhumane conflicts as well as providing aid to alleviate the damage done by them. The planet at large seems to be on the brink of a nuclear World War. Profits of large corporations are at an all time high and yet small businesses and lower class families are struggling to survive. A sane, humble, or wise leader is nowhere to be found, and instead we are force fed ego-driven, politic-pandering, mentally unwell old men who spew intentionally divisive rhetoric at every opportunity.

The National Guard is being called out to quell the overwhelming crime of some cities, dispatched in national paranoia to guard our southern border, and almost everywhere I look I see nothing but arrogant, fearful, self-righteous hypocrites demanding peace and respect in disrespectful tones of conflict, anger, and pride.

I know. I know. "It's darkest before the dawn." "This too shall pass." "It gets worse before it gets better." Too often I fear we are already in hell, and the devastation of it is such a slow burn that the build up itself, the long drawn-out stupidity, the stubborn refusal to shift course, the constant dangling carrot of hope and redemption is a clever part of its torture.

I only pray this fear is false. It may very well be that all these terrible things must come to pass, as a way of evolving the minds and hearts of humanity through intense suffering. I do intend to keep singing and dancing and laughing and loving and forgiving and letting go as I push my boulder up this hill. But God how I ache for us to drop all this nonsense and enjoy heaven on earth together. How deeply I wish we could just skip all the oncoming tragedy and senseless slaughter and havoc and pain. Haven't we all already suffered enough?

Whatever may come, I love you all. Despite all of this, I am somehow, someway, still doing well. And I'll push through. We all will.

May Love bless you.

Peace.

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thehoneybuzz · 1 year

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Nine years ago today, on the eve of my 22nd birthday, I woke up knowing I would meet an elephant, and that's precisely what I did.

I bought new clothes for the occasion. I woke up early and curled my hair. The day promised to be a special one, worthy of the extra effort I took in welcoming it. Ian drove us the 3 hours from Sarasota to Ocala, and we arrived at Two Tails Ranch, an elephant rescue in central Florida. The ranch is the only privately owned elephant facility of its kind, unique like so many things are in Florida.

Elephants trumpeted our arrival and accepted every carrot we offered before it was time to climb aboard. It was one of the happiest days of my life – not just the chance to interact with an animal I admired in a space they were well cared for – but the thoughtfulness of my partner who would gift me an experience of such deep meaning. It was a happy birthday, indeed.

So why, then, were my palms sweating? Why did my heart keep pounding in my chest? Why did my breath catch when the keeper stood up to speak? With nine years of distance, I finally understand that day through the lens of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. In that moment, I just felt crazy.

You see - March 9th isn't my birthday. It's his. Because the universe has a mean sense of humor, the man who abused me celebrates his existence the day before I celebrate mine. We were born one day and seven years apart. When we were a family, we'd celebrate together. It's an odd thing to share birthday cake with your abuser, but it's something I did for ten years. I was a decade removed from my abuse at 22 years old, but I was just beginning to understand its impact. I steadied my shaking hands by grabbing Ian's. I told myself what I always did - that today was just a day, and I'd get through it.

From the time I first began to understand what happened to me, that I was a victim of something truly evil, I vowed to live above the influence of that abuse. I was naïve. I didn't realize how little say we have in how our brain encodes its traumas – that the mental flinch I made when confronted with reminders of the past, like birth dates, was indicative of so much more. I ran from abuse into the arms of achievement, and I was comfortable there. That day, however, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. I had pushed on but never healed.

The keeper stood before the small crowd and introduced the elephants like old friends. "This is Luke," she said, and I lost my remaining breath. I would be celebrating my birthday with an elephant who shared the name of my abuser. Happy birthday to me. It was a relatively cool day, even by Florida standards, but I was sweating.

I told myself it didn't matter. That Luke didn't have power over me anymore. That a name, by itself, isn't evil. I even bought a magnet with Elephant Luke's picture on it. I could look at the magnet as evidence of what I could overcome. It served as evidence of how little I was bothered by something that happened so long ago and wasn't I doing fine? Wasn't I? The magnet lived on my fridge, but I still avoided looking at it. I realize now that this is also the perfect metaphor for how I treated my abuse – affixed to me by a force I didn't understand but not as something that needed my attention. By 30, it would demand it.

I would return to Two Tails several times over our years in Florida. I took my brother the day before we got our elephant tattoos, and I took my stepsister when she visited with our parents. My brother knew about my abuse, having witnessed its discovery, but I had never told my stepsister. I rarely told anyone. I didn't know the shame would cost me my family.

Thirty found me in a much different place than 22. In many ways, I had become the woman I always wanted. I had a pilot's license and a master's degree en route to a Ph.D. I'd climbed three volcanos. Ian and I were married and happy. I had a growing army of nieces and nephews to call my own. My stepsister announced she was pregnant that year, and I was overjoyed. Ian and I had moved from Florida to Washington to be closer to family, and as soon as we arrived, that family promised to grow. But it didn't. Instead, it exploded.

My stepsister named her child Luke. She announced her chosen name during her pregnancy, and I knew I had a decision to make. First, I had to tell her. That part wasn't a choice. I also had no choice in my feelings; they ebbed and flowed against my will. But I could decide what to do next. If I told her my association, I hoped that would be enough for her to change her mind. I looked at the magnet, at Luke the Elephant with his perfectly crossed tusks, and told myself all the lies I had told myself for years. That Luke was just a name, that the pain of my past didn't bother me, that I could outrun my fear. I tried to promise my sister that I'd love who she created, regardless of his name, and that I wanted to honor her choice. Ultimately, they were promises I couldn't keep. I could not simply put away my past. Trauma doesn't negotiate. It's a terrorist making demands.

Family discussions about the name escalated to full-on panic attacks, and I punished myself for them further. Why couldn't I just get over it? Why did I see the choice between mother and child as involving me at all? Why couldn't I just accept the name? "Move on," I begged. "Move on." No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't gain control. When I imagined holding my nephew, I had to imagine pushing down the thoughts of being molested as a child at the same time. I felt like a failure. All that running I had been doing, and I had gotten nowhere at all. At 30, I reverted to something I hadn't done since I was 21. I cut my wrists to manage my pain. It had to go somewhere, and instead of letting it go, I poured it back into my body.

I was so afraid. It felt like no matter what I did, the story of my abuse would somehow become a part of my nephew's story – especially if I wasn't healed. I couldn't accept it, and I couldn't move on. The pain had to end with me. I asked my sister to change the name and told her, honestly, about my past and its consequences. I went to therapy and received the diagnosis of complex PTSD. Still, her mind didn't change. I removed myself from our shared family. It felt like the only way to keep the new Luke safe. It felt like the only way to keep myself safe, too.

The magnet still lives on my fridge. It's a complicated token of my journey, but one I can make regular eye contact with now. I've realized that healing isn't an outcome as much as a practice, and I know I'm making strides. Still, days are hard. I may never feel safe enough to return to my family as I did before. The pain of loss and grief has become as much a part of my story as the abuse itself. The challenge is to accept that my needs are valid and that I am not less because of them.

I am not less because someone chose to hurt me. I am not less for the ways my brain and body adapted to keep me alive. I'm not less because I am unwilling to engage in relationships that don't consider my needs. I am human. Beautifully complicated, full of both darkness and light.

Last year I climbed a volcano for my birthday. This year, I climb a mountain of a different kind. I've spent 30 years in the valleys of my shame. Afraid to write this down, afraid to share it. Worried that my words might only be honored or believed if they were delivered in the right way. I'm done with all that. I'm 31 tomorrow, and that makes me a grown-up. It's my turn.

So here it is, universe. His name. My secret. You can take it. I'll keep the parts I need – the bravery it gave me, the strength. I've bartered with the universe before – exchanging pain for empathy and hurt for care. Today I offer shame for something beautiful. Shame in exchange for the truth of knowing who we truly are. I have lived for 30 years, afraid that people would discover what I am. I falsely equated my identity with my victimhood. I have lived 30 years, ashamed of myself for being abused. Tomorrow? I'm 31. And I'll wake up believing this truth: Who I am is not what happened to me, and I am enough as I am.

Happy fucking birthday to me.

#trauma #healing #writing

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mybigfatheartpoems · 3 months

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heartbreak in 11 parts (unsent texts.)

1. I’d like to pretend that I’m fine, that I’m moving on and doing okay, but I’m not okay. I still cry about you. I think about you every day. Every song reminds me of you. I miss your arms around me and your hands and your mouth. I miss your eyes. I miss hearing you say you’re obsessed with me. It’s insane and sad and nonsensical. You’re a ghost in my head. I can’t get rid of you.

2. The truth is, I’d still give you my heart if you asked for it. If you told me tomorrow that you wanted me back, I’d run to you without question. I’d kiss you until we forgot we were ever apart. And somewhere in my mind, I’d think — this is a huge risk. I’d ask myself, are you sure? What if he hurts you again? What if you ruin each other? What if you’re still not enough for him? Do you really want to take that chance? And the answer would be yes. Obviously it wouldn’t be easy, it would take work and patience and conflict and compromise, but you’d be worth it. If there’s a chance it could work, I’d still want to try. You made my heart so happy in the short time we were together that any more time with you would be precious in and of itself, regardless of the outcome. Knowing you is a gift. Loving you would be effortless. And I want to, god I want to.

I understand your hesitation. I know your concerns and they’re valid and important. I know why you don’t think we have a chance. I just can’t help wondering, is this truly how it’s supposed to be if we both hate it so much? If it feels so wrong? Everything in me is telling me to fight for this, to convince you to live in the moment with me, but logically I know it would be pointless. Idk. Something about us is special. The way we fit, our common interests, our similarities, the timing, the chemistry, our locations — it felt like fate. I’ve been grieving this loss for weeks and I’m no closer to acceptance.

I’m grateful to have you in my life in whatever way I can, full stop. You’re amazing and I don’t want to lose you, and I’d be honored to be your friend. I’m just not sure I’ll find this kind of connection with someone else. Maybe someday, years from now, but I just want you. It’s pathetic and selfish and scary but it’s how I feel. I don’t want to feel this way, I wish I could turn it off, wish I could break this magnetic pull you have on me, but I can’t. Why is it so hard?

I know this is a lot and it’s unfair, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to overwhelm you just because I am overwhelmed with everything I’m still feeling. You owe me nothing. I just want you so badly and everything hurts.

3. One of the hardest parts of this is not inviting you over when I’m home with nothing to do. I’ve never craved someone like this.

4. You said it was me, that I was your type. I can still be your type. I still wanna be yours.

5. Maybe this is all just temporary infatuation. Maybe I’m being childish, thinking these feelings won’t one day disappear, like they all do. Maybe it’s naïve, imagining a future with you where there isn’t one. I have too much hope. I want more than I can have.

6. I’m trying to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, that maybe I’m better off without you, that I’ll feel better once more time passes, but it all sounds like bullshit. Not talking to you, trying not to think about you, it feels wrong. I hate this. I can’t stand it.

7. Sometimes it hurts so bad I don’t want to get out of bed. I do, because I have to, but it’s hard. There’s a pit in my stomach and I’m nauseous about it all day. Some days I’m fine, I’m distracted, I can forget for a while. But when I’m alone with my thoughts, it just hurts.

8. I’m realizing the space that you need doesn’t help me at all, but I know this isn’t just about me. I want you to be okay, and if we want any chance at developing a friendship, I know I’ve got to give you that space. I just didn’t expect it to be this hard.

9. Everything reminds me of you. But I know I can’t have you, so I’m going to try to move on. I’m going to try and eventually I will succeed. Part of me hopes you are filled with regret when I do. Part of me hopes we can remain friends when I do. Part of me hopes you come back to me some day. Part of me never wants to see you again.

10. I still think about you. I still miss you. The thought of us still makes me sad. But it doesn’t tear me apart the same way anymore. It’s just a dull ache. But it’s there and idk when it’ll go away.

11. It breaks my heart to let you go. But I’m letting you go.

#unsent texts #poem #spilled ink #poetry #free verse #text poetry #text poem #heartbreak #moving on #j

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adri-2022 · 2 years

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Just Glass

Fandom: Chicago PD

Characters: Jay Halstead x FemReader

Warnings: angst/ mention of domestic abuse/ panic attack

Word count: 1193

Jay Halstead Materlist

A/N: Hi guys here is another original imagine. If this is triggering for you please DON'T read.

Don't be afraid to leave your comment!

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You had suffered a really shitty past, this involved family relationships and romantic ones too. You had grown up in the foster care, where you had received nothing but pain and misery. There wasn’t anything you wanted more than to get out of that life, that’s when you met Kyle.

You were in a relationship with him since you were a teenager, always a on and off situation. He was really sweet, but just at the beginning, as time passed, he started to behave strangely. Until one night he slapped you across the face for talking to the server. That’s how it started, with a slap, then came the push, the punch, and the kicks. You would suffer in silence, since there was no one, you knew or any family to take care of you. So, you stayed, and you suffered, because no one would love you like Kyle did -at least that’s what he used to say-.

How it ended? Well. One night he came home drunk -nothing new, you knew instantly what would go down-. So, you ran, you knew he had a knife with him. But as you screamed calling for help, your next-door neighbors came to your rescue. They tried to deescalate the situation, but when Kyle launched towards you with the attempt of stabbing you, Mr. Richards had no other choice than to shoot him. Some days you could still see his lifeless eyes staring back at you. Sometimes -more than you wanted- you would flinch at loud noises.

A couple of months after the whole ordeal you moved to Chicago for a fresh start. A year into living in the city Silvie who you met -and who would become your best friend- invited you to a bar called Molly’s. You had turned cautious almost paranoid; you didn’t want history to repeat itself. But that night Silvie Brett introduced you to a group of her extended friends, where you met Jay Halstead. It’s been almost 2 years later you were in a happy and healthy relationship -even if you had to remind yourself that you were safe every day-.

You were sat at the couch of the house you shared with Jay, your dog Milo at your feet. He had been an anniversary gift from Jay because in his words “Milo would protect you when he couldn’t be home”. The jiggling of keys made you perk towards the door, Milo standing up in front of you. Opening the door Jay walked in immediately spotting you and sending a grin your way as he bend down to pet Milo. You stood up and walked towards him wrapping your arms around his waist while one of his circled your shoulder and the other grabbed your face kissing you deeply -yes height difference-.

“Hi” you whispered smiling like crazy, which made him bit his lip looking at your eyes.

“Hi beautiful” he always made you feel butterflies, and he always had a way to make you feel safe and loved no matter what.

“Food is in the stove; I’ll get it for you” you said as you were going to take a step in that direction. But Jay pulled you back in his arms,

“I can do it myself, alright?” he said softly to you as you nodded. You can get the girl out of the trauma, but you can’t get the trauma out of the girl. Jay knew everything about you including Kyle and he always tried to make sure you knew you were safe.

“You’re in Chicago. You’re safe” you whispered to yourself, as he walked towards the kitchen, Milo following. A couple of minutes later Jay was sat at the dinner table you beside him while you both joked and talked about your day.

“Oh man. Baby this tastes like heaven, thank you, love” Jay said while smiling and winking towards you making you lean over and peck his lips.

“I’m glad you liked it. Oh wait, I forgot…” you smiled noticing something missing, standing up and going towards the fridge pulling a beer bottle you had bought for him. It accidentally slipped from your hand landing on the floor with a crash. This made Jay’s head snapped towards you, his face worried at your scared eyes looking back at him.

“…it’s okay” he said standing slowly as to not scare you -sending Milo to the couch-, at his movement you bend down and started to pick up the glass pieces with your hands while crying.

“I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry it won’t happen again. I promise. P-please don’t be mad…” you rambled, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Y/N…” Jay tried to get your attention, but you were going trough a serious panic attack.

He started to walk towards your bend figure, as you hissed when a piece of glass cut you, this made Jay bend down searching for your gaze that was still on the broken glass. He didn’t touch you though, he knew better than to touch you without you knowing it was him. It happened before and he wasn’t about to go through that again. Ever. Again.

“Hey babe. Hey- can you look at me” he said softly trying to not scare you by the sudden voice next to you.

“I’m sorry…” you cried looking at him, which soften his gaze, giving you a small smile, reaching for your hand without breaking eye contact and helping you up,

“Don’t move okay. There’s glass everywhere” he said while looking around so you wouldn’t step on it, this threw you back into the memory,

“I can clean it. I swear” you exclaimed while going to bend back down, but Jay’s grip on you didn’t let that happen.

“Hey. Whoa, no, no, no. C’mere” he said picking you up by the waist making you wrap your arms around his neck and cry while he set you down in the kitchen aisle. It was easy for him to move since he still had his work boots on, but you were barefoot.

“Baby- Y/N babe- look at me” Jay stood in between your legs, cradling your face in his hands grimacing at the way you shook your head terrified, eyes closed. He hated every detail about your past, he promised himself to always treat you kindly and softly. Knowing you would both give anything to not go through this.

“I can clean it up…” you kept repeating over and over again, while tears soaked your cheeks having Jay brush them away. Kissing your forehead and whispering how everything was alright.

“Y/N, it’s just glass” he whispered pained expression on his face, tears coming to his eyes the longer he watched you sob, now looking into your red and puffy eyes.

“I’m not mad. I swear. It’s just glass baby… Just glass” you nodded crying while he pulled you back into his arms. Life had a funny way of treating the good people. You knew that but for the rest of that evening he dedicated himself to cuddle you and kiss you until you forgot the incident. Humming your favorite song in your ear while you calmed down hugging his arms.

#jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x reader #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead fluff #jay halstead x you #fan fiction #one chicago fic #jay halstead angst

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elfaery · 1 year

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My mind is still processing yesterday's chapter, so what I'm about to write might be a total mess, but here's my take on it.

In the past few weeks, we've been treated to two Tianshan kisses. More importantly, they are finally canon in the plot. I honestly didn't think we would get this far. In all these years, it never never crossed my mind they would kiss like this (in Mo's room, stuck together like magnets), which is a thousand times better. I thought we'd have to wait for their future for them to get official. And to be honest, if they weren't kissing at all during the whole story, it was clear as day that they were meant for each other and [anything that bluntly shows they are soulmates]. They could have just confessed their feelings to each other or shown that they are officially together in their future, but instead we got more from Old Xian: a kiss.

I personally thought at first their kiss wasn't really necessary to the plot, because we all know they will kiss at some point in their lives, sooner or later. I sound really stupid but I didn't expect to see them kissing at all. However I just forgot they already kissed before and it reminds me that a kiss can play a huge role in Tianshan’s development. And these last few chapters have also proven me wrong. First, the kiss is the best gift I could never imagined because it brings me an immeasurable amount of happiness. It makes me proud to see how far they came from. It makes me smile to see a consensual and passionate kiss from my comfort ship. It makes me happy to witness their intimacy and love for each other. And of course, the kiss itself is essential for both the readers and Tianshan. It impacts the reader's view of their future and, of course, it explicitly shows they are canon. It's a strong development for Mo and Tian too (I won't elaborate more on that here because it would be too long). I'm currently cringing at myself because Tianshan is the very first couple that made me goofy and made me write an entire paragraph about a kiss.

[Don't read the crossed out words if you're still emotional].

I can add that even though we had a kiss from Tianshan, there is still so much to unpack in the story, which is really wonderful. For the plot, we still have: Zhanyi's development, the anguish of the couple's separation, their future, their parents, She Li, other characters' backgrounds, the mafia part, Qiu Ge and He Cheng and more. Old Xian really managed to build a world with great settings and interesting characters, which are very promising. And these may also take a thousand years.

To conclude my long rant, after seeing yesterday's spicy Tianshan, I am 100% sure that Old Xian has NSFW arts that will probably never see the light. I swear we will probably never see these treasures, but we can only imagine. Anyway, thanks for putting up with my nonsense, I was just confused the whole time and I still am. All of this just feels surreal to me. What a time to be alive!

#pls I’m so slow #19 days #mo guan shan #he tian #old xian #tianshan

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kiawren · 4 months

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This is like. from a year ago (24/12/22) and it's unfinished LOL SORRY but since Arsene asked for it.. This is the flower shop au kiawren where wren is a florist..!! it's angst but not even a lot but also it's like angstiest that kiawren gets 💀 cuz they're such a fluffy couple. this is just like an au and not how we 'canonly' got together!! I just wanted to play around with flower language lol. and how I write kiawren has also changed since last year ok enough rambling. also sorry for the double line breaks I copy pasted it from my notes ok enjoy i guess. if you see this you should def write a flower language fic for ur selfship too🫡

It's valentine's day in alola. For a region that celebrates life and togetherness, this is a day that people here treasure as a way to celebrate and express all forms of love, not just romantic. Families and friends are not neglected on this day, and many give gifts to the ones close to them, like confectionaries and friendship bracelets. But of course, romantic love takes the spotlight on this day, and many loving couples can be seen on dates together on this day. Among the things that they exchange as a token of their love, flower bouquets are one of the most popular. And as a helper florist in my parentsʼ flower shop, I've seen all sorts of people in the shop today, looking for flowers for their love.

While my parents are busy with selling our flower bouquets and other proceedings, I help out with flower arranging. I've started learning flower language, and teach customers who to make their own bouquet. However, most people buy pre-made flowers bouquets, few would take the time to craft their own from scratch, especially on valentine's day itself, where they do not have the time of day for that. So, they settle with a complete bouquet already for sale, and after buying it, busy themselves with getting chocolates, or meeting up with their date.

It's a shame, though, I thought. Who wouldn't want a bouquet of flowers specially picked out to convey affection in the form truest to you and your lover? Many give and receive flowers with just the thought that they look pretty, but never really spare a second thought to the meanings behind the flowers.

Well, I would want to receive flowers specifically picked out for me. I think it would be incredibly thoughtful. But alas, the ones receiving flowers today would not be me. I don't have a date. I don't have a valentine. Though, I do have someone I wish would be mine...

"Ding!" I looked up from my daze and move my head away from its position on my palm to the direction of someone entering. The flower arranging station I sit at is at the back of the flower shop, away from the main area where the pre-made bouquets are. The back door to where I am is rarely used or even noticed, so only someone who had the intention of coming into the flower arranging station would come in through here.

"Hey, Wren!" a familiar voice called.

"Kiawe!" I lit up, a bright smile creeping onto my face as I greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

Kiawe... where do I start? He's my closest friend, but he's more than that to me. Over time, I found myself thinking of him so much, and everything reminded me of him, and I'd imagine us doing things together, and spending time together. I want to admit I have a crush on him, but what I feel is more than a fleeting infatuation. It's true that I'm still young and it seems like a 'first love' that is short-lived. But no, I don't feel that way. There's more to it, like, it's a once-in-a-lifetime thing. That being next to Kiawe is meant to be. We started out as friends, but our bond has deepened a lot since then, and I love him in such a special way. More than friends, but less than lovers, because that's not what we are. I wonder if he feels even a little of that.

"Well...uh, I wanted to make a flower bouquet for someone."

"What?"

My heart sank. Did I hear that right? Make a bouquet... for someone... Kiawe wanted to gift someone flowers he picked out? Who... Who was he going to give the flowers too? Who–

"You can help me with that, right?" He asked, smiling gently. His eyes were bright and lively, but when you look at them, they seem to calm you. I love looking at his eyes.

"Oh, yeah. Of course I can!"

"Thank you, Wren." Kiawe takes a seat and looks at the flowers around the room.

"So, you have a valentine's?" I say.

"Yup, I do."

".......what are they like?"

"...where do I begin? They're so special. I don't know if these flowers can convey my confession well enough, but... knowing them, I know they'd love it anyway."

I stand up and turn to the racks of flowers behind me.

"Are you looking for any flowers in particular? Usually, flowers are arranged with their colours and species in mind so they don't clash, you know? If I just pick any to put together, it won't as good as the pre-made bouquets out there."

"I don't think they'd mind."

"Really? Actually, me neither. Although I'm a florist and I should arrange flowers in a way that looks appealing to sell, I think it doesn't matter if you're giving them sincerely. Even if they're mismatched, the meanings are still there. And you took the time to pick them out. They're just flowers. They're beautiful regardless."

Kiawe smiles softly. "Yeah, exactly. So, I'd like you to pick them based on the meanings. How it looks arranged at the end doesn't matter as much."

"Okay. So, you're making a confession... could you, well, describe your love for them that you wish to confess?"

"...they make me feel so happy, it feels like the sort of puppy love-"

"Like a childlike love? Like, it's not really deep, but it still feels like love and you feel so carefree?"

"Yeah! Like that. They make me feel that way. It's like pure joy, being with them. They remind me of so many cheerful things, and... they give me butterflies a lot."

"I've got the flower for you. Here, pink daisies. They symbolise a gentle and innocent affection, like the kind of love you described. I think it's perfect for a confession like yours."

Kiawe brushed his fingers across the daisies I set on the counter. "They're really pretty, Wren. Just like the person they're for."

"Really..?... Could you describe them?"

"No words can. Everytime I look at them, my heart stops for a moment. I'm filled with warmth and..."

He pauses and tries to find the words. I smile at him, silently telling him to take his time. He looks at me and smiles back.

"They have a wonderful smile. It's like sunshine, and it makes me feel at peace."

"A beautiful smile, huh? Yellow tulips symbolise that." I pick up some yellow tulips and place them on the counter.

"...and their eyes," kiawe starts after a beat of silence. I look at him, and we hold our gazes on each other. "Their eyes are really beautiful. It's like I can see the stars in them."

I break eye contact and turn to the variegated tulips.

"Here. These tulips mean beautiful eyes."

The tulips are yellow at the top with a red-orange towards the bottom. the colours meet at the middle in uneven streaks. Kiawe picks one up and twirls it in his fingers, quietly admiring it.

"You know," I say, leaning on the counter. "I didn't know you had.. I didn't know you had a person you're going to date or something."

"Why's that?"

"Because it seems you spend all your time with the friend group, or... with me. I didn't know there's anyone else"

"....."

"....or is your person from our friend group? Who is it? Lillie? Lana? Actually, it seems your description could fit any of them. They're all amazing people. I could see why you think of any of them that way."

There was a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I shouldn't pry. This is none of my-!"

Kiawe laughs slightly. It comes out as a slight chuckle. It's a lovely sound.

"Do you want more clues?" Kiawe says.

"Okay..." my mood grew bitter and I felt a pang in my heart.

"Everything they do feels like a spark ignited in me. And over all the time I've spent with them, they've become a flame in my heart, and it keeps me feeling alive."

"..... I don't know. But anyway, it's really sweet they make you feel that way. A flame in your heart?"

"Yeah, one that burns really bright and keeps me going."

"There's a flower for that." there's a section of lovely cammelias and I take a few red ones before passing them to Kiawe.

The crimson colour perfectly matches that of Kiawe's red streaks of hair.

"Hey, what about you, Wren?"

"What about me?"

"Well, I counted on you not having your day occupied so I could visit you here."

I don't meet his eyes.

"I don't have a Valentine's, no..."

I pick up the flowers on the counter. Pink daisy, yellow and variegated tulip, and red cammelia.

"We have enough flowers to arrange into a bouquet, "I say. "What base would you like?"

"You can pick." Kiawe says. "Oh. Could you add one more flower?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I hope for my love to be requited. That they love me the same."

"Oh..." I halt for a beat or two and pull myself to slowly move to where the daffodils are.

"Are you confident they will?" I ask.

"Yeah. There's no way they don't." Kiawe answers.

I return in front of him with jonquils in my hand, bright yellow like how a perfectly joyous love would look like.

"Will these do?"

"Yes!"

There was a tug at my chest at how happy Kiawe was at the thought of gifting these flowers to the person he loves. The person kiawe loves. Just repeating those words in my head made it throb. Whoever they are, they're so, so lucky...

"Can I help arrange them?" Kiawe perks up.

"Sure. Here..." I explain how I arrange the flowers the way I know how to, and guide him where he wants to help.

Our hands brushed a few times, and I could feel the lingering warmth of his skin on mine.

"Hey, so..." Kiawe says. "What will you be doing this evening?"

"I haven't decided."

"You know, on valentine's day in alola, it's said that showing an act of love or gifting something as a token of it while watching the sunset together is said to make to your love last as long as the sun continues to rise and set every day."

"I love sunsets, but.. I didn't know that."

"Now you do! So, people do things like exchanging kisses and hugs while watching the sunset with your loved ones. Gifting flowers count too."

"That's nice. So, you'll gift your special someone these flowers at sunset?"

"That's right."

"I guess I'll just get myself dinner, then a slice of mango cake to eat by myself. As a treat."

"I know you love those."

"Yeah," I chuckle. "I do."

We finish the flower bouquet and step back to admire it.

"It's perfect." Kiawe says, beaming.

I smile too. "I'm sure they'll love it. Well, even if they don't, I do..."

"You know what?" I say after a pause. "I'm going to make one too."

"Make one? A flower bouquet?"

"Yeah."

"...W-what? For who?"

"For the person I have my eyes on."

"You didn't tell me you had someone in mind today as well."

"....." I turn towards the flower rack again, my back against kiawe.

"W-well!" Kiawe says, voice breaking ever so subtly. "I better get going."

He reaches the door and pushes it open, the bell dinging indicating his exit.

"Happy Valentine's day.... Wren." Kiawe says at the door, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"... Happy Valentine's day, Kiawe." I respond, but too softly, while Kiawe is too far behind the door to hear me now.

I sat back down. I felt empty

#kiawren #SORRY FOR THE ABRUPT ENDING LOL #im not gonna finish writing this so like #sorry I guess 😭😭😭😭😭#selfship #wren's writing

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