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#fall of industrial civilization

arrozaurus · 2 years

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today it was when my mom said that food production is about to collapse due to, larguely, intermediaries (who are basically the food equivalent of corporate landlords) critically underpaying farmers, and i could not agree more. in a few years the costs of living in cities is going to be so high (because of the food problem, the housing problem, inhabitability) that people will have to start migrating back to the land, and those with the knowledge and the space to grow their own food are the ones that are going to have a chance to survive this global crisis that we're entering indefinitely.

#scientists already talk about the possibility of a human extinction #if food production collapses aaaaall the other industries are imminently falling #all the institutions in place will no longer have the power to sustain themselves #we are in transition between a highly specialized civilization and a generalist self-sustaining society

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lordofdestructionm · 6 months

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Wick Sable

The odd duck in the guilded cage

Despite this being a feral Mordecai and Viktor account I do occasionally like to dig into the others.

Wick is a character Lackadaisy fans love but don't talk about very much. He just the rich friendly geologist with a love of illicit beverages and a crush on Mitzi. Indeed he is all those things. But I want to dig a little into what may be hidden depth (geography joke haha)

Professional dissatisfaction

When we first meet Wick he is behind his desk looking very tired and beaten down. Forcing himself to keep working late into the night with excessive coffee. Attending to a large pile of paper work for tomorrow.

His expression shifts slightly when he sees the Lackadaisy pins fall out of the envelope and realises the letter is an invitation to him (and his fellow aristocrats) to the speakeasy.

This hatred of paper work and the administrative side of his business is a recurring issue for Wick. Making the reason for his reliance on the capable and attentive Lacy very obvious. Exhaustian and too much alchohol are no doubt partly to blame, but it seems to be something that puts him in a very depressed state of mind.

But when actually on the job, overseeing the hands on work of blasting a new quarry, his mood is much more positive. Indeed he has a very real and sincere love for geology and the nitty gritty work of his business. When he first went to the Lackadaisy he was spellbound by the lime caverns themselves as much by Mitzi's charm.

Its his special interest and he will go on long unprompted monologues on the topic if given the chance. Meaning it is specifically the being trapped in his office dealing with the red tape that makes him so unhappy not the industry itself.

Its almost sad that he is the one in charge of the company rather than in a role that puts him closer to the action which seems to bring him real joy. Like someone who loves cooking being in charge of a restuarant or someone that loves drawing running an animation studio.

They love the product/industry but that doesn't mean they enjoy their specific place in it.

Unimpressed Peers

Despite Wicks enthusiasm it proves not be infectious with his fellow elite, who complain about being dragged out of town to watch something, that while very important to Wick, they clearly could not care less about (even not that quietly mocking him and his love for rocks and construction)

When the evening doesn't go to plan due to the uninvited pig farmers Wick has an interesting exchange with Edmund Church, seemingly the most prominent of the St Louis upper crust in the group. Warning him about getting any more involved with an unsavoury crowd, especially Mitzi, outside of simply enjoying the occasional drink.

Wick doesn't take kindly to the snarky criticism and borderline threat to his reputation and responds with a much more direct statement on his peers sour nature

Tracy has mentioned that Church has a role yet to play in the story and it seems safe to assume from this it may well involve Wick in a less than friendly way if he continues to associate with his "lessers" as Church and the others see things.

Despite needing to remain on civil terms to keep them invested in his business, Wick clearly has little love for them, a feeling that is mutual as they have little respect for him and see him as an oddball, only tolerating him because his talent in his field can help make them a tidy profit.

But while he doesn't appreciate Church's sniping Wick IS concerned about his reputation, but not entirely for his own sake or that of his elitist associates, but for the many people who rely on him for employment, who could be hurt by extension of he gets pulled too deep into the less than repectable world of bootlegging

Romantic life

Outside of the crush he has had on Mitzi since first meeting her at the Speakeasy, we have very little information about Wicks love life before this. Being a handsome and wealthy gentleman from a good family, you would think he would he fighting women off with a stick, maybe even be a bit of a playboy.

Instead you get the impression Wick is pretty far away from being a ladies man. Mentioning to Mitzi that he doesn't even really know how to talk to women unless its about rocks, bugs or limestone.

He is clearly attracted to her and is tempted by her to risk his reputation and by extension his business to get closer to her, but so far his fear of the very real consequences are deterring him from taking that gamble.

Though there is that personal aspect to it, it seems that in a more abstract sense Mitzi's appeal to Wick is not just in her beauty and seductive personality, but in the excitement and thrill of her Speakeasy and bootlegging operations.

In that sense Mitzi represents that touch of danger and excitement that during prohibition many otherwise law abiding citizens enjoyed indulging in illegal drinking establishments. Being* just* naughty enough to give them a fun thrill while being detached from the more brutal blood soaked aspects.

Wick is a good natured person (the worst thing he has done is shoot a duck in his youth which he was forced to do) living a very "respectable" life, but that makes the superficial glamour of the world of underground drinking establishments and secret booze stashes even more appealing. Thats why despite his concerns and responsibilities he keeps going back ,not just to Mitzi, but to the Lackadaisy specifically. It has pretty geography, a pretty owner, and an open door to a more exciting avenue of life

Its for that same reason he doesn't seem to be overly uncomfortable with lovable bi disaster Zib flirting with him at the bar. He may have no intention of reciprocating, but it couldn't be a more different experience to the world he is used to

Even if he doesn't yet want to take the full plunge it all excites him enough to keep him circling the edges.

Because despite having so much going for him there are things about his life that not only bore him but make him unhappy. Whether its piles of paperwork, dealing with much stuffier "conventional" fellow aristocrats and not wanting to be like them, or just a general lack of true passion in his life, he is clearly a man looking for something more satisfying

Whether or not he remains a "tourist" or decides to take that gamble, throw his reservations to the wind, and take a more active role in the gang, is yet to be seen...

Assuming Rocky doesn't set fire to him first of course XD

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

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This is a three-way poll. Only one of these women will continue to the fourth round of the bracket.

Propaganda

Ava Gardner (The Killers, The Barefoot Contessa)— She's so goddamn hot. Her and Frank Sinatra could've sandwiched me and I would've thanked them for the privilege

Leonor Maia (The Tyrannical Father)— She didn't do a lot of movies but in The Tyrannical Father she is so pretty and charming that there's a guy who's obsessed with her to such a degree he is still a meme 80 years later. Her character's name is Tatão and the guy would stare at her whenever she was there and say her name to the tune of everything. A clock ticking: ta-tão, ta-tão, ta-tão. And to this day one of the lines people know the best from that very quotable movie is "ta-tão". She inspired crushes and horniness of legendary levels.

Louise Brooks (Pandora's Box, Diary of a Lost Girl)—Louise Brooks started off as a dancer and went to work in the Follies before going to Hollywood. Disappointed with her roles there, she went to Germany and proceeded to make Pandora's Box, the first film to show a lesbian on-screen (not her but one of her many doomed admirers in the film), and Diary of a Lost Girl, both of which are considered two of the greatest films of the 20th century. She helped popularize the bob and natural acting, acting far more subtly than her contemporaries who treated the camera as a stage audience. After the collapse of her film career and a remarkably rough patch as a high-end sex worker, she was rediscovered and did film criticism, notably "Lulu in Hollywood," which Rodger Ebert called "indispensable." Also, christ. Look at her.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ava Gardner:

Ava Gardner is one of my favorite actresses of all time. Although a lot of her roles in movies are about her being beautiful and nothing else, there are some films where her acting truly shines.

Gifset: https://www.tumblr.com/pelopides/721438308726603776/ava-gardner-as-pandora-reynolds-pandora-and-the

Gifset 2: https://www.tumblr.com/portraitoflestatonfire/731899355804598272/if-the-loustat-reunion-doesnt-look-like-this-then

HER FACE. LOOK AT IT. Also was a life long supporter of civil rights and a member of the NAACP, had lots of fun love affairs with other stars, bullfighters, married several times but was also happy in between to just have lovers and was unapologetically herself.

I literally gasp every time I see her.

Between 1942 and 1964, Ava Gardner was credited in no less 50 films, and is still considered by some to be the most beautiful actresses that ever graced the silver screen. Despite life-long insecurities regarding her talent as an actress, she weathered public scandal, industry hostility, and outright condemnation by the Catholic Church with fearless grace. She would later in life talk candidly about the reality and pain of living through two (studio approved!!) abortions during her short marriage to Frank Sinatra, and while the two of them could not make their relationship work, they remained in each other’s lives for nearly 30 years. She would forever describe herself as a small-town girl who just got lucky, but always felt like a beautiful outsider.

Really genuinely one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen. An autodidact. Had amazing chemistry with Gregory Peck to the point where I do think about watching On The Beach again sometimes because they're so good together even though that movie did destroy me. Was a great femme fatale in many movies.

There is no additional propaganda for Leonor Maia.

Louise Brooks:

"Defined the style of the modern flapper. A gaze that could make a stone fall in love."

"Louise Brooks left a legend far greater than her real achievement as an actress, but even today few people have seen her films. In our own time, the fascination with Brooks seems to have begun in 1979 with a profile by Kenneth Tynan in the New Yorker, which revealed that the actress who made her last movie in 1938 was alive and living in Rochester, N.Y. Such was the power of Tynan's prose that people began to seek out her existing films, primarily this one, to discover what the fuss was about. What we see here is a healthy young woman -- she was 23 when the film was released -- with whom the camera, under G.W. Pabst's influence, is fascinated. There is a deep paradox in Brooks and her career: the American girl who found success in the troubled Europe between two wars; the vivid personality who briefly dazzled two continents but faded into obscurity; the liberated woman who had affairs with such prominent men as CBS founder William S. Paley as well as with women including (by her account) Greta Garbo but wound up a solitary recluse. And all of this seems perfectly in keeping with her most celebrated role in Pandora's Box. For despite her bright vitality, her flashing dark eyes and brilliant smile, Brooks's Lulu becomes the ultimate femme fatale, careering her way toward destruction, not only of her lovers but eventually of herself."

"She invented having bangs to indicate that you have borderline personality disorder"

"chances are if youve ever seen a "flapper girl" character or even just art of a generic flapper type made after the 20s it was based on her appearance - particularly the bob hairstyle! she had some pretty rough experiences through her life before during and after her tumultuous acting career which ended in 1938 but she made it to the 80s, wrote an autobiography and did a lot of interviews that she was never afraid of being honest in about her own life or peers of the age, and apparently was unabashed about some affairs she had with well known women (including greta garbo!!)"

"She read Proust and Schopenhauer on set between sets. She was one of the original flappers/new women of the 1920s. She had a one night stand with Garbo and was the inspiration for Sally Bowles in Cabaret. Truly a stone cold fox."

"on her wikipedia page it says her biographer said she "loved women as a homosexual man, rather than as a lesbian, would love them" and while i have no idea if this is true or not i thought that was very gender of her"

"despite being american she was big in german expressionist films and thus her aesthetic was unmatched!!"

So far ahead of her time in regard to portraying complicated women. Timeless elegance. "I learned to act by watching Martha Graham dance, and I learned to dance by watching Charlie Chaplin act.” - Louise Brooks

#leonor maia #louise brooks #ava gardner #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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gaargoyle · 1 month

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My current much-loved possession, an original 1993 copy of Space Marine. I wanted it for its lovely cover, mostly, (also physical media is supreme) even though it's seen better days. The pretty foil lettering has worn away in spots.

Inside is the timeline that was canon in 1993. You can still get this book today digitally, but I do not know if they include a timeline with it still, and if they do, if they kept it as it was for posterity or made updates.

Transcribed below!

A TIMELINE FOR THE WARHAMMER 40,000 UNIVERSE

15th Millennium - Humanity begins to colonise nearby solar systems using conventional sub-light spacecraft. At first, progress is painfully slow. Separated from Terra by up to ten generations in travel time, the new colonies have to survive mainly on local resources.

The Dark Age of Technology

20th Millennium - Discovery of warp drives accelerates the colonisation process and the early independent or corporate colonies become federated to Terra. The first alien races (including the ubiquitous Orks) are encountered. The development of the Navigator gene allows human pilots to make longer and faster 'jumps' through warp space than was previously thought possible. The great Navigator families, initially controlled by industrial and trading cartels, become a power base in their own right.

Humanity continues to explore and colonise the galaxy. Contacts are established with the Eldar and other alien races. A golden age of scientific achievement begins. Perfection of the Standard Template Construct (STC) system now permits an almost explosive expansion to the stars.

The Age of Strife

25th Millennium - Humanity reaches the far edges of the galaxy, completing the push to the stars begun over ten thousand years before. Human civilisation is now widely dispersed and divergent - with countless small colonies as well as many large, overpopulated planets. Localised wars and disputes with various alien races (especially the Orks!) continue, but pose no threat to the overall stability of human-colonised space. Then, two things happen almost simultaneously. First, humans with psychic powers begin to appear on almost every colonised world. Second, civilisation starts to disintegrate under the stress of widespread insanity, demonic possession, and internecine strife between these new 'psykers' and the rest of humanity. Countless fanatical cults and organisations spring up to persecute the psykers as witches, and/or degenerate mutants. At this time, the existence of the creatures of the warp (later known and feared as demons), and the dangers they pose to the human mind with newly awakened psychic powers, is far from understood.

Terrible wars tear human civilisation apart. Localised empires and factions fight amongst themselves as well as against fleets of Orks, Tyrannids [sic], and other aliens whose forces are quick to seize the opportunity to sack human space. Many worlds fall prey to the dominance of Warp Creatures whilst others revert to barbarism. Humans survive only on those worlds where psykers are suppressed or controlled. During this time, Terra is cut off from the rest of humanity by terrible warp storms, which isolate the home world for several thousand years, further accelerating the ruin of humanity.

The Horus Heresy

30th Millennium - Humanity itself teeters on the brink of the abyss of extinction. Civil war erupts throughout the galaxy as the Emperor of human space is betrayed by his most trusted lieutenant, the Warmaster Horus. Possessed by a demon from the warp, Horus seduces whole chapters of humanity's greatest warriors - the Space Marines - into joining his cause. When the final battle seems lost, the Emperor defeats Horus in single combat, but only at the cost of his own humanity.

His physical life maintained by artificial means, and his psyche by human sacrifice, the Emperor begins the long task of reconquering human space. With the creation by the Emperor of the psychic navigational beacon known as the Astronomican, the foundations are laid for the building of the Imperium, as it to be known in the 41st millennium. Fuelled by the dying spirits of those psykers who would otherwise fall prey to the demons of the warp, and directed by the Emperor's indomitable will, the Astronomican soon becomes an invaluable aid to Navigators throughout the galaxy. Interstellar travel becomes even easier and quicker, while the repression and control of psykers and creatures from the warp releases much of humanity from its hellish bondage.

The Age of the Imperium

41st Millennium - Throughout the portion of the galaxy known as the Imperium, humanity is bound within the organisations and strictures of the Administratum. The Emperor grows ever more detached from the day to day concerns of his mortal subjects, while the Inquisition works ceaselessly to protect humanity from the ever-present dangers posed by renegade psykers and the terrible creatures inhabiting warp space. The armies of the Imperium - the Guard and the almost superhuman Space Marines - maintain a constant vigil against the threat of invading Orks, Tyrannids [sic] and other aliens. But still the number of psykers increases steadily, and other more sinister groups associated with Warp Creature domination continue to gain ground...

#warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k #space marine #I hope someone else also finds this mildly interesting

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a-staphaios · 2 months

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Oliver Fog - The Representation of Trade Unions Post-War

When most people talk about Oliver Fog, it’s never through an analytical lens. He is mostly used for the sake of shipping and sibling headcanons. And if his backstory is ever addressed, it’s normally taken wrong. Oliver isn’t a character who just hates work. In fact it could be argued that he is a microcosm of trade union representatives in his time period.

First I must discuss the importance of trade unions on Oliver’s character especially of 1953. I say 1953 because Oliver mentions that he has not worked overtime for 211 days in his anecdote. Trade unions at the time were much more powerful than they were today, and had much heavy tight links to the UK Labour Party, which was undoubtably much more left wing than it is today. The leader of Labour at the time was Clement Attlee who, while no longer Prime Minister, was one of the most influential socialists in UK history and helped to set up the NHS. I bring this up due to Attlee’s influence on the country and left wing politics as a whole, and as a civil servant, Oliver would have been aware of him.

Let’s now take a look at Arsenal. Oliver says he was a fan of them as a child since they were a popular team, but for that we must look at Arsenal’s history to find out how old Oliver would have been. Seeing how Oliver turns 15 in 1952, he would have been born in 1937, just before the outbreak of WW2. Highbury Stadium was build in 1939 and the Football League was suspended for the duration of the wartime period, meaning that it was impossible for Oliver to have seen them at a young age. The earliest he could have seen the team by walking out on his own was at the age of 10. At this point in his life, Oliver would have lived through the death, devastation and brutality of a wartime period and how it left Britain bankrupt.

Arsenal’s red colour palette is also telling due to it being his favourite team - red is a colour that politically means left wing ideologies, and in the UK is a reference to the Labour Party, as well as its anthem The Red Flag, a socialist song about the labour movement. It’s possible that the fact Oliver’s favourite team being Arsenal was picked especially for this comparison, but at the same time it might just be me leaning in too far.

Oliver has a persistent want of an eight hour work day in reference to the social movement prevalent after the Industrial Revolution, where working hours were long and children were exploited for labour. While the UK to this day doesn’t have an eight hour limit to the work day, there have been major strides, and it was first accomplished in 1889 by the founders of the modern day GMB union. The fact Oliver specifically becomes part of this social movement is telling of his feelings about rights. There’s also his hatred of overtime, which adds onto this.

Oliver’s rant to A Knight could also be alternatively read as a rant on a predatory structure or system.

I’m not even supposed to be here! I’m just a boy, but because of your dreamed-up notions of purpose and responsibility, I was forced to become a Fogwalker. I never wanted to walk amongst the fog. I’m terrified of it… I just want to… I just want to stay alive.

Oliver is without hope at the beginning of his anecdote, lost in not knowing why he so readily took up the position of the Fogwalker. By the end of it he’s become aware of his true beliefs.

The Fogwalker is one who steps into the fog and brings light to others. Fundamentally, it’s a joke like any other, mundane as tightening screws or scooping manure. But that’s not all it is. My father once walked through the fog to bring me hope. On that day, he did the same. “This is my responsibility, and it is our responsibility.” […] On that day in 1952, he also brought hope to the people of London. The hope of survival.

Personally there are a few hints that Oliver falls along left wing ideology such as socialism. This could be especially true of his beliefs in social activism of his attitudes towards labour rights. Let’s take a look at his new garment.

Version 1.8’s location is Russia, presumably in the 1910s before the Russian Revolution that would later set up the groundworks for the Soviet Union, so already the fact the garment comes out in this version specifically is telling. This garment set as a whole is called ‘Constructivism in Concept’. Constructivism is a theory where people acquire knowledge through experience and conversations, not through just seeing things, which could be reflective of Oliver’s anecdote. The garment itself is ‘See You At The Workers Club’. Workers’ clubs were something set up in the USSR and was a place for workers and their families to relax and also a place for propaganda. It was also sponsored by trade unions. I had to use Google Translate for the writing on the sheet metal, and the text reads, roughly, “let’s protect the eight hour working day”.

It’s easy to interpret Oliver as a microcosm through what he does and what he says. As a whole, he is a complex individual, a traumatised overworked teenager.

#reverse 1999 #oliver fog #analysis tag

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scenteddelusion5 · 3 months

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Could you write a Vox x Alastor’s Child? Wherein reader views their fights as a “bonding activity” because it relieves stress for the both of them because they’re not willing to kill each other due to not wanting to hurt reader and they’ll be civil when they need to be. A large chunk of their rivalry being due to Alastor seeing Vox as trying to steal his child from him (making them his partner both romantically & business wise, them becoming an actor) and Vox seeing it the same way with Alastor trying to drag them on random outings when they’re supposed to film or have time together. - @am-i-interrupting

"Two households, both unalike in dignity, In our unsightly hell, where we lay our scene," PART 1

Vox x gn reader (Alastor's child)

Note: At first I wasn't sure if I wanted to do this one, especially because i had already written a daughter character, already have a daughter oc myself and then would have this child. But then I had this Romeo and Juliet inspo in mind and now I wanted to do it.

!!!!! NOTE ABOUT REQUEST !!!!!

So I really liked the idea of this Vox and Alastor dynamic but I can't write short stories so instead I'm doing a 2 or 3 parter about how they got into this dynamic. So they aren't like how you requested yet.

Word count: 3436

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

"Two households, both unalike in dignity, In our unsightly hell, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where denizen blood makes denizen teeth unclean, From forth the innovation of these two foes, A pair of star-crossed lovers arise,"

Y/n sat on the balcony of their father's mansion. Nothing but trees, or at least hell's version of trees, could be seen from there. The bustling city was ways away from the territory most denizens were too afraid of to enter. The book they were reading was written a small auteur in hell, it was obvious that he had taken great inspiration from a much more famous work. An old-fashioned, cannibal and a modern man, with more savoury tastes, falling in love, their families hate each other yada yada yada. Nothing they hadn't read before.

The demon, whom resembled a deer, put their book down and started messing with the knobs on their older radio. It sprung alive with the voice of their father; Alastor the Radio Demon, feared all throughout hell. On his broadcast played a catchy jazz song that, every once in a while, got interrupted by agonizing screams.

"That was an amazing number." The Radio glowed green as he spoke. "It brings me all the way back to the nights I spend in the speakeasies. Let's continue on-"

Everyday Alastor would broadcast the news and gossip of the week at exactly 10 a.m. and Y/n would always tune in.

"- Oh, and make sure to stay clear of the Carmine mansion this evening. The overlords are having a little get-together. So if you don't want to be served for dinner, I recommend you go home early tonight."

Right, Camilla Carmine was holding a party to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Carmine industries. Y/n was so excited. Normally their father wouldn't let them go to parties, but considering he would be there, he allowed them to go this time.

"Lastly I have a personal message to my favourite fan. I couldn't have wished for a better fawn. I hope you liked the breakfast I cooked especially for you, that demon was a struggle to catch. Hahaha," he laughed, "see you after the broadcast. Let's put on (song), it's not really my style but considering it's your favourite, I can make an exception." Their song slowly came on while Alastor's voice faded.

Y/n hadn't made friends outside of cannibal town. They had to admit they were a bit nervous...

The day went by faster and faster as the night grew closer. Y/n had put on their green gown/suit. It was beautiful; adorned with black lace, a pattern of turns and roses sewn into it.

"What do you think?" Y/n asked while turning around.

Alastor, whose suit didn't look all THAT different from his usual one, studied them up and down. "You look delightful, fawn. Every single demon in that building will see green from jealousy."

"Thanks dad."

Despite the fact that cars were already owned by most citizens in the time Alastor was alive, he preferred to walk, even to such an important event as this. So, when the two off them arrived, they stepped in through a side door instead of the big red carpet where the limousines dropped off guests.

"Remember Y/n, don't talk to people you don't know and if something goes wrong, find me or Rosie." Alastor's antlers started to grow and static filled the air. "I'll destroy however dares to hurt you."

"Don't worry, dad. I'm an adult, I can take care of myself." They laughed off their dad's threatening stature. "But if something happens I can't handle, I'll go to you."

The ballroom was decorated with black gold and white. All kinds of denizens were roaming around, from high standing overlords to imp servants. There were no familiar faces. The only other overlord Y/n had ever met besides Alastor was Rosie. Even so they had immediately split up from Alastor in favour of exploring the buffet table.

After picking up a plate, they started picking the tastiest little snacks. There was even a few dishes with demon in them provided for the cannibals.

Vox had spent four hours making himself presentable in a fancy blue suit and a new screen protector. the other Vees had matched his style. So when the three stepped out of their high-tech car and got bombarded with paparazzi, it was clear that the three belonged together.

It isn't often that they had the chance to converse with other demons of their status. It was the perfect chance to make new connections.

Vox had gotten the chance with a few other demons before it happened. His eyes landed on the most beautiful person Vox had ever seen. Their looks hypnotized the tv-demon... Which was supposed to be HIS power.

"Hey Voxie, you never guess who I saw~... Voxie? Vox... VOX!" No matter how hard Valentino tried, he wasn't able to capture Vox's attention. "What are you looking at?..." Following his colleague's line of sight, Val's eyes landed on them too. "Oooohhh, I see~ Should I go talk to them for you, maybe I can convince them to stay the night in our bed."

Vox slightly buffered. "What! NO! I'm going myself, yeah, I can handle this myself."

Y/n was enjoying a lovely tea sandwich with raw, demon heart on it, when a person they didn't recognize came up to them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." The man with a tv for a head grabbed their hand and placed a kiss on their hand. "I'm Vox, and you are?"

"Y/n, and it's a pleasure to meet you too," they introduced themselves before shoving another tea sandwich in their mouth.

"You must really like those sandwiches."

Y/n aggressively nodded her head. "YES! Here try one!" they shoved one of them in Vox's face who reluctantly eat it.

"Wow, that's... an unique flavour."

"Yeah, heart does taste very peculiar but I like it."

It put Vox off that the demon had spoken so casually about cannibalism, however, he was even more put off that he was just fed ACTUAL DEMON. So, when they weren't looking, he drank an entire glass of champagne in one go, hoping to wash off the taste.

"Anyway... I was hoping to dance with you." Vox offered out his hand but pulled it away again when he saw the dissapointment in their face.

"I would love too but I don't think my father would be happy to see me dancing with anyone. I'm sorry."

He thought about it for a few seconds. "Y'know I'm quite familiar with this place, there is a smaller ballroom a few doors down. If you want to, you could take me up on the offer there." The overlord suggested.

Normally, Y/n would've never said yes. Going to an empty room with a stranger who must have quite a lot of power. Only an idiot would follow him... Maybe they were a bit of an idiot but Y/n was intrigued by the man, so much so that they decided to go.

"Alright."

Hours went by while the two of them danced, talked and drank in the empty ballroom. Y/n felt themself falling deeper and deeper in love with the handsome stranger. The confident way he spoke, the way he buffered and glitched whenever he got flustered, the way he would get angry when they hurt his pride by laughing at his attempts to woo them. He was perfect.

"Now, tell me Vox. Who exactly are you? Like, I know you your name but you must have been invited for a reason, so...??" Y/n asked.

"You mean you really don't recognize me?" Vox asked flabbergasted. "I'm the CEO of VoxTech." The other demon still looked confused. "The biggest tech company of hell? We release new products almost every single day."

"I'm not big on modern technology, I died during the 1920's," Y/n explained, "I tried using a computer once and it didn't go well."

"Well, that's really no good. As a demon of high society, you should keep up with modern invention, if you ever want the help I don't mind teaching you how to use it." Vox stared at them lovingly. "You know what, I'll even give you a phone. Give your address and I'll send you on-"

"HEY! Vox!" A girl with pink and purple hair walked in. She wore a poofy pink dress and her face was covered in make-up. Her bloodshot red eyes landed on the person standing next to her friend. "Oooeeehhh, and who are you?"

"Velvette, Y/n. Y/n, Velvette." Vox introduced them to each other. "They have been great company tonight, right love?" He caressed the side of their face."

Y/n got redder and redder as the conversation went on. "Yeah, it was great."

"Well, sorry that I gotta burst your bubble." Velvette interrupted the sweet moment between the two. "But the Carmines are about to have their speech and you know how pissy those old fuckers get about shit like this."

Y/n looked at the clock hanging on the wall and realised they had been gone from the party for hours. "Yeah, I should really be going back too. My father is provably worried about me."

The three swiftly made their way back to the main ballroom, Velvette joking about the two lovebirds the whole time.

Once there, they gathered by the crowd standing around a podium. Carmilla was standing there, already holding her speech about the start of her company, the amazing growth and the future. Although a very basic speech, demons were at the fact that the Carmine had mentioned future dealings and couldn't wait for the opportunity to become a part of them. One of them seemed to be the handsome TV Demon that Y/n had hopelessly fallen in love with over the course of the evening.

"Excited I see," Y/n said while pointing to the electricity coming off of Vox, "I'm not sure that a deal with Carmilla is going to happen if you electrocuted her."

"Hey! I'm a great negotiator. Thank you very much!" The man joked.

Alastor had kept his child in his sight the whole evening.... Until he didn’t. They were right over by the buffet table just a second ago. Y/n couldn’t have gone far. So, he went on a search, but after an hour, he found nothing. He even asked Rosie for help but no luck. He had stayed looking until Carmilla started her speech and even then Alastor still kept an eye open for her.

What he never expected to see, was his child, his lovely, well-behaved, miracle of a child, to be joking around with his nemesis. And were they.... Blushing?

Static filled the air around him, symbols floated around his head. The terrifying shadow of his ever-growing antlers made every demon and demoness run out of his way.

Once he got really close he could hear their conversation.

"You're such a dork!" His child laughed.

Alastor could only see their back, but he knew what their smile looked like right now. Unlike his plastered smile that hid his emotions, Y/n's was genuine.

"I'm the dork? Have you se-" Vox's eyes drifted to the strange red symbols, when he noticed Alastor standing there. A small x on his forehead, eyes like dials and his smile wide.

Normally, during their fights Alastor would be somewhat lenient with him. He still roasted Vox to the living world and back but he never outright tried to murder him. This meant that he had never experienced the true wrath of the Radio Demon. But right in that moment, Vox felt like his days were numbered.

"Holy shit," Velvette muttered.

Noticing the two Vees were looking behind them, Y/n turned around and as soon as they did, Alastor switched back to normal like clockwork.

"Oh, hey dad!" Y/n greeted him sweetly. "What are you doing?"

"Oh nothing, little fawn," the Radio Demon spoke, distain clear in his tone of voice, "now tell me, why are you wasting your time conversing with such vermin? Especially, a styleless one like that insecure, copycat, picture box."

Vox was still staring between the two of them. Y/n was Alastor's child! The one the Radio host always talks about, the only thing that freak actually seems to care about. Why did it have to be them the overlord had fallen in love with at that ball?

"You are the Radio Demons child!" The man freaked out.

"I didn't think you would care about that..." Y/n's face turned into a frown, unlike their father’s whose grin only grew wider.

"I-I" The tv started buffering. " I don't..."

"Come one Y/n, let's find someone with more class." Alastor turned around, his child in toe.

"Wow, can't believe you got the hots for that man's child." Velvette quickly snapped a picture of Vox's stunned face and send it to Valentino. You'll never guess what happened. She typed under it.

Y/n looked down at their shoes, not wanting to see their father's victorious grin. "I can't believe you just did that."

"Whatever do you mean, little fawn?"

"You know what," they replied sounding angry this time, "why did you scare away the first real people I made friends with here in hell?!"

Y/n had never had an attitude before, never talked back, never even sounded annoyed. It scared Alastor for a few seconds. "That... Vox isn't the type of person you should make friends with'."

"Isn't that for me to decide?" Tears filled their eyes and their voice was strained. "I want to go home."

Once home, Y/n attempted to rush up the stairs but was stopped by Alastor’s shadow grabbing them by the arm. They were struggling to get away when Alastor cupped their face with his hands and looked suspiciously in their eyes. He was searching for something.

"Let go of me!" Their eyes glowed as they screamed.

When Y/n tried to pull away again, Alastor's grip tightened. "You've never acted like this before. He must have hypnotised you, so be a doll and let me find his spell!"

But no matter how much he searched for even a sign of demonic manipulation. Did Vox not hypnotize them? Then why were they.... Because of Alastor's second of confusion, Y/n could quickly pull away. They rushed up to their room and locked the door.

Alastor just stood there, stunned until a knock came from the door. He straightened his suit before opening it.

"Hi Alastor, I saw you two... Leave and thought you might need a listening-ear." Rosie stepped inside and made her way to the dining room. "Besides I could really use a cup of thee after such a long night."

"You know me too well, Rosie. I'll get some snacks too."

"They've never even raised their voice at me before but one hour with that noisy rectangle and Y/n is acting like a rebelious teen." Alastor took a bite from the index finger snack. "I tried to look for a sign of hypnosis but there was nothing. What did he do to them?"

"Ever thought about it that Vox didn't do anything?" Rosie suggested.

Alastor's pupils turned into dials. "Hmm? What did you just say?"

"Ya have to think about this differently." Rosie took a sip from her tea. "A demon always buried in their books with little to no interaction with the outside world goes out for the first time in years and meets a charming man who's interested in them. It's just like one those romance tropes they always reads about."

The other overlord considered it. "Then what do you suggest we do about it. How can I show them that they deserve much better?"

"First of all, have a conversation with them. A genuine one."

"And then?"

Rosie's smile showed her sharp teeth. "Then-"

Vox was still buffering from that crazy night. He fell in love with ALASTOR'S CHILD, for god's sake. He was connected to his advanced computer, rebooting his systems. Images of Y/n, memories he saved in his files, flashed over the many monitors in his room. The doors to his office opened revealing the other two Vees.

"Damn, Voxie. You've never had to reboot after we've 'hang out' before." Valentino leaned over his colleague's shoulder. "You aren't going to demote me from being your favourite, right?"

"I wouldn't sound so confident Val. Vox was pretty hooked last night, you should've seen him." Velvette pulled up the picture she took. "This photo doesn't do his obsession justice."

"Stop it, Velvette." The TV Demon unplugged himself from the computer set-up. "It's never going to work out anyway. And it's all that shitty, old demon's fault!"

"You really think that?" Velvette asked. "I mean, they looked pretty interested to me... You could always go over to them and explain yourself. Oh and while you're there, try to find a snoop that'll make my drama Sinstagram go viral."

"Voxie doesn't need them. Just stay with me and I'll make you forget them in just five minutes." The moth demon's cigarette smoke formed a heart.

The screen buffered once more. "Get out! The both of you."

"I'll wait in my room." The two Vees made their way out.

Once he was sure they were gone, Vox pulled up another file. Y/n's beautiful face showed on the screen and their addicting laugh filled the room.

Y/n sat against their door, crying. They could see the moon through the balcony window. It's red light filled the room. They couldn't believe their father had reacted like that. And they couldn't get the face Vox made when he released their connection to the Radio Demon out of their head. It plagued their mind since the moment it happened.

Their room seemed so small, so empty, so cold. Nothing had physically changed but mentally, emotionally, everything was different. They got a taste of that beautiful romance and it was taking away from them in the blink of an eye.

Y/n was so deep in their self-pity that they didn't notice the moonlight was blocked by something. They were jolted out of their own thoughts by a knock on the window.

Looking up they saw none other than Vox standing there. His suit was covered in dirt and branches that he got certainly caught in on his way there.

They quickly walked over to open the door, stumbling on their way.

"Y/n, I- uhm, you must find it weird that I show up on you balcony like this." Vox's screen got slightly red. "I wanted to apologize for this evening. I don't care who your father is, I- uhm I care about you."

"Vox, I need you to be honest with me. Did you hypnotize me?"

Y/n's sad look broke his heart. Who got into their head that he hypnotized them?

"Y/n, I didn't and I will never do it." He put his hand on their cheek. "I promise."

Blush decorated their face. "Then can you tell me what's going on between you and my dad?"

"Of course."

The two sat on their bed, cuddling. Vox had told them about everything. The start of their feud, his constant fighting with Alastor but also the fact that he fell in love with them at first sight. It was a lovely, domestic moment.

"One time I got so angry at your dad that I made a complete smear campaign against him. it didn't work out, he completely cut off all my broadcasts, all seventy channels."

"I think he once told me about that," Y/n laughed, "you get more under his skin then you think. Even before he saw he two of us together."

"If you say so..."

Their banter went on for hours. The two did their best to keep sounds to a minimum so Alastor wouldn't find out.

"Oh, before I leave, here." Vox handed them a white box. "it's a phone. I made sure to remove all spying devices and I programmed you a special assistant. It should help you figuring out how it works."

"You put spying devices in people's phones?"

"Uh-I"

"Don't worry, I get it. It's hell. There is no need to explain yourself."

"Right." Vox tried to laugh it off like Y/n was doing. "It's getting late, I should go. Wouldn't want the Radio Demon to know I'm meeting up with his daughter without a chaperone."

This time when Y/n was separated from Vox, they felt fine. Because they knew that he loved them. They were still longing for him, but not in a sad way. It was pure, romantic love.

Part 2

Masterlist/request guidelines

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox x reader #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin

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gunsandspaceships · 2 months

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Many degrees of Doctor Stark

It is widely known that 616 Tony has several doctorates. The number varies from 3 to 7, but it doesn't really matter whether he is 300 or 700% Doctor. He is one. And he doesn’t use his title 99.999% of the time.

Ok, but what about the MCU?

It is never mentioned whether Tony has a PhD or even a master's degree. Kinda weird. Both the absence of mentions and lack of degrees, since Tony is so smart and productive.

Let’s check, maybe he actually has some.

Here we have a file from a deleted scene from The Avengers (2012):

As we can see, the work is sloppy – there are inaccuracies in his hair color (it’s not black, it’s brown), and the fact that he speaks French was not included. Can we rely on this paper? Let’s not 100%, but we can still use things that don't contradict the movies.

The fact that he received his BS in Engineering from MIT does not contradict this, so we can mark it as valid. He started in 1984 when he was 14 years old and graduated in 1987 when he was 17.

We see no further education in the file. But we know something that this file doesn’t. We watched the movies.

Remember, in Civil War at 0:13:25, in the scene where Tony sees his parents for the last time, Maria tells Howard, “Be nice, dear, he’s been studying abroad”. Tony is 21 here, this is December 16, 1991. Looks like he is on winter break.

But wait… Didn’t he graduate in 1987 and stop then? Well, Maria tells us he continued.

Between 17 and 21 there are 4 years. What could he have done in these 4 years? A lot, right? He is smart and productive, we know that. A master’s degree usually takes 2 years. Tony could earn it in 1. 1 or 2, we still have 2-3 years that we need to fill with some kind of studying. I doubt he just went back and got another bachelor's or master's. That said, he was working on his PhD.

We don't know where. “Abroad” is a very broad concept. Maybe he went to Europe to study at Oxford? We do not know. Perhaps he stayed at MIT and just went somewhere else for the fall semester. We do not know. But he did go somewhere for (most probably) a PhD.

The question is: did he finish it?

Well, his parents died in Dec 1991, and we know from the first Iron Man (0:04:50) that Stane was the interim president of Stark Industries from that date until 1992. Most likely, Tony became CEO before his birthday, that is, May 29, which corresponds to the stated age of 21. He had a few months between.

We don’t know where he was in his degree at that time. But we know he is smart and productive. He doesn’t need 4 years to write a dissertation.

So, there are 2 options:

1) He did not complete his doctorate and devoted himself entirely to the company;

2) He completed it in the few months he had and then took over the company.

Here’s the evidence for the second option:

“Confusing matters more, a recently deleted LinkedIn profile for Tony Stark indicated he received doctorates in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.”

Source: https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Given all the information and analysis we have, as well as a little logic, we can conclude that Tony has a Ph.D. Even two. He had time to do them. Why doesn't he use his title? Well, maybe for the same reason 616 Tony doesn’t? He doesn’t usually brag. Check out this post if you have any doubts about my statement.

Here are some additional hints:

He gave lectures at scientific conferences (IM1 and IM3 - Bern 1999).

His scientific expertise was not limited to engineering and his company's affairs (all the movies, but specifically I can point you to IM3– the scene with Maya Hansen and her Extremis-enhanced plants in Bern).

“He must have graduated after 1990, because the '90 Brass rat was the first one with the skyline on the edge.” MIT alumni commentary https://alum.mit.edu/slice/who-iron-man

Conclusion (actual): call him Doctor Stark, guys, he deserves it. Despite his modesty about his scientific achievements, Dr Stark has a couple of master's degrees and at least two PhD degrees in the MCU - in engineering physics and artificial intelligence.

#tony stark #iron man #marvel #mcu #the avengers #iron man 3 #captain america civil war #doctor stark

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carionto · 7 months

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Difference in encounters

Human: "Hey, try this VR headset on for me would you. It's not a free fall experience thing this time, just a slow trek through some nature that you control."

Alien: "Alright, Human Greg, I will give these things ONE last chance."

H: (muahahahahaa, time to introduce Slenderman and classic monsters to them! I wanna know how they look when scared by something like that instead of the typical existential dread they get when we show them our latest technology)

A: [plays the game]

H: [excitedly anticipating the jump scare moment]

A: [keeps playing]

H: (huh? they definitely would have encountered at least three monsters by now, is it bugged?)

A: [finishes playing and takes off the headset] "Well, that was indeed a lovely experience, Earth's nature of the past is truly verdant and diverse, even in the dark of night. Although I don't understand why I could not interact with the other players that appeared every now and then."

H: "??? It's a single player experience, there are no other players. What?"

A: "Yeah, you know, the two sub-species of the Glak'Rori (Xenomorphs), a weird looking large Hrok (Cloverfield), and the Vrishmishnami one (Zaat) who looked awfully similar to their ambassador to my home planet. Also, how was there a Quatni (Slenderman) playing? They are still a pre-industrial civilization in my home sector. Don't tell me one of you Humans "adopted" one while we weren't looking? You know that's a crime. We've been over this before!"

H: (exasperated) "But! It was supposed to be sca- you know what, nevermind. Want to see what Juliana has been working on, she had this great idea about combining a gravity well and a light speed accelerator!"

A: (in sheer terror, scrambling out of the setup, escaping the premises)

H: "I guess that'll have to do... still, not the kind of fear I wanted to see..."

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #humans and aliens

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anatomyofacowboy · 1 year

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The industrial revolution made the production of an instrument like this possible. Several planks of wood, six I think in this case are overlaid and pressed into shape by tremendous force for six months. Nature is molded into shape. Many tons of force and pressure are applied, making the strings what they are. Matter taken from nature is molded by human industry, by the sum strength of civilization. Nature is forced into shape. Interestingly, the piano requires re-tuning. We humans say it falls out of tune. But that’s not exactly accurate. Matter is struggling to return to a natural state. The tsunami, in one moment, became a force of restoration. The tsunami piano returned by nature actually sounds good to me now. In short, the piano is tuned by force to please our ears or ideals. It’s a condition that feels natural to us humans. But from nature’s perspective, it’s very unnatural. I think deep inside me somewhere, I have a strong aversion to that.

RYUICHI SAKAMOTO (1952 - 2023)

#i'm heartbroken... what a loss....#may the inconsolable gap you leave on this earth be filled with music...#this is from ryuichi sakamoto: coda (2017) by stephen nomura schible if anyone wishes to spend some time with him. he's a well of wisdom #ryuichi sakamoto

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jacksprostate · 3 months

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One of the lesser known side effects of your condo getting blown up and a lamp lancing through your car like a bullfighter's verduguillo is that when you move to the outskirts of a city and have to rely on the failing public transport system, your commute to work starts to take two hours if you're lucky. Most of the time, I'm not lucky. I leave for work an hour before sunrise and still arrive a half hour late. Coming home is worse.

Public transit could be good. Everyone says it. Tyler tells me, in the future where we've burnt civilization to the ground, we won't need transit at all since the suburban dream will have died and everything you could ever need will live right with you in the nestled bosom of a ruined city. Kudzu vines will let you climb the exposed concrete and rebar until you're twenty stories tall. Stations of gliders, made with the skins of the cattle we keep. We'll need nothing beyond flight radius. There will be streams, broken back out of the pavement and basements, rivulets to ride back home to the shore. The world will close again, small and destroyed and hurting. A seedling.

For now, I ride the bus home.

The later it takes for the bus to show up, the worse the crowd gets. A man with his hand in his pants. The growing smell of piss from another. Someone laid out along the back bench seats, two stops from death. Of course, the fifteen-odd witnesses who won't move a muscle. Avert your eyes and thoughts and path.

Sometimes, when the buses are running especially thin, mid-route the driver will get a call on his radio instructing him to take the B route through another section of downtown. There, we pick up worse.

College students. Young couples. Those nights, this night, I have plenty of young hot things sliming into each other's mouths for the rest of my trip. It's unavoidable. Surround sound. The crinkle of hands gripping through jackets and all the wet smacks mix together with the creaking and squeaking of the bus like it's a roadside motel. I am forced to look at these fresh, vacant twenty year olds and I wonder — how much could one person want to disappear?

You could bring an Armalite AR-180 carbine gas-operated semiautomatic on here. Open carry. Maybe that would make everyone stop. Sit in your seats quietly. Legs together. Follow the implicit rules. Walk home quickly and don't react to any calling. Switch sides of the street as needed to avoid the footsteps behind you, but not so much that the chase is interesting. Ignore how they speed up, you speed up, and you hear two laughs. Oh, the power of a rifle.

When I get to Paper Street, we've entered eternal twilight. The smog crests over us like a dome, blotting out the stars and lowering the atmosphere within reach. Industrial lot lights shine their way to the edges like the stars of the Truman show. Everything smells like ass.

If I called it home, Tyler would probably light it on fire. Between the asbestos and the gallons of water soaked into the house, it'd smolder for months. Our yard is littered with glass, tetanus, and leptospirosis. I've got this ache carving away at my insides, like I took Tyler to work with me and she's been tunneling out.

I open the door, set down my briefcase, and think about the fact that I have to do this tomorrow and the day after and until I die.

She's in the kitchen, in her robe. Tyler has her sunglasses on, she has to barely be able to see me with that gaze. Lit up by the lamps littered through the room like electric storm candles. She's smoking.

Tyler says, "Take off your skirt. I'm tired of seeing that thing."

Vertigo can be associated with presyncope. It feels like you're falling. It feels like you're going to vomit as the failing floorboards split apart and swallow you up.

Tyler says, "I don't know why you bother. We both know how you feel about this." She steps closer, blows smoke in my bloodless face. I wish I could take it on, I wish I could lock us both in an old fridge and infuse us with her breath. With all the soap Tyler makes, she still smells like shit. If she died I'd sleep in her corpse until it faded.

"You flatter me sometimes, psycho girl." Tyler reaches a hand past me, cages me to the door. On the other side, there's the edges of our little set, with the door closed you can't see the dollhouse way the world gives up past a hundred feet. The other hand, it trails down my side like it's made of fire, unbearable and intense. She's looking down, cigarette tugging at her lip, hooded eyes probably tracking how I twitch and jump under her fingers. I can't not look at her. The chip in her tooth. The intensity to her eyes. Her mouth. I'm too loose, I'm going to slip out of her arms and under the door and down the street.

She finds the zipper. Tugs it down, my skirt falls around me like the goddamned Berlin wall. It lies in a limp pile around my legs; she can see my tights. My underwear. She's exposed me. The cavern in me is massive. Yawning.

Tyler stubs out her cigarette on the door and presses me into it, too.

Right by my ear, she murmurs, "You always make me take what you want." Her hands slip around me — gripping my shirt at my shoulder, slipping around to my lower back, my ass — I don't know what to do with mine. I've got them splayed out. I'm staring at the ceiling, her hair half-obscuring it.

Her lips, against my cheek. Brushing, she's making her way back and I know and I'm not ready.

Tyler bites at my lip, pulls it soft and gentle between hers with the same sincerity and focus that she's used to fracture my jaw. My heart at the derby. It's one of those horses running so hard their lungs fill with blood and their organs explode. I open my eyes, I didn't know I closed them, the lights blind me.

Her hand slides up my shoulder, my neck. She's got to feel my pulse. Pile driving. She cups my face, right where she broke it. Tyler directs me into her kiss.

She says, into my mouth she breathes and says, "Let yourself do something, why don't you?"

I know she's looking at me. My eyes fell shut again, I'm trapped in the feeling of her lips on mine but I know she's looking at me, close, half-lidded and intense. Trembling, I ache and creak and try. I try.

Tyler could be eating me, I would still try to feed myself to her.

I'm rewarded with her tongue. On my lips, in my pliant, confused mouth. Volcanic hot springs. Earthquakes, fractures, overflowing. I imagine Tyler and her tongue elsewhere. I make a noise, it's so pitiful you could take it out back and shoot it.

She leans on me, puts her whole body weight on me and the rotten wood miracle holding us up. Her hand slithers out from behind me to grab my wrist. Caught red handed, stricken, full of nothing and twitching.

Tyler slips her thigh between mine, it's pressure so impossibly hard I could cry. I am crying. I'm such a hopeless participant that when she kisses her way to the corner of my mouth and drinks up my tears, I welcome her back all the same. My thighs open up and hug her all the same. I am perpetually the beaten dog, fleeing and running back to its owner.

My other hand, my left, free hand finds its home on her nape. Tangled in her short, greasy hair. Tyler needs to kiss me until the world caves in.

She brings my hand down. A ventriloquist, she kisses me deep and my wooden fingers slip through her bathrobe. The edge of her boxers. I am crying, I am kissing Tyler Durden as she flattens me so I cannot escape this perfect misery as she brings my wooden fingers to her folds and I feel. Wet.

My fingers twitch. It's impulse. It's inverse familiarity. It's feeling, labia minora. Something more. Tyler would have the words for this. She pushes my hand against herself, the meat of my palm against her pubic mound as she devours me. She could do it all herself.

The way it feels, sliding, warm. Warm like my whole body is trapped in between Tyler's thighs. It could be my head. My tongue. My tongue curling around her clit. These images flash through me like full-body phantoms. On my knees, my hands on the sensitive meat of her inner thighs. Like I'm getting buckshot to the chest point blank. Our positions reversed. My tongue in her mouth. My leg between hers. Reload. Her hand, held by mine.

I push my hand against her.

Tyler moans into my mouth.

I push my hand against her, and slide my palm over her clit, her chest flutters against mine. God would kill for this. Tyler is all around me, my index finger is slick and wet with her and it's easy. It's pressing into melted butter.

Tyler's falling apart, Mona Lisa, she's saying nothing and burying me in her lust. There's new tears and they aren't mine. I'm tugging at her hair, she's forcing me into a single point. Singularity.

I have two fingers in Tyler, she's holding me there and I'm arching up into her when she cracks, splitting apart and all over me like an egg. Everywhere. She shoves her face into mine, foreheads together, noses, her shades are off and her mouth is open as she shudders and mixes my breath with hers.

Her other hand lets go, finds its way up to the other side of my face, she's still leaning on me. I'm still keeping my hand on her. I want her to drown it. I feel every shiver. She presses, synchronous, hands down my neck, my shoulders, Tyler buries her face in my hair. Right next to my ear. She bites my earlobe. She lets a hand slip up my shirt. Her hand cups me, I haven't worn a bra since moving in with her, her thumb slides over my nipple. She slips her fingers into my tights.

Her fingers on my bare skin. Tyler puts a palm on me, over the wet patch soaking through my underwear, and her fingers are stuck between my clit and her thigh.

And I wake up.

I'm on the bus.

I'm on the bus, and I'm surrounded by young couples giving each other 9-hour anniversary STDs, and I've soaked through my underwear.

When I arrive at my stop, I walk for fifteen minutes to get to Paper Street. There's a hot, heavy mist beading on my skin. Thickening my breath. It's fat with the fart smell of paper processing and rich in heavy metals.

I open our door. It barely stays in its frame, sort of opening like a twice-hinged, fully-sized, single-doored saloon.

Tyler's in the kitchen, in her robe. She's smoking.

She stares at me through her sunglasses.

I set down my briefcase. I stand there, and she still smokes.

She's looking through me. She's seeing all my stains.

Tyler expects something of me.

Her eyes track me, all the way up the stairs. all the way to my room, to my moldy mattress. They see me shower in brown-red water and scrubbing furiously on my clothes. They see me wide awake, waiting for the bus the next morning.

I am always failing Tyler.

#fight club #female fight club au #my writing #ohhhh my god #fuck #sobbing #idk what to say #i ended on the same line as another f fc ficlet i wrote. because it still applies. fuck you chuck gets to repeat things so do i idk #finishing this literally gave me a headache. i have problems #inspired by lalikeslichto's drawings

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plounce · 10 months

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y'shtola and urianger are suuuuch effective foils for each other, whenever i want to think about one i compare the other and i go Ohhhh and then i become The Comprehender. like for example, in shadowbringers, y'shtola goes to the nights blessed, far from more industrial society - a culture with deep and intricate spiritual beliefs that arose after the flood (an interpretation of light and dark that is a folk belief rather than the establishment's), along with a proximity to distantly ancient ruins for her explore. meanwhile urianger goes to the bookman's shelves, full of books from just before the flood from the established civilizations of the first, seeking to learn more from those more recent establishment scholars. which falls in line with y'shtola being a field agent while urianger stayed in the waking sands basement

y'shtola left behind established sources of knowledge to seek out her own - master matoya, distrustful and disdainful of the state authority that will not tell her the whole truth, goes to live in a far off cave. urianger does not - he tends to bend more easily to others' will (minfilia, the exarch, etc) (enabler! enabler!!). urianger has a character arc where he grows out of that, fully shrugging it off after the exarch's plans fail. in endwalker he's basically always out in the field instead of in sharlayan or at the rising stones - the most similar he is to his early self is electing to stay on the moon, which really reveals more about how he has learned to reach out and connect with others and extend compassion + understanding.

and it is really brought out in ultima thule, where y'shtola stands in defiance to an "authority" on truth and knowledge, declaring that she wants to discover knowledge on her own and for herself, and urianger's sacrifice is all about how supportive he is of his friends. i cry.

yshtola doesn't have (/hasn't yet had...?) a character arc where she has to grow and change - she's extremely secure in herself. i think dawntrail, which seems to be all about forging ahead to new things, has potential for more stuff for her - here's hoping!

tl;dr the secret to understanding them is that they are caster dps vs healer

#chirps #ffxiv #urianger augurelt #y'shtola rhul

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snnrinc · 11 months

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Zburătorul: The One Who Flies

Zburătorul (zboo-ruh-toh-rule; directly translated as The Flyer or The One Who Flies) is a supernatural being in Romanian folklore, the embodiment of erotic desire and the epitome of temptation. Beware of falling victim to his loving embrace, his lustful gaze and his charming words. Having a taste of him will leave you longing for more, and soon, more will not be enough and you will be driven to insanity. But, if he steps into your room...

... then it’s already too late.

— PAIRING : Hawks/Keigo Takami x F!Reader [AO3 Portal]

— WARNINGS : NSFW, smut, fantasy AU, afab!reader, use of she/her pronouns, PIV, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, feather play, outdoor sex, creampie, overstimulation, porn with plot, bad poetry

— WORD COUNT : 14.3k

— AUTHOR'S NOTE : Inspired by the myth of the Flyer (pretty obviously). This AU takes place sometime in the 1800s. You can think of the Commission/Hero society as some sort of Olympus in this AU. Thanks for taking the time to read!

It was a day like any other, your sleeves raised up as much as you could to allow the breeze to cool you down, your headscarf protecting your head from the scorching sun but doing nothing to help with the sweat running down your body. You tried to move fast — the faster you work, the quicker you can finally take some rest — but you knew you’d be stuck between the vines, picking grapes until sundown. It was today that you were on duty, after all, other members from your family and neighbouring ones working the same as you in other rows from the vineyard.

You took a moment to wipe your hands on your apron before raising the fabric up to wipe your forehead. To say you were tired would be an understatement, but it was certainly better to be here, harvesting grapes, than the alternative of tilling the fields. Your hands were already calloused from last week when you had to work. Then again, with the amount of field work you were doing, the normal state of your hands seemed to be bruised and rough, so you were not surprised.

Your village was thriving on farming and especially on the large vineyards stretching across acres of land, feeding the prosperous wine industry of the town not too far from where you lived. Naturally, the large majority of people in the area made a living between rows of vines, yourself included.

Following the taste of fine wine and many business opportunities, people from across the country passed through the town next to your village, some settling down and creating a hub of what some villagers would call modern civilization. But out of all the shops opening their doors warmly to sell the most delicious food, most precious jewellery, most beautiful clothes, and of course, most flavourful wine, nothing quite caught your eye like the new library that opened just shy of the town centre.

You covered your forehead with your hand, shadowing your vision as you looked up at the sky. The sun was right above you, blazing down on you relentlessly. It was barely noon and you were not yet done, surely the library would close by the time you reach the town, but you were hoping today was another day when the head librarian would stay behind. You sighed as you grabbed a small piece of rope and tied the now empty vine to the metal wires running through the row, preventing the vine from falling to the ground from its own weight.

You continued working for a few hours, time melting under the heat of the sun, until soon dusk began approaching and the people working alongside you started vacating the vineyard. You quickly left your place and began running through the rows of grapevines, hoping that if you were quick enough you’d reach the carriage of people heading towards the town to spend a few hours reading before heading home. As you made your way closer to the street, you shouted once and the coachman turned towards you before beaming once he recognised you.

“Ah, there you are! Come aboard!” Mirio gestured lively for you to join the other workers in the carriage once you reached him. “Going home?”

“No, town centre.”

Mirio’s smile faltered, making way for a concerned expression to slip through his bright one. “Again? At this time? It’s getting dark.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest for being worried about your friend?” You smiled. “I promise I’ll be home before long.”

Mirio sighed, but didn’t stop you as you climbed inside the carriage, squeezing next to the other workers. “You always say this. I’m not passing through the village until tomorrow afternoon, I won’t be able to take you home.”

When he didn’t hear you respond, he sighed and resigned to flicking the reins of the horse in front of him, starting towards the town centre. Along the way, people kept getting off at different points, in front of their houses, at crossroads, near taverns, until you were the only one left inside the carriage. Mirio was quiet, but he knew where you wanted to get off, so he didn’t stop until he reached the library. After all, this was not the first time you’d decided to come all the way here to read, borrow books or bring them back to search for others. He’d usually pass back on his way to his home in the village, so he’d collect you from near the library to take you home safely at the end of the day, but duty called for a detour tonight. The pang of guilt and worry that you’d be alone in the dead of night, far from home, could not be soothed by the roll of your eyes and your reassurance that you were a grown adult capable of making decisions for yourself. Nonetheless, you appreciated your friend’s worry, making it known as you bid him farewell and headed towards the dark oak doors of the library.

With a soft breath, you pulled the heavy door open, pleasantly surprised that it was not locked even as the sun began drifting towards the horizon, touching it and bathing the skies in oceans of red, purple and navy hues. You closed the door behind you, wincing at the way the old metal hinges creaked loudly in the silence of the library. You looked around and, once you noticed there was no one around, silently stepped further in, gliding through isles of bookshelves like a ghost, trying to keep your presence as hidden as possible. You couldn’t allow the librarian to see you after a day of work, covered in dirt and grime, again. Apologising too many times for the same issue like looking disheveled was tiring, even if he had told you it was not a problem.

With swift steps, you made your way through the library, grabbing books here and there, before settling at an empty table and opening one you had been reading in the past few days.

“Of Myths, Love and Desire,” the title read, golden on a cobalt blue cover. You gently brushed your fingers over the writing, feeling the protruding letters for what seemed like the hundredth time since you first laid your hand on the book. Next to it on the table, there were various books authored by different poets, all having one thing in common.

The creature that captured your attention.

When you first started reading poems a few months ago, after you had finished several fantasy books and were looking for something new to get lost into, they were describing the stone-heavy weight of heartbreak, the cold touch of sadness, the solitude that comes with reaching heights of knowledge that the average person couldn’t comprehend and the serenity of simply basking in the magic of nature. Steadily, the poems started to weave verses about love, about its purity and the vice-like grip it can have on a human’s heart. But then, something else bled through declarations of love and everlasting loyalty, slipping through the cracks of descriptions of sweet kisses and bashful hugs.

Desire.

And with it came him.

It started with a poem about a creature, a man, a star gliding down from the skies, visiting an innocent woman at night, slipping through the window of her chambers. Lovers, you found out, from the verse in which she latched onto his neck as he stole a kiss from her, happily inviting him into her bed.

Then another, this time from the woman’s perspective, about how her dreams were tormented by the handsome man, her body aching for his touch, unable to reach that sweet release without his help. She was begging the heavens for pity through heavy breaths, but received none.

And yet another, deemed a masterpiece by critics, as you’d read in the preface. A story following the journey of an evening star visiting the object of his affection at night after receiving her call. But this time, he was not there just for his own pleasure, or to drive her mad with lust. This time, he sought love, taking on various forms, divine and devilish alike, to please his lover, willing to give up on everything he was to be together with his love, but ultimately being rejected by reason that he belonged to a different world, the woman then seeking love in the arms of a mortal. You scoffed at that — how ridiculous to say no to such an opportunity — but you still checked the preface again to see just why these critics liked the poem so much, and you’d read about the myth there. About who they called “The One Who Flies”. You didn’t know what took over you when you scoured the bookshelves for more information about him, but that was when you found the book you now had open in front of you.

Soon enough, you hung onto every word. There were parts describing him as handsome and alluring, an otherworldly being fallen onto Earth to plant the seed of lust into humans. He’d visit them in their dreams and have them experience a pleasure so intense they would be driven to insanity, addicted to him to the point that only witches could ever save them from desire through spells and potions. Some sources described him as an incubus, some as a star or a personification of evil. You soon delved into the myth of Eros and Psyche, entranced by how love could ever be combined with something such as lust that you had been conditioned to find repulsive.

You thought back to a conversation you overheard between the men in the fields while working. The way they were describing the acts they wanted to perform on their partners had you scrunch up your nose in disgust at the vulgarity of their words. Who would’ve thought you’d find yourself in a library chair, clenching your thighs at the thought of having this mysterious creature perform the same acts on you? But in your fantasy, his smile wasn’t sleazy and condescending, it was warm and inviting. His touch wasn’t revolting or careless, it was calculated and scorching. His words weren’t distasteful, they were hypnotising as he’d whisper just how beautiful you look unravelling yourself to him, free for him to take you.

“You okay?”

You jumped in your seat, slamming the book shut and almost dropping it before you swallowed the dryness in your throat, painfully aware of how your core was pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You turned towards the voice and noticed the librarian staring at you, an eyebrow raised to emphasise his question.

“Aizawa,” you mindlessly said. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. I was just, uh, reading quickly before heading home.”

“You seemed pretty engrossed in what you’re reading.” He checked his pocket watch. “It’s almost half past midnight.”

You’d been daydreaming for that long?

Aizawa’s eyes shifted from you to the books on the table. He leaned in a bit to see the titles better and you instinctively covered the book you were just reading, afraid he��d somehow figure out what you were thinking. He leaned back into his position and sighed, but didn’t comment any further before he turned around and started walking towards the front desk.

“Come. I’ll add those books to your ‘borrowed’ list then take you home. It’s very late and we have to close the library.”

You hastily stood up and started gathering the books from the table. “Ah, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot to check the time and I saw nobody was here so…” you trailed off, feeling guilty as you followed Aizawa through the bookshelves.

He spared you a glance before speaking again, “No need to apologise, I was here until late, too.”

You were both silent for a while as you reached the desk and he pulled out a thick notebook from one of the drawers. Your name had its own few pages with the amount of books you had been borrowing for so long, so he easily found it and looked up at you, waiting for you to tell him the titles you’d be taking home this time. You looked at all the books and their titles, reading them out loud. “Anthology of Love Poems”, “Myths And Muses” and lastly, “Of Myths, Love and Desire”. You hugged the books close to your chest, looking away bashfully as Aizawa scribbled the titles and his signature on the paper. He quickly glanced at you from underneath his lashes, still hunched over the desk and writing, before he looked back at the notebook and spoke:

“You seem to be very interested in romance lately,” he noted, but it almost sounded like a question to you.

“Not really.” You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, ashamed that it may be obvious what you were thinking, but even though Aizawa seemed unconvinced, he didn’t push the matter further. You were thankful, of course, that you didn’t have to awkwardly find an explanation other than ‘I’ve been fantasising about a mythological creature for the past few months’, which you reckoned would make you sound insane. Not only that, but you were aware how having any sort of lewd thoughts was viewed by society and you didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had built with Aizawa over the months.

Before making your way outside of the old building, you watched Aizawa close the notebook and safely put it back in its place before walking around the library to extinguish the oil lamps that were still dimly illuminating the place. Once he was done and joined your side again, he held the door open for you and you thanked him gently as you walked outside, the old door creaking the same as before when Aizawa closed it, locking it with a padlock and shoving the key in the pocket of his coat. He offered to hold your books for you and you refused with a smile, telling him he doesn’t even need to walk you all the way home.

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. “I can’t have you walk alone at night. Especially since I’m going that way, too.”

You said nothing in return, since insisting wouldn’t do much to convince Aizawa anyway. For the rest of your walk the silence between you was filled by the sound of crickets and grasshoppers, a symphony accompanied by the soft rustling of the leaves in the night breeze. The crisp air was a welcome change from the blazing heat you had to endure all day, and you felt yourself relax, tiredness finally catching up with you. With how distracted and increasingly more exhausted you were, you almost forgot to stop walking once you reached the gate of your yard. You politely thanked Aizawa once again for walking you home and wished him a safe journey to his own house before turning around, starting towards the gate.

“You know,” you heard his voice call out from behind you and you turned to look at him. He paused for a second, as if carefully choosing his next words. “You’re one of the library’s regular visitors and I’m glad you’re so interested in learning. But just don’t let it stop you from taking care of yourself.”

You blinked and wondered if the exhaustion showed on your face that obviously. It was clear you had gone to the library right after working for almost a full day in the vineyard, but in your defense you weren’t really planning on bumping into Aizawa.

You smiled softly. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” And with a wave, you disappeared beyond the gate, reaching your front door and opening it softly to not wake up your family.

Quickly but quietly, you made your way through the house, finally completing your daily routine. After you left your books safely in your room on your desk, you grabbed your nightgown and bathed yourself at last, albeit with cold water since you didn’t have the time or patience to light a fire to warm it up. Thankfully, the midsummer air was warm enough to not have you shivering as you enjoyed the fragrance of the handmade soap you had bought from a new shop in the town centre. Even so, the cool water was not enough to distract you from the undercurrent of lust still buzzing under your skin.

Not wasting any time, you quickly dried yourself and put on your nightgown so you wouldn’t catch a cold. You threw out the water you used and soon found yourself at the window of your room, opening it to let in the fresh night air and the calming sounds of the night critters and rustling of leaves. You looked down and noticed the tulips in your garden were closed up, deep in slumber as you should’ve been. But instead, your gaze drifted higher, along the bark of a tree and up its branches, until it landed on the clear sky. And just like all your recent nights — if recent is what you can call a few months of longing — you stared at the stars for the thousandth time, memorising the constellations and wondering which one would be him.

It was ridiculous. You knew it. But looking around, the world you lived in just could not compare to the worlds painted by all the books you had read. The people, their ambitions, morals and motivations, would never instil that level of wonder and awe in you because all that you could see in real people were mere fragments and never the full picture.

And men would never know how to seduce you, nothing ever worked quite like the written word. Perhaps you were destined to die alone, a disappointing outcome for your family that had been attempting to convince you to find someone to marry for a few years.

Your feet carried you towards your bed, the wooden floorboards from under your window creaking from your movements. You let yourself fall unceremoniously on the bed, but instead of wallowing in self pity, your body had other needs that you had to take care of first, judging by the insistent pulse between your legs, only growing stronger the more you tried to wait it out. You groaned in frustration and let your hand glide over your chest, across your abdomen, caressing your thighs and eventually diving between them, finally soothing the ache you’d been feeling for hours. You wondered how this mythological man’s hands would feel on your skin. They said that the pleasure he’d induce would be so intense it would make you lose your mind, but maybe that was what you wanted, to finally lose it with no remorse.

Your fingers rubbed your clit faster before dipping inside your entrance, impatiently chasing your release. You wondered how his would feel like, how good they’d fill you up, how he’d reach all the right spots within you as his lips kissed you passionately, whispering poetic filth into your ear. Your pace got faster, a hand groping at your chest and shallow breaths leaving your lips as you tried to keep quiet, ashamed of how you spent your nights recently, overcome by desire and lost in your lewd thoughts.

Eventually, your back arched, the coil in your stomach releasing through pulses of pleasure as you retreated your hand and stared at the stars. In your state of temporary euphoria, you could’ve sworn they seemed to shine just a little bit brighter. You turned on your side, only one thought on your mind as your body melted into the bed and your eyelids grew heavier under the weight of exhaustion, a thought you absentmindedly voiced towards the sky as you drifted off to sleep.

“I wish you’d come to me…”

❈

Your sleep was peaceful, soft breaths accompanying the gentle breeze flowing through your open window, caressing your body and soothing your tired muscles. The stars shone brightly in the night sky, moonlight descending into your bedchamber and for a second, from the depth of your slumber, through your eyelids, you could see a ray of light shining brighter for just a moment, causing you to stir in your sleep. And soon, once the light died down, the floor beneath your window creaked.

At the sound, you cracked your eye open just a tiny bit, your vision blurry from you coming down from dreamland, but once you saw the figure of a man standing by your window, your body shot up, arms straightening and pushing you into a sitting position. You would’ve reached for something to use as a weapon, but realisation dawned on your face once you saw a pair of wings attached to his back. Whoever you were looking at was not human, and yet you somehow knew what he was, in the same way the absurdity of dreams seemed natural while lost in sleep. Perhaps that was what he was in that moment, a mirage your drowsy imagination crafted after months of yearning.

You stared at the man, dumbstruck, unable to comprehend how his presence was even possible. His blood red wings were neatly tucked behind him, his loose satin shirt showing off a part of his chest before the material disappeared into his dark trousers. He had a regal appearance, but upon examining his face, you noticed something less refined and more... animalistic. Far from the princely visage described in countless poems and myths. His golden eyes looked sharp, observant and almost glowing, his hair was blown back and messy, and his face was not clean shaven, evident stubble adorning his chin right under an easy-going smile.

However, if there was one accurate descriptor from all the books you’d read, it was that he was insanely handsome. But other than that, he didn’t look like a fallen angel nor like a lustful demon. Rather, his wings, the way his brows furrowed and the dark markings around his eyes reminded you of...

“... Hawks.”

You saw his smile falter for a second, his brows turning up in confusion. You quickly realised you were thinking out loud and cleared your throat, attempting to ease the awkwardness you created and to calm the restless beating of your heart. When did it even start beating faster?

“Sorry, it’s just... Your wings and eyes… They remind me of the hawks I see on the fields sometimes.”

You heard him chuckle and felt a wave of heat suddenly coursing through your veins at the sound.

“No need for an apology. I’d say that’s very creative. Humans usually tend to compare me to other types of creatures, but I quite like the sound of it. In fact, you sort of remind me of a bird, too.”

He slowly took a few steps into your room, his sharp eyes raking over your body, committing every detail of you to memory, from the way your nightgown hitched up your legs from how you moved in your sleep, draping over you body like a cloth hiding the enticing beauty of a sculpture, to how your tense shoulders seemed to relax, eyes looking up at him in awe and curiosity. His smile grew bigger.

“With how gentle and charming you look, that white gown you’re wearing… You remind me of a dove.”

The wave of heat now overtook you completely at the sound of the word and you shifted uncomfortably, a shiver breaking down your spine and only further serving to confuse you. You realised what — or rather who he was. You knew the kind of effect he could have on humans. And yet, you were still a little surprised at the foreign sensations that were manifesting. Your fantasies never managed to get you this flustered. Through your confusion and nervousness, you managed to find enough words to string together a question.

“What are you doing here?”

“I answered your call.”

There was a pause as you tried to understand the meaning of his words. “My call?”

“Yes,” he voiced softly. “You called for me, right as you dozed off to sleep, and I answered.”

His responses were matter-of-fact and you noticed how his gaze drifted over to the desk beside him, the books you borrowed laying neatly on its surface. He looked at them for a moment before turning his attention towards you again.

“I can sense it, you know?” He watched the confusion swirl in your eyes, a smile still steady on his face, but this time it wasn’t friendly and polite. It was seductive. “Your desire. It’s why I heard your call so clearly from the stars.”

You pursed your lips together, embarrassed that you were caught red handed, and for the first time since you laid your eyes on him, you looked away. You heard him chuckle softly and it only made your frown deepen.

“No need to be ashamed, dove. It’s completely natural.” His expression softened and he tilted his head to the side as he leaned on the edge of your desk and crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the muscles beneath his shirt. “It’s a shame, really, how humans lie to themselves about their nature.”

Your eyes shifted back to him. “What do you mean?”

He vaguely gestured with his hand in the air. “Well, should a fish feel ashamed for craving water? Should a bird feel ashamed of its need to sing? Should a human who hasn’t eaten in days be ashamed of their hunger?” He saw you turn your attention fully to him, as if answering him with a silent ‘no, of course not.’ He placed his hand back across his chest. “Then tell me, why are humans so ashamed of sex?”

You gasped at his choice of words, but the way he was looking at you, almost amused at your reaction, told you he didn’t actually need an answer. Not that he gave you a chance to say anything before he continued talking.

“The brutes you live among only speak of the filthy side of love-making. They paint a disgusting picture that would turn any person away from it.” He took a moment to observe your reaction, and you could see his sharp eyes darken. “But you, dove, you understand there is beauty in an all consuming fire, don’t you?”

You pressed your thighs together as he lowered his voice, the question almost a whisper, and that was enough of an answer on your part. Your mind immediately stumbled into the gutter, the image of his scorching touch on your skin at the forefront, but you were hoping he didn’t notice the way you swallowed thickly at the thought.

He did.

“People try to keep innocent humans like you away from monsters like me, specifically to maintain that purity of yours,” he continued, attention shifting slightly as his fingers brushed over the golden title of the book from your desk. “But in doing so, they deny you a fundamental birthright that all humans have.”

You almost gasped when his eyes fell on you again. In the shadows, they almost seemed to be glowing, hypnotising you, calling for you to fall deeper into them until you got lost in him. Your breath caught in your throat the moment he spoke again, voice low and seemingly reverberating through your very soul, igniting a familiar warmth in your core.

“The right to pleasure.”

He pushed himself off the edge of the desk, taking slow steps until he was in front of you. You shifted, your legs neatly tucked under you as you watched him reach out his hand as an invitation.

“I’m here to help you reclaim that right, if you’ll let me.”

You looked at his hand, considering his offer. You thought back to all the nights when you had to go to sleep frustrated because you couldn’t satisfy yourself with just the thought of him and your hands, so it only took you a few seconds of hesitation before you reached out, placing your hand in his. Your lips parted slightly in wonder as you felt the warm tips of his fingers glide from your palm to your wrist, feeling your skin. You were suddenly overcome by the urge to touch more of him.

He looked at you, observing the way you gently brushed your fingers across his wrist and palm. From the touch, the fact that he was indeed real and not just a figment of your imagination sunk in even more.

“Can you stand up for me, dove?”

You complied as he gently pulled you up by your hand, stepping on the wooden floor and closing the distance between you enough that your bodies were almost touching.

Suddenly, a few feathers detached from his wings and flew around you, pressing softly into your back and pushing you into him. You gasped as the distance between you closed abruptly, looking around at the feathers in surprise at how something that looked so soft and lightweight could have that much strength. Your eyes met his again in a silent question, and he smiled.

“I can control each feather,” his voice was soft and his warm breath fanned over your lips as he spoke. You felt your neck and face warm up at the closeness and his smile turned smug. “They can also do this.”

Swiftly, a feather climbed up to your chest and hardened like a blade, slashing the string holding the collar of your nightgown together and letting the fabric loosen on your shoulders. You gasped and quickly grabbed it before it could slide down any further and reveal more of your chest. Shooting him an indignant look, you frowned when he laughed softly at your reaction.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice low as his hands climbed up to your elbows then found your waist, gently rubbing your sides. “You won’t be needing this gown for long.”

His lips brushed yours tentatively, and when you didn’t pull away, he fully leaned in to kiss you softly. He gently guided you, making note of your reactions. You enjoyed the feeling, it was as relaxing as it was exciting, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. This only encouraged him to fully snake his arms around your waist, caressing your back and holding you flush against him. After a few seconds, he pulled away so you could both catch your breaths, before diving in again, this time allowing his tongue to carefully brush across your lower lip. You opened your mouth to grant him access and he deepened the kiss, tilting his head so he could caress your tongue with his.

Your breathing got heavier as the kiss went on, only becoming more fervent by the second. Your fingers dug into his shirt as you tried to follow and mirror his movements, but your mind was becoming foggy, hot blood surging through your veins and heating up your skin. Before you knew it, a small sound of enjoyment left your throat, one of your hands getting lost into his soft hair and the other holding onto his shoulder as if he would slip away at any moment.

Despite your desperate movements, he was in no rush, savouring your taste and each sharp breath you’d intake, each sound, each flutter of your eyelashes when you looked at him as he pulled away for air. How lucky to have a beauty such as yourself in his arms.

“Would you let me take this off?” He gently pulled at the fabric of your nightgown and you wondered for a second if he was just asking to be polite and give you the opportunity to refuse. You didn’t dwell on the thought, instead sliding the gown off your shoulders and letting it pool around your feet, shivering at the cool air touching your goosebump-covered skin. Maybe you should’ve felt shy being exposed in only your underwear, but something in the way his lust-filled eyes flickered with a certain warmth made you feel like you didn’t need to hide. Just as you imagined, his gaze wasn’t devouring in the way you were used to: having men look at you with an appetite one would attribute to mere prey. Beyond the hunger swirling in his amber eyes was a clear appreciation for you, as if he was the one honoured that you allowed him so close to you, closer than anyone before.

His gaze drifted across your body, taking you in much like an aesthete would take in a masterpiece, admiring every detail of your curves and edges, every flaw that made you real, until his eyes met yours again. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind your ear, the act feeling a lot more intimate now that you were bare in front of him, his for the taking.

His hands found your waist again and he gently guided you backwards until the back of your legs touched the edge of the bed. You heard his whispered request for you to lie down and you followed, lowering yourself on the mattress so you were comfortably lounging on it, arms on either side of your head. He grasped one of your hands and brought it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and moving upwards leisurely, kissing your wrist, the inside of your elbow, your upper arm, reaching your shoulder and making his way to your neck. You tried to mask a moan and your increasing nervousness with a laugh.

“You’re taking your time,” you noted, voice shaky.

He laughed shortly. “The night is young and I want to enjoy you for as long as I can.” He kissed your collarbone and moved to your other shoulder, his hands running up and down your sides. “I want to see, feel and taste every part of you.”

You gulped and before you could say anything else, his mouth moved to kiss your neck. His tongue darted out, licking your hot skin and nipping softly at it before moving lower and lower, eventually reaching your chest. He kissed and bit softly at the flesh until his lips closed around your nipple, licking and sucking gently, his hand gliding down your side to reach your thigh and press it closer to him. After a few seconds, he kissed his way to your other nipple, his tongue circling it and his other hand caressing your skin, moving upwards and kneading your chest. Your sighs of pleasure spurred him on, and with your hands combing through his messy hair, he continued lower, across your stomach, reaching your thighs and offering them the same affectionate treatment. The feeling of his hot tongue on your skin and the slight sting of his stubble contrasting it was gradually pulling you deeper into lust, your muscles tensing once his teeth gently grazed the flesh of your inner thigh before sinking in to leave a mark which he then soothed with a kiss. You were becoming restless, unconsciously tugging at his hair to urge him to give you what you really wanted, but he continued his torturously slow pace and deliberate touches, determined to get you to use your words to guide him.

“Hawks,” your whisper was almost desperate as he nipped at your skin.

The corner of his lips turned up at the sound of the nickname you had granted him. “Yes?”

The words you wanted to string together in an answer were there, locked away behind your shame and embarrassment. You were already almost fully naked in front of him and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to voice your desires for fear of what he might think. It was ridiculous, you thought — he was there for your pleasure, after all — but that didn’t ease your worry when you got all tongue tied trying to respond, to request something of him, to demand more. Your silence must’ve given away your hesitation, because he stilled his movements and raised his head slightly to look at you.

“You can tell me, I’m here for you. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Anything. What a tempting word uttered by an even more tempting mouth. You knew exactly where you wanted it.

You brushed his hair back and softly tugged him forward, closer to your core. He got the hint and his sharp eyes narrowed, putting up a slight bit of resistance with a smug smile to see just how far you’d go.

“Hawks,” you repeated firmly, starting to get frustrated.

“Yes?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I need your tongue on me.”

“I know.”

You had no time to be annoyed when two of his feathers detached from his wings to rip the last piece of cloth remaining between the two of you to shreds, finally revealing your dripping cunt to his hungry eyes. You would’ve closed your legs at the intensity of his gaze, had they not been kept spread wide open by a few more feathers so he could properly drink in the display. You thought you just imagined the wicked glint in his eyes when they flickered to your flustered face, but any doubt about it was soon wiped away when you felt yet another feather join the others by swiping across your heat, eliciting a gasp from you.

“You’ll have my tongue where you want it in due time.” He leaned back, supporting his weight with his arms, to stare at your whole body. “Until then, I’d like to enjoy this a little longer.”

You let out a soft moan at the sudden feeling of his feathers on your body. Their touch was firmer than you expected, and aided by how hot and sensitive your skin felt, each touch was more intense than the last. He concentrated the most movement against your clit and your nipples, listening to every sound you made, watching every reaction and minute change in your expression to properly adjust his speed and pressure. He tilted his head, eyes trained on you, but you couldn’t keep yours open from his intense scrutiny and from how your mind was slowly losing control, sinking into pleasure. Between blinks, as you were avoiding direct eye contact, you noticed the tent in his trousers and the fine sheen of sweat glinting in the moonlight across the part of his chest that was exposed. You noted how he was still fully dressed and for some reason, having him watch you like this, hypnotised, focused only on you, brought a shiver down your spine, goosebumps blooming across your skin as you threw your head back when he touched you just right.

“So gorgeous,” you heard him breathe out. “So good for me.”

Through the haze of your mind melting, you could only manage to let out a strangled laugh. “Shouldn’t I be doing something, too?”

He chuckled and sped up his feather’s movement against your clit, pushing it harder into you and occasionally teasing your soaking entrance. With a yelp, you reached down reflexively to stop it before two new feathers joined the fray and pinned your hands on either side of your body as you arched your back.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he said, voice low and dripping with desire. “Like I said, I’m here for you. Tonight is about you, so don’t hold back.”

“I-I don’t know…” you muttered. You didn’t have any plan on where to go with the sentence, a million thoughts rushing through your mind so fast they were melding together into a cacophony that was slowly being overtaken by the growing pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Your hips started to move on their own, walls clenching around nothing, and through your foggy vision you could see Hawks, his lips parted and chest raising and falling with each shaky breath he took. His pupils were blown wide, entranced by the way your body moved under his feathers. When they flickered upwards to look at your face, you let out a loud moan and he gripped the sheets at the sound, swallowing his saliva.

“You don’t need to know, you don’t need to think. You just need to feel.” His hand brushed against his thigh, travelling higher to palm at his erection. “Just do whatever comes naturally.”

Your heels dug into the mattress, fingers gripping the sheets beneath you and lips parting to let soft moans flow out of your throat at the feeling of his feathers running over your sensitive spots. The sound of his sighs of pleasure only pushed you further towards the edge, aching for release.

“I can feel it,” he said in a low, raspy voice, and your blurry vision shifted towards him with a questioning look. “My feathers. I can feel through them. I can feel how wet you are for me.”

He leaned forward, hands caressing the back of your thighs and taking the place of his feathers, keeping you spread for him as he stared at the one working on your clit. He lowered his head, retracting his feather and inhaling your intoxicating scent, heaving a shaky sigh across your bare skin which sent a chill down your spine. His tongue darted out and he gave you a soft lick with its tip, pulling a sound of surprise out of your chest before he pressed his tongue flat against your core and properly tasted you. A groan rumbled in his chest, reverberating on your heat as he fervently licked at your entrance, occasionally sucking on your clit. Your thighs shook, muscles tensing when the tip of his tongue pushed past your entrance to fuck you, his nose brushing against your clit.

“You taste so good,” his voice was muffled and breathy from between your legs. “A whole eternity I’ve been deprived of this, fuck. I can’t get enough of you, dove.”

The lewd sounds he was making as he fucked you with his tongue and tasted you like a man starved should’ve embarrassed you, but you were too far gone to care about anything but reaching your climax. Soon, your walls fluttered around his tongue, back arching as the tension in your stomach snapped, sending a tidal wave of pleasure across your body. You shivered in his arms and he groaned at your release, lapping up everything you had to offer him until the shaking in your muscles subsided.

As you were coming down from the clouds of euphoria, he opted for planting sweet, soothing kisses across your thighs. Once you calmed down enough to look at him, he smiled up at you.

“Was that good?” Still catching your breath, you could only nod at him. “I’m glad. Do you want to stop here?”

You were silent for a moment, weighing your options and their outcomes. You had been fantasising about this moment for so long it would be foolish to stop. Besides, his touch, his voice, the way he looked at you made you feel like refusal couldn’t be an option in any circumstance. Softly, you shook your head and his smile widened. You could’ve sworn his eyes shone just a little bit brighter in the moonlight.

His fingers brushed across your cheek. “I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me exactly how you’d like me to continue, then.”

You stammered, trying to find the right words to respond. You swallowed the lump in your throat that was locking away your voice and looked at Hawks, placing your now free hands on either side of his face to run your fingers across his cheeks.

“Hawks,” you spoke, gathering the confidence you needed to make your demand. This time, it was easier to find the right words, and you briefly wondered if his powers had something to do with how bold you were feeling. “I want you to fuck me.”

His wings fluttered from behind him as he licked his lip. “How vulgar,” he teased, mouth brushing against yours. “I really like it when you use your words, dove. Why don’t you keep letting me know how good I’m making you feel with that pretty voice of yours, hm?”

His fingers brushed against your cunt, rubbing your clit, and you gasped at the sensation. He closed the distance between you and kissed you passionately, his chest pressed against yours, the smooth fabric of his shirt rubbing on your sensitive nipples as you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close. You could taste yourself on his tongue and your head was spinning once again, hips jerking once he teased your entrance.

“So responsive,” he noted, not pulling away from your mouth. “Makes me want to see all of your reactions.”

One of his fingers slowly pushed inside you and you realised you were right: your fingers could never compare to his. He pumped slowly, teasingly, revelling in your kiss and the sounds he was pulling from you with each movement. He pushed another finger in as you attempted to move your hips in search for more friction, but his weight was holding you down and forcing you to accept the pace he set. You whined into his mouth and he chuckled, pulling away from the kiss slightly.

“Impatient, are we?”

“Please, Hawks!”

“Already begging and I haven’t even started. How greedy.” He leaned in and planted a kiss against your ear. “If you’re so pliant now when I’ve only gotten my fingers inside you, I wonder what you’ll do once I properly fuck you with my cock.” You let out a soft noise as your walls clenched around his fingers in anticipation. He groaned and cursed under his breath at the feeling. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fot me to fuck you nice and deep, feed into that need you’ve been feeling for so long?”

He licked at your earlobe and left a sloppy kiss under your ear as you moaned. You gripped his shirt and pulled at it, desperate to feel his skin on yours. “Take it off, wanna feel you.”

He chuckled and you watched as a few feathers detached from his wings to help pull the shirt off of him, not even attempting to pull his hand away from your cunt. Instead, he slowly added one more finger to get you used to the stretch and you groaned as the slight sting soon turned into pleasure. You ran your hands over his abdomen, across his chest, rubbing his shoulders and eventually getting lost in his unruly hair, pulling him into another all-consuming kiss. His hot skin pressed against yours was driving you mad, the movement of his fingers in you was relaxed, just enough to have you on the brink of an orgasm but not letting you fall over the edge.

You whined again, out of breath. The sloppy sound of his fingers rubbing between your folds, the way he was occasionally curling them to reach your sweet spot and his low groans were sending you into a frenzy of irritation and arousal. You moved your hips again, hungry for more friction, and you detached your lips from his with a wet pop.

“Hawks, stop,” you breathed out, voice high with desire.

“Stop?” His movements stilled immediately, only for you to groan loudly and buck back into his fingers, digging your nails into his shoulder blades and leaving red marks on his skin. He bit his lip and smiled, knowing they’d soon be a reminder of your night together.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” your voice was exasperated as you felt your cunt pulse and clench, so close yet so far. “Stop teasing!”

The low chuckle vibrating in his chest made you shiver as he resumed his slow pace, your mouth opening in pleasure.

“I don’t think I’ll let this happen so easily. I love getting you all hot and bothered like this.” He grunted and fucked his fingers into you deeper, earning a sweet moan from you. He deliberately pulled all the way out from you before slowly pushing back inside to amplify the squelching sounds of your cunt. You felt your face burn in embarrassment. “Mm, do you hear that? Do you hear how wet you are for me? I bet I could slide right in.”

You finally gave in to your self-consciousness and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide away from him. He chuckled softly, finding your shyness adorable, and slowly moved your hands with his free one so he could give you a charming smile as he watched that cute expression of yours. He leaned his forehead against yours and pulled his fingers out of you, earning a soft whine of disapproval from you as he gripped your hips.

“Do you still want me to fuck you, pretty bird? Want me to make that ache of yours go away?” You felt the head of his cock rub against your entrance and you gasped. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

You nodded quickly, too impatient and lost in pleasure to use your words, and he slowly pushed into you. A scream got caught in your throat at the stretch and he buried his face into your neck, groaning at how divine you felt around him. After a few shallow pumps in and out to get you accustomed with his intrusion, he finally bottomed out and let you catch your breath before he set a steady pace, raising his head to watch your face contort in pleasure and scanning for any sign of discomfort.

Your hands went to his back as you moaned, leaving a new set of scratches on his shoulder blades to which his wings fluttered. His chest was pressed into yours, allowing him to feel your frantic heartbeat. He felt so good inside you, filling you up and hitting all the right places which you never even hoped to reach. The new sensations were too much to bear, and soon you bit on his shoulder as you came around him hard, your walls clenching on his length. He groaned at the feeling and didn’t give you a single moment of respite , wrapping his arms around your legs and throwing them on his shoulders, pressing you deeper into the mattress as he continued his pace.

“C’mon, dove,” he rasped, his voice breathless and dripping with desire as he pressed his lips onto yours. “Can you hold on just a little longer? For me?”

Your mind and body were melting, jolts of electricity surging through your now tired muscles. Your blood felt like liquid fire as your heart pumped it through you in a frenzy, and from the amalgam of sensations you felt the gentle touch of one of his feathers on your clit. Your back arched and the room felt like it was either floating or simply disintegrating around you — you couldn’t even tell anymore. Your vision was a kaleidoscope of moonlight and crimson red, specks of golden light from his hair and spellbound eyes coming in and out of focus as your eyes fought to stay open. By the time you felt him release inside of you, filling you with warmth, you had already lost count of how many times you came, pleasure bubbling under your skin and reaching deep within the marrow of your bones like boiling magma under the earth.

Exhausted, you felt him rise from you, pulling out, and you frowned at the sudden feeling of emptiness he left behind, the cool air of the night now directly hitting your sweat covered body and making you shiver. He quickly pulled you into his arms and wrapped his wings around you to shield you from the cold, pressing his lips to the top of your head and muttering sweet praises through soft kisses.

He stood there for a few minutes until he was positive you were dozing off, then pulled up the covers to tuck you in, retreating from your arms. You frowned in your sleep and stirred, letting out a small groan which he shushed softly, caressing your hair in a reassuring manner. You heard him shuffle around your room and you were more than happy to just let him mind his own business. After all, you were far too tired to question his actions and just wanted to let yourself fall into a deep, relaxing slumber.

Hawks walked around the bed, watching as you finally settled into a comfortable position, your breathing back to its steady rhythm. His gaze shifted towards your desk once again and he couldn’t help but open one of the books. When he was met with sugary declarations of devotion and filthy love-making laid down onto paper in verses, their main focus being the myth describing him, he couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips. Oh, sweet dove. Your yearning truly knew no bounds.

Silence surrounded you for what felt like a few minutes, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing. You almost thought he had already left before you heard the shuffling of his feathers dragging on your floor as you fully gave into your exhaustion and fell asleep. He climbed on your windowsill, stopping for a moment before he looked back at your sleeping form over his shoulder, his wings obstructing the lower half of his face, allowing only his eyes to peek over, alight with warmth.

“Sleep well, dove,” he whispered one last time before light engulfed him and soon enough, he was just a ray of feathers and light growing distant in the night sky.

❈

You must have gone insane.

Basked in the late morning sun, you stared incredulously at the nightgown that was covering your body. Your hands went up for what was probably the third time to check the string was actually still intact and snugly tied across your chest. You pulled up the bottom of the gown, checking your underwear — untouched, not even a hint of a tear. And the parts where your skin should’ve been blooming with bruises from love bites were the same as they were the previous morning, blank. Like nothing ever happened.

Just what the hell were you dreaming?

You brought your face into your hands, screaming internally as the images from what you assumed happened last night, but now weren’t so sure anymore, kept flooding your mind. You bit your lip to stop a smile from showing, torn between the shame of having offered yourself so unabashedly to what was essentially a stranger and the excitement still buzzing beneath your skin at how incredibly good it felt. You slowly slid your hands over your arms and sides, following the searing trail his hands had danced across the night before. Every word and every touch felt too vivid not to tremble at the mere thought. You wondered if it was all really just a dream. And if it wasn’t, you wondered if he would come again.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar sound of Mirio’s voice calling for you at the front gate, offering warm greetings to whatever relative of yours was outside in the yard and explaining he came to pick you up for work. You scrambled to get ready, but as you stepped outside your house your movements were mechanical, going through the motions of your established routine. Mirio tried to start a light conversation with you, but you seemed lost in thought, distracted. He frowned slightly when it became obvious that you only registered around half of the words he was telling you, almost worried that something might have happened after he dropped you off at the library the night before. An apology settled on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it back, opting to leave you be for the time being. You did seem to have just woken up recently, after all, hair still unruly and eyes half lidded with tiredness.

The rest of your day was a blur, thoughts centred on only one thing — only one person — ignoring the majority of small talk your fellow workers tried to initiate. You worked as if possessed, joined the masses as they left the field at the end of the day like a lost soul and rushed to your bedroom at night, grabbing your books and opening them, scanning the pages for the thousandth time. Still, it was not enough, so you laid back into your bed like all other nights, except this time you once again stared at the sky as you drifted off to sleep, calling for him.

And he once again descended for you.

You were insatiable, and his visits soon became a routine. During the day you sought him out through pages of poems and your own thoughts as you worked and worked, awaiting the time you’d finally return home to his embrace at night. He was willing to offer you whatever you demanded, letting you use him as you saw fit to explore and learn, to feel and consume, to defile and be defiled. A safe haven for all your fantasies to manifest.

You finally understood why all women were described as addicted to him in all the books you read. How could one not be? Even when you closed your eyes you could still see his warm expression, his sharp eyes staring into your soul, you could still feel the faint trace of his fingers on your skin and the sweet sting of pleasure and yearning between your legs where he spent most nights.

He began to see it, too. That sweet, sometimes teasing smile you’d turn towards the stars when you leaned on your windowsill, knowing he could see you. Your kisses and touches got bolder and more confident with each passing night. You should’ve been the one under his spell, and yet there he was, smiling dumbly at you and every expression of yours, every movement, every word.

He should’ve treaded more carefully.

How many nights had it been already? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? He didn’t keep count, a being cursed with eternity never does. And yet, he kept finding himself counting the seconds until he got to see you again in the dead of night. Days became agony, when in the past they’d used to pass in the blink of an eye, now they felt like the infinite void he was all too familiar with. He realised how deep he’d gotten himself when he spared a glance from the skies to check on you, quickly making a daily habit of observing you in your element, learning your routine and all the people you were close to. When he saw you next to Aizawa on yet another nightly walk to your home from the library, he couldn’t deny the pain that clutched at his heartstrings and pulled until he once again descended into your bedchamber at your call.

He could never deny you. He could never turn his back to your comforting touch, could never turn his face away from your sweet kisses, could never refuse to hold you until you fell asleep in his arms. You were too tempting, too sweet, too lovable to reject. Too unattainable. And he was too selfish.

After having spent so long mapping your body with his hands and lips like the atlas of heaven, his fantasies began evolving into more than just you chanting his name from under him as he claimed you yet again like the lustful beast he was. In the hours spent anticipating the time you’d beckon him again he liked to imagine you telling him about your day, about your happiness and sorrow, talking to him about your favourite books and all the characters that you loved, introducing him to all facets of your being that he couldn’t possibly have met while tangled in the sheets. He started to ask more personal questions at the outset of your encounters, to leave sweet notes attached to his feathers on your desk so you could wake up to them in the morning. He started craving more than just your body and your attention.

But he knew humans were creatures capable of finding boredom even in the most exciting of things once they became routine, and he couldn’t condemn you to an eternity of being by his side. After all, lust could only fuel your relationship so far before you’d crave stability and love. You deserved better than that, you deserved to be with a human that could make you happy, someone that could understand your wants and needs. Someone like Aizawa.

He watched with a frown as you opened the gate and bid farewell to Aizawa, who watched you until you were safely inside your home before he continued his walk back home. You looked exhausted once you called him to join you under the covers, immediately clinging onto him and burying your face in his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin. He wanted to tell you to stop and rest, but whenever he did so in the past you’d just ignore him or silence him with a kiss. He had to bite his tongue every time — he was there for you, after all. A tool like many others so you could relax and experience highs like never before.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried sick about you.

He knew what being exposed to him for so long could do to the human mind. He also knew you knew, with how much you had read about him. You were showing symptoms that people around you began to point out. Exhaustion, inability to focus for too long, lack of appetite. You were sick, but you didn’t care to notice it, not when your family called the village doctor to check on you, not when Mirio kept bringing you food at work each day with a worried expression, not when Aizawa banned you from being in the library after a certain hour so you wouldn’t collapse, not even when Hawks kept looking at you with a concerned frown whenever he’d enter your room and hesitating to even approach you.

Soon, hours melted away and you fell asleep in his arms after yet another night of being all over each other. He softly ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp, and stared at the books on your desk with a cold expression.

History was just repeating itself.

He realised that if he doesn’t soon stop, he’d end up with a broken heart or worse, with you losing your mind. So he stood up and plucked one of his feathers to use as a quill, and sat at your desk to leave you one last note. A request of sorts, but more so a promise. He wanted to give you a choice before it was too late.

After he carefully laid down his words onto the paper, he stood up and spared you a glance, eyes shadowed by sadness. He turned towards your window and the floorboards creaked as he took flight into the night sky. His red feather remained on the desk, on top of his note, a confession weaved through verses of an oath he didn't have the heart to not take. At the end of the day, he may have been an eternal being superior to humans, but he was still weak, always crumbling at your feet. Always wanting more.

Endlessly, my love endures,

My soul, mind and body yours.

Your love a cure, your name a prayer

Soothing the curse I must bear.

Though I’m far, your presence lingers,

The gentle touch of your soft fingers,

The promise of your voice tomorrow

Lulling away all my sorrow.

Endlessly, our love endures,

My existence claimed as yours,

And may our stars align

I will come to claim what’s mine.

❈

“I wish to be rid of my eternity.”

“Spare me your asinine jokes, Keigo.”

Hawks frowned, raising his wings and fluttering them quick enough to close the distance between him and the imposing man sitting on a velvet chair at the far end of the hall they were in. The marble floors reflected the multicoloured light bleeding through the stained glass windows, making the chandelier held up by chains on the tall ceiling glint a stunning rainbow. The man, engulfed by flames, fixed Hawks with a cold, unimpressed look, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Hawks simply mirrored his stare.

“Does it look like I’m just joking, Endeavour?”

“I can never tell when it comes to you.”

“As if,” he scoffed. “Don’t look at me like I’m merely a child throwing a tantrum. I know very well what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” the man’s voice resounded through the hall. He stood up and snarled at Hawks, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a fool, you’re letting yourself get carried away by a mortal. Have you forgotten your purpose?”

“You mean my curse?”

Endeavour sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Call it what you want. You still can’t deny that a being like you has no business walking among mortals. You know very well that our worlds are far too divergent to work out.”

“That’s for me to worry about. You just need to let me go.”

“You’re talking as if I want to keep you here,” he scrunched his nose. “Could use the peace and quiet of your absence, but we can’t all have what we want.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

He turned around and raised his wings again, ready to take off, before Endeavour’s voice rang behind him:

“And just what is your plan, Keigo? You know you can’t undo eternity. Turning you into a mortal is an impossible feat even for me.”

“That may be true, but the opposite isn’t.”

“So you’re just going to curse a human? Is that it?”

Hawks grit his teeth, his frown deepening. He dug his fingers in his palm. “I thought you called it a purpose.”

The flames burning across Endeavour’s body flared up. He glared at Hawks, completely done with the pointless back and forth they were having.

“And what will you do when her mind can’t comprehend it?” He took a step towards Hawks, letting his arms drop to his sides. “What will you do when she goes insane from the responsibility and suffering that comes with being immortal?”

Hawks’s shoulders slumped slightly and he looked down at the ground, towards the place where you most likely were, below the skies. Endeavour knew. He knew about you and your encounters, and he knew about Hawks’s infatuation with you. But the life of immortals was ruthless by default.

He had grown accustomed to Hawks's habit of frolicking amongst humans. He was aware of the way Hawks would cure his boredom and loneliness by joining mortals in their beds, often ending in heartbreak on one side or the other. The roles of spirits such as them were never enough of an excuse for how dreadful it was to roam the Earth in isolation until the end of time.

He took one more step towards Hawks, his tone still stern.

“Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if you just let her live her life next to another mortal? I’m sure she’d be happier.” Hawks narrowed his eyes. “Just give up, Keigo. Being with her is impossible, you already know this. She’s not the first mortal you fell in love with and she won’t be the last.”

Hawks turned towards Endeavour abruptly, his wings unfurling. With the way his pupils dilated and eyes widened, he looked almost predatory.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Endeavour didn’t flinch and continued to look at Hawks with the same unfazed glare. Even as he turned back around and spread his wings, taking flight as a beam of light onto the sky and disappearing like lightning, he didn’t stop him. Nothing could.

Nothing except you.

But you were unaware of what Hawks was thinking, none the wiser even after reading his note over and over again. At first you found it sweet, romantic, a slight shiver finding its way down your spine from how delighted you were at his confession. His notes were always sweet, but they were always focused on compliments towards you, rarely ever hinting at how he felt.

But once he stopped visiting you the day he left that note, you began to look at it differently. Perhaps you overstepped? Was your lust so powerful that even a roving spirit known for indulging in carnal sins got overwhelmed? Maybe he got bored of you and all your fantasies. Maybe you didn’t satisfy him the way he did for you. But then why leave a note basically offering himself to you? You didn’t understand and it frustrated you.

You found yourself spending more time at the library, avoiding Aizawa so he wouldn’t immediately tell you to go home and rest. You tried to read and reread any books you could find about the myth of The Flyer, anything that would tell you how his encounters with humans would end. You already knew that all humans visited by the spirit would seek help in banishing him from someone with expertise in the paranormal before they were consumed by insanity, but nothing was ever said about the spirit leaving on his own accord.

Were you really that off-putting?

You shook your head, clearing your mind of your insecurities and stood up to leave the library empty handed and with more questions than answers.

It had already been three weeks since Hawks stopped visiting you and you were starting to feel the coldness of your bed creep into your heart as well. The notes he left were all carefully kept in a notebook that you often opened whenever your longing for his presence got too unbearable. You were going through phases, at first you were confused, then you spent a few nights crying yourself to sleep at how he suddenly disappeared. You experienced anger, going up on a quiet hill in the dead of night to shout your frustrations to the skies, hoping he was still there, still watching over you. Your symptoms were supposed to be getting better after not interacting with him for so long, but instead they just progressively got worse. Your energy was constantly drained and you had no power to even pretend to be okay anymore. The one figment of a fictional world that you were able to experience and now he was gone, like a simple mirage in a desert that disappears once you get too close, leaving you to live a boring, unfulfilling life once again.

You realised this was more than just the thrill of having a supernatural creature want you when you found yourself missing his embrace after a particularly bad nightmare. You didn’t care about your physical desires anymore, they were extinguished to mere dying embers when you reached the conclusion that he may never come back. The ache in your core was quickly replaced by the ache in your heart and the jarring realisation that you were in love.

You missed him. His smile, his voice, his curious questions about your mundane life, his embrace, his warm eyes…

So you found yourself back at the top of the hill in the middle of the night when everyone else was sleeping, staring at the sky with a slight frown in your brow and biting softly on your lip. You paced around, unsure of how to start and what to say.

After a few moments, you stopped in your tracks and let out a heavy sigh. “Hawks… if you’re out there, I won’t ask you to come back. I’m just asking you to listen.” You looked down at your hands, your fingers intertwining in a nervous gesture before you looked back up at the stars. “I’m sorry if I did or said anything wrong. My intention wasn’t to push you away. It never was. I just…” A tear threatened to spill from your lashes as your voice cracked. You quickly composed yourself. “I just miss you. And I don’t mean your body or what we did together. I miss you. And if I never get to see you again, I just need you to know that… I love you. No matter how foolish or insane I sound for saying this, I have to get it off my chest. Even if I know you won’t ever feel the same.”

A light suddenly shone from the sky, reaching in front of you in less than a second like a thunderbolt. You flinched back and shielded your eyes from the brightness, slowly opening them and widening them at the sight before you.

Hawks was standing there, the same concerned look he had in the previous nights he visited you plastered on his face, pulling his brows in a frown. And yet, his eyes were kind, warm, looking at you with the kind of affection one grants the person they missed the most. You mindlessly took a few hurried steps towards him and he met you halfway with open arms, catching you and holding you close to him as you both wrapped your arms around each other. You clutched his shoulders, fingers digging into his shirt as if he would disappear the moment your hold on him were to waver.

“I’m sorry, dove,” his voice was soft, quiet enough for only you to hear. “I can’t do this to you.”

“What?”

Confused, you tried to pull back but his hand kept your head pressed against his shoulder. He couldn’t look you in the eyes without breaking, so he chose to avoid your gaze instead.

“I can’t keep doing this to you, it’s too dangerous. Eventually it’ll wear you out. You’ve seen the signs, you know the effect a creature like me has on a human,” his voice shook as he took in a breath. “If anything happens to you because of me, I might go mad. I would never forgive myself. We have to stop meeting like this. We have to stop.”

Your lip trembled and you gripped the fabric of his shirt tighter, wrinkling it between your fingers. His hold on you tightened ever so slightly when he felt that.

“You’re not even going to acknowledge what I just said?”

It was his turn to be confused. This time he didn’t stop you when you pulled away. Your glossy eyes and defeated expression pulled at his heartstrings and he had to resist the urge to kiss your sadness away.

You spoke up again, your voice shaky, “I said I love you. I love you, Hawks, I…” you trailed off, your eyes searching his for any hope to cling onto. “This is more than just lust for me and I don’t care if it ruins me because the alternative is a million times worse.”

“Dove-”

“One night,” you quickly cut him off. “One more night is all I ask for. We don’t have to do anything, I just need you here with me.” You leaned your forehead against his and ran your fingers through the soft tufts of hair at the back of his head. He visibly gulped. “Please, stay with me.”

Any shred of self control and willpower dissolved the moment those whispered words left your sweet lips. He closed the gap between you and kissed you with hunger and desperation, pulling you so flush against him that it seemed he wanted to become one with you, to burrow in your bones and spend the rest of his eternity within your heart.

He started muttering between kisses, each heated peck accentuated by declarations of “I love you”, “I don’t deserve you”, “I don’t want to hurt you”, “I’m scared.” He was pouring his vulnerability into your lungs with each stroke of his tongue, each hot breath mingling with yours, each caress of his hand on your back, and you gently cradled his face in your hands, urging him to slow down and pull away so you could look at him.

“I’m not scared,” you said softly, rubbing your thumbs on his cheeks soothingly. You smiled at him. “As long as I’m with you, I’m not scared of anything.”

He looked at you like you were a deity showing itself to a sinner to offer mercy, holding you like you were a treasure, his entire world. Of all humans he had met and laid with, you were the only one who didn’t turn away in disgust and fear after a while. The only one who leaned into his touch and didn’t think of him as a filthy beast that eats hearts for breakfast before throwing the humans away like used tools. The only one who didn’t run the opposite way and banished him so they could be free of his temptations and instead love other mortals like them.

The only one who ever returned his feelings.

He leaned in once again, kissing you like a promise, a vow of his love for you. He was desperate, pulling at your clothes, his forcefulness enough to have you lose your footing until he gently lowered you on the dewy grass, pulling away so he could look into your beautiful eyes again.

“Swear yourself to me,” he requested, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know a monster like me has no right to ask an angel like you this, but I'm all yours and I want you to be mine. Please, I need to know you want this.”

“Hawks-”

“Keigo,” he corrected. “My name… My real name is Keigo.”

You smiled sweetly. “Keigo.” God, he could’ve combusted right there from how good his name sounded on your tongue. You grabbed his chin gently and ran your thumb over his lower lip. “I was sworn to you the moment you stepped into my room.”

In an instant his lips were back on yours, taking your breath away. The passion coursing through both of you was no longer simply carnal, there was something more in the way you were running your hands over each other, something akin to a silent vow of loyalty, a reassurance that you both felt the same.

His wings spread, shielding you from the view of the stars as his hands slowly ran under your clothes to find your skin. You undressed each other with slight urgency, leaving your clothes on the soft grass aimlessly. His hands slid up your stomach and cupped your breasts, softly kneading them and rubbing your nipples with his thumbs.

You let out a moan and ran your hands over his arms, to his shoulders and down his back, rubbing at the base of his wings. He shivered under your touch and left a trail of wet hot kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck, where he gently bit the soft skin to leave a mark before running his tongue over it to soothe the pain. Your intoxicating scent kept pulling him deeper under your spell, his hands now roaming all over your body, reaching your thighs and holding them up against his hips.

“Tell me what you want, dove,” he said, raising his head slightly to look at you.

“Just you,” you responded. “I don’t want to wait tonight. I just need to feel you.”

“Anything you want.”

His hand slid up your thigh and dipped between your legs, finding your clit and pressing down on it with his fingers to rub soft circles onto it. You whined and bucked your hips, trying to urge him to stop stalling and just fuck you properly, but he peppered loving kisses on your face to calm you down, softly saying that he wants you to be ready for him. Once he was satisfied with how wet you got, he grabbed his cock and pumped it a few times, spreading his precum on his length before rubbing the tip at your entrance. He pressed his lips onto yours again in a loving kiss just as he pushed into you slowly. You moaned into his mouth and kissed him back, hugging him close to your body.

He set a slow, sensual pace that had you seeing stars even as he blocked your view of the night sky with his wings. He’d been inside you many times, but even while experiencing intense highs in his arms, it never felt quite this loving, this safe, this intimate. You were holding each other like you were going to vanish at any second, like you were each other’s lifelines, your eyes closed in bliss as you focused on each thrust of his into your cunt.

“Look at me,” you heard him demand breathlessly.

You opened your eyes and stared into his amber ones, burning bright just for you in the fires of love and passion. A feather came to wrap around your ring finger snugly and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the action, his lips tugging into an amused smile in response. He gave you one more kiss before he sped up his pace. Your lips parted to let out a moan as he started hitting that sweet spot inside of you, groaning at how you squeezed around him.

“All these years,” he panted through each thrust, voice low and heavy with desire, “these centuries, away from you… I never realised how agonising they were until I met you.”

You moaned his name, a sweet sound that he echoed with a whine when your walls clenched. The way he was looking at you, transfixed and affectionate, was a stark contrast to the obscene sounds your bodies were making as they connected.

You combed your fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, lips crashing against each other in a devouring kiss. You slid your tongue into his mouth and revelled in the way his hips stuttered for a moment as a shiver ran through him. A gasp left you suddenly when you felt a feather of his on your clit, rubbing circles as his hand travelled your curves in paths he’d grown to know by heart.

He stood up straight, much to your displeasure, to properly watch your expressions morph. He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder to deepen the angle of his thrusts, leaving sloppy kisses on it as your breath got caught in your throat. You felt your stomach flutter with butterflies at his affectionate pecks, before dropping as the coil in it tightened, signalling that you were close to your release. You threw your head back and didn’t even bother to find the words to tell Keigo you were approaching the edge. Not like you needed to, anyway. He could tell by how your muscles tensed and how your walls pulsed around him, pulling him in and under your spell.

His wings shook, feathers ruffling like leaves in the wind, and he leaned in, letting your leg drop off his shoulder so you could wrap them both around his waist.. His lips grazed yours, heavy breaths melding together as he pressed his forehead into yours.

“Come with me,” he breathlessly demanded, and even through the haze of your scorching bodies pressing against each other, you recognised the vulnerability in his voice. You understood the real meaning of his words hidden in a phrase he often whispered to you at the height of pleasure — join me in eternity.

You were ready.

You closed the gap between the two of you, a wordless affirmation to his request, and held him as your body shook, back arching and pressing your chest into his as you soared through your orgasm. Your vision blurred, and for a second you felt as if your soul was leaving your body from the intensity. The only sounds reaching your ears were your moans and him chanting your name like a prayer.

He was not far behind, only lasting for a few more pumps into your sweet cunt before tripping over the edge, groaning in a hungry kiss whilst waves of pleasure crashed over him and made goosebumps bloom on his skin. He emptied himself inside you and you felt how his cum and your arousal were dripping out of you with each lazy pump he gave as you both rode out your orgasms. Eventually, he gently lowered his body fully on yours, still inside you, and pressed his head on your chest to listen to your fluttering heart while you both tried to catch your breaths.

He felt you kiss the top of his head sweetly as you held him close.. He grabbed your hand, gently caressing it and staring at his feather still wrapped around your ring finger. He smiled, bringing your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” you asked, gently combing your fingers through his soft locks. He melted in your embrace.

“We can stay like this forever if you want to.”

You smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

You closed your eyes, relishing the feel of his warmth against you, listening to his soft, calming breaths. You felt like you were in heaven, finally happy that you were back in his arms with the promise of remaining so for many years to come. You were sure that everything would be okay as long as you were together with Keigo, the man you had come to love, the man who couldn’t wait to spoil you and shower you in his affection now that he had no reason to hold back. You were ready to spend the rest of your eternity beside him.

Right where you belong.

❈

My dove, with dawn fast approaching

So are you my thoughts encroaching,

For when dusk returns in place

So will I to your embrace.

When I do, kiss me, and then

Watch me fall for you again.

When you called upon my name

You promised my heart to tame.

All I do, your love commands.

All I am is in your hands.

And likewise, my crimson feather

Promises we’ll be together

When our stars align once more.

Together, forevermore.

#smut #bnha smut #hawks smut #keigo takami smut #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha x reader #mha smut

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guxciestone · 11 months

Text

✧ CELEBRITY BIRTH CHART ANALYSIS ✧

— amy winehouse.

next in the birth chart analysis series is one of my favorite music artists, amy winehouse 🥀👩🏻‍🦱 i’ve always been fascinated with her—her life, style, and music. she’s literally everything and she was truly a unique and beautiful woman. i would like to show my appreciation for her existence and legacy by analyzing her chart ✨🖤

note: i do not know any of the celebrities i do readings on personally, i just like to decipher things. not everything has to be accurate.

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✨👠 Amy Jade Winehouse was born on September 14, 1983 in Enfield, United Kingdom at 10:25pm. Amy Winehouse was a famous musician who gained popularity in 2003 from her debut album “Frank”, leading song being “Stronger Than Me”. Amy was most known for her unique soulful voice, amazing songwriting, and bass guitar skills. Winehouse was vicariously known for her sass, addictions, as well as her unhealthy relationship with her ex-husband Black Fielder-Civil. At some point, she was even considered one of the most disliked divas in the industry. Unfortunately, Amy passed away in 2011 just at 27 years old from an alcohol overdose. Her legacy lives on as she has inspired other popular artists such as Adele, Sam Smith, and Lana Del Rey. She is usually recognized by her iconic beehive hair, fabulous mole, and her eye-catching tattoos.

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she identified as:

࿐ a virgo sun, capricorn moon, & gemini rising.

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ㅤㅤ— her personality.❞

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Venus sextile Ascendant shows that Amy had a unique and striking look that stood out to others on the first impression and in the public eye; significant features such as her mole, beehive hairstyle, and thick eyeliner makes her easily distinguishable to her fans. Winehouse also had vintage tattoos such as a pocket named "Blake" and a tattoo on her arm dedicated to her grandma Cynthia. She had an incomparable beauty; not to mention, tons of models, artists, and celebrities are inspired by her fashion, iconic features, and music style to this today. Since her Ascendant is in Gemini, she definitely had a witty, playful and sarcastic personality; and her Venus in Leo added the sassiness to her character which she was partially known for. Plus, she was a fashion icon and served lots of looks.

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Moon conjunct Neptune can indicate that Amy had a sensitive and compassionate inner state. She was generous and understanding towards others. Additionally, she might have been very intuitive and easily interpret the energies in her surroundings. On the downside, this often makes someone who is selfless and tend to look out for other more often than themselves. Furthermore, she understood her emotions very well and she knew how to use mediums to express them. This aspect does call for someone who can easily be emotionally deceived or deluded. In this case, her conjunction is in the 7th house; she might have struggled with deception and emotional/mental confusion in her personal relationships. It could have been easy for her to fall victim to addictive relationships as was shown in her public relationship with her ex-husband Blake Civil-Fielder.

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Prominent Neptunes are more than likely to fall to substance abuse as well. This is also shown in Sun square Neptune. Amy might have also struggled with confusion in her self-esteem, ego, or identity. With Sun in the 5th house and Neptune in the 7th house, she might have been the type to indulge in romantic relationships to escape from herself. This is the type of placement that tries to find their identity through their connections with others (This is also shown in her Neptune opposition Ascendant) This placement is also common in people who goes into casual relationships often. This makes someone who is creative, imaginative, and has potential to create beautiful art and projects.

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Moon trine Mars could have made Amy someone who was an emotionally passionate lover. She must've loved expressing her adoration and admiration to her loved ones through her actions and efforts; and to her partners through sexual attraction. Additionally, she was a goal-oriented woman who must've saved a lot for herself in the future. I believe Amy talked about starting a clothing line in one of her street interviews, and at some point I think she was working with Fred Perry on a branding range. With Mars in the 4th house, it is possible that Amy had a desire to start a family or she had a specific passion about security or home life.

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With Lilith trine Ascendant, Amy had this image of expressing herself unapologetically. She had striking sex appeal that was unique from other artists, especially with Lilith in the 10th house. With Lilith in Aquarius, perhaps Amy might have been ostracized or bullied for how different she was from others at some point in her life. Due to her trine, she learned how to embrace her differences and use this appeal to create the image she is known for today.

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Moon sextile Saturn could indicate that Amy used to be an emotionally mature individual. She was a good partner and she was perhaps the type to stick with someone through thick and thin because she understood it all. This could show someone who has an old soul, and Amy definitely had an old soul. Amy began writing music just at 14 and made her debut album at 19. With Saturn in the 6th house, she was an orderly individual and she must've took marriage and partnerships seriously. Not to mention, she demonstrated her passionate love for Blake in their 6-year long relationship. Saturn in the 6th house within the aspects shows she was a sucker for routine and order, so she was most likely the one who wears the pants in her relationships and conducted when and how things would happen. She might've believed strongly in marriage as well with her Moon in the 7th house in this aspect.

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Sun conjunct Mercury easily makes someone who is very versatile, intelligent, and talented. Amy was proficient in a lot of things. This also calls to make a witty, introspective, and sarcastic individual who is often proficient at using their words in a eloquent way. Amy was also known for being a good songwriter and having great lyricism in her music. With Virgo in the 5th house, she may be someone who is subjected to perfectionism as she wants her arts and projects to come out exactly the way she envisioned them to be. This also makes her appear graceful in workings on an outer impression as well. Mercury square Neptune also makes someone who often struggles with verbal communication, she may have not been the best with talking to people clearly. But she might know how to communicate through other mediums such as music, poetry, and writing.

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Moon trine Venus made Amy someone who knew how to incorporate their inner world and emotional state into beauty and the arts. It was easy for Amy to express how she felt through her music; as said, it was almost as though it was a therapeutic medium for her. Additionally, she also valued balance, love, and diplomacy more than anything. She also knew how to get along with others and was very well-liked by the people in her inner circle. She was more than likely willing to be there for others and cared for others as well. She must’ve loved children too or knew how to handle them. Most importantly, she couldn't live without her relationships, it was what made her inner world thrive.

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With Mercury trine Chiron, as mentioned previously in childhood, Amy might have struggled with communicating with others. Perhaps she was a shy kid in school or she did not know how to socialize. Amy actually dealt with anxiety pretty often, especially on stage. She would mention that in interviews. That anxiety and her fidgety nature was also shown in her Mercury square ascendant. It is impossible that she could have struggled with feeling heard specifically since her Chiron is in the 12th house. Her way of truly feeling heard and making others feel heard was her talent in music, writing, and lyricism. A lot of people could easily sympathize and relate to Amy's music, especially in regards to relationships and self-love. Mercury-Chiron aspects in general also point towards delinquency or troubles in school. Amy actually was expelled from Sylvia Young Theatre school when she was fourteen for wearing a nose ring.

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Moon sextile Pluto signifies that Amy had an intense inner world. She experienced dark and huge emotions. Because of this, she was very understanding and comfortable with many taboo topics. She was very mature due to this. Amy dealt with a lot with her health, especially her mental health as shown in her Pluto in the 6th house in this aspect. Apparently, she suffered from bipolar disorder the more her dependencies worsened over the years. She also dealt with depression at a young age along with anxiety. She also dealt with bulimia long from her teens. Hence, she experienced worst so she understood it all. All of her hardships in this area, this helped her with finding motivation and reasoning too transform and become a better person.

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ㅤㅤ— her relationships. ❞

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Amy has one of the most rarest placements. Only 8% of the population has a retrograded venus. First off, venus in retrograde immediately calls for someone who has a serious karmic lesson surrounding self-love, materialism, and values in this life. With Amy having Venus in Leo in the 4th house retrograded, this might have called for her to find confidence and assurance in herself as an individual in order to feel secure in her individuality and life. However, since she might have struggled with expressing these qualities. She might have experienced the opposite. She had to deal with being in the eyes of the public and her relationships being put under a spotlight when it most likely wasn't wanted. Amy had to deal with scrutiny and her addictive marriage being put under a microscope for an audience to get her life lesson through. Amy might have not liked fame as much and she was more of a humble person.

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Venus trine neptune indicates that Amy had a dreamy, beautiful, and magical perception of love and beauty. She might have viewed it all as something that she incorporate into her life to build up security and establish relationships with others. She might have loved love and was willing to do anything it takes to experience it. She might have been used to falling with creative, selfless, and caring partners. Perhaps she fell in love with musicians and artists. This also calls for someone who is willing to try different styles or doesn't have a particular style at all.

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Venus sextile Pluto could show that Amy also had a very interesting and intense love life. In a negative sense, she might have dealt with toxic relationships. In a positive sense, every person she has dealt with has given her some type of lesson that could help transform herself. In fact, she might have became an entirely different person after every connection. With Venus in the 4th, the initiative and reasoning for every transformation in her relationship was to build security in herself and the life she has.

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Venus square Chiron calls for someone who often has a wound surrounding love, romance, beauty, and self-worth. Amy might have attracted tons of partners who needed to be saved or who would save her. She might have had a savior-martyr personality in regards to her connections. With her Chiron in the 12th specifically, the issue could have been she was never heard and could have depended on her relationships to help her feel so. This could signify low self-esteem or a feeling of insignificance.

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North Node in the 1st house conjunct her Ascendant shows that Amy's ultimate direction in life was to find herself and discover her true outlook on her life and what she wanted to do. This also shows that she was destined for popularity and recognition of some sort even if she wasn't famous.

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ㅤㅤㅤ— legacy/image.❞

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Mean Lilith in Aquarius in the 10th house indicates that Amy had a very provocative, taboo, and intense reputation during her prime. First, she has a different image than typical soul singers. Her beauty was rather unconventional and alluring. She also had a very unique voice. Others thought her voice was rather a bit soulful for a British singer. She also dealt with lots of hate, scrutiny, and criticism due to her public breakdowns and reactions. She was considered one of the most disliked divas in the industry at some point due to what she was going through. 10th house also represents the father. This aspect could also indicate being exploited by an authoritative or masculine figure in one's life whether that be through career or other things.

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Mars opposite Midheaven shows that Amy's passions sourced from a different area of her life rather than her career. Amy's drive, desires, and goals come from her sense of security and comfort (with Mars in the 4th) In specific terms, her family and home life could be what motivates her the most to do what she does. She might have been someone who did not care too much about her career as a music artist, she was rather someone who was comfortable staying home and pertaining to her hobby without the need of showcasing it instead, especially since her Mars is in Leo. In fact, Amy said that she did not want to be famous. She "hated it".

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Chiron trine Midheaven shows that Amy had an image and reputation of knowing how to incorporate her wounds and traumas beautifully into her music due to the issue of not feeling like she was heard when she was younger, especially with Chiron in Gemini in the 12th. She was able to transmit her words to an audience that understood her and how she felt. She made people understand an entirely different perspective on love, addiction, and many more unique topics. This aspect also might be the reason as to why she has a reputation of being "a victim" to her addictions and relationships, similar to Marilyn Monroe who has Chiron conjunct Midheaven in her chart.

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Midheaven at the 11° shows that Amy had a humble and introspective mindset when it came to her image. On the other hand, her fame and legacy caused a charitable act to come from it all. In 2011, Jane Winehouse created the 'Amy Winehouse Foundation' which is a company that celebrates and honors the legacy of Amy and helps women who struggle with addictions.

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Amy has her own asteroid called Asteroid Amy (3375)—she has the asteroid conjunct her Mars and sextile her Ascendant.

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❤️

#astrology #natal chart #zodiac #guxciestone #astro observations #astro community #astrology observations #amy winehouse #celebrity readings

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arkiwii · 7 months

Text

Alright, so, I've seen some comments about how Muelsyse's max trust line was "sus" and it what makes her seem to be attracted romantically to the Doctor. So, let's analyze this line, if you please.

"My people have no future. We've only been able to pray for answers from the past. You're from the past, Doctor. You're the hope of my people, and me. But even if that wasn't the case, you're still the one who pulled me from the bubbles, and you're still gripping my hand. How could I ever let go now, right?"

"My people have no future." Muelsyse explains during the event that Elves, her race, are particularly sensitive to Originium, and Oripathy is easily fatal to them, considerably decreasing their lifespawn. However, the current civilizations of Terra have made use of Originium again and again as a source of energy, to the point of it being part of their daily lives. The moving cities, the factories, the Originium Arts, all of these exists thanks to Originium. The industry being what it is, there's no way to turn it back, the moving cities will expand, they will leave only wastelands in their way. That's why Elves have no future; there's no way to turn back to a civilization pre-Originium.

"We've only been able to pray for answers from the past." Meaning, they can only pray for the past to come back, despite it being, well, the past.

"You're from the past, Doctor. You're the hope of my people, and me." The Doctor, from what we have learnt from the conversation with the Preservator, belongs to people who walked on the land of Terra way before the Ancients and the Elders. They have seen the past, they have seen ages, civilizations raise, and fall. The Doctor may be amnesiac, they have known the past. Now, this is a reminder of what Rhodes Island, and even more Babel, aim to do. To give a home, a place, for those who don't have one. Muelsyse is not the first character who places all of her hopes into the Doctor; she won't be the last. Rhodes Island in her new home, her safe place, somewhere she can be kept away from Originium. When she says that the Doctor is the hope of her people and of her, she means that it's Rhodes Island, but the Doctor being an important figure, and even more, someone who comes from the past, with the will and power to bring things as they were, she talks about them.

"But even if that wasn't the case, you're still the one who pulled me from the bubbles, and you're still gripping my hand. How could I ever let go now, right?" She's not even sure of what she says; maybe she could be absolutely wrong, maybe her people will never be able to find a future, maybe she will be the last Elf after all. But she continues to go on, and to walk forward, to live. Here, she references the end of Lone Trail, when she tried to put an end to her life, and the Doctor saved her. The Doctor gave her hope, they saved her, and now she has found a new hope, a reason to live, even if it happens to be wrong, even if it fails, she has found a place for herself regardless and wants to continue to go on.

In conclusion: the Doctor is the hope and the light to many, MANY characters in Rhodes Island, Muelsyse included. They're the hope of the Infected, of the Sarkaz, of those who lost their homes, those who suffered, those who can't find their places. A woman can very much put her hopes into someone without it being romantic, especially when desesperate and this person literally saved her from suicide, now stop freaking out y'all

#i hope this helps changing people views on muelsyse #she's friend #she's bestie #and we care her #arknights

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theconstitutionisgayculture · 5 months

Note

Why should I strive to accurately reflect your argument when you've refused to do the same with climate change? Ignoring all evidence of humans being capable of affecting their environment and dismissively referring to it as "controlling the weather" which is not close to anyone's argument. The problem isn't me not repeating your argument the problem is you don't like people treating you the same way as you treat others.

Except you guys think that you can literally control the weather if we just tax enough billionaires, regulate enough energy industries, and give up enough freedoms. If the goal is to reduce global carbon emissions, not a single proposed plan to "fight climate change" would do that because they all ignore China and India, which are by far the largest producers of artificial carbon in the world. Even if the west turned off every coal plant and banned carbon production tomorrow, China and India would still be putting out way more carbon than we reduced, to the point where reducing our "carbon footprint" is meaningless. What these plans do accomplish, though, is restricting our freedoms and granting government greater control over the lives of individuals and what's left of the free market. None of the people pushing this climate narrative seem very interested in actually fighting the supposed source of "climate change", so why should I take them seriously?

Humans do affect the environment. I never said otherwise. That's your strawman. My argument is that, if the climate is changing, then human activity is not the main cause. And that's a pretty big if, since your side loves to claim that any weather is evidence of "climate change". One hurricane goes farther north than most hurricanes do? Climate change! Normal amount of hurricanes during hurricane season? Climate change! Indian summer? Climate change! Blizzard in winter? Climate change! Forest fires in a dry, brush covered forest that was started by a human? Climate change! Christ, you people even blame civil wars and riots on climate change. Combine all that with the fact that literally every single climate apocalypse that has ever been predicted, many using the same climate models "scientists" rely on today for their predictions, has never come true, and yeah, I don't believe "the experts" or their manipulated data when they say "No, this time we're totally right you guys. Climate apocalypse is right around the corner!" Climate cultists, because you people do act like a cult, are doing their own supposed cause no favors by acting like hysterical children who keep saying the sky is gonna fall any day now.

I'll make the same deal with you that I've made with other climate weirdos. You live your life like the world is going to end any year now, and I'll live my life like it's not. In 50 years, we can meet up and see which one of us was right and which one of us enjoyed their life more. Maybe on one of the coasts that won't be even remotely close to being underwater.

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