#freefalling to the sky ( self )

[slyvester101]

Soap didn’t think falling would be so quiet.

Oh, it was painful. Every part of Soap burned as he soared through the sky.

No. Not soaring. Not anymore.

He can’t feel his wings.

Maybe the descent into hell is his eternal punishment.

No noise.

No flying.

No people.

Just an empty, endless sky for Soap to fall into, unable to move or scream. Just stuck in a freefall to an inevitable doom.

He still doesn’t regret it.

The angels in heaven have been… bitchy, to say the least. So high and mighty, smug and prideful over their place in the skies. They hardly cared about doing good, just looking it. Carefully crafted faces with perfectly picked words with so many double meanings that Soap would get lost translating it into the insult it was supposed to be.

He was never good at that, faking for fortune or a higher position. He was always his loud, unapologetic, maybe a bit “too much”, self. And heaven had thrown him out for it.

For calling out their bullshit. For standing up for the values they claim to hold.

Yeah. They’re bitches. Whole ass motherfuckers.

God, it feels so good to curse again.

Soap hangs in freefall for what could be forever before the skies change. A red smoke covers the blue, swallowing the world Soap was prepared to live in for the rest of time.

Ah, so this really is his hell.

Soap just about adjusts to all the red, prepares to only see this deep, bloody sky until he turns to madness, when the sky darkens again. This time looking like hardened rock, black and bumpy with glowing cracks of-

Oh fuck, he’s going to hit the ground.

Soap winces as he wrenches his wing to twist him upright. Most of the bones in one wing are broken, the other sliced to all hell but he really doesn’t give a shit as he flaps them as hard as he can.

He eventually catches the air, wobbly gliding down to the ground at a speed that probably won’t kill him. It hurts like a bitch when he hits the ground, dirt and rocks digging into his wounds. Soap blacks out from the pain for a moment, groaning and heaving for breath as he fights for consciousness.

He lies there, forcing himself to keep awake, to stay alive.

Focus. Push through.

When he feels like he won’t pass out at the attempt, Soap pushes up, feeling his wings, which are surprisingly still attached to his body, drap limp over his back. He doesn’t even need to look to know the amount of pain he’ll be in for the next eternity.

Fuck you, Graves.

Fuck you, Shepherd.

He grumbles and swears and cries as he slowly, agonizingly shifts himself up to lean against a pillar.

Pillar?

Soap looks up and around. Yeah, pillar. One of several leading to a massive door with sigils and demonic markings covering it. Walls shoot out in every direction, another infinity that hurts Soap’s brain.

He blinks at the door for a moment, his brain a little slow at processing what a giant door in the middle of a giant black rock field would mean.

Soap grumbles when it clicks and curses at whoever put the door so fucking far from him. “Bloody hell.”

“That’s a bit redundant, don’t you think?” Soap jolts, grips onto the pillar in pain, and turns to, painfully, lean his back against his pillar and peer at the newcomer.

The man, demon? is massive. He’s easily bigger than Soap in height, mass, and, well, everything. He’s covered head to toe in long sleeves and pants, a skull mask resting firmly over his face. Soap thinks he sees the tip of horns poking out of his mask.

Soap growls at him, low and dark, glaring at him as he shifts up into a more defensive position. His legs are already giving out and he’s sure he is about to pass out from blood loss, but he refuses to look any weaker than he has to against a demon.

The demon throws his hands up, takes a step back to show he means no harm.

Hah. Soap isn’t that gullible. He’s heard enough horror stories about what demons do to angels if they fall. He’s not about to fall into a false sense of security just because the man doesn’t come at him teeth bared.

“Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The man looks a bit startled at Soap’s cursing, but shakes it off quickly before making careful steps towards him.

“Stay the fuck away! I’ll fucking gut you, you piece of shit.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I might.”

The man stops, looks over Soap carefully. His hands drop slowly and Soap can feel the dread creeping into his bones as he watches the demon catalogs every one of Soap’s injuries, all his weaknesses, all the ways he can’t do anything if the man in front of him decides to attack.

Soap’s wings twitch, trying very hard to not spread them on the instinct to make himself look bigger, to put the fear of god into whoever dares touch his precious angels.

…Soap isn’t really much of an angel now, is he?

The reality of it all sinks in.

Soap’s been thrown away. Soap’s not an angel.

He’s all alone.

Soap drops to the floor, sending shock waves of pain through him, almost making him crumple completely.

He knows he’s breathing hard, maybe even hyperventilating but he can’t really tell over the ringing in his ears and the bile that threatens to come up his throat. His eyes burn and his hands ache as he grips the floor.

He’s all alone. No one is going to come save him. He’s at the mercy of this random demon outside the gates of hell.

He sobs a little, tears falling down his face and onto the coal black floor. It’s only when a hand is placed on his shoulder that he pulls out of his misery.

The demon is now crouched at his side, hovering with an air of concern that feels so genuine.

Damn, this fucker is good.

“Don’t fucking touch me! I’ll bite yer head off!” He kicks the demon away, landing poorly on his side and absolutely writhing at the pain it causes.

Fuck.

“Okay! Okay. I won’t touch you. I’m sorry. Just. Take it easy, please. You’re really, really hurt and I can’t exactly fix you up.”

“No. Really? What gave you that bloody idea!” Soap winces and whimpers as he sits himself back up, keeping the demon in his line of sight at all times.

The demon sighs and sits back, crouching on himself a little to appear… smaller.

Why would he do that?

“Look. I get it. You’re an angel in hell with a bunch of preconceived notions about demons and shit. But there’s a lot of things heaven got wrong. There’s a lot of things heaven is doing wrong. And the fact that you’re here means that you know that too, right?”

He’s not… wrong. Soap has been a very vocal protester about all the shit angels and heaven have been pulling. He’s been calling out their bullshit on justifying means with the end even when it costs millions of souls.

Soap knows that heaven has got a lot wrong. And maybe, just maybe. They got hell wrong too.

Maybe Soap should be a little bit more apprehensive in trusting a demon, maybe he should think about everything a bit more before coming to a decision that risks his safety.

But Soap trusts his instincts and trusts the head on his shoulders and despite it all…

I mean, the demon doesn’t look like the gory, aggressive beasts the other angels have described to him, doesn’t seem like a tempting vision of sex and sin. He just looks like… a guy.

A tall kind of intimidating guy, but a guy.

Soap takes a minute more to examine the man next to him, really looking over him this time. He doesn’t seem all that big up close. Sure, he’s bigger than Soap, but not by massive proportions. His limbs are buff and meaty but not like any of the comically large depictions he’s commonly seen in heaven. His horns have been sheered off, only the stumps remaining at the base of his skull, poking out from the balaclava he has pulled under his skull mask.

The demon-man-person-whatever shifts slightly under Soap gaze, clearing his throat as he does. It doesn’t seem like he’s doing it because he’s nervous. Well, maybe he’s a little nervous, but Soap would compare to more to someone who’s trying to get someone’s atten-

Oh, Soap has just been staring at him this whole time, hasn’t he?

Did he say something? Was Soap supposed to respond?

“What?”

The man huffed, more amused than annoyed. Soap isn’t used to that. “I said, do you want me to bring someone here?”

Soap blinks. “What?”

“To heal you.”

“Hah?”

Soap can feel the other man smile under his mask before responding. “I’d prefer to keep my head. And I don’t think we’ll get very far if I can’t help you up. So unless you are a lot less injured than you look, I think the safest option would be to bring a doctor here.”

“Ya want to bring a doctor here.”

“Mhm.”

“To heal me.”

“Yep.”

“Because I told ya not to touch me.”

“Glad to know your brain is still intact.”

Soap lets out a snort and shakes his head softly.

Fuck it. He’s already in hell. He might as well take advantage of the offer of some medical help. He’s honestly shocked he’s stayed up for as long as he has.

“Yeah. Okay, fine. Take me to a doctor, please.”

It’s the man's turn to be confused as he looks blankly at Soap. “Wha?”

“You said ya wouldn’t hurt me. You promised ya wouldn’t hurt me. I’m holding ya to that so ya better come get me before I keel over.”

The man hesitates, but Soap encourages him forward by lifting his arms up. “C’mon mate, haven’t got a whole lot o’ blood in me left to bleed.”

That pulls another amused huff from him as the man finally moves up to help Soap. Now that he’s not running on adrenaline, Soap can feel the gentleness of his grip as the man picks Soap up into his arms.

“Bloody hell, do I even weigh anything to you?”

He only gets a grunt in response as the man carries Soap towards the large gate doors, not all that effortlessly, Soap notes.

“‘M John Mactavish, by the way. But folks usually call me Soap.”

“They call me Ghost.”

“Nice to meet ya, Ghost.”

“…It’s nice to meet you too.”

#ao3 #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #au #i had a lot more of this au in my head than I though

[forestshadow-wolf]

Catch me and I'll follow — Soapghost wingfic

@rainerestored I can't think of any ways to pin this on you, but I'm still blaming you for it anyways 🥰

To say that cross-species relationships were shunned would not quite be correct. Was it a rarity to find? Yes.

But that's mostly due to differing courtship rituals. For example a pair of kestrels courtship behavior will obviously be different from some type of waterfowl courtship.

Obviously with dedication and a bit of hard work these differences can be bridged.

The beginning of Soap and Ghost's relationship was rocky to say the least. A hawk and an eagle? Not the largest species gap that's been heard of, but they've got their differences.

Ghost had to give credit where credit was due, and say soap's learning curve was steeper than his own. After all a straight freefall until just before sudden death just might be a bit harder than a game of follow the leader. Putting everything that wasn't physical aside, it was all about learning timing and coordination, and trusting your partner. There's also the added bonus of improving and learning new flight skills/ability

Old advice from generations back would have said to just scrap both courting rituals or to choose one (the easiest). But both soap and ghost have agreed that that only breed a hostile relationship that's destined to fail.

Meaningful courtship is important for maintaining a healthy relationship, especially if they aren't mono-spec. See, on ghost's end it was a show of trust and competence among other things. On soap's end it was it was a sign of willingness, and it builds a kind of understanding between partners. And for all multi-spec relationships it also shows a general dedication, and want for the relationship.

The put in the work and the hours. Did as much research as they could. Communicated their wants and needs, and what they could or could not do.

They started small. Soap took the initiative to start introducing himself to Ghost's traditions. The first time they did it was a 15 foot drop over water side by side, just to prove that they both could, and to see their limits. The next drop was higher, several wingspans higher, side by side.

The traditional method (the most dangerous) of the death spiral was for both partners to to fly way up high, all the way to their altitude limit, then they'd intertwine their legs, and free fall. Obviously physics caused the spinning due to differing weight. It was a massive show of strength, self-control, natural instinct, and trust, to accomplish a successful death spiral.

Now, in modern times, there is technology that makes such courtships much less dangerous. That's not to say the traditional method is no longer used. But interlocking flight boots did make cross-species courtship easier for some parties. The learning curve was still steep, but it was one step made just a bit easier.

After the were both comfortable with the companioned free fall they donned the interlocking boots and began to test out short spurts of joined free fall from high altitudes. At first they released after only a few short secinds of spinning, but slowly the time before they released grew longer and longer and the distance from the ground grew shorter.

Eventually after years of working at it, and practice, and repetition, it became almosts second nature to soap. To follow a only wingflap behind ghost as they rose higher and higher into the sky, then to lock themselves together, and let the wind scream past their ears as they spiraled towards the ground, so that they could release only a few wingspans away from sudden death.

Soap isn't the only one learning though, sure his job was harder, but that doesn't negate Ghost's efforts. He's never learned had to follow so close behind anyone before. He's never had to learn to swoop and dive in tandem with someone else, like he has to with soap. He's never had to follow and lead in this push-pull type of courting.

At first he felt clumsy, too large, not agile enough. It seemed like he bumped, and knocked into everything as he struggled to keep up with soap. He tangled and fought with brambles and branches. And when the broke free into open air he overshot, and soap struggled to keep close behind.

The first time they tried to fly together ghost shot into the air, and soap was panting by the time he'd caught up. Then soap dived down into the thicket of trees. Ghost had tried to follow right behind him, but he'd never had to fly in such close quarters before. He'd nearly flown face first into a bundle of branches, had to duck low to avoid it and had promptly gotten stuck in an overgrown thorn bush, and soap was dusting him in the wind.

It took lots of trial an error to learn how to tuck his wings close to get through the gaps soap practically soared through. It had taken him ages to figure out how to perfectly fit soap into his slipstream to give him more lift. It had taken weeks of watching and following soap to learn how to circle and swoop and to lead as flawlessly as soap

Now, after years and years of learning, and flying, and learning some more, their courtship rituals looked like a perfectly laid out dance.

The way their flight paths twined together as they rose straight up into the air, as high as the could go. The way the locked "talons" and plummet towards the ground in terrifying spirals until they were mere meters from death. Where upon they'll catch themselves with open wings, a feather's width away from eachother. The way they perfectly mirror each other as they snake through trees, and vines, and along cliff faces.

Their monthly courting flights have become somewhat of an, unintentional, spectacle. A private, ordered to 'find' their drill Sergent's pine cone, had stumbled across them on one of their flights. News spread fast over the next few months. Not so silent whispers through the halls of base, that kicked up whenever they walked by.

"Have you seen the lieutenant fly with the Sergent?"

"Never seen a hawk do a death spiral before, you should see it next time"

"I didn't know an eagle could fly like that"

"The stunts they pull are crazy"

It's not that they minded the whispers per-say, no, they knew how to deal with distraction and what not. It's just that when a crowd had shown uo to their next courting flight...

Ghost had never courted anyone before soap. Soap had courted before just... just not compatibly. So to suddenly go from whaterver they had before, to a live action show infront of an audience, was a little uncomfortable at first.

Now they usually put in for some time off to do their flight together. Usually somewhere an hour or two flight off base. That's not to say that they do put on the occasional show for everyone on base. Just that they prefer it to be a more private matter.

I kinda want to write more on this but I also want to experiment with other species and situations

#bald eagle courting rituals #red-tailed hawk courting rituals #bald eagle!Ghost #red-tailed hawk!Soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #wingfic #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #el rambles

[kindasleepywriter]

BoP - Chapter 4: Rough Landing

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: Your arrival in Velaris ruffles some feathers.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: None.

Word count: 2.4k.

Previous | Next

There was nothing that you hated more than winnowing. Sure, it was a great timesaver and a practical way out of dangerous situations, but it made you dizzy, and you always had to fight back the urge to spew your breakfast for at least an hour afterwards.

Every time someone winnowed you somewhere, it felt completely different than people said it should, you weren’t just ‘stepping’ across the room. It was more like you were hurtling towards it at light speed. Not a great experience. Another fun reminder of your power or, well, your absence of it. This, however, was nothing like winnowing.

The Shadowsinger had tried to convince you that flying would be the easiest way to get to where he was bringing you, but you’d scoffed in his face. The idea of being held like a child for the entire flight felt humiliating. You missed flying, but not like this.

After minutes of arguing, he’d finally given up and told you to winnow instead. While the prospect of nausea didn’t feel much better, at least you’d save face at least a little. You mentioned to him that you couldn’t winnow yourself that far, to which he’d quirked a brow but said nothing in the end. Contempt, pity, or suspicion? You couldn’t tell. It was probably all of them anyways.

However, when he grabbed your arm to leave for Velaris, instead of feeling like you were being thrown across the sky like a projectile, you’d simply been shrouded by complete silence and darkness until you’d emerged on the other side of the Night Court, barely a breeze passing you.

The relief was short lived, however, when you found yourself suspended in mid-air, dozens of feet above the stone balcony underneath you. Your eyes widened as you started to fall, and panic overtook you. The absolute audacity of this motherfu-

You didn’t even have time to finish the thought before you were roughly encircled by arms that slowed your imminent fall and deposited you on the ground, crushing your wings painfully against your side in the process You turned quickly the second your feet were on stable ground, immediately shoving the Shadowsinger away and pulling your fist back aiming to break his damn nose. He stopped the blow with a single hand, looking unimpressed. What he clearly didn’t plan for, however, was your knee straight to his crotch.

He doubled over as he let out a loud swear, letting go of your fist and looking at you like he was planning your immediate murder. You smirked. You’d bargained to cooperate with the High Lady, not him. And technically, he was the one who’d let you start a freefall and had grabbed you against your will, hurting you in the process. This was only self-defense. You hadn’t technically broken any laws. He couldn’t do anything to you.

“I swear by the mother,” he growled, “I’m going to rip that leg straight off your body the second you’re out of this court you feral, conniving-”, only to be cut off by a loud boisterous voice.

“HA! I don’t know what you did to deserve that brother, but she got you good”, the man laughed, “Maybe we should ask her to come to training. I’m sure she has a lot more in mind for you.”

At this point you’d already jumped back a couple steps to place yourself out of the Shadowsinger’s immediate reach, shaking out your wings as much as you could without opening them, and you spun to see another Illyrian striding out of the balcony doors, a grin on his face as he mocked the one you’d aimed your anger at just moments earlier.

On average, Illyrians tended to be taller than average, just like Peregryns, but didn’t share the gracefulness and speed of the dawn-born faes because of the large amounts of (unnecessary, in your opinion) muscle from the brutal training they put themselves through. This man, however, was simply gigantic.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a descendant of the mountain giants that once ruled over the mountains of Illyria. Of course, no such person existed as the species had been extinct for millennia, but if anyone were ever to make you doubt the fact it would be him. The muscle, the height, his face… a fine specimen of a man, truly, although you cut short that train of thought before things got out of hand.

The Shadowsinger was still in the process of gathering himself and straightening back up again, his dark eyes unwaveringly glaring daggers at you with a hand posed on the railing for support. His numerous siphons were glowing as if in warning.  If looks could kill, you’d already be six feet under.

“I’m Cassian,” the giant lookalike introduced himself, fully turning his attention to you. “Hopefully, we’ll start out on better terms than Az has managed to. You must be the Peregryn that caused Rhys to be mentally harassed from the moment he woke up, and apparently a Peregryn who can also manage to get a hit on Azriel’s favorite parts. Truly, a pleasure.”

He held out a hand for you to shake. You glanced at it and didn’t move a hair. You weren’t surprised Rhysand had heard all about your forest shenanigans. Daemati really did have it better than everyone else.

“Ah, so you’re the silent type.”, he said, amused, “Not exactly what Az had portrayed of you, I must admit.”

“Trust me, she had plenty to say earlier.”, Azriel bit out from across the balcony, now standing at his full height and advancing towards you slowly with his eyes fixed on you and his wings spread wide. “Don’t tell me you’re too shy to spit at him the same insults you did earlier?”

“I have none to give to a man who’s acting like a decent human”, you flatly said and rolled your eyes, “perhaps you have a few things to learn about the subject from him.”

Cassian let out a low whistle and put a hand on the Shadowsinger’s chest to stop him from advancing further . “I can almost smell the hatred between you. What the hell did you do to her, Az?”

Azriel didn’t have the time to respond before another figure emerged from the open doors. This time, it was an annoyed looking High fae that held a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. She was in relaxed, comfortable clothes, but they did nothing to hide her toned arms and legs, looking every inch as much of a warrior as Azriel and Cassian. Looking just as attractive as them too– humanoid faes were generally considered very attractive, but this was almost impressive.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at her, keeping the Illyrians in your peripheral vision to better prepare yourself for the possibility of Cassian letting Azriel have his fun.

“I don’t know what you guys are doing, but I’m trying to read.”, she said, waving the book in the air, “I didn’t agree for Rhys and Feyre to use my home for a “special meeting” just to have you both keep me from the best part of my novel.”

She passed a look over the two Illyrians, evaluating Azriel’s murderous stance before her eyes finally met yours and swept over your body, assessing you as if she’d only noticed you just then.

“Ah.’, she sighed, “So you’re the reason why the boys are all so wound up. Hmm. Thought you’d be more… assassin-like.”

You bristled at the comment, your emotional walls coming back up. They’d been lowered only the slightest bit with Cassian’s opening words and her initial relaxed state, but she had made sure, voluntarily or not, to remind you of your place here. A stranger. A suspect.

“Play nice, Nesta. We don’t want to run her off before she’s even arrived.”, Cassian said as he stepped closer to her and landed an arm on her shoulder. Despite the clear familiarity between the two faes, Nesta shrugged him off, laughing a little. “Old habits”. She faced you again, her smile disappearing instantly. “Come with me.”, she said. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

You nodded, hoping she only meant the High Lord and Lady. You had already seen too many Illyrians today. Nesta led you through the mountainside mansion, guiding you into a study with large windows overlooking the bright city below. It was mid-day by now and the sun shone strongly against the windows, but the room still maintained a comfortable temperature. The wonders of magic.

To your relief, the only people in the room were the two imposing figures standing behind the wooden desk: the High Lord and Lady of the Night court. Rhysand you’d seen before, although it had been centuries ago, and he’d been sporting wings that time. You weren’t surprised to see him without them, it wasn’t exactly a secret that he had the ability to conjure them at will, just like the woman beside him.

She, on the other hand, was a new face to you. A very intrigued looking face, certainly, watching you as if she was a child examining the shiny new toy she got for winter solstice. You shifted, uncomfortable.

With Cassian standing at your back, Azriel moving closer to the High Lord and Lady in front of you, and the annoyed book-reading fae standing at your left, you felt quite like a caged animal. You held your mental shield strong, hoping your face was just as unbreaking. You felt the slightest relief knowing they couldn’t hurt you. Not yet anyways.

It was the High Lady who broke the silence first, calling your name softly.

“We’ve heard a lot about you. Azriel mentioned he found you near our borders, is that right?”

“Yes, High Lady.”

She laughed as if you’d made a great joke, putting up a hand placatingly.

“Please, call me Feyre, Rhys and I don’t keep court matters as uptight as they do in Autumn. You may call him by his name too.”

Rhysand nodded beside her, smiling a wicked grin at her words, not helping in easing the tension. You were straight as a rod, face completely unmoving. You felt a brush of claws – no, talons – against your mental shields. Your stone walls held strong against the albeit gentle touch, and Rhysand’s eyes narrowed.

“If you prefer it.”, you said in the same flat tone you’d used earlier.

Feyre, seemingly unphased by your lack of reaction, continued.

“We were informed that you’d agreed freely to come meet with us here, I can say that we appreciate you not making a fuss about it. It’s only for the good of our court, I’m sure you understand.”

Agreed freely without a fuss? That’s not exactly how you’d describe securing a bargain with their court’s Spymaster, unless… they didn’t know, did they? You couldn’t help but glance at him. For once, he was sternly avoiding your gaze, confirming your suspicions.

The curious look Rhysand and Feyre gave the both of you went unnoticed.

“I simply wish to be able to continue on my journey, my Lady.”, you said, “If it matters, I’m quite keen to do that as soon as possible, as I’m sure you are too.”

“Well, it seems like someone doesn’t appreciate our hospitality”, Rhysand snarked, “Perhaps we’d appreciate your company for a few days. You sure seem like an… interesting character. A clipped Peregryn? We don’t see that often.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I’d have thought you’d be used to the concept, given how much your camps love that particular tradition.”

“I’ll remind you that the practice has been banned since my predecessor passed away, as you surely know.”, he replied.

“And I’m sure the hundreds of fae that lost their ability to fly since that law was passed hundreds of years ago fully support the way you’ve been enforcing that law, High Lord.”, you spat.

A hand almost painfully grasped your shoulder from behind you. “I would watch your tone, Peregryn, or one might think you’ve come here with dishonorable intentions.”, Cassian warned.

“I couldn’t hurt any of you even if I tried, didn’t you know?” Both Rhysand and Feyre looked at you suspiciously.

From where he stood, there was no way Cassian couldn’t see the black markings that surely peaked out underneath the collar of your tunic. His hand roughly pulled down the fabric, far enough to reveal a few more of your vertebrae. You heard his breath catching in his throat. Bingo.

“You didn’t think I’d come here without any protection, did you?”

The eyes of everyone in the room, except for Azriel’s and Feyre’s, widened. Rhysand turned quickly to the Shadowsinger, slapping the back of his head angrily as Azriel failed to duck in time.

“You bargained with her?”, he growled as you chuckled. His attention turned back to you instantly and he waved at the door.

“I am not done with you yet either. Cassian, if you’d escort our wonderful guest out of here and into a room, while I deal with our idiot of a brother.”

“Actually-” Azriel tried to argue, but Rhysand didn't give him the chance to breath out another word: “You, shut it.”.

The Shadowsinger tried to protest again, but not before you had the chance to speak up. “He must be the one to approve who accompanies me, actually. Another part of our agreement, I’m sure you understand.”

Another slap to the head from Rhysand’s hand. Azriel groaned but took the hit without any further comments.

“Any other surprises I should expect?”, the High Lord bit out at you.

“I’m sure your spymaster will love telling you all about it.”

“You can go with Cassian”, the abused Illyrian sighed, having apparently accepted his fate. “And Cass? If she tries anything, you’ve got every right to beat her up.”

You snickered. As if.

Cassian shoved you out of the office, the doors snapping closed as he lead you down the corridor. You went along willingly. You couldn’t leave this court until Feyre let you, and you didn’t quite feel like jumping off the balcony down to Velaris, thousands of feet below.

The last thing you heard before you were not-so-kindly pushed through a bedroom door was a roar from the now distant study, its doors vibrating audibly from the other side of the manor. “AZ, ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?”

Rhysand’s voice echoed through the halls as if in response to his anger. You let out the smallest smile. You were looking forward to leaving this place but, in the meantime, maybe you could let yourself have some fun.

Glad to be back to reader's POV! I don't know what Azriel expected after touching her wings 🤦‍♀️

We're about to get into the thick of the plot, maybe our little bird-bat duo will finally get to discover a bit more about each other and hopefully not rip out each other's throat in the process.

Banner created by the amazing @saradika

Taglist: @sapphenaa

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers #bird of prey

[free-imaginations-for-you]

DIMMED LIGHT

ONE SHOT

Kim Taehyung x female Reader 

In this absence of any noise, i felt a very great comfort. It was so quiet you could hear my heartbeat taking on the melody of the rainbeat with every drop that splattered down the car on this rainy night. I still could not believe it, how could he do such a tumult in the restaurant, because his delusional self thought that the waiter was flirting with me. Honestly I must admit that his protective side was always a trait that drew me to him but that strong emotion mixed with the uneasiness he had felt within himself for several weeks, like him and I were moving away from each other, like he could be replaced within a blink of eye, was a deadly poison.

„Who the fuck do you think you are?“ was the last thing he spit with an evil smirk in his face, his eyes burning with pure anger. Everything happened so fast, the next thing I saw was Taehyung's fist slamming merciless into the waiter's face with full force. The awful noise is still in my ears, making me flinch whenever I imagine the scene in front of me. To be honest it‘s not the first time that such thing happened, but he vowed me to control hisself, he promised me that even when he has his outburst I never had to fear him. His outburst tonight was different from the ones I witnessed before. I can’t get it of my mind, how empty and lifeless his eyes were when they met mine while i tried with all my might to calm him down, to prevent the situation from escalating. Actually he was aware I was scared to death, he knew that I get anxious whenever someone get’s in a physical fight. It’s not like he didn’t know how upsetting this situation was for me, but he simply choose not to care about my feelings neither my wellbeing. In this moment he just wanted to prove a point, to me, to the waiter, to the restaurant, to the whole world.

It’s not a surprise that we‘ve had a tense situation for weeks, neither of us trying to state the obvious, that the spark between us is slowly but surely fading away. Words can not express how happy and exciting I was when he suggested the date in the first place. First of all he wasn’t really the romantic lovely dovley type to organize a candlelight dinner for the two of us. So in my irrational mind I thought that this would be the perfect opportunity for me to remind myself of all his good qualities which is why i fell in love with him, really hoping that the guy i fell in love with four years ago is still there waiting for me to put him out of the the dark. It feels like the Taehyung i fell in love with is gone since the day he put this personal success above all else. I‘ve always admired his ambition, but often it feels like he‘s a bird flying higher and higher, without looking back what he‘s leaving behind and I have no choice but to watch him fly from my golden cage that i had unconsciously built for myself since the day i vowed to be there for him no matter what.

Maybe it was the way he knew exactly what to say to me with those sugar sweet little lies or maybe it was me who was willing to believe every lie he told me, like an idiot closing my eyes to the most obvious thing. The way he had the power to destroy every fibre of self confidence and self love i had in me. Making me doubt myself, making me feel like the lowest version of myself. He made me feel so high above the sky, giving me the feeling of protection, love and respect. Actually slowly but surely he made me forget the beauty of the rise, because the feeling of the freefall was an hundred times worse. One positive thing came out of this situation, the fact that he put me through this made me, made me realize that I won‘t let this happen ever again. Not now, not tomorrow, not in an hundred years. Believe it or not, I made up my mind, no force in the world, no-black magic, not even his sprakling brown eves that promised me whole universes and galaxies, could revent me from putting my wishes and wellbeing first. The raindrops hit the ground loudly and relentlessly on this stormy and rainy night, instead of the tears that i vowed not to let fall. Even the cloudy and dark weather was on my side, it felt like the whole word was sharing the feeling of sadness and loneliness with me with every raindrop that fell on the cold ground.

It felt like forever but we‘ve arrived at the apartment. Not a word left our lips since the moment we left the restaurant. In all honesty I wasn‘t even ready to face him, to look him in the eyes after everything he put me through tonight. The second we entered the apartment, I made my way to the couch, I didn't even have the strength to take off my shoes nether my coat nor turn on the light. This darkness gave me a familiarity and comfort, it’s sad to say that’s the way i spend the last couple of weeks waiting for Taehyung to return home. No to be more precise I waited every night in darkness with the hope that he will enlighten the apartment with the light that his old self carried within him. It’s time to wake up from my dream and face reality, the light within him dimmed down, there is not much left of his old self.

„It not my fault, he should‘ve known what he got into the moment he started undressing you with his filthy eyes.“ he stated monotonous in a low voice while standing at the doorframe crossing his arms. „He was not flirting nor undressing me with his eyes, he was simply being polite. If you would pay attention to something other than your self for once in your life, you would have notice that he was like that with all the costumers there.“ I countered as i leaned back at the couch with a firm but calm voice, feeling tired and drained out from this messy situation. „I couldn‘t fucking care less how he acted with other women. What i don‘t tolerate is the fact he could not take his eyes off what‘s mine.“ he said angrily not understanding why you would try to defend him.

„Are you even listening to yourself? First of all i‘m not your possession and secondly just admit that you just wanted to make a point and show everyone that no one can mess with you and you enjoyed the feeling of megalomania, that you‘ve gotten used to over the last few months at my fucking expense, without wasting a fucking thought on how I felt the whole time.“ i voiced out my voice nearly breaking, feeling like every word i uttered turned to smoke slowly fading away, not even reaching him. „That‘s not true and you fucking know it.“ he said feeling hurt, trying his best not to give weight to the words you just spit. To say that he was unaffected by your statement would be a lie. The only way Taehyung could prevent himself from shutting out completely and distancing himself, was by making you feel the crushing grief he is feeling deep inside his heart. „Don’t you think that if you would know your fucking boundaries from the beginning we wouldn‘t be here in the first place. Do I have to remind you whenever we leave the door that you are in a relationship? Stop being „nice“ to every fucking male you meet, that‘s making you look so fucking pathetic.“ he screamed his voice getting louder and louder with every word coming out of his mouth, the pure sarcasm in his voice while saying the word nice didn’t go unnoticed by me. His eyes were filled with pure rage and pain. I shook my head closing my eyes not wanting to believe that he could say such hurtful things to me.

„We are over.“ i simply said those 3 words that have been lingering in my mind for so long, while standing up from the couch, feeling like a weight was lifted off my soulders. „What do you mean?“ he asked feeling panic and anxiety starting to grow inside his thorax. „I‘m so done with the way you‘ve been treating me the last couple of months I deserve so much better than this.“ i stated while pointing at us. „I gave you everything I had inside of me and you gave me nothing but pain in return. You are not the Taehyung i fell in love with, you are not the person I vowed to love, to look after, to never leave and let go anymore. Actually you don’t respect me nether do you love me after all those words you said to me and I can‘t continue this relationship for another moment.“ i confessed what I had in my mind for so long, finally making up my mind for good. He felt his heart shatter, making it impossible for him to utter a word while watching you leave the door. The best thing that ever happened to him left and he couldn‘t do nothing but watch you leave.

#bangtan #bts #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #bts imagine #bts preferences #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook imagine #jk bts #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung imagine #bts angst #park jimin #park jimin imagine #park jimin angst #bts suga #min yoongi #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi angst #kim seokjin imagine #kim seokjin #kim namjoon angst #kim namjoon #kim namjoon imagine #jung hoseok imagine #v bts #bts fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic

[valeriehalla]

This month I have been engaging in a project titled "Valerie's Back-To-School Babyfication," the story of which follows at length.

On November third, as the clock ticked nearer to midnight and I had still not managed to get any of the huge amount of work I planned to do done, frustration mounting to untold levels, I told myself this: If I can work for literally 30 minutes on literally anything at all, I will count it as a "win," and then I will play SNES games and eat clearance Halloween candy and go to bed.

How did I get to this level of dysfunction? Well, uhhhh. My work life is chaos. I mean this in the mathematical sense: It's a system that compounds upon itself unpredictably given small changes to its initial conditions. One day a long time ago (I assume), in the middle of what was probably a perfectly functional workweek, some distraction kept me from getting as much work done as I wanted. And I said, "No problem -- I'll make up for it tomorrow!"

When inevitably I didn't make up for it the next day, because the stress of the looming jumbo-sized workload just made me procrastinate rather than work harder or faster, I repeated myself: I'll simply do an absurd amount of work next time. And I really, truly believed in my ability to do this!!! I considered it a fully normal and realistic aspiration. You have no idea how long I can lead myself on like this. You're sitting there thinking, "eventually you're going to be telling yourself you're gonna do 25 hours of work in a day, and that's just silly." And you mean it as a joke, like as a logical demonstration of why this pattern of thinking is flawed. And I'm telling you:

For about a year, I carried on waking up every day fully intending to do months' worth of unfinished work before bed that same day.

Like, okay. I didn't think this literally. But I believed it in spirit and in practice. At some point I had been playing catch-up on a pile of work for so long that I didn't even remember when it had started accumulating. All I knew is that if I wanted to prove myself, to get things back to normal, to remember what it's like to be a functional human being, I had to catch up. I needed this. I needed a win.

The stress of this monumental self-imposed workload eventually meant that more days than not I went to bed having not done any work at all. Something would go just a little wrong with my day and I would know that This Isn't The One. This isn't The Day I Get My Life Back Together. I woke up a little too late, I spent a little too long reading, whatever. The size of the task demanded absolute perfection. The endeavor had to get off on the right foot.

I'm like the most cartoonish morning person you've ever met. No matter what happened the previous day, I always woke up feeling nothing but excitement about the endless possibilities of the day ahead of me. This quirk gave my emotional highs and lows the characteristic shape of a sawtooth wave: Sky-high morale in the morning, steadily decreasing as the day wears on and the perfect possibilities turn into mediocre realities, until my body hits the bed in utter dejection.

Occasionally I would luck into a string of days that really did go just right, and I would sputter back into a work machine. But as time went on and the pile of unfinished dreams grew, this got rarer and rarer. Eventually, with the help of a few tragic life events, my dysfunctional freefall hit terminal velocity. I didn't have the ability to have a functional workday anymore. Even still, I carried on picking up my pieces, believing full-heartedly that tomorrow would be the day.

This utterly depressing cycle would have surely continued unto my death and perhaps even my subsequent reincarnations had it not been for the events of November 3rd, when, in a fit of frankly maniacal frustration, I told myself that I would call it a win if I could just do thirty minutes of work on literally anything.

You wanna know what happened?

I mean, I kind of doodled awkwardly for 30 minutes until the kitchen timer went off and then set my tablet aside and ate candy. The doodle wasn't even good, like, it completely sucked because by this point I hadn't actually drawn anything in about a month?

Here's the part that's really stupid. I decided to commit to the bit. I decided that this really did count as a win. It was the first win I'd given myself in God knows how long -- a year?? Long enough that the idea of what constituted a "win" had become nebulous and fleeting, like chasing my own shadow. So it felt, honestly, darkly humorous to call this thirty minutes of trashy scribbling a victory worthy of spending the rest of the night relaxing.

I did, though. And I thought to myself: "Maybe tomorrow I can try for 45 minutes."

This is what I've been calling my "Back-To-School Babyfication Project." (Read the title in the same voice as "Human Instrumentality Project," please.) The rules are simple: Every day, try doing fifteen more minutes of work than the previous day, unless the previous day sucked, in which case try the same amount. I briefly considered adding half an hour a day, because I wanted to get up to what I once considered "full speed" as soon as possible, but I stuck with 15 minutes. I mean, am I not the baby who is going back to school?

I'm all the way up to 2 hours and 45 minutes now, which, if you're the math-doing type, you'll notice means I actually failed this challenge a few times in the past couple weeks, so great is my dysfunction. But I'm winning more often than I'm not. And when the timer beeps, I put work away and don't think about it.

It owns!!!

I'm using kind of self-deprecating language here, but I need you to understand that I feel incredibly empowered. I decided for once to not believe in myself, and the results have been life-changing. It's actually great to be The Baby Who's Going Back To School!!!

It is my nature that I sometimes have to learn simple lessons over and over again. Here's a simple lesson: If you want to climb a mountain, you should probably, like -- I don't know, try climbing a rock first? Maybe some stairs? Even if you've climbed a mountain before -- even if you've built your whole identity as a human being around climbing mountains in a unique and personally meaningful way -- you probably can't just, like, decide to do it if you've spent the last forever not doing it.

One more: The stuff that you do that's not climbing mountains or rocks or whatever is non-optional. You don't stroll up to a mountain, try getting up there, fail, and then just, like, hang out indefinitely until the spirit of rock climbing inhabits your body once again. Like a hungry Sim who couldn't find a path to the microwave so now they're just standing in the kitchen crying and peeing themselves as their green gem turns red. You're gonna die up on that mountain, little baby!! You need to sip some juice and go back to school!!

See what I mean? Really, really obvious lessons. But I found ways to not learn them. I don't know why, or how. (Let's be honest: It's probably ADHD.) I'm just like this, and I won't get anywhere by pretending I'm not.

For those in the back, this is what I'm learning at baby school, without the metaphor:

Productivity is all about habits. You will always tend to do whatever it is you already tend to do. If you want to develop better habits, take your time and start small.

You have to clearly delineate work from the rest of your life. This is hard when you're self-employed and you work from home, and harder still if you're some kind of artist, because that means that your work is also probably the thing you (at least theoretically) like to do more than anything in the world. But you must: You have to be able to imagine a world in the far future -- of like 9 PM -- in which you are no longer working because you stopped working because it was time to stop working, because that means you're allowed to do things other than work!! Even Minecraft doesn't count as procrastination when you're officially Off Work!!

Be strict about your limits. Never work unpaid overtime, even for yourself. Under no circumstances ever fall into the mindset of playing "make-up" for yesterday's unfinished business. Definitely never do it twice!!

Sometimes winning is just losing with grace and clarity of purpose.

Anyway I have to go draw for almost three whole hours, so I'll see you later!!! ILU bye!!!

#text #‟news???‟

[dnfao3tags]

different drunk anon here :)

do you possibly have any drunk confession recs

ty ur da best homie 😚

extremely surprised my in vino veritas tag is almost empty

in vino veritas

— You Take My Self Control by genovashroom (mat. | comp. | 5k)

Dream cocked his brow. "It's always hilarious to see you guys make fools of yourselves." "Make fools of yourselves," George mocked in a whiney-American accent that sounded nothing like him. "Do you ever just shut up?" Sapnap giggled again. "Dream, dude, George fucked you." "I did?" George exclaimed, his eyes wide.

— Oh, you want the truth? by noquesadilla (teen | comp. | 10k)

Dream and George reunite during George's cousin's wedding celebration. Too bad there's a whole lot of pretending, cocktail drinks, and one big, impending truth.

— triple dog dare by tippysleeps (expl. | comp. | 12k | rule 63)

It’s hard then, to determine exactly when this thing between them grows legs and darts, jackrabbiting from George’s heart. It’s not like it’s sudden. It’s not like one day George wakes, looks out her window, and realises the sky is different. It’s not like the rain falls any lighter because she is in love. It’s not like the world notices.

— Freefall by jestbee (teen | comp. | 3k)

George gets drunk and confesses everything.

— undeniable you by twostorms (teen | comp. | 14k)

George's manager leaves for a two month vacation, in his absence placing George in charge of co-managing the store with Dream. The fact that George and Dream can't stand each other may create a slight problem.

— bejeweled by dizzy (expl. | comp. | 3k)

Dream drunkenly confesses something and George takes action. (Even if he's forgotten he actually did so by the next morning.)

#dnf #dreamnotfound #anon asks #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #dnf fanfic recs #dnfao3tags recs #trope request #in vino veritas #alcohol or drugs focused #drunk anon #<- anybody can be drunk anon

[solipseismic]

i hope you know that every day i wish i could read your book and really enjoyed reading the nanowrimo tidbits you sent, you should infodump about it 👀

CROW ... this is so so sweet i am kissing u gently on the mouth . also this is great timing bc i am just about to compile a vigilante's guide to knowing when to die into a goog file that i can send to my friend (part of our bargain in me convincing him to do nanowrimo w me this year)

snippet from book 2 for u:

The Rift gave a sudden convulsive shudder. Skysteel felt it all the way to her ankles as it threw her out—and away. She was freefalling before she even knew it, pinwheeling through the air like a shitty paper airplane. Sky-ground-sky-ground-BUILDING passed in a dizzy blur right up until she smacked into a billboard with a comedic sound. She would have laughed, except her lungs seemed to have gone on impromptu strike at the time of impact. It really was a hard-knock life, huh? Black spots swarmed her field of vision. An Avian shrieked at the sight of her and dove, the razor talons of its feet extended fully and bladed wings gleaming in the bright sun. Poltergeist and Eidolon were both yelling something over comms but she couldn’t parse anything—all she could see was the golden light of the Avians surrounding her, all she could feel was the agonizing feeling of the Rift splitting open wider far above her. The golden light of the Avians turned blinding. Skysteel’s secondary eyelids dropped down for a split second. But— That was no fucking Avian. A man shining like a blue sun reached down and gently plucked an Avian off Skysteel’s prone body laying in the ruin of the billboard. One moment his hand closed around its shoulder and the next—it was a still-glowing pile of fine, off-white ash on the ground. “That was stupid,” he said. Skysteel took the hand he offered and heaved herself up out of the pieces of billboard she’d fallen to the ground with. “That’s what I want on my headstone,” she told him, wincing and touching a hand to her ribs.

anyways i rarely talk abt a vigilante's guide (which some of u who have been following for a long time may know under the previous title of "demon city" and / or "demon eyes" and so all the stuff i've posted abt it r under those tags) bc it's like That One Big project for me. like u know how brandon sanderson has the stormlight archive that kind of is the hub / culmination of all his works across the brandonsandersonverse (official term is brandon sanderson's "cosmere")? for me that's vigilante's guide. also it's exceedingly self-indulgent is the other reason.

it's gone through like 50 different iterations bc it's existed in my brain for nearly as long as i can remember (i think over a decade at this point) and the Ira Neda i talk about (my supreme blorbo, if you will) is the protagonist! i have ambitions for it spanning five books with the second (formerly "demon eyes") titled a vigilante's guide to destroying the world but right now books 1 and 2 are existing in the same doc (DEMON MEGADRAFT) because i'm trying to see what gets shaken out of it while i play with a non-linear timeline between the two

as a result, there are a lot of ideas that are getting spun into it (and even more ideas that i've had trial runs of before editing or cutting them entirely) but it's got the run of the mill superhero genre setup: we have a recognizable earth set in the near-ish future / a time that's somewhat similar to our own, we have a bunch of vigilantes running around fighting ordinary crime and supervillains (tho these are mainly just called "terrorists" in-world bc, well.), and different people have different powers from different things (but mostly it's because they're alien / part alien lol)

book one (knowing when to die) follows ira neda's arrival in anehaven, a (fictional) city in new york, where she is trying to unravel the circumstances that led to her twin brother's death several years ago. she promises herself, her family, her friends, and a lot of strangers that she isn't in that vigilante business anymore, if she ever really was: she's retired now. she just wants to live a quiet life (lie) and she doesn't intend to instigate anything (lie) and she is never picking up the mantle again (lie). but anehaven, like ira neda herself, has secrets of its own. the city is alive--and it hungers. people have been disappearing from the streets without a trace for over a year now, more and more with each month that passes. she makes some friends (criminal empress and her two partners in crime as well as ... actual partners), she makes some enemies (her fellow vigilantes) there are three questions now that have no answers: what happens to these people? why does the sidewalk have teeth? and who the FUCK is this other guy calling himself a vigilante?

book two is a little more abstract on account of I Still Haven't Figured out Subplots for it, but it's your stock alien invasion with ensemble cast: here we introduce cori sanchez, the (also) (formerly) retired HUSH, a mirek'ar necromancer; alec iakabos, SOLSTICE, and noah harper, EQUINOX, whom you can think of as "gosh, i really was VERY inspired by wildstorm comics when i was fifteen, huh," if you're familiar with apollo and midnighter from them; along with some familiar faces from the first book--alan and blue wilson (POLTERGEIST and EIDOLON, respectively) and ira neda. names capitalized to make it easier for me to keep track of them lol.

#THANK U FOR COMING TO MY BLORBOTALK .... #croidhe #demon city #demon eyes

[originemesis]

@kugel-bitch cont. xxx

"Mmrp." Sappy. Sure, she'll take sappy, supposing it's not the worst streak to have crop up every now and again, spurred by a drop or two of liquid encouragement, that is. She'd like to see him try to convince their peers that Lute the lunatic is actually a bleeding-heart softy under all those perpetually ruffled feathers. There lies the difference in their respective facades. His mask is brittle. Hers never slips. If it does, it is through a conscious decision. Deliberate. A decision she only really makes for him, and only really because it's fair, when he's as easily decipherable as a preschool textbook it's apt she help him glean an insight into her pages once in a while. ...because it's fair—but also because some skittish part of her does want to be known by him. As daunting of a prospect as that is. To be known.

"Maybe. You best keep that intel under tight wraps, though. I've got an image to uphold—" Feathers spring up like a cockatoo's crest when Adam lavishes the juncture of her neck and jaw with a generously damp lap of his tongue. A gesture which prompts the angel to sort of shimmy and rub herself, both against him and the backboard of the sofa in order to rid herself of the ensuing goosebumps. A light chuff of a laugh in response to that last query before she grants herself the permission to sink comfortably into the quietude of their tender entanglement, a crooked smile baring tapered canines stringing the outermost edges of her lips up high, so that the corners of her almond eyes crinkle with the sincerity of it. "Mmh yeah? Wanna see me crack open a bottle of absinthe?--I'll be the cutest fucking excorcist that ever flapped her wings this side of heaven.--Just gimme twelve hours and a bottle of tylenol." She half whispers, half laughs into the meager space between their lips when they periodically part for a passing moment, only to dip forward and recapture one another at a different angle. Carefully, she presses her avian talons into the sofa in order to propel herself further up his torso until she can comfortably secure her knees in place at either side of his hips. "...hey—" Another octave chipped off her intonation, as hands leave his tousled bird's nest to cradle the sides of his face instead, thumbs gingerly skimming the soft bows of his cheeks. "—you know I would never actually—" If he were paying attention, he might feel the way her lower lip twitches disjontedly as the words temporarily fail her. "—leave...right?"

To be known was something he both wanted and didn't want, but despite the always at-war dichotomy of those two falcon forces of his constantly interlocked at the talons and helicoptering into a helpless freefall, she seemed to always pick up on which side was lower in altitude upon briefly separating and needed more time in the sky to rise back for the next bout of beating each other out of it. After all, the First Man had little else but that title to claim, and while he wasn't opposed to using that façade easily conjured by slipping on a mask and burying himself under multiple layers of robes whose loose and flapping edges would cause folks to second guess if he had just about as many wings as the seraphim did, he still found the transition from the angel they'd made him into the image of his former self just jarring enough to avoid it for as long as he was able, even if it meant permanently existing within the embrace of an exoskeleton. Of course, she was one of the only other beings privy to softer insides cocooned within walls of manic moods and fits pitched to distract him from that inner feeling that compared to all other beastly entities between heaven and hell, he was far more unimpressive than what his title would infer. And yet there he was- unimpressive as usual and pried out of his shell with her talons tangled in his hair and trailing with care like he was something worth preserving- rare, even.

Having already relaxed into his shoulders, still thankful for the dim lighting in the room despite her assurances, he gave a quiet chuckle- amused as always by her willingness to play along with his word games no matter how childish the territory they fell into and often did. "-and you think I don't?" An image to uphold at any rate...though mostly it felt second nature to him at this point. First nature, even...second nature was more along the lines of easing into his skin after a long period of forgetting to force the helmet up farther over his head than just his mouth to brush his teeth. She was probably grateful he did even that, and that it was spurred on by his desire for occasional creature comforts such as the preening peaks of her lips. And if there was any doubt about what he was after during the brief periods of her parting to take shallow breaths, his gaze gilding the edges of her smile was telling enough. He did like it when she spent her shitty mornings sweet talking him. After a night like that he supposed they were both having one.

"...you would hair of the dog that shit. Need a little more sugar to get things going don'tcha think? Order me up a mimosa, babe. Extra on the OJ ~ " Only way he'd trust a fruit was if it was blended up with heaps of added sugar, of course.

As she shifted around, using the help of her talons and his wing to slide up his chest, Adam gave his own few adjustments to accommodate for her roosting, his hips arched up to hook her in place when her 'hey' coaxed his chin downwards until it was nearly against his own chest trying to get a gander at her mood once the subtle quaver in her voice coaxed his curiosity long enough for him to allow her the custody over her lips again despite the peckish mood he'd fallen into. Gaze half-lidded as she lightly fussed over the edges of his face, he fell silent for a moment as he considered her claim. The memory of her twisting that dagger in to his separation anxiety threatened to flare up, but seeing as she was here now and swearing she'd never, it gave the re-opened yet quick to scab scar the gentlest of butterfly kisses.

"...'course not. We're ride or die, babe." The sweet notion skips a beat when his musing trails on, unmuzzled as always. "-and I might just die if you don't start riding-"

#kugel-bitch #//i don't have any him being sweet w/o mask icons ehehe oh well he swerved a little at the end #//butstill<3 grosgrossgross they're so gross n it's killing mee #long post #suggestive cw

[dreamyinception-world]

𝓟𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮

🌸 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Yeh Shuhua x Unidentified Female 🌸

🌸 𝔀/𝓬: 1.3k 🌸

🌸 𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: While discovering her place and purpose within a strange world, Shuhua has her ideas challenged by a challenged by a beautiful stranger. 🌸

🌸 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: Fantasy, Romance, Self Discovery, Supernatural Universe🌸

🌸 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: slight angst {embarrassment, estrangement, fear, crying (happy tears but still!), self image issues, isolation, suggested depression}, slightly disturbing imagery {world warping} 🌸

🌸𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻: hello everyone! i hope that the season has been treating you all well! i'm really excited to announce my comeback, although i haven't been gone for long. this story was inspired by the theme behind Palette by IU! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope that you all enjoy it to! thank you for reading!🌸

🌸𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: I'm currently in the process of trying to reset my taglist! If you would like to continue to be on the list, please message me! If you haven't been on the list and would like to join, please stay tuned for the taglist link!🌸

©𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅/𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂 2023 || 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ♡

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

If I dance til the end of the woods, where the world seems to stop and all that lies ahead are the blue bundles of the world—

Does that make me mad?

If I smile at my own reflection, distorted and untrue, for the sole purpose of watching the lines rounding my lips and nose bend to a whim— would it be too strange for you?

Is it odd to be the way that I am?

Would you think differently of me if I walked on the tips of my feet, just to be as weightless as possible? 

For a moment or simply for a second, I could feel something that I haven’t felt in a long time. 

Is that alright?

Is that okay?

Should I change or stay the same?

It’s those questions that float around that begin to distort what the world has become and what we have set it to be. 

✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪v✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝

A glass of tea that is overfilled to the brim trickles down over the lip of the cup, freefalling just enough to notice that the area around the bottom is much slicker than it was before.

There wasn’t as much steam, everything had all but cooled off now.

It was easy to forget— the small little cup.

It had no desires nor goals of its own. It simply just existed as everything else.

Maybe there was a hope for it to be used, one that had long since disappeared. Now it just floats between the realm of the unknown and mystery.

She felt that in her. What was to lie ahead and behind felt strange, yet exciting. It was hard to describe into words.

“I’m here.” The bright gleam from the tip of her finger struck against the black pad, lightly singing into the material, marking an accumulation of two figures.

On the one side laid an area littered in taters and stripes.

The other— clean, solid and vibrant.

She placed herself, a small dark blue dot, in the middle of the contrasting sides.

Something compelled her to put herself there. 

“Why are you there?” 

The question was puzzling to Shuhua. 

The dirt shares its space with the grass and flowers— not because the swirling entities in the sky demanded it to. 

It felt the desire to coexist. It made sense that way. There was no realm in which it felt secure to have them ripped apart.

The blue color was the missing piece to the picture. 

“Where do you think I should be?”

The girl positioned herself behind Shuhua with a hand overlapping her own. 

No rhyme or purpose fell behind each stroke as they bled across the page, feeling guided by some unknown force to disrupt everything that had already been done.

Hues of blues bleeded into the black, not minding the way they were swallowed and melded into new. Curling and expelling out, they found their way into every space that they could fill. 

The wave-like flow of their colored bodies into slots— more beautiful as they met each other on the other side.

Shuhua’s eyes widened. 

The air beneath her feet began to bend, flowing freely as it ushered her off. There wasn’t a moment to catch her breath before she was swept up. 

The further she reached into the air— the painting poured out, dripping off the sides and crowding the room. 

Chairs bubbled in the liquid, blossoming into fluffy white blobs. 

The table too began to bleed white and sky blue heavenly. Her home no longer belonged, swimming beneath her feet. 

Her stare lingered below. As the liquid bobbed, flowers began to pulse up and break through the breaks in each wave. 

Was this real?

The warmth of their intertwined fingers dropped her back, a scream bellowed from her throat as she spiraled in the air, desperately trying to regain her balance. 

The same enchanting presence guided her body, saying I won’t let you fall. That is, as long as she believed that she wouldn’t hit the ground.

Belief? 

That’s right.

Her eyes fell shut.

✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝

Her childish, bubbly self. She was a magical princess, the ones with the almost too poofy dresses and ribbons strung through her hair. 

She would wave her special tool, tipped with a sparkly star, to weave everything the way that she wanted— ever imaginatively perfect person to be a part of her small castle. 

In the next, she was a mermaid, glimmering gold scales. The fish would flank near her, brushing their slick fins to her arms as they would rush the currents. 

Nothing could stop them from reaching the endless depths of the sea.

But now?

She was a fairy. 

Fairies could fly and dream and be the way they desire to. They have the power to make anything that they want exist. 

✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝

Is that all that this world needed?

To her left, a pair of eyes met hers with glassy tones matching the world around her. It was comforting in a way that felt like her small home— secluded and far away, but protected and safe. 

That’s when a tingle resonated from her crown down to her feet, a similar warmth to the one from the hand that allowed her to glide. When it reached her face, she threatened to turn away.

But why?

“It’s beautiful, right?” She motioned her hand forward. 

In that moment, sparkles of stars danced down from the sky to greet her with glowing smiles. 

Swirling in unison, brushing against each other lovingly. 

Her dusty cheeks upturned. 

It was unbelievable. 

“You don’t just exist in between the two worlds. The two are you. They exist because of you.”

It is the one that you make that has created such a sight. 

Wants, desires and everything that laid in the gaps— there’s no reason why the two cannot be one and the same. No option of choosing what has to stay and what has to go. 

One's desire to live in a world of peace and love, should be able to do so. 

If that’s how you want it, that’s how it shall be. 

Shuhua’s eyes filled with tears. Even so, the images around her did not falter.

Following the flow of the wind, they pirouetted— Limbs entangled in between that only made the two of them laugh and smile.

It didn’t have to make sense. It didn’t have to be normal. It didn’t have to be anything that she didn’t want it to be. 

That, within itself, is what made her world feel absolutely perfect the way that it was.

A blossoming studded realm that held no ties to the world that she was once in. This is hers now, all of it. 

Here she could be and breathe however she saw fit.

There was nothing absurd about a girl soaring through the waves of bluish clouds alongside the jays— about the image of herself smiling back at her and wishing her good morning, for now and ever, with the ends of her hair tickling down her back.

And floating through the atmospheric clouds of the sky, Shuhua let herself be embraced by the tenderness of someone other than herself and the soft lips that came to meet her own. 

For now she was just existing and living.

Her smile was natural and beautiful, and so was her love.

✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡↪✉˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖૮꒰ ˶• ༝

In this world, made in the image of a painting that I once made many years ago, I discovered my passion to dream, to love— not only for myself, but for everything and everyone around me.

There was no guide book to tell me what everything was supposed to feel or be like. 

Times will come when I will fall down and feel like crashing. When the framework of others will welcome themselves into my mind and tell me that my imagination is illogical, unrealistic and unfit.

In some instances, that may be true. 

But the reality is, there is no better desire than to feel whatever your heart calls you to.

And I choose to be me. 

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. * ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ

#kira kira writes !! #kpop fic #kpop gg fic #shuhua fic #kpop wlw #gidle shuhua #gidle fanfic

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 5: Free Fall

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list! This takes place right after Spike’s fight with Vicious and fall from the cathedral window in Session 5, “Ballad of Fallen Angels.” TW for description of injury/blood.

Jet reached Spike just in time.

He’d made the trip on the Hammerhead in silence, deftly maneuvering and parking his ship in the place Faye had told him about when he’d begrudgingly called her back. Above him loomed a cathedral that had obviously once been beautiful, but had fallen into disrepair and abandonment; one of the windows was shattered entirely. In conjunction with the bare tree branches grazing the overcast sky as the raindrops fell, the effect was ominous, eerie; it filled Jet with dread. Nothing good could happen here. Spike should have known that. Jet had a sickening surety that he did.

As he exited his ship, he saw Faye run up to him as fast as she could in a long slit dress and high heels, loosely holding a pair of handcuffs that seemed to have rubbed her wrists raw. Her eyes were wide and desperate, her breath ragged, her hair slick and stringy from the falling rain.

Before she could say anything, Jet cut her off with a curt, “Show me where he is.”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to get to him—his body contorted on the hard pavement below the shattered window, surrounded by shards of broken glass, in the clear aftermath of a sudden free fall. His limbs lay bent at odd angles; blood stained the ground below him and gushed even further from wounds at his gut and shoulder, not to mention the innumerable tiny cuts and scratches everywhere on his skin.

But he was alive. His chest rose and fell slowly, shudderingly, with each laborious breath. Barely holding on to life by a single, fragile thread—but undeniably alive.

“Dammit,” Jet said softly, under his breath.

He crouched down and gingerly slipped his hand under Spike’s head. Spike didn’t stir, but Jet thought he could feel him tense up a little. His body was slick with sweat mixed with the falling rain; it ran down his face and mixed with the blood pooling below him.

Spike had gotten into plenty of scrapes before, gotten himself terribly wounded by barreling recklessly into a situation ahead of the game, as was his custom. Jet had always had to save his ass and drag him back to the Bebop, reprimanding him over his complaints. But seeing him like this, unconscious on the pavement, his eyes softly closed—that was different.

“I dunno why he gets himself into these things,” Jet said gruffly, taking Spike’s legs with his other arm and hoisting his unconscious body into his arms, constantly checking to see if he was still breathing. He was. Jet shook his head. “Nothing but trouble.”

For the first time that Jet had ever seen, Faye looked truly anxious. “You’re sure he’ll be okay?”

“You really care that much?” said Jet, raising his eyebrows.

A smile flitted across Faye’s face. Despite everything that had happened, there was a hint of mischief, of her usual confidence, in it. “We’re supposed to be comrades, remember?”

Jet, as he turned back to Spike, couldn’t help but give a rueful grin at this too.

The eyelashes of Spike’s closed eyes rested softly on his cheeks. His face wasn’t twisted with pain; its expression was instead just troubled and tired. It was as if he was just asleep, napping on the couch of the Bebop, plagued by bad dreams.

As reckless as Spike always was, as unafraid as he was to die, it was hard for Jet to imagine him truly gone. He was an incredibly lucky man, even as he ran through the world with no sense of self-preservation, almost as if his whole life were spent in freefall. Jet had begun to indulge the foolish, fantastical belief that nothing could hurt him. Yeah, things could hurt him, but he’d always managed to make an excellent, borderline miraculous, recovery—usually thanks to Jet’s reluctantly nursing him back to health. He could recover from this, too. It was hard to imagine anything felling the man for good.

Jet shook his head. He knew this was just wishful thinking; he shouldn’t give in to it. It wasn’t rational.

But Spike had told him, when they first met, that he’d died already. What were the odds of it happening again?

“Yeah,” Jet said as the two of them walked back to the Hammerhead, with Spike resting in Jet’s muscled arms. “He’ll be fine.”

He gazed down again at Spike, his look tinged with worry and exasperation and something like fondness.

“He’d better be.”

#cowboy bebop #beboptober #beboptober 2022 #beboptober2022 #anime #ballad of fallen angels #spike spiegel #jet black #faye valentine #injury tw #blood tw #free fall #textpost #fic #my fic #maya’s musings #maya’s masterpieces

[mythboundmuses-archive]

@unheardmuses sent: ❛  slowly breathe in and out. that’s it.  ❜ [ hob @ dream. i just think he would be very good at verbally guiding a sub, sue me]

Dream tips his head back to look up at Hob, his dark, starry eyes endless and unseeing. He's lost himself to the Dreaming, has found himself in a hurtling, spiralling freefall.

See, he doesn't kneel for anyone. He's a King, a ruler, he's Endless. If his self-control slips for even a fraction of a moment, it could be disastrous for his realm, for the delicate balance he's cultivated for the dreamers: the ones he serves, who entrust themselves to his care when they are at their most vulnerable.

Yet he is kneeling for Hob, giving up his self-control and placing it in Hob's hands. He trusts Hob, has chosen to trust him, and is making that conscious decision with each second that slips by while he remains on his knees. While his instincts tell him to get up, to end this game now and retreat into the safety of the Dreaming, he doesn't. He stays, because he wants to be here with Hob, and dares to believe that he might deserve to relax just a fraction.

As he matches his breaths to Hob's, the inky black night in his eyes recedes. They become midday sky blue once more, and his freefall comes to a gentle end. He is on solid ground again, and he releases his death grip on the leg of Hob's trousers.

"Thank you," he murmurs, leaning forward to rest his weight against Hob's legs. "I - apologise. I wasn't expecting to have such a visceral reaction. I can assure you, it's nothing you did or did not do."

#nightmarecountry #in character: dream #𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒐𝒕𝒔 | in character #cw subdrop #KINDA! of the endless flavour anyway. #unarea man-shaped being experiences a moment of relaxation followed by a moment of Extreme Unrelaxation.

[sombersuniverse]

What They Died For

Where I came from, there were no growling cars or hissing factories. The lights buzzed but  they didn't showcase the blue, pink, purple splendor of the colourful lights here. There were  stars in the sky, winking and blinking at me with the confidence of a thousand suns.  Nonetheless, that was where I was, and I am more a fan of living in the present.  

There were always different stories of everyone's coming of age, some said it happened  when you were twelve, others say fifteen and yet many say eighteen. I came of age at the  ripe age of twenty-one, when the veil of blissfully soft lace that covered my eyes was ripped  away none too gently as I stared at my bank account balance in sheer dread. There was a quaint little jingle of a notification that came from my phone, my mother's message stared me in the face for a while. I couldn't help but to huff a breath of air composed of the pure element of wretched disbelief. 

"My dear daughter, you decided to quit you job since it was not making you happy, and therefore we will never be supplying you with money again." the message read, ever so proudly, on my screen. Only then did my situation dawn on me like the rising of the sun, I was completely broke. 

"Shit." 

Twenty-one was a harsh age to grow into being me as quickly and as disturbing as I did. It was not like I planned to be a bum for the rest of my life, mooching off my parents, no, I had dreams and plans. It was only then that I realized that I did nothing but let the agonizing weight of my mind's relentless whispers to, for lack of softer terms, cease to exist.  

I couldn't quite explain to my parents that my mental health was on the smellier side of dog shit though, and my anxiety turned out to be a great motivator to keep me stranded in one place rather miserably. I was always too scared to move, too scared to stay still and so I ended up standing still and tormenting myself over it. I admit that quitting my job was a hasty decision, the people were nice, everyone was nice, but the quarrels and the rush, I could not keep up and as I fell behind, I fell far. 

I ended up asking myself, 'What was a coming of age?' I drew blanks except the obvious that  it was becoming more mature and self-sustainable, but that definition didn't seem right to  me. The truth of the matter was that I was unhappy, I have been unhappy for a little over a  decade and I couldn't stand it anymore, I was so sick and tired of the icky feeling that'd  crawl out of my mind and down my arms and legs to glue me to place as I watched others  move, as I watched my friends leave me behind. I have plans, I have plans, I have plans... to  be happy. Yet I was stuck, and no one could help me if I didn't want to help myself, and for a  long while, too long of a while, I did not want to help myself.  

Then I came of age. I came of age messily, with tears rolling down my face, snot being  caught in my mouth, the prominent cracking of my heart and tearing of my mind. I came of  age with the joints of my unused limbs popping like fireworks, I came of age in the disaster  of my mental death, the death that warned me to run for my happiness, not to wait for it. I  did not mature in the way that people tend to say you should, I was immature until I started  wanting better for myself, until I thought that I deserved better. The truth was that my  mental health would probably always have mt head spinning and spiralling as if I am  airborne and freefalling with zero control and I had to decide that I wanted my dreams  more, that I wanted my happiness more. 

So, I crawled, because no one starts out walking or running. I fumbled, I stumbled, I  crumbled, and I remade myself, because creation doesn't always start from nothing.  Sometimes creation starts from the destruction of something, like how withered plants and  decayed animals help plants to grow and organisms to live. I vaguely went through the cycle  of life and evolved as I grew. Stardust fell from my lips as the shine in my eyes grew and  glowed brighter. I wasn't sure if I would make it, I wasn't sure if I could make it. Hell, some  days I stayed on the ground longer, listless and dim, flickering like a firefly close to life, close  to death. For in life there is death and in death there is life. 

At first, the city chewed me up and spit me out like curdled cheese. Nothing good ever came  easy. I lost my wallet, I lost my phone, I lost my apartments and none of my business ideas  kept afloat, perhaps that was because they weren't what I really wanted to be doing. Finally,  I got a job in a flower shop, and it became the most peaceful occurrence in my life, I had no  idea that it was only the beginning.

People say that you are a product of your upbringing, I didn't really believe that until I  realize that you as a person never stop growing, that where you have been, where you are  and where you are going will all eventually become factors that help to raise you, you never  truly stop growing until you stop yourself from being open to change. I am a product of my  upbringing. My parents began my nurturing and the people around me helped me to  progress. Everyone was like an aspect of nature and just like nature, no one was all sunshine  and rainbows, still, they helped me grow, the city was no different. 

From rude customers that were like thunderstorms, to polite coworkers who were like a  warm spring day, I just never thought that the one to impact me the most would be a  homeless woman I had bought a meal for and sat and chatted with. Of course, I was  skeptical and unsure of interacting with her at first, my prejudice kept me uneasy and  judgmental, but my sympathy moved me more. I was homeless before too; luck was just on  my side at those times. 

As I sat on the bench along with the lady, slurping up my mint chocolate shake quietly,  swinging my legs that barely grazed the floor if I pointed my toes. The lady ate quietly, and  the silence was companionable. 

"How old are you?" she whispered, frail voice catching on the 'd' of old and 'a' of are,  effectively breaking off the sounds of the letters. 

"Twenty-one."  

"Very young. Do you have a dream?"  

"I do... I'm not sure I can achieve it though." 

"Listen to me, you've got to be bigger than the self-doubt and bad thoughts. You're still  growing and twenty-one is so young. Many of your ancestors have died, despite what others  may say, it was for the happiness of the generations after them, that's what they died for,  their freedom and you. The roof isn't too far, reach for the stars and fly, chase your  happiness and dance for it, that is coming of age, fighting for what you want and believe in. 

If your dream doesn't make your heart palpitate and ache with the prospect of possibility,  what will?" the lady spoke with a soft tone that carried like a breeze, caressing fevered skin  and coaxing it to calm down, I was in awe and for the first time in a while, my heart burned  and reached a fever pitch. 

".... Thank you." was all that I could say as the lady smiled at me. 

"Ah, and now you have come of age. Your eyes have regained their sparkle of dream, like fresh honey, topsoil and molten chocolate. It's just the beginning."

#writing #writers on tumblr #short story #growing up #heal #somber's universe grows

[hooves-of-hyrule]

Hey, Zelda - Checked in on the Thundra Plateau Herd

“Hey, Zelda” is a documentation of my personal Tears of the Kingdom playthrough, told through the eyes of Link in a series of monologues.

In the brief intermission between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, Link and Zelda spent a lot of time together - and by that I mean, they lived together. They shared a house, shared meals, even shared a bed (though if you asked them, they would’ve told you it was for comfort and safety, and yes, they’d really believe what they were saying). Link, however, also shared stories. Old habits die hard, and after Zelda disappears, he talks as if she's there listening to him just to keep some semblance of normalcy in his life.

Note that these are incredibly self-indulgent and I fully expect no one but myself to actually care about any of these lmao.

~~~~~~~~

I had a busy day today. Discovered some sky islands where apparently Zonai youth would be challenged to freefall through a series of light rings. Not totally sure what the significance of that is, but I did get an incredibly cool outfit out of the deal. It has fabric that can attach to the arms and legs to create a sort of… wing-suit, and makes it so much easier to maneuver through the air without a paraglider. If you were here, you’d probably insist on taking it for yourself on occasion. …I bet it would look even better on you than it does on me. Which is saying a lot, by the way, because it does look very good on me. You’re missing out. Also managed to get all but two of Purah’s skyview towers activated. When you come back you’re definitely going to have to give one of them a try. It’s about the closest thing you’ll get to flying!

Second thing I did was check on the Zonai horse herd we’ve been keeping an eye on. Remember that one foal we’ve been watching especially closely? That beautiful silver bay with the dark face? She’s finally all grown up. Managed to get a hold of her and she definitely was worth the wait. I can’t wait for you to meet her, I think you’ll like her even more than Dauntless. The rest of the herd is doing well too. One of the bands has been forced to move up toward the mountain though. You know the one that stayed on that ledge? That one. Turns out the stone talus got replaced by a lynel. That was… a surprise to say the least. Anyways, when I got back to the New Serenne Stable to register Wick as my own, I noticed someone worrying over a broken wagon so… obviously I fixed it for her. Turned out she had only just gotten the wagon but somehow didn’t even know how to catch a horse. Since catching horses is pretty much my only pastime, I figured I’d grab a nice gentle one for her. Managed to find her a beautiful bay paint with a long mane… honestly I almost kept him for myself, but apparently I need to rack up more “pony points” before I can register another horse. …Rant about that later. Anyway - I gave her the horse and she hitched it up, and then she asked for my name, which I told her. Her name is… Zumi? Zuli? Something like that. Apparently the only reason she asked was because she wanted to name the wagon after the two of us. So now it’s called Zunk. I can tell she only did it because she thinks I’m attractive or something, which is… uncomfortable, but I can forgive it because Zunk is honestly the best name I’ve ever heard and I think if we ever get a dog someday it should be named Zunk. Or maybe Zenk, actually. Get it? Zenk? …no, that’s stupid. Maybe Lilda? …Lelda? Zink… Zelink… hm. That’s a work in progress.

Oh, I asked the stable owner about whatever happened to that golden horse the two of us have been working on training. Apparently she got transferred to the Hebra snowfield stable, which is just about the worst place she could’ve been transferred to. I hope she’s doing well. I’ll go check on her for you tomorrow.

~~~~~

Author's Note: Wick is one of the two-max-stat-one-almost-max-stat horses I was talking about in the notes of the prologue. Now she's a 100% max stat. She's also, really freaking pretty. And as my friend said, "omg it's discount store-brand Epona."

Also I wish the paints and appaloosas didn't have such bad stats :( Someday I'll actually keep one and just upgrade it. Today is not that day. I hope Zumi(?) likes her horse that she will literally never use.

#legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #fanfic #zelink #hey zelda

[adventuresportsandactivities]

Unleash Your Adventurous Spirit: Experience the Thrills of Adventure Sports and Activities

Introduction: Embrace the Call of Adventure

Embark on a breathtaking journey into the world of adventure sports and activities. Get ready to feel the rush of adrenaline as you push your limits, conquer new heights, and explore the great outdoors like never before. Let your inner adventurer run free and immerse yourself in an unparalleled experience of excitement and thrill.

Why Choose Adventure Sports and Activities?

1. Exhilaration and Excitement*

Satisfy your craving for excitement and adrenaline rushes with a wide array of heart-pounding activities.

2. Break Free from Routine*

Escape the mundane and routine by diving headfirst into thrilling challenges that ignite your passion for life.

3. Personal Growth and Confidence*

Embark on transformative experiences that build self-confidence, resilience, and personal growth.

Embark on Thrilling Expeditions: Adventure Sports at Its Finest

1. Skydiving: Embrace the Freefall*

Leap into the vast expanse of the sky, feel the rush of wind, and experience the unmatched thrill of freefalling.

2. Rock Climbing: Conquer New Heights*

Scale majestic rock formations, conquer vertical challenges, and bask in the triumph of reaching the summit.

3. Whitewater Rafting: Ride the Rapids*

Navigate wild river currents, navigate thrilling rapids, and bond with your team on an exhilarating water adventure.

Immerse in Nature's Beauty: Outdoor Adventure Activities

1. Hiking and Trekking: Explore the Untamed*

Embark on scenic hikes and treks through lush forests, majestic mountains, and serene landscapes.

2. Mountain Biking: Blaze New Trails*

Feel the thrill of speed and adrenaline as you navigate rugged terrains on two wheels.

3. Zip Lining: Soar like a Bird*

Zip through treetops, gliding over picturesque scenery, and experience the world from a bird's-eye view.

Dive into Aquatic Wonders: Water Adventure Sports

1. Scuba Diving: Discover Underwater Realms*

Plunge into the depths of the ocean, explore vibrant marine life, and uncover hidden underwater wonders.

2. Surfing: Catch the Perfect Wave*

Ride the waves, balance on the surfboard, and experience the joy of conquering the ocean's powerful currents.

3. Kayaking: Paddle to Serenity*

Navigate tranquil waters, explore hidden coves, and connect with nature on a peaceful kayaking journey.

Adventure Sports for All: Diverse Experiences

1. Family Adventures*

Create unforgettable memories with family-friendly activities that cater to all ages and skill levels.

2. Solo Expeditions*

Embark on soul-stirring solo adventures, discovering new strengths, and gaining profound insights.

3. Group Escapades*

Share thrilling experiences with friends, old and new, as you bond over shared passions and challenges.

Embrace the Spirit of Adventure

The world of adventure sports and activities beckons you. Unleash your adventurous spirit, challenge your boundaries, and savor unforgettable moments of excitement and triumph. Whether you seek thrill, personal growth, or connection with nature, there's an adventure waiting for you. Embrace the spirit of adventure and let the journey begin!

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[patrioticshortbread]

could we pull the edges of this hour, let the sun rest another minute more? o scoundrel day, long and hard, sharp and present as it ticks on by. could we prolong departure, arrest ascent, give one dreary moment to extend fingers past the sky, grip her hot star self and pull her, let her slip before she shivers slumber off those mountain peaks?

today must end and tomorrow must never come, and i am in the miserable second between the two divides. pull and prod and push and shove, could the stars pull the blanket of ebony up past their head and snore the evening soft and past brevity?

the morning comes and i resent it. midday arrives and i am flooded with remorse. i am becoming a bitter beast of a man, prowling these empty streets with an insatiable hunger for time. i am pressed flat by the stress of it, as though the world itself closes in to choke me as that sun sways in blue, as that moon pounces it's cool light to cast shadows.

growling and discontent and stretched beyond capacity, i am drowning in this gap and yet suffocated by it, an airless space of freefall.