#i am staring into the void very intensely

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Shadow Milk Cookie. Chloroform. Yandere. Do what you will with this information.

-🏳️‍🌈👨‍❤️‍👨

I'm gonna put you as the anon listed above since- That's what I assume you mean?

I unintentionally put shitpost aha

Disclaimer: MC is still gender neutral, they are just referred to as queen for chess role purposes.

Tw: Eyestrain for the art that goes along with this piece, chloroform-like magic, kidnapping to a different dimension, implied future murder

You find yourself in a dark void. So black, you can't see anything through the shadows that swirl in your vision. You're not sure what it feels like. Is it threatening? Or is it a sense of peace? You aren't sure. This sense of the unknown makes you anxious.

Suddenly, a big blue eye opens in front of you, the colour glowing within the dimmed surroundings. The shade of blue reminded you of Lapis. A very bright one. But the eye itself, it was terrifying. You nearly wanted to break into pieces right then and there.

"Oh, my queen! You're finally here!" A voice eagerly chirps, a slightly maniacal tone to it. It seemed ecstatic to see you, too much so. You couldn't form an answer, still processing your odd environment.

"I've missed you~ It's been ages since I've seen your face! You don't look any different- oh, maybe you're just a little prettier, you silly thing!" The voice giggled as the eye blinked. The eye squinted upwards as if it was smiling. But wait, why did it act like it's seen you before? You don't know who this entity is. Not even what it is. Is it a cookie? A beast? Confusion swelled within you as the seconds passed.

"My sweet...What is that face?" The voice slowly faded away, as your world suddenly blackened once more.

——————————————————

"MC, are you okay?" You wake up to the face of Strawberry. She seems concerned, her big brown eyes down-turned. How cute. "You were shaking in your sleep."

"Um yeah, I'm okay. I just had a weird dream." You respond, still lying on the grass where you and the group are camped. You clutch onto your blanket a little tighter.

"Like a nightmare?" She tilts her head to the side.

"Not exactly. I can't put it to words..." You mumble off, trying to recall the eye that spoke to you.

"Oh okay." She glanced at the blue and violet sky, commenting, "It's almost sunrise. Do you wanna prepare jellies with me? I'm sure the others will wake up soon."

You nod and sit up before flailing your blanket to the side.

——————————————————

You and your friends are going through the forests of Beast Yeast, cautious of all the creatures and evil beings lurking by. That is until your group stumbles upon a random chessboard on a glass table. In the middle of the fucking path, in the middle of fucking Beast Yeast. Instead of black and white, the board is in different shades of blue.

"What in tarnation is this?" Wizard leans closer, staring at it intensely. Fidgeting with his fake beard, or in other words, his scarf.

Chili Pepper butted in, "The fuck you mean bro, this is obviously a dumb chessboard-"

"LANGUAGE!" Gingerbrave suddenly turned out to stare at Chili Pepper uncannily, before smiling again. "I'm sure it's something dangerous! Let's not touch it."

"Guys,"

"Or it could be a chessboard and table someone decided to randomly leave here."

"Shush- I'm always right." Gingerbrave did an imaginary hair toss.

"Guys..."

Wizard raised his hand, just like a nerd, "No? I am, thank you. By the almighty power of magic I-"

"You're an ice cream. Also, you're the one who's screaming for help half the time." Chili Pepper chuckled, poking at Wizard.

Strawberry took a breath and sharply, albeit quickly spoke, "Guys!"

The whole group turned to look at her, which made her flush with embarrassment. She pointed at the chessboard. "The pieces are moving on their own." When the gang looked back at the gameboard, they were met with a surprising sight.

The chess pieces moved by their own accord. Which revealed that the darker blue side was winning compared to the lighter blue. It was a competitive fight, with both sides making quick moves. It was mesmerizing, you aren't sure why.

You reached out your hand and touched one of the pieces in curiosity. Only to feel a sudden freezing cold gust fly at you. Your surroundings become dark, just like your dream as the yelps of your friends sound out around you. A sinister chuckle joins along, as your body is thrown into a blackened world once more.

"Honey! Honey, honey, honey, my honey."

You stand before a jester cookie, covered in eyes. He grins, his clothes like the blues of the chessboard. He swiftly goes over to you, cradling you in his arms. You can't move, overcome with a freezing cold that leaves you immobile.

"I've waited much too long on your reincarnation. We could have had a wonderful marriage by now if it weren't for that bastard Elder Faerie." He spoke softer than before but had a spit of venom for the name Elder Faerie. He leans closer, uncomfortably so. He makes a minuscule hum before pecking your mouth.

"I'll just keep you here for a bit until I have everything ready." Out of nowhere, a shadow comes for you, binding you in it. You start to feel drowsy. "We'll be so happy once more, I promise." Your vision starts to swirl into darkness, to the point you can't make him out anymore.

You fall asleep, unable to fight off the dreadful binds.

——————————————————

"My Queen~! Wake up! I have everything ready for you." You're nudged awake, as the binds come off you. You find yourself on a throne: cold and metal. As look forward, you are shocked to see a glowing chessboard just like the one you saw on the path. But also freaked out to see Strawberry and Gingerbrave tied up in the same binds, floating in the air.

"Wha- What is this?" You stammer, overwhelmed with all that has happened in the last few moments. Was this a joke? A jester terrorizing you and your friends, what a lovely day.

"Why, it is the moment you get to see your idiots crumble right before you by the hands of your rightful husband, me: Shadow Milk Cookie!" He comes over to you, putting a crown on your head. It was plain, just a metal crown with no jewels or anything else.

"And you're the queen! The most powerful one on the board!" He giggles, patting your hand. You tense at his touch, wanting to get away from this glorified position you were in. But time and time again, you can't move away from your spot. It's as if you were hardened glue stuck to a label that no one can seem to pry off.

"I don't know what reincarnation you talked about before, but whatever it is, stop it! My friends have done nothing! I don't even know who you are!" You plead, wanting his weird reincarnation thing to stop. You felt guilty for thinking of touching a moving chess piece in Beast Yeast. Gingerbrave was right: everything is dangerous.

"Honey..." Shadow Milk frowned, holding your face in his hands. He looked disappointed rather than enraged. "I know your memories are somewhat faded, but those cookies are distracting you. Distracting you from me, your beloved." He lightly bumps his face against yours, staring into your eyes.

"What do they have to do anything with your dead lover?" You ask, a little too harshly, but needing to get the message across.

He gasps. "They aren't dead! They're right before me!" He puts his jester hat on his head, going over to Gingerbrave and Strawberry. He glares at them briefly with his dual-chromed eyes before returning to you.

"Just let me. Just let me kill them." He hisses with a grin. His eyes scare you, the way they're wide open with insanity. "I need some desperate alone time with you and also get our marriage decided once more." Shadows started to succumb to the world, except for the light from the board.

"No! Don't you dare!" You shake your head, unwilling to let him get away with this. Your poor friends. Just what kind of madness did you pull them into?

"My Queen! When will you let me kill them? They are insignificant to our love!" He exclaims, reaching a hand out to you.

Oh, what a devoted lover isn't he? Waiting for eons for you only for you to be so disgusted with him.

——————————————————

This was really fun to write. Now, I’m not quite caught up on the lore yet. I just read his profile and said fuck yeah so…mhm.

I will say, I didn’t go exactly chloroform, but the same aspect of it with his magic.

I used honey cuz I was like “Old. But also insane. Equals honey.”

Alright I’m gonna go do homework now because I’ve neglected other work (APRIL AND MAY IS HELL FOR MEEE)

- Celina

#cookie run #yandere cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom #yandere #yandere x reader #crk x reader #crk #yandere shadow milk #yandere shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #yandere shadow milk cookie x reader

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn Ends the Night - Chapter 3

Aemond Targaryen x FemReader (Dayne)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 4.7K

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of the attack sees Prince Aemond wrestle with new feelings.

Notes: Hello everyone, I hope you are all enjoying this chaotic posting schedule just as much as I am!!! I am back with a new chapter, a little window into Aemond's very messy mind. That man is a softboy at heart, he just needs like 20 years of therapy. RN its the beginning of a slight "obsession" as our boy for the first is feeling... something that is not murder, or hatred, or the need to burn everything with Vhagar. So yeah.

Like always thank you to everyone who reblogged and commented I love interacting with y'all and I really hope that you enjoy this chapter 💜💜💜

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts

Through your Eyes

In the silence of his bedchamber, Aemond's pulse raced like the chained dragons lagering in the dragon pit, its beat echoing from the cavern of his chest to the very tips of his fingers, awakening the primal blood-rage that slept within his Targaryen blood. The air around him trembled with his ragged breaths, each one a stormy gust tearing through the otherwise stillness of the room. Alone, he wrestled with his armor, the leather stained with the day's deadly encounter. He would need to get the leather treated so the blood wouldn’t leave its reddish mark, Aemond thought with annoyance.  His hands, though shaking with a fury he struggled to contain, methodically peeled away each layer, dismissing the need for a manservant's aid. This was his ritual of solitude, after a lost fight in the yard with Ser Criston, or an annoying dinner with Aegon, Aemond needed to take a moment to confront the tempest within, a moment to try and tame the dragon. 

“My thanks for saving us” your sweet words echoed in Aemond’s brain like the hymns his mother had once insisted he memorize, trapped in his mind – relentless in their grab for his undivided attention. Although he had just met you earlier (had it only been 3 hours?) each detail was etched into his memory with unnerving clarity —the putrid stench of Flea Bottom that now seemed to permeate his very being and clung all the way to his smallclothes, the satisfying melody of the guard's screams echoes loud as he replays  the moment he severed the man's hand from his foul body; an act of true dragon-justice.  

 Your eyes. 

Those eyes, captivating and raw, rimmed with red, their watery sheen reflecting a tumult of fury and fear. It was a look Aemond rarely witnessed in others, but they were a mirror to the emotions he often grappled with in his daily solitude. Staring into his own reflection, he was accustomed to seeing the same intensity in his sole eye, the other a remnant of his past, a void where fear once dwelled. Now, that fear was often overshadowed by a simmering fury, a relentless fire that had become his constant companion. Yet, in your gaze, he saw the fear and anger, a young bird still scared of an unknown, cruel world – but oh so angry and unwilling to get yourself drag down by its cruelty.  

Since coming back to the keep after he had settled the matter at the market, Aemond’s mind was inexorably drawn back to the market, to the moment he first laid eyes on you. He had not needed anyone to point you out; he knew who you were from the second he saw you, holding that little boy who was clinging onto you like the barnacles that littered the rocks in blackwater bay.  

Seeing you so small yet standing so tall in the shadow of the guard’s golden cloak, he had only seen the resolve and desire to protect; for Aemond, it was like a visceral pull that transcended mere sight that had drawn him to you, like he was being pulled with a thight string attached to his heart.And in the dirt of Flea Bottom, you had stood cloaked in a gown of gauzy lilac in a style of dress he had never seen at court. The sheerness of the sleeves and the plunge of the loose bodice defied the strict, colorless conventions of the court and in a way that would surely raise his mother's brow in disapproval. But Aemond did not care for what was proper, as when he freed the man’s body from its hand, he only longed to take you in his arms, to press the silky fabric of your gown, under which he knew luscious curves hid, between his fingertips.  

Aemond closed his eyes trying to imagine what you would feel like in his arms, he could almost feel it if he concentrated enough - were he a bold man, Aemond would have tugged on the fabric of your dress to bring you closer to him, to hold you tight. Not for unseemly reasons as you were still his betrothed, a lady of noble birth at that, and he was no Aegon. It was hard to admit it to himself, but all he wanted was to inhale the sweet citrusy scent he had caught when you had tied the purple scrap of silk to his bicep.  

Aemond unwound the fabric from his arm with a tenderness that echoed the way his mother handled her most precious emerald necklace, an heirloom passed down from his grandmother. She cherished it so deeply that she allowed only herself to touch or clean it, guarding it like a dragon hoarding its treasure. But to Aemond, this simple piece of purple cloth was infinitely more valuable than any gems or riches that lay in the royal vault; it was the only tangible thread linking him to you. Through this favor, you were his and he was yours, bonded through blood and silk. He hoped one day he could shower you in trinkets; ruby-red necklaces, perhaps paired with a green samite gown, or freshwater pearls jewelery ; he had heard that Riverrun made amazing hairnet with them  –Aemond could not help but smile at the thought of you outfitted with tokens from him, all would know that you belonged to him.  

Aemond let the fabric dance lightly between his fingertips and bringing the scarf closer, he tentatively pressed it against his nose, inhaling deeply. The fragrance was faint, a hint of your presence as if you had only briefly held the fabric in your grasp. Frustration flickered within him as he sought more of your scent, breathing in with an intensity born of deep longing and desire. Aemond was no stranger to yearning; his life was a testament to insatiable hunger - for recognition, for greatness, for respect, and for the Iron Throne. His brother, with his lecherous appetite and penchant for debauchery, and his older sister who is always entangled in a web of deceit with her brood of Strong bastards, were both underserving of what should have been rightfully Aemond.  

Yet, as he held the fabric close to his face, Aemond felt his greed transform from ugly and covetous to an all-encompassing desire to protect and care. He yearned not for accolades or crowns, but for the intimacy of your existence in his arms. Indeed, Aemond was a greedy man, and at that moment, he longed to truly have you, to have your scent permeate his skin. The mere thought of burying his face in your hair, drawing in the essence of your being, became a need that tugged at his very core. He almost scoffed at his thoughts, to think that the dragonrider of Vhagar would be reduced to a puddle of quivering emotions! If, when his mother first informed him of his betrothal, Aegon had told him that in barely a moon's turn he would desire nothing more than the simple pleasure of his betrothed's closeness, to breathe in the sweet aroma, he would have throttled his idiot brother. But you had ensnared him – a simple instant in your presence, a look from your beautiful eyes and he was yours. What a mess he was.  

Closing his eyes, Aemond did his best to recall the delicate touch of your hands as they had wrapped the fabric around his arm. The feeling of your delicate fingers resonated deep within him, intimate and gentle, unlike any he had ever experienced. The soft pressure of your fingers against his skin, the careful way you secured the scarf, it all felt like a silent promise, I shall care for you, my lord husbands. Words Aemond yearned to hear falling from your plush lips.  

Under the tender scrutiny of your eyes, Aemond felt a man transformed; Gone was the bitter sting of being known as 'Aemond the Dragonless' or 'Aemond-who-sends-the-maids-crying.' Instead, he felt seen as who he should have been, had fate not cruelly snatched away his eye – a true dragon prince, deserving of admiration and respect. Deserving of a crown, even if his weak father refused to admit it.  

"Prince Aemond!" The call from Ser Criston echoed forcefully through the door, breaking the stillness of the chamber and brought Aemond from his musings. Huffing, Aemond groaned in displeasure, he could understand now why Aegon stopped his sword training - Ser Criston did have the worst of timing. Maybe if he held his breath, Ser Criston would go away. He waited a minute, but the pounding restarted; Of course, he would not go away, the knight was relentless.  

"Just a moment," Aemond replied tersely.  

"The Queen requests your presence immediately, my prince. The matter is urgent, so please make haste my prince" came Ser Criston's insistent voice from the other side. 

Aemond groaned before swiftly splashing cool water across his face, feeling it's refreshing touch against his skin and hastily pulling a tunic over his head, covering his bare chest. There would be time for a proper bath later in the evening, before dinner and the official presentation of his betrothed to court, he reasoned. 

His fingers then reached for the purple silk and carefully he tied it around his wrist, positioning it high enough to remain concealed beneath the folds of his jerkin. Though hidden from view, its presence was a secret comfort, a reminder that he did not dream you – that you existed, in flesh and blood.  

Aemond flung the door open, his movements brusque, revealing the stern figure of Ser Criston Cole. The knight looked annoyed; his lips downturned in displeasure. Without exchanging words, Aemond began striding towards his mother’s solar, the path so familiar that he required no guidance, least of all from his mother’s shadow. 

"The Queen is quite agitated, my prince," Ser Criston broke the silence, his voice echoing down the dimly lit corridor. "She has been informed of the incident at the market and is... less than pleased." 

Aemond's steps faltered, his fists clenching at his sides, he knew it was coming, he just had not imagined it would happen so soon, although it made sense as Alicent had many eyes and ears all over the city. Aemond looked at Ser Criston before rolling his eye, the knight had no doubt babbled the second he had reached his mother's vicinity. The thought of disappointing his mother tightly squeezed at his heart, with gritted teeth, Aemond let out a noncommittal grunt in a thinly veiled effort to maintain composure. Ser Criston, however, persisted. "In light of the current tensions at court, such a public display of violence was... ill-advised, to say the least. For a prince of the realm to act so rashly..." 

Stopping abruptly, the torchlight casting long shadows that danced on the walls, Aemond turned sharply, his eyes a stormy sea of frustration and barely contained rage. "And what would you have had me do, Ser Criston? Stand by while that animal threatened my betrothed with cold steel? Be grateful I let him leave with his life." 

Ser Criston's demeanor remained stoic, attempting to soothe the prince's anger. "These are indeed trying times, my prince. But your betrothed should not have found herself in such a predicament. A lady of her station venturing away from her escort raises questions about her discretion. Such behavior could bring unforeseen troubles to our doorstep..." 

Aemond's voice cut through the air, sharp as Valyrian steel. "I severed the hand that dared harm her. What do you think I would do to the tongues of those who dare tarnish her name?" 

Ser Criston's expression flickered, a brief moment of uncertainty crossing his face. "My prince, I did not mean to imply—" 

"I know exactly what you implied," Aemond interjected, his voice laced with a cold venom. He unconsciously reached to his right arm where he knew your favor was hidden, touching it to bring your bravery to his words. "Remember your place, Ser Criston. As much as you are a valued member of this household and as much as I have always considered you to be a great mentor, I will not tolerate any slight against my betrothed. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, my prince," Ser Criston conceded, the strain in his voice evident. "I shall be more mindful." 

With a curt nod, Aemond turned away and, as he moved through the corridors, passing servants and knights alike, he noticed their efforts to avoid meeting his gaze. It was a dance he had grown accustomed to, yet today, it felt more pronounced as it made the hole beneath the eye-patch throbbed. Trying to keep the pain at bay, he imagined you at his side holding his hand and giving a sweet reassuring smile. It seemed to help somewhat as the pain started subsiding, leaving in its wake only the feeling of emptiness. It would do for now.  

 Reaching the door to the Queen's solar, Aemond paused, collecting his thoughts. He had hoped that by now, his usual icy composure would have resettled over him like a familiar cloak, that the fiery dragon within would have been tamed and subdued. Yet, beneath his skin, a prickling heat lingered, a reminder of the inferno that had coursed through his veins earlier. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the encounter ahead. The comforting memory of your grateful eyes had to be set aside, replaced with the bracing reality of his mother's scrutiny. 

Aemond gently rapped on the door and after a brief pause, one of his mother's handmaidens opened the door, allowing him and Ser Criston to enter the room. Inside, Queen Alicent, adorned in a dress of her usual striking green, paced before a large window. Her anxiety was palpable, evidenced by the way she gnawed at her cuticles, some of which were surrounded by tiny specks of blood where she had bitten too deeply.  

Aemond felt a pang of shame tighten in his gut. He was rather unaccustomed to being the source of his mother's disappointment. Throughout his life, she had always shown him a particular kind of attention, especially during his more vulnerable, bullied childhood years when he did not have a dragon to stop people (Aegon) from mocking him. Displeasing Queen Alicent was not something he took lightly. His gaze swept across the room, and Aemond noticed the unusual absence of Otto Hightower, which was odd as the man always had a way to immerse himself in every family discussion. 

Aemond's thoughts were shattered by the sharp rebuke of his mother. "Aemond, for the love of the Seven, what possessed you?" Queen Alicent's voice might have sounded stern and strict to the uneased ear, but Aemond could hear a pinch of desperation. "To attack and dismember a gold cloak in full view of the public. Do you realize the talk this will incite!?" Her eyes, usually so full of maternal warmth reserved for him, now bore into him with a sternness that made him inwardly flinch. 

The smoldering embers of Aemond's anger flared up once more, and he met his mother's gaze with his own steely look – the one that made grown man shudder. "Mother, that man was a disgrace to his cloak. He was assaulting the woman who is to be my wife, threatening her life. He was a beast, unworthy of his position and of the gold on his back. By intervening, I not only did what was necessary to protect my intended, but I restored the name of the King in the eyes of the people of King’s Landing. I will not apologize for my actions as I was under the impression that Lady Dayne, being betrothed to a prince, would be under the protection of our house. It seems I was mistaken. Perhaps I should have allowed her to be stripped naked and beaten for all of Flea bottom to see, would this have been more appropriate?!" 

Queen Alicent, her fingers once again finding their way to her mouth, bit her nails nervously. With a weary sigh, she approached Aemond, her hands reaching out to gently grasp his arms. "Aemond, you misunderstand my concern," she began, her voice tinged with fatigue. "Your actions in defending your betrothed were commendable, but the manner in which you executed them... it is the brutality of it that troubles me. Such a display of violence and cruelty, it's not befitting a prince of your stature." 

Aemond's response came with a touch of bitterness, "Mother, the people of King’s Landing have always viewed me as a monster. What I did today is likely mild in comparison to what they all believe me capable of. And frankly, the man got off lightly. Had it been solely up to me, I would have fed him to Vhagar without a second thought." 

Queen Alicent's sigh was heavy. "Aemond, please," she implored. "I understand your urge to protect your future wife, but you have not even properly met her, your reaction was..." 

"You understand nothing," Aemond interjected sharply, his voice rising with indignation. "My name is Aemond Targaryen! NOT Aemond Hightower and I will uphold the words of my house, 'Fire and Blood,' in dealing with any who threaten us. And that includes Lady Dayne, from the moment Ggrandfather arranged for our betrothal. " 

Alicent's expression turned grave, her gaze unyielding "Is that truly your desire, Aemond? To be remembered as another Maegor the Cruel? To walk the same dark path as your uncle, the rogue that all the nobility of the realm scorns? What legacy do you wish to leave – Aemond the Monstrous? Aemond the Brutal?" 

Aemond winced upon his mother's words – Aemond the monstruous? A bitter retort escaped his lips, "Perhaps I do want that. Perhaps if they called me 'Aemond the Cruel' openly as they all think it, my dear older sister would reconsider herself, parading her bastards as if they were legitimate heirs, worthy of the throne." 

Queen Alicent took a deep, steadying breath, her eyes closing momentarily in a silent plea for patience. She released Aemond's arms, turning away from him, her posture one of weary resignation. "I only wish that you would remember the lessons of mercy taught by the Mother," she said softly. "I understand your anger, Aemond, but you must see that there are alternatives to your actions. Violence, war, death – these are not the sole answers to all our difficulties." 

Aemond felt sour upon his mother’s words, had she always been so blind? "And what would be the 'appropriate' answer, mother, when Rhaenyra learns of your plans with Grandfather? When she discovers your intention to crown Aegon over her?" 

"Aemond, please," Alicent implored, but he pressed on relentlessly. 

"Do you truly believe she will simply just accept it? Do you not see that war and violence are already at our doorstep? Is this not why you arranged my marriage to Lady Dayne – to secure Dorne's support when conflict inevitably breaks out? Consider how our position would weaken if I had allowed the first Dornish lady on our soil since the conquest to be abused on the streets of King's Landing. Prince Quoren might have renounced our alliance entirely. And then what, Mother? Whom would you have me marry? A distant Beesbury cousin? Perhaps some lesser Velaryon to challenge Lord Corlys? What would your grand strategy be, mother?" 

Alicent remained silent, her figure still and composed, even as the tension in the room thickened. Aemond felt like a snarling dragon, spewing fire at the calm and poised figure of his mother – but a dragon could burn down a tower if needed. From his vantage point in the corner, Ser Criston, who had been observing the exchange in silence, finally spoke up, his voice stern. "Prince or not, you will show the proper respect when addressing the Queen." 

Alicent's voice was calm, final. "It is alright, Ser Criston. My son is evidently still distressed from today's events. You may leave us, Aemond." She did not turn back to look at Aemond, her gaze fixed somewhere distant. 

"Mother," Aemond uttered, the anger was still there, but a deep feeling of regret was starting to tightnened in his troath – he had never spoken to his mother this. Had always revered her as the woman who had always loved him, would always love and cherish him, eyes or no eyes. The woman who had taken his side on Driftmark, who had been willing to draw blood for him. So why was he so angry? Because you know of another woman who would have taken your side on Driftmark now, a smooth voice whispered in his mind. He could imagine Lady Dayne, except instead of the little street urchin clinging to you, it was him – holding you as you were soothing him and urling insults to the Strong. Nevertheless, although Aemond knew he had won the argument, the victory was hollow and left a bitter taste in his mouth.  

As Aemond stormed out of his mother's solar, the door slammed shut with a force that was quite petulant and wholly unbefitting of his princely demeanor. The urge to visit Vhagar tugged at him; her presence, the soothing texture of her scales, and the smoldering depths of her yellow eyes often brought him solace in tumultuous times. Soaring through the skies on her back, he found unparalleled freedom, a sense of true self that grounded him amidst the chaos of court life. But today, his steps wavered, his usual path to where Vhagar rested, momentarily forgotten. 

A different impulse guided him instead, steering his course through the corridors of the castle. He caught sight of a maid, her steps quick and purposeful towards the kitchens. In a swift motion, Aemond reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping her arm. His voice, though laced with the lingering storm of his recent encounter, carried a softer edge. "Tell me, where in the castle is the Dayne retinue lodging?" 

The maid, attempting to maintain her composure, did everything to avoid the intense gaze of his solitary eye, stuttered her reply. "In... the west wing, my prince," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. With a nod of acknowledgement, Aemond released her, his mind now set on a new destination. 

Navigating the labyrinth of corridors towards the West wing, Prince Aemond was in a whirlwind as each step he took was shadowed by uncertainty - would you be there in your quarters? And if so, would you welcome his presence? He wondered if the radiant spark that had lit your eyes earlier, the one that had captivated him so completely, would still shine when faced with him alone. Doubt nagged at him, whispering questions of whether you might prefer solitude over his company. He shook his head, none of it mattered; the second-guessing, the fear. He needed to see you, to lay eyes on you and ensure your well-being. These thoughts propelled him towards your quarters, and he felt more like a dragon than ever before, like a great beast tracking its prey before feasting – unrelenting, with a singular purpose. You.  

As Prince Aemond neared the West wing, he was met with a contingent of guards adorned with the Dayne sigil – a white fallen star against a field of lilac. A frown marred his features. Where had these men been when you needed them most? "I wish to see my betrothed." Aemond’s tone left no place for arguments. 

However, one of the guards, an older man with a graying beard and sharp brown eyes, appeared unmoved by Aemond's royal status and instead eyed the prince distrustfully. "The lady is currently resting after a taxing day... My prince" The last part was definitely added as an afterthought. 

Bastard, Aemond thought angrily, did he not know he was speaking to a prince? How dare this commoner (who had let harm come to you) come between him and his need to see you! Aemond's sneer was barely concealed. "I'm well aware of her trying day, as I was present," he retorted, trying to quell the anger that pulsed in his veins. "Is it a Dornish custom then, that betrothed couples cannot converse? Especially after one of the party saved the other. Quite a peculiar custom if you ask me." 

Another younger guard grumbled “Not as much as fucking your siblings...” If Aemond was not so consumed with thoughts of you, he would have had whipped this guard for the insolence.  

The older guard's expression soured further, his eyes narrowing. "Given today’s events, where one of your men assaulted our lady, you'll understand my prince,” definitely a sneer” “Our caution.”  

"And the man responsible has been dealt with," Aemond countered firmly, his gaze unwavering. 

The standoff continued for a tense moment before the older guard relented under Aemond's intense gaze. For once, Aemond was quite satisfied that his one eye could make even the fiercest of men grow uncomfortable, it helped to get his bidding done. The guard led the prince to a corner door and knocked briskly. "My lady, Prince Aemond is here to see you," he announced. 

The response came in the form of your familiar, melodious voice, which had haunted Aemond's thoughts throughout the day. "Come in!" you called out, and Aemond felt a mixture of relief and apprehension as he prepared to enter. 

Upon opening the room, Aemond was met with a scene quite unexpected. There you were, center stage in the spacious chamber, having exchanged your earlier attire for a strikingly different ensemble. You were adorned in a long, elegant purple tunic with short sleeves that left your arms gracefully exposed. Underneath, a pair of voluminous white breeches reached down to your calves, leaving the lower parts of your legs exposed. Aemond gulped loudly at the sight of you, he had never seen a young lady dressed in such a manner. Were all Dornish ladies such beautiful women, who scorned proper attire? Were all Dornish ladies so... enticing? No, Aemond thought decidedly, you must be one of a kind, a lone bright star in the otherwise dark skies of his life.  

Yet, it was the action before him that truly caught him off guard. You were in the midst of a tussle with the same young boy from earlier - Daven, was it? You were attempting to apply soap to his hair, a task he seemed to be resisting with all the vigor a 5-year-old boy could muster. On the large bed nearby, another boy of a similar age sat, munching on a bright red apple, his eyes wide with fascination as he observed the struggle. 

“My Lady... Am I... Bothering you? Aemond muttered, at a lost feeling like he might be intruding on such a strange, yet merry moment.”  

Your smile bloomed like a desert rose at dawn, eyes sparkling with the kind of joy that one might associate with discovering a long-lost treasure, or seeing a long-lost friend... Or lover. Gently, you shifted the still-pouting boy in your arms to face Aemond, calling to him with a warmth that melted the icy barriers around the prince's heart. "Look, Davos! Our brave prince who saved us earlier has come to see us!" The boy, Davos, offered a shy smile and a timid wave, his earlier resistance forgotten in the presence of his hero. 

Aemond felt an unfamiliar flush of warmth spread across his cheeks under your gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, something that seemed to stir the very core of his being. The usual fire that raged within him, driving his every ambition and desire, seemed to simmer down into a comforting warmth, a feeling he couldn't quite place but didn't wish to escape. 

His heart pounding a rapid rhythm, Aemond offered a slight bow. "Might I be of assistance, my Lady?" 

Your response came with an infectious beam. "Another pair of hands would be most welcome." 

Positioning himself to be of help, Aemond muttered, "Guide me to where I can be most useful, my Lady." 

With a soft and tender smile, you replied, "I believe, my prince, that you are perfect just where you are." 

Perfect right where he is?  

Aemond would never leave your side, nothing would ever tear from you and you from him. The Gods had always scorned him since his childhood, this was payment. His due. You were his and he was yours from this day until the end of his days.  

Next chapter

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #fanfic #fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #ewanverse #alicent hightower #criston cole #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond angst

[brayneworms]

roots of lore.

ft. xiao x gn!reader

word count. 1.4k

content. scars, scar touching, xiao's backstory (mentions of abuse + slavery), massages, xiao is touch-starved, fluff, petnames (sweet boy), grinding, not technically smut but definitely suggestive, light dom/sub undertones (dom!reader + sub!xiao).

synopsis. xiao is free now, but his scars remain.

notes. i am an nsfw blog, minors dont follow me or interact.

Xiao's body locks up beneath you, a trembling cage of flesh and soul.

You're reminded of when he'd grudgingly agreed to spar with you for the first time, after much wheedling. The first time you'd asked, he'd looked at you like you'd grown another head; the second time bred only subtle irritation. The third, he'd informed you flatly that under no uncertain circumstances could you beat him, and he doesn't like to fight at the best of times.

The tenth time, you wore him down. It had been exhilarating—you got your ass beat, sure, and Xiao had been going very easy on you, too. You'd limped back to the Wangshu Inn with bruised ribs and a strained ankle and a huge grin. You're sure Xiao thought you even stranger after that. But now it's become routine, and though he has years of experience on you, sometimes you're quick enough to get a couple of hits on him.

One time, oh, one time you managed to get his feet out from under him with a training staff, a harsh whap to the ankles and he went down, knees and face in the dirt. Before he can get his hands under him to push himself back up, he feels a phantom weight settle over him like a shadow, and he freezes. The blunt tip of your staff presses into his spine, right over a ridge, in a way that renders him temporarily motionless. Your knee brushes against the outside of his hip as you lean down, and when you speak, you're so close to his ear that he can feel his pulse in his skull; "Got you."

This is the first time you feel it—the way Xiao freezes when he's bested. At first you think you've made him uncomfortable, but... through the tufts of dark hair obscuring his expression, you can see the tips of his ears burning red. You can feel the slightest tremble running through his bones where your body just barely brushes his own. And, most tellingly, when you lean forward to murmur what was supposed to be a gloat, you feel the choked-off noise he bites back somewhere high in his throat at the contact.

And you suppose it's not so different to now, really—your room at the Wangshu Inn is quiet and decent, half-lit by glass lanterns and the moonlight outside. You're far too high above Liyue for any stray passersby to be able to see through your windows, which is just as well. You don't want anyone to be privy to this view except for you.

He's still mostly dressed, which is almost more tantalising than seeing him naked; there's something about the way the fabric drapes over his skin that makes you want to eat him alive. He's taken to burying his face in the bedsheets to hide as you work at him, a palm spread wide over his stomach to feel his stomach rise and fall. Even this contact sends his blood catching alight, his spine arching into your touch as your thumb strokes at the skin. Laving your care into pale flesh, one gentle swipe at a time.

You set another hand gently on the jut of his hip, push him back down to the bed. "You okay?"

Xiao presses his lips together, half mortified at his own lack of control and half blissed out beyond caring. Nobody has ever touched him like this, with so much care, so much love—it feels foreign, bubbling up hot and carbonated inside him like it insists upon itself. Calling out to an endless void, love me! Love me!

It seems impossible. But here you are, rolling him over on his stomach. He's half-grateful; burning up from the intensity of your stare, neck sore from trying to burrow into the bed to hide from it. He sinks his head into the pillows and let loose a long, trembly sigh as you clamber gently over him, legs bent on either side of his hips. The weight of you rests on him as you reach out to toy with a lock of dark hair.

Xiao whines at the suggestion of tension against his scalp; you pull nowhere near enough to hurt, but the in-between is maddening. It's like anticipation, like holding a loaded crossbow waiting for the bolt to loose. It feels like you should hurt him. Like you should want to. But you don't, and before long your fingers leave his hair to trace patterns on the nape of his neck, and Xiao shudders, burying his head into the pillow.

"You're okay, sweet boy," you murmur, and Xiao wants to argue that he's not a boy, he's so far from it, and sweet sounds like a joke when it tries to stick to someone like him. Karmic debt oozes from his pores, gritty and dark and acidic, surely infecting even your lovely hands, and Xiao readies his voice to say all this but then you run a finger hard down his spine and he stifles a whiny noise into the sheets instead.

He's aware, vaguely, that he's panting, that he's never felt this alive in this way in all his life, that what started as uncertain jerks of his hips to relieve some of the weird tension building hot in his low stomach has turned into a steady, rhythmic movement. His hips roll against the mattress, ignited by your careful touch, your fingers that dance on the precipice between pleasure and pain. It's too much, it's not enough, and Xiao stifles another cry into the mattress, mortified.

You stop quite suddenly, and Xiao makes another pathetic noise before realising where your hands have paused. The window in the back of his shirt that ripples over the skin of his spine, baring the flesh for the world. His heart flies into his throat; he usually keeps a glamour up, nothing especially powerful, just enough to heal his skin and keep people from seeing—

Your fingers trace a scar, and Xiao feels the prickling of tears at his eyes. Seeing that.

"Xiao," you whisper, and try as he might he is unable to read your tone. He's rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle, and the fiery want in his abdomen goes cold and rotten in earnest. He can't look back at you. You've seen.

You must think he's hideous. A thing only worthy to be kept, to be hit, to be made use of. He wants to curl into himself and hide.

"I've never seen these," you murmur. "Do you keep them hidden?"

Shamefully, Xiao forces himself to nod; he can't possibly speak.

"Oh, sweet boy..." And your hands move again, tracing up and down the ridges, the jagged X that serves as a remnant of his days of servitude, tattoos his skin like a brand of ownership. Whip scars, beatings where the skin sliced open, pockmarking an unmeasurable amount of skin. Xiao wants simultaneously to pull away and to melt into you; he wants to let you rip him open at the seams, sink your hands into the ichor and black karma that makes him up inside. The thought of disappearing into the wind flits briefly, temptingly, across his mind—and then your hands drag over the center of that jagged X and his eyes roll back in his head, and the sinks into the mattress with little more than a whimper.

"You're so beautiful," he hears you whisper, and it feels impossible, like a sweet dream of some other reality where he deserves such gentle treatment. Your fingers nudge at the back of his head, coaxing. "Look at me?"

He cracks open a heavy eye with great difficulty; it gleams bright as topaz above cheekbones shaded in deep scarlet, hair amuss, shielding the rest of his expression, but his eyes speak enough. He looks agonised.

You lean forward, press your lips to the raised center of the labyrinth of scars in a stinging kiss, and Xiao swallows a choked noise. "I don't want you to hide these from me anymore, okay? Look how strong you are. How brave. I want to be reminded of that every time I look at you—that's what you deserve."

Xiao draws in a shaky breath. "I am not... any of that," he mumbles, paying no mind to how wrecked his voice sounds. "These are marks o weakness. Of servitude."

"And now you're free," you whisper, and Xiao's heart soars like a bird over the horizon. "Free to wander, to love. Free to stay right here with me."

Xiao can think of nothing better.

if you enjoyed this, request something.

#🫀.scribes #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact oneshot #xiao x reader #xiao smut #sub!xiao #dom!reader #genshin impact x dom!reader #genshin x dom!reader #genshin smut #sub!genshin

[orshii]

bitter and sweet

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

Warnings: Use of word "fuck", smoking, alcohol consumption

Word count: 2k

Summary: When you finally quit your job, you need a distraction. Hongjoong happens to be that.

A/N: Am- hi? This is totally new to me, and I would've never uploaded this story, if it weren't for my bestie @bvidzsoo (ly). She kept saying, how good this story was, so Ig I'm here? I really hope you will enjoy it, as much as I did when I wrote this little drabble. Recently I am very whipped for Hongjoong, so yeah...I just had to write this. Anyways, have fun. xoxo orshii

After a whole month of living like a robot: starting work early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even up yet, until when it hid behind again the buildings of our little town; I slowly started to feel like I was losing my mind. The feeling was similar to when your days are just as monotone as the clock on your wall, never changing its course the opposite way. You become one with your regular human life, which is always clouded, always grey just like the clouds above you; there are no colors.

It started becoming overwhelming, I started getting tired of this feeling of emptiness; I felt the void spread through my body every single fucking day. That's when I decided to quit my job, which wasn't even my dream job. I have been working at a fucking bakery as a cashier, of course it wasn't my dream job, whose would it be…

It was a Friday when I quit, so, as I was an unemployed nobody, the best idea was to celebrate that, wasn’t it? My friends were excited to hear my sudden proposal of going to a party, which was held by the town’s biggest brat, Jung Wooyoung; but I didn't care, I needed to get laid as soon as possible. I just wanted an escape from this shit reality, and not to think about what was going to happen in the future now that I was without a job.

 We decided to dress up pretty and sexy for the night with the girls. I was wearing black ripped jeans with fishnets underneath, and a black crop top with some cuts on it here and there, accompanied with my black boots and some accessories.

As we arrived in front of the house of said brat, Wooyoung, we went inside deep into the crowd of swaying bodies, which were flowing with the music. The music was so loud that we couldn't even hear our own voice, the beat punching our chests harshly. The first thing we had to do was to drink, of course, so we headed to the kitchen. We could barely see the furniture inside the kitchen due to the smog filling the air, coming from the people smoking this and that. Finally, somehow we found our love, the meaning of our night:  alcohol. We started to take some tequilas shots, and anything else we found, honestly. We just wanted to get drunk. Me, at least.

Eventually, I somehow found myself around the swaying bodies in the living room, but my friends were nowhere to be found.

I started to dance following the flow of the music; I felt like I could finally breathe, my latest months were hard and I just needed to forget all of the shit that’s happened.

At some point, I felt like somebody was watching me, I don't know how, I’d call it perhaps intuition.

When my eyes finally found the owner of two staring lustful eyes, my breath hitched. I have never seen this man in my entire life before, but as I watched him, my heart just started to race like it never has. My heart didn't even race like this when a fucking bear started to chase me, and that’s no fun.

I felt dizzy, maybe because of the influence of the alcohol or I didn’t know, but the sudden emotions started hitting me like I was a fucking punch bag.

The man was sitting on the couch, he was a bit far, but I could see his devilish smile from where I stood. It’s not supposed to be a joke; but with the red lights of the party, he looked like the fucking devil himself. His raven-black hair fell on his forehead, reaching his eyes, making his glare even more intense as he held a can of beer, leaning over his knees.

I haven't moved since my eyes landed on him but somebody, suddenly, bumped into me, and if I remember the guy's name correctly, it’s San. But I was glad, because I somehow found myself back to reality again, as if the last few minutes were in slow-motion.

I tried not to look at the stranger again, since my friends finally found me and we started to dance together, laughing and goofing around. I would be lying if I said my eyes never searched for the stranger again as he had moved from the couch. I felt a bit disappointed that I might never see him again.

And there was a chance that I actually might see him, and after a while, I suddenly felt two warm hands around my waist. I don't know how, don't ask, but I just knew it was the stunning stranger guy from the couch, with whom I had a staring contest like half an hour ago.

We just weirdly danced to the music, feeling the rhythm as it led our bodies in synchrony. It was weird because he was a total stranger but, somehow, I felt safe in his warm arms. I slowly turned around to finally look at the owner of the warm hands, and I was fucking right. I felt like I was going to melt right then and there like ice cubes on a hot summer day.

Why? Because he was the hottest guy I have ever seen in my life, and I'm not joking, I would never joke about things like that. He looked ethereal, and I don't know what led him to me, but I thank God for it, because it was worth every moment. I looked into his eyes as he was glaring at me sharply. I couldn't read his expression, but I saw a small smirk slip onto his slim lips, so, I reached my arms around his neck. Yes, I felt comfortable like this, after all, he was still holding my waist.

“Hi.” I spoke suddenly. Don't even ask me why I had the courage to even say something to him. That night, my soul has left my body surely.

“Hey.” He said with a low tone, leaning close to my ear so I could hear him. I felt shivers running through my body.

“Wanna smoke?” I asked him with questioning eyes.

He smiled, “Yeah, of course.”

And then, he grabbed my hands and pulled me towards the backyard.

I looked back at my friends, but they were just laughing and shouted, “Go get him!”

It made me laugh as I followed the stranger.

As we finally arrived outside, I felt relieved. The weather was nice, I finally could hear my own voice and I got to inhale some fresh air.

We stopped at the terrace of the house, and I leaned my back against one of the pillars as the stranger across from me did the same thing.

We were quiet for a bit as I enjoyed the fresh air, and I felt him watching me. It wasn't an awkward quiet, it was a comfortable one. I stared back at him, taking in the sight of him as his outfit screamed elegance, but at the same time it was casual; he was wearing all black.

“Aren't you going to smoke?” He asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“Nah, I don't smoke.” I said with a serious face.

The stranger looked at me, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“Then why did you want to come out to—smoke?”

I just shrugged, “I just needed some fresh air, but to not disappoint you—” I started to search for something in my pocket, “I have this.”

I showed him the colorful elf bar, raising it up to his face.

He started to laugh loudly; it was low toned and the sound tingled through my whole body. I loved his laugh.

“Okay.” He nodded, “Then I’m going to smoke a real cigarette.”

He spoke while still smiling as he reached for his cigarettes in his pocket. Damn, he was actually smoking smoking; that’s a red flag, but I like it.

He slowly pulled out a cigarette from the package, and took it in between his parted thin lips, his gaze never leaving mine, only when he lit it up.

I decided to smoke the elf bar which was in my hands. It tasted like a tangle of freshly picked raspberries and blueberries from the wild fields, accompanied with the taste of dark red cherries. I loved the sweet taste as it slowly went down into my lungs, spreading the sweetness everywhere, and then, I exhaled it slowly out into the clear air.

The guy in front of me was staring at my lips as the sweet fog came out from my parted lips.

“Is it good?” He asked, gazing at me.

“It is. It’s sweet, unlike yours.” I said pointing at the cigarette in his hands.

He looked down at it.

“It's not that bad—wanna taste it?” He asked me frowning with a smirk on his lips.

And the look he was giving me sent me to Hell, just for me to return as Lucifer. That's why I was suddenly so bold, out of my mind.

“Do you want to taste this?” I pointed at my elf bar, avoiding his question on purpose.

“Yeah, why not?” He said, stepping closer to me.

I stared at him as an idea came to my mind.

“Wanna double shotgun?” I asked pointing at my elf bar and his cigarette, watching him with inviting eyes.

Just the idea of it was already so exciting, now imagine actually doing it…with a stranger, whom, despite having just met, it felt like I have known him my whole life.

“Hell, yes.” He said in a low tone, it was almost like a thunder. He stepped closer to me, our bodies almost touching, but it seemed like he didn't want to overstep some unsaid boundaries.

And so, I slowly inhaled from the elf bar, inhaling it deep down into my lungs as he did the same with his cigarette, burning the end of it with his inhale.

As we both were ready, we leaned into each other’s bodies, our lips almost touching. We exhaled the smoke at the same time as it tumbled through our parted lips, just to meet with the other's soft lips, inhaling the other's taste. I breathed him in, held it in my lungs, wanting to keep it there forever.

“It's so bitter.” I whispered still leaning close, slowly exhaling the smoke of his cigarette.

“It's so sweet.” He whispered back to me, leaning even closer in, gazing at me with dark eyes, which were telling me so much yet nothing at the same time.

“Wanna taste it on your sweet lips.” He said, reaching out his thumb to brush it against my lower lip.

“Then what are you waiting for?” I whispered against his bitter lips, closing my eyes slowly.

He slowly grabbed my chin and tilted it upwards, and then leaned in to brush his lips against mine. I could taste the bitterness of his cigarette on his lips, blending with the sweet taste of my own lips, which the elf bar has left behind.

Sweet and bitter collided, it was like our own two worlds colliding: he tasted bitter, but somehow, he brought some sweetness into my grey world, painting it slowly full with colors as he brushed his lips against mine.

“You haven’t told me your name.” I said after our lips separated from each other, desiring for more. I wanted to taste him forever.

“Hongjoong.” He whispered, our lips almost touching, “And what's your name, pretty?”

“Y/N” I said, and he smiled at me sweetly as our lips collided again, never wanting to separate.

He filled me up with passion. He made me want to finally step out of my monotone life. I felt like I was alive again. He made my grey life colorful again.

Later on, we were passed out in the back of his car…how’d we let it get this far, I don’t know.

#orshii #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong oneshot #kim hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong fluff #hongjoong angst #hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez oneshot #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #kim hogjoong you are killing me

[vilentia]

Canvas of Love

Thor x reader

Summary: a fleeting shadow of jealousy tests the unyielding bond of two intertwined souls.

****

The storm outside mirrored the tempest in your heart as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the rain streaking down your window. It had been a rough day, one that felt heavier because Thor wasn’t there to share the burden. He was away on a mission with the Avengers, something about a rogue Asgardian artifact that needed retrieving.

You missed him, more than you cared to admit. His absence left a gaping void in your life, a void you tried filling with work and friends, but nothing seemed to work.

It was on one of these lonely evenings that you met Alex. He was charming, funny, and most importantly, he was there. You two had hit it off instantly, and soon enough, he became a regular part of your life. A good friend, you reminded yourself. Just a friend.

Thor knew about Alex, of course. You'd mentioned him casually in your conversations. But what you hadn’t mentioned was how much time you were spending with him. It wasn’t intentional; it just never came up. Or maybe you were afraid of how Thor would react.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your reverie. It was a message from Thor: “My love, I will be home tomorrow. I have missed you dearly.”

You smiled, a warm flutter in your heart. You typed a quick reply and set the phone aside, your thoughts drifting back to Alex. He had invited you to his art exhibition tomorrow. You were looking forward to it, but now Thor was coming home...

The conflict in your mind was like a knot, tightening with every passing moment.

Thor arrived the next day, his presence filling the apartment instantly. He was like a force of nature—strong, vibrant, and utterly captivating. You ran into his arms, the familiar scent of him enveloping you, bringing an instant sense of peace.

“I missed you,” you murmured against his chest.

“And I, you,” Thor replied, his voice a deep rumble. He pulled back, looking at you with those intense blue eyes. “Tell me about your week. Did anything interesting happen?”

You hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “It was the usual. Work, home... Oh, and I’m going to Alex’s art exhibition tonight. He’s really excited about it.”

Thor’s expression changed subtly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “That sounds delightful. Would you mind if I join you?”

The question caught you off guard. “Of course not! I’d love for you to come.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Thor was his usual self, loving and attentive, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was amiss.

The exhibition was lively, the gallery buzzing with the chatter of the city's art enthusiasts. Alex’s work was the center of attention—vibrant, abstract pieces that spoke of passion and chaos.

“Your friend is very talented,” Thor commented as you both stood before a particularly striking canvas.

“He is,” you agreed, watching Alex interact with the guests. He hadn’t seen you yet.

Just then, Alex spotted you and made his way over, his face lighting up. “You made it!” He hugged you, a little too long, a little too close.

Thor’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he extended his hand. “I am Thor. It is a pleasure to meet the man behind these extraordinary works.”

Alex shook his hand, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Thanks, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The evening progressed, but the tension between Thor and Alex was palpable. You tried to ease the atmosphere, laughing a little too loudly at jokes, and engaging in conversations a bit too enthusiastically.

As the night wound down, Thor’s mood seemed to darken. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Do you want to go home?” you asked.

Thor nodded, and you both excused yourselves.

The walk home was quiet, the silence a stark contrast to the noisy streets around you. You could feel Thor’s turmoil, his usually calm demeanor now a stormy sea.

Once inside, Thor finally spoke. “Do you have feelings for him?”

His question was direct, his voice steady but laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Was it...jealousy?

“No, Thor, of course not. He’s just a friend,” you replied, your voice earnest.

Thor looked at you, his gaze searching. “I trust you, but tonight, seeing you with him... it stirred something within me. A feeling I have not known before.”

You moved closer, taking his hand in yours. “Thor, you have nothing to worry about. I love you. Only you.”

There was a vulnerability in Thor’s eyes that you had never seen before. He was a god, a warrior, but in that moment, he was just a man, in love and afraid of losing you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I know, my love. It is I who must apologize. My reaction was unwarranted. You have given me no reason to doubt your love.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love for this extraordinary man who had become your world. “It’s okay, Thor. I understand. But know this, no matter who comes into my life, you will always be the one I choose. Every time.”

Thor kissed you then, a kiss that spoke of love, trust, and a promise of forever. In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and home.

The next few days were blissful, as if the incident at the gallery had never happened. Thor was more attentive, more present, and you felt your bond strengthen.

You decided to talk to Alex, to set boundaries, to make sure he understood that your relationship was strictly platonic. Alex took it well, understanding and apologetic.

As you lay in bed that night, Thor’s arms wrapped around you, you realized how lucky you were. Love, true love, was hard to find, and you had found it with Thor. He was more than a partner; he was your best friend, your confidant, your home.

“You are everything to me,” Thor whispered, as if reading your thoughts.

“And you are my everything,” you whispered back, snuggling closer.

In that moment, everything felt perfect. The past was behind you, and the future was a canvas waiting to be painted, bright and full of love.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter what life threw at you, as long as you had each other, everything would be alright.

#thor #thor imagine #thor angst #thor fluff #thor fanfiction #thor fic #thor fanfic #thor god of thunder #thor x reader #thor odinson #thor odinson angst #thor odinson drabble #thor odinson oneshot #thor odinson one shot #thor odinson imagine #thor one shot #thor oneshot #thor odison x reader #thor odison imagine #thor x y/n #thor x you #thor blurb #thor mcu

[jhnshi]

Hanzo's reaction to your rejection :3

i am not her.

✩. — hanzo’s reaction to your rejection

hanzo hasashi (scorpion), gender neutral reader.

a/n: i put my whole heart into this. please request me more angst… these are SOOO much fun to write. also, apologies in advance. :3

you swarm his mind, like an endless flame that will never be tamed. ever since he has laid his eyes onto you, it rekindled a new type of fire in his heart. years after his loss of his fallen beloved wife & son, hanzo never figured that someone else was able to fill the void within his core.

he accompanies you under the moonlit sky, gleaming on the two. you were initially confused at first since the pyromancer is known for his secrecy, not one to be vulnerable with another since facing grief. hanzo takes in one of your hand with his, gazing down at you with those golden brown eyes. his intense stare makes you feel a bit nervous, concerned on what the man will say to you. “y/n, there is something urgent i need to confess to you.”

you could sense the air thinning as soon as he spoke, creating a gut feeling that you cannot ignore. “i have recently been engulfed with such emotions by your presence, that i simply cannot put into words. for a long while, i never knew i can embrace such things again since my family’s passing. you remind me so much of my dear harumi, that i must confess to you y/n. i am very much infatuated by you. i believe i am in love with you, y/n.”

it took you a few moments to process what hanzo confessed, leaving a longing stare between the two bodies. you exhaled your breath from holding in yourself. “hanzo.” you drag your palm away from his, giving him a worried expression on his face.

“i appreciate your honest words. i am truly thankful to get to know such a compelling man like you, hanzo. but i am not harumi. i never will be. i can even see in your eyes that you are still consumed by your sorrows, and it pains me more that you believe i am the one that should replace her. you still need time to mourn; to fully grasp of your traumas. i am very endeared by your confession, but i will have to reject if you think of me in this manner.”

hanzo is just left speechless, a small gap from his mouth opened as you decline his offer. his eyes then start to swell and is consumed by his tears. he collapses into your arms, struggling to keep himself standing. bawling in your embrace, you didn’t give a second thought to hold him up. rubbing the back of his scalp, you felt that it was right to confront him. you wanted hanzo to continue to live in peace, not search for another partner to fill in his vacant spot.

he needs to know that you are not her, and can’t ever be.

#do you guys like the new post layout? #i love u hanzo im so sorry my sweetie #mk #mk x reader #mk x y/n #mortal kombat #angst #rejection #scorpion #mk scorpion #hanzo hasashi #hanzo scorpion

[naffeclipse]

*Arrives at Internet Explorer Speed*

Hey guys! Those new chapter of Lack of Light, am I right??!

FDKHKFGH Sorry I needed to make a silly entrance back in your inbox Naff XD

But aaaaaa I finally came back to read these and I'm here with a brand new comment!! For the two chapters I was missing no less! :D

So let's get to it!

Ok so first off I don't know if I'm just looking too much into it but I read this line: "You rely on your eyes to adjust to the darkness" from th first paragraph and it just felt significant to the rest of the chapter, you know? Very literal but metaphorical at the same time!

And oooh something I definitely have to praise in this is the amazing description of the anguish through all the physical sensations that the reader is going through. I think I've mentioned before that when I read reader inserts I don't truly put my real self in the story but rather try to imagine it through the main characters eyes, but wow did I feel this one. The way you detail all those physical effects that anxiety has on the body, beautifully described through images and comparisons, just made it seem so very real. I basically could almost feel them myself, just remembering times when I had definitely experienced something similar, even if the causes were different! I will always applaud your descriptions, Naff! Makes me want to take notes!

And AAAAAAA I gotta say that I absolutely love how just, hrrrr, I'm struggling to find the words to describe it, but I would say how there's a clear parallel between what both Reader and Eclipse are going through?

Because ok, first of all, is the matter of hiding right? Reader seems to be trying to hide (kind of like Eclipse does his true self), but through a mask instead of blindness. Even through previous encounters they have tried to present themselves a very specific way. The unshakable one. Unaffected by everything, at least in a way that goes beyond mild funny venting. And it feels like something they force themselves to do in their daily life, beyond the forest. It's just they're so used to doing it, that it became a part of how they perceive themselves and failing to do so feels to them like they're showing a part of themselves that is intolerable. And aaaaa then Eclipse also because clearly he must have enough experience having met other humans to know that even those that dared stay after learning of his presence ran away after seeing him. So both hide and hide while they wish for more and hate themselves for it, and might even think they don't deserve it.

(Sidenote: I love this description: "The mysterious being who exists in pure darkness, cast by the sun and the moon." Obviously because it references his name (be it a solar or lunar eclipse), but also because it reminds of his strange nature. Because an Eclipse is an event! A phenomenon that is not exactly a natural object, but something that can only be seen under the right conditions!)

And oooh speaking about Eclipse and hiding, I just love the contrast between Eclipse's darkness coming from being unseen vs the darkness born from emptiness. Because Reader so far hasn't been daring at all in pushing to see him, because they fear the latter. Eclipse's nature is intimidating, and it's often said that we fear not the darkness itself, but what we might find in it. But here it's the contrary! Both Reader and Eclipse fear that potential emptiness. They have found company in each other thanks to the darkness, but should something go wrong (pushing too much or scaring the other one away), they would find themselves staring into the void and nothing else.)

And that exactly leads into the doubts about what the other thinks once they've revealed themselves! And it's so interesting how they fear so intensely that the "flaw" they see in themselves, which are kinda opposite, is what will make the other regret meeting them. Like for Reader is that vulnerability, that inability to be perfect about everything that hits them in their daily life and dealing easily with it. They fear their "weakness" will disgust a great being as Eclipse. And for Eclipse is fearing that his form, great, strange, intimidating, monstrous, is what will leave him without his dear one. His very nature enough to drive them away. When in reality, it's likely those very things that made them initially appealing to the other! The Reader a precious little creature, that despite not having horns or sharp teeth lives their daily life bravely (enough to befriend a shadowy being). And Eclipse, a fascinating and fearsome creature, that despite it all demonstrates he's gentle and kind and capable of becoming that friend that provides the most comfort in Reader's life!

Ooooh I just adore how two very different beings, with way more differences than similarities, still have this experience in common. That fear and uncertainty about letting themselves be known, because past experience has thought them it's unwise, and yet they find relief from that terrible all-consuming anxiety when they let themselves trust that this time it will be different and that it is worth it, even if it is raw, to open up and let the right person in.

Now for Mothman Moon!

Just starting and the Reader is already turning the headlights on and off repeatedly jfhdsgkh Prime conditions for Mothman sightings! XD

Oooh I love how you build up the paranoia! Different situations, but it makes me think when it's late at night and for whatever reason you need to go out in a hallway of your home and you gotta reassure yourself that no, there's nothing lurking in the shadows of your home, be an adult and walk calmly jghdkfsj The feeling of being exposed and on edge is so very well achieved! But also all the little hints, like the raven falling quiet. And that instinctual feeling of being watched! Related to all this, I adore this line: "Your optimism slips in the slightest before you yank it back up by the throat and continue marching along." I felt that in my soul fkijhdfgkñjh

Aaaa I love how everything falls quiet at the flapping of wings! Everything knows to be quiet and freeze. And I love Reader is part of that everything. Like they are connected to the forest around them by virtue of not wanting to draw attention to themselves, something they share with all the creatures around.

And oooooo such a spooky sight when we finally get a glimpse of him!! Kinda gave me the urge to hold my breath as well as I read! Just the sight of the glowing red eyes coming from a shadow within the fog would paralyze anyone for sure! And then gjhfdkg poor Reader just shifts horror flavor from Creature-in-the-forest-that-could-kill-me to Stranger-Danger. Pick your poison and all that XD But man that instinct does seriously kick in when a stranger gives us bad vibes huh?

(As a sidenote, I love how you've given the different readers between chapters different responses to fear! Like the first chapter with Sun had Fight if I remember correctly, then the second chapter had Fawn, which I think it's trying to please to prevent from being harmed, even if the fear wasn't so much of Eclipse but of abandonment, and in this one we have Freeze! Which we see twice when Moon first appears and then when the car races towards them!)

Oh. My gosh??? The fact that Moon is just able to take on a car that's going full speed though?? Damn! And oooh he was not happy. He does not appreciate assholes/downright murderers in this area. (Btw I can't help but think that he did in fact break that second light slower on purpose to seem more menacing fjkhdaskjh)

Aaaa it's fascinating how he seems so perplexed by the Reader's response to everything that just happened! Like he doesn't quite understand the freeze response. It's something animals do as well, but I'm guessing if it doesn't work then most would ultimately run from the danger. It's probably the first instance of this he has encountered! And poor reader seems to just be very badly affected by it, physically as well as mentally judging by the lightheadedness.

(sidenote: "He looms, his wings flaring out beside him in magnificent flares of warnings and death." Me, helpless DCA simp, vivid image of the majestic view in my head: Um yes, hi, hello? 👉👈 GFÑLKDJHGÑLJ)

And aaaaa I loved the flight scene! I myself am pretty scared of heights so I likely would have screamed gkjhfdksj but! I love that we continue the theme of braving a bit of the fear to discover something wonderful! Despite my fear of heights I've always imagined how wonderful it would be to have wings and this scene just striked me as something terrifying yet beautiful because it really is an experience that Reader wouldn't get anywhere else! And despite the polarizing feelings of fear and safety just warring inside of them, the wonder was just so tangible as Moon carried them through the air!

And ooo I find it so interesting how he refers to multiple things as the "lights", which from his perspective must be the most notable characteristic of the stuff that emanates it! It's clear he's familiar with cars, and likely has witnessed what happens when one hits a living thing. And the light of the gas station tells him that it's a place humans go to. So he knows it's not just lights, but he still seems to perceive it as their most important characteristic. Aaaa I'm so curious about what the world looks like to him because of this!

And ough it's so sweet he keeps watch over them as they go trying to get the help they need. It seems to me he finds them really intriguing and the fact that he gave them his name could mean he hopes it will not be their last meeting!

And that's that!

Aaaaaa everytime I come back to your writing I keep being taken by surprise by how well you manage to make the reader immerse themselves in the story! Your descriptions are so vivid and your use of the language so *chef kiss*! Everytime I'm just dying to know what's the word that follows the previous one, what will happen, and when that tasty tension you build so well will reach it's snapping point! This little series was a delight to read and a very nice journey into what fear and darkness means to different people. And of course, meeting some very strange and fascinating creatures that make the unknown not as bad as it seemed <3

Thanks for this delicious chapters Naff! It's always a delight reading what you make! 

(Sorry if something is phrased weirdly btw, it’s kinda late as I’m writing this fgkjhdsk)

AHHH CHAOTIK! HI, HELLO! WELCOME BACK!!! I'm so glad to see you in my inbox again!!

Oh, I am rattling you so hard right now! I live for your analysis and I especially love that you caught how much Eclipse and Y/N complement and contrast each other—the same fears but different reasons. They are dear ones, your honor!!!

And Moon! My Mothman!Moon! He's so much fun to write! I'm really glad you enjoy his spooky entrance and his descriptions!

Also, with the readers, that's so funny that it changes from Fight, Fawn, and Freeze! I meant for Mothman's Y/N to freeze but I also think it's neat to explore different responses to fear, so I'm happy that stood out!

(He did break the second car light slowly—he's so dramatic lol)

He does have a different view of the world due to lights—humans have lights. Humans drive with them, live with them, and are afraid without them. Lights are just as foreign as those humans! But he does have a particular interest in Y/N—they were almost hit by the lights themselves. It's now every time he sees that, but he was curious from how they froze to how they were terrified yet in awe of flying. He even finds them cute but doesn't expect to see them again! But Y/N has plans of venturing back to the words with the mothman hehe

Gah, thank you so much, Chaotik! I love how in-depth you go and reading your thoughts makes my day, babe! <3

#chaotikanvas #lack of light #compliments

[anamelessfool]

WIP WHENEVER

Thank you @kissingghouls for the tag!!!! I tried to pick something a little unique for this challenge...

VISITATION (From 'Domestics')

(family, humor, self-indulgent fluff, Dad Secondo)

2013: Papa Emeritus Terzo, Copia, and Nihil visit their estranged brother Secondo after the birth of his youngest child.

I have this whole ficlet series similar to Bestiary but based on small domestic moments in the lives of the brothers and the characters in my AU. Why? Because it's fun and ridiculously self-indulgent.

I love me a good flashback....

⛧⛧⛧

“Which way am I turning here?” Copia asked.

“Left,” muttered Terzo.

“Left...”

“Right.”

“Oh, Right then?”

“Yes, left is right!” Terzo paused then groaned. “Left is correct.”

“Marian couldn't come?” Terzo asked Copia idly. He smirked. “Hope your leash is long enough.”

Copia frowned. “At some point I wil fly out of this car, yes, jerked back by the leash, your Unholiness,” he replied flatly. “But ah… I'm into that.” Two hours in the car with Terzo gave one plenty of time to practice talking trash. “We should have arrived twenty minutes ago.”

Terzo shifted in the passenger seat. Car rides made him sick, and therefore extra irritable. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Nihil in the back. Nihil was staring ahead, expressionless, his eyes dull like a mesmerized cow. “We would have made time if we didn't stop back there.”

“Terzo, the old man barely asks for anything these days,” Copia said firmly. “So when he asked to stop and buy a balloon for his new grandson I um…had to indulge him.”

“Isn't this thing just brand new? A little ball that sleeps and cries? Why—why does it need a fucking balloon?”

“That thing… is your nephew,” Copia said, and he squeezed the steering wheel. “Have you ever taken care of anything small and helpless like that? You'd understand.”

Terzo muttered something in Italian and dropped his head against the door, staring out the window. Copia assumed if he wasn't so carsick he would really put on a pissy show for them all.

“We’re nearly there,” Copia said, slowing to an agonizing stop at the intersection, looking carefully right and left, waiting the appropriate three seconds at the stop sign, and then continuing on.

[They pull up to a plain suburban house.]

The door opened, Secundo towered over them all, his dark intense presence unmarred by his years away. The former Papa Emeritus II of the Satanic Church of the Void was now wearing a checkered button-down shirt and dark khakis. His grip on his cane tightened as his shark-like gaze flicked from guest to guest. Four Infernal Eyes regarded each other on the porch. Secundo's pitted face moved slightly. “Shoes. Off.” He shifted back, granting them entry.

They were led inside to a sunken foyer. Beyond a small railing was an ordinary living room with a beige carpet. There were halls nearby leading to kitchen, basement and bedrooms. All with as few stairs as possible made it easier for Secundo to easily walk around in his current state. His time as Channel of the Void left him permanently weak in his left side, but they all knew it could have been much worse.

Copia was struck by how unbelievably ordinary the place was. There was an unusual number of crammed bookshelves and a piano near the window, but other than that there was very little evidence of this being the home of a former leader of The Satanic Church of the Void. A single taxidermied goat head loomed over the television that displayed a muted cartoon program. Two small children sat near it in the center of a pile of wooden blocks.

Copia pulled his own shoes off, then knelt to help Nihil out of his. “It's nice to see you again, Secundo.”

Secundo never dropped his intensity and simply changed the words he spoke. “Yes, it is, Copia. Welcome.”

“Is that…is that little Paul?!” Copia nearly squealed as he pointed towards the little face peering from between the metal railings. The boy Paul had a shock of messy dark hair and a wild look that was all too familiar. “He's a small version of Terzo! Look!”

“That had been my unfortunate impression as well,” Secundo replied flatly.

Terzo gave them all a painfully polite smile, then joked. “Not to worry, I had nothing to do with it.”

Nihil’s head whipped from Paul to Terzo. “Yes, definitely our little scamp! An even smaller Terzo, heh!” Both grandson and son threw him identical scowls.

“Do you remember us?” Copia asked Paul. The boy cocked his head, thinking. He was born at the Ministry but the whole family left by the time he was five. “I remember we took out my old trike and you were pedaling up and down the hallways…”

“I distinctly remember you pedaling up and down the hallways on his tricycle,” Secundo said with an amused smirk.

“Just that once! To teach him!” Copia shot back.

[They settle into the collection of couches and proceed to observe the newborn.]

“Nihil, would you—” Sandra frowned. The old man had fallen asleep in the recliner within the past five minutes. She chuckled. “Well then, we will try later! How about you, Terzo?”

Terzo furrowed his brow. “No, certainly not. No thank you, sorella.”

Secundo looked quietly invested from his place on the opposite couch. “He'll reconsider later.”

My AO3 Series | My FicList

Tagging @katyaoaksdottir @fishwithtitz and @thew0man and you, yes YOU!

#ghost fandom #ghost scenes from the void #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #WIP whenever project #fluff fic #ghost band headcanons #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #cardinal copia #dad secondo

[streaminn]

(I had to write the Enid asking if Wednesday would still love her if she was a worm. It took me at gunpoint and forced me to write this.)

Enid knows Wednesday loves her. She got to first-hand experience the Addams family courting rituals, she shared her first kill with Wednesday— they are destine to be together for ever! The Addams love curse and werewolf mating seem about the same in terms of intensity.

But then she saw a Tiktok. Maybe Wednesday was right, maybe Tiktok is a soul-sucking void of sadness. Or whatever she said. Enid got distracted by her eyes.

"Ask your girlfriend if she'd still love you if you were a worm and film her reaction." The nasty robot voice said.

The couple in the video seemed excited. The person's girlfriend would still love them.

Would Wednesday still love her?

She needs to test something.

.

.

.

She walks into their dorm, Wednesday using her typewriter. Perfect; a normal environment would make Wednesday's answer more accurate.

She takes her phone and starts recording, she places it on her pillow, desperately hoping it can pick up Wednesday's low voice.

She flops on her stomach onto her bed and sighs.

She looks at Wednesday.

She's still writing.

She crosses her arms and rests her chin on her forearms, then sighs again, a bit louder. She looks at Wednesday.

Still writing.

She rolls until she's got her legs bunched up so she can face Wednesday, then sighs even louder.

She looks up.

Wednesday still hits the keys.

She gets upset.

"Sigh!" That finally gets the other woman's attention. She finally turns around.

"Did you just say the word sigh?"

"I'm fine, Willa." Wednesday turns back to her typewriter with a quiet "that wasn't my question."

"Okay!" She flings her arms out in defeat. "I'm not okay!"

Wednesday turns around and stands up. She walks past the line in their dorms and kneels in front of Enid's bed, facing her.

"What's wrong, my beloved?"

Enid looks at her hands, then at Wednesday's.

Their both normal human hands.

"Would—" she chokes. "—would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Wednesday goes completely still, her face stuck in her caring expression while her brain restarts.

"Would I fucking what?"

"So you wouldn't!" Enid rolls onto her side, facing the wall and facing away from the person who just torn her heart to pieces. "You wouldn't love me if I were a worm!"

"I— I— what? Am— am I having a stroke? Are you?" Wednesday stares at her hands. "I don't smell burnt toast."

"Go away, worm-hater!" Enid grabs her brightest, hottest pink pillow and throws it at her.

"What— why?! What did I do?!"

"You wouldn't love worm-me!"

Wednesday blinks, then sighs softly.

"My love, I didn't mean I wouldn't love you, I was just... in shock at your question."

Enid turns and looks at her. She sniffs.

"You'd still love me if I were a worm?"

"If you were an air molecule, I'd spend the very last of my days making sure no one breathes you."

Enid jumps at her and encases her in a hug.

"I love you!"

Wednesday sighs into Enid's shoulder, whispering a "why do you do these things."

She kisses Enid's shoulder.

"I love you too."

-Writer Anon.

God these two are so stupid, Wednesday's reaction is totally valid because I reacted like that when my ex asked the same thing 💀

(she said that if I were a worm she'd keep me in a terrarium and not at all let other worms near me)

And Enid just.. You're so dramatic you werewolf, omylord

I'm so happy for them, the cute couple

#Writer anon #Wenclair

[sepetajmikolikomehoces]

Collected works

Supervoimii:

It’s a strange sensation, Jere thinks, like there is some unimaginable void threatening to open wide inside of him and consume him, something so beyond him that he will drown in its depths.

Bojere oneshot, a quick little hurt and comfort piece for anyone wishing to relive the grand final.

sä saat mut:

It's all a bubble, Bojan thinks. Different place, same kind of strange removal from reality. This is both better and worse.

It is better, because it is less eyes, less pressure, less intensity. It's worse because… Because it's them.

Bojere oneshot. Tavastia 1.0 was beautiful and nothing hurt. So gotta make it a little bittersweet. But mostly fluffy and gentle on the feelings.

hukun täällä lakanoihin

It starts as a joke.

What else?

Everything between them has been a joke from the very beginning, until it hasn’t. Hamming it up for the cameras, for the gram, for every bit of publicity somehow grew into a friendship, grew into something that Jere has been feeling at odds with ever since May. It’s hard to think that there was a time when Bojan wasn’t a part of his life, when touches were simple and words were uncomplicated things that he bent and twisted to his will.

Bojere oneshot. The fix-it I personally needed after the Euro tour. Angst, fluff and smut, in that order, because it always has to hurt a little.

it's that time of the year (when the world falls in love)

Jan exhales, condensation dissipating in front of him. It feels… odd. The quiet after a long tour season, a Christmas that passed in a blink amidst family, and three final concerts; it sits like a square peg in a round hole.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

Nace looks unbearably soft, hair messy and glasses perched on his nose, a contented smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jance oneshot. The end of the year and birthday celebration I so wished for these two. Soft, sweet, with a bit of gentle smut for good measure.

poljubi

For all that they manage to carve out little pockets of time spent alone and offline, for all that happens away from prying eyes, they never actually kiss in Liverpool. A tale of a first and a second, and the differences between them.

I discussed possible Bojere kissing with punanenmarli, tossed out a two line hypothetical and got asked if I could write it as a drabble, and well... who am I to deny a friend?

(meidän välillä on) katkematon lanka

“Äiti, when did you dream of isi?”

“When I needed him the most.”

Jere thinks about that exchange now, a year down the line and staring the harsh reality of his life in the face. A year has been enough to chip away most of what he was, all of what he had. If ever he needed the Dream, the one where he’d see his soulmate and know, then is this not it?

Bojere soulmate WIP, in which you see your soulmate in your dreams. When? When you most all need it.

šepetaj mi koliko me hočeš

It’s not that Bojan is… a prude. He has needs. And usually, he would address those needs the way he’s always done; bar hopping with his university friends, finding a willing someone to burn off the tension that has gathered in his body and parting ways before the sun has time to shine a light on his choices.

The picture is cropped, showing a bare-chested man, a hint of a tattoo, gorgeous hands with green painted nails and the hint of a smile that just tugs at him.

paidatonriehuja

Bojere WIP. Oh my god. The one that got away from me and got me bopped in the head by Apollo's dodgeball. Went from oneshot to two-part to "every ounce of control I thought I had over these clowns was imagined, so fuck it, we ball". Gorgeous art by @lumea-art and @lhma linked in first chapter

#P writes #writings from the gremlin #bojere #käärijä #bojan cvjetićanin #Jance #Jan Peteh #Nace Jordan

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Julie Kicks Saz's Ass

Here's a quick thing. I definitely should be doing work and will return to doing so. But I needed to get this out of my head. Also unofficial voice claim for Saz. I think Saz would sound similar to Tracy Chapman's singing voice. The original writer and singer of Fast Car for those who may not know. (Completely unrelated it's just been something on my mind).

Have another fight scene. I was gonna do some studying into some more fight styles just cause I wanted to but me busy. So we gonna wing this in standard narwhal style.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @liv-is (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

"You're getting really good at beating Elliot's ass." Julie praised, a slim finger sliding beneath the fabric tied over her missing eye.

Saz huffed breathlessly. The bear morpher slowly rising to full height in acknowledgment. The compliment proves more as a statement of truth regarding the deer morpher's awkward position. Elliot's face one with the ground. Arms flailed out awkwardly. And ass sort of in the air. Proof that even in a forced slam to the ground they had decided to practice on, that he'd resisted until the very end. Though it really looked like he was embracing the grazing nature of the animal he took after. Even with the deer morpher appearing more like a billy goat with both busted antler stumps protruding from his skull.

A groan finally tore through the deer morpher's throat. Eyes from the fellow morphers following his body collapsing onto its side.

"I know my suffering is like solving world hunger to you, but I know I deserve a turn to watch you suffer."

Julie couldn't help but to grin, "A turn? I've beat you less but worse than Ian has." She nudged Elliot with her foot.

Saz's brows scrunched at that information, scratching softly at her mustache, "Maybe don't admit that right in front of me."

Julie looked over to the irked bear morpher, quickly apologizing. She knew Saz and Ian were having a difficult time getting along. She didn't need to make the process more grueling than needed. A bit of slime oozed from her palms.

Elliot rolled away from the antagonizing foot. Hissing softly at a random pain that shot through his knee.

"You don't think Saz could beat you?" Elliot said, genuine disdain and disbelief making it difficult to distinguish whether that was a question or an accusation.

Deer and Hagfish stared at each other. Hagfish thought. Carefully. Silently. Twirling one of her braids around her finger.

"There's always a chance she could right? But everyone knows I fight to win."

Elliot seemed more offended on Saz's behalf than the bear morpher herself.

"I buy a round of slurpee's for everyone if you can win." Elliot rose to his feet with a grunt, grass stains littering his clothes.

The bear morpher chimed in.

"Elliot, how the hell am I gonna beat someone who can beat you?"

Elliot gestured to Saz, "Easy. The power of friendship and your gut instincts."

Saz stared blankly at him. Grumble rumbling in the back of her throat. Partially slipping past her lips. Never had she wanted to beat someone's ass so intensely for blind faith in her. The bear morpher didn't think the slurpee was a good enough reward for the pain she'd endure.

"Please?! Free slurpees! Free!" Elliot clasped his hands together, giving her the best doe eyes he could manage.

She grunted softly and glanced at Julie. Realizing the woman was laughing. She was doing a poor job at disguising it. Shoulders shaking with sharp intakes of breath.

"It's good practice anyway. Let's do this." Julie said after her laughter calmed.

Saz nodded hesitantly and put up her guard. Watching Julie closely. Julie tossed off her jean jacket and shook out her limbs. Julie crouched down a bit, both of her forearms in front of her face. Both called out ready and watched each other. Both unmoving for an unnerving amount of time.

Julie shuffled in. Quickly closing the space between the two. Her palm shot out, fingers curled in. The bone of her palm knocking Saz's block straight into her face. Saz cursed at the stunning shock of pain. The force of her own fist hitting her face splitting her lip. The bear morpher needed to regain her composure. She needed to get the fuck out of the hit zone. She was learning just how good Julie's reach was.

Hagfish morpher throwing another palm strike to Saz's cheekbone. Saz's head whipping at the force. The bear kept her wavering block up. Reaching out quickly to grapple with the fellow morpher's arm. The sound of Elliot's cheers making her ears ring. Or maybe that was from the two hits to the face. She wasn't thinking about that. Instead her thoughts went to how hard it was to grab the woman.

Julie's block remained strong. Slime oozing from her pores the more Saz touched her. Genuine gay nervousness and the stress response of being mid-fight helping her. The bear morpher quite literally couldn't get a grip. A very important skill in the bear morpher's fighting basket. The bear morpher had to take the risk.

Saz dropped her guard completely narrowly dodging an actual closed fist punch that just might've had her seeing gods. Saz wrapped her arms around Julie. Using as much of her clothing as she could as a barrier. Practically squeezing the woman as tight as she could.

Julie wheezed at the initial squeeze. Fighting her urge to squirm in the bear morpher's beefy grasp. The slime oozed faster. Seeping through her clothes.

She took her own gamble. Wedging herself closer into Saz's hold. Slipping her arms free with ease. Her palms rocketed upwards, slamming into Saz's chin. Some of Julie's slime coating the bear morpher's scruff.

Saz's teeth slammed together at the impact. Tears brimming in her eyes from the pain radiating from her mouth and face. A roar of agony sounded out from the preoccupied morpher when Julie's fist went painfully into her side. Her other hand sloppily reaching out to push the woman off of her.

The hagfish morpher's slimy palm making direct contact with Saz's nose. Saz's head rocked back with the force.

"Holy shit! Saz let her go! Let her go!" Elliot screamed out to deaf ears, panicking.

Julie squirmed in the death grip now. The pain seemed to have made Saz grip tighter. In some wild state of semi-conscious rigor mortis.

Saz raised Julie as high as she could. Her own sweaty and now fellow slime soaked shirt rose up her stomach. Once Julie was face to face with her, knowing she had little time before that slime made her impossible to hold, she bashed Julie's skull with her own with no remorse. The force pushing the escape artist out of her arms.

Saz groaned in pain in short growls. Backing away from Julie as pain radiated from her face and side.

Julie touched a slimy hand to her forehead. Hissing softly at the tender patch of skin she knew she'd have a bump on later.

Elliot waved his arms wildly on the sidelines. Staring at his battered friends. Well, battered friend. Julie was pretty well off in comparison. The hagfish morpher wasn't standing down until this fight was over either.

Julie kept her guard down. Watching the bear morpher sway drunkenly on her two feet. The morpher's eyes swimming in tears as they put a shaky block back up. Julie swept in. Surprised by a surprisingly fast fist knocking a gasp from her. Julie's fist finds Saz's previously punched side again.

A roar of pain sends fine droplets of blood flying. Julie takes her opportunity once again palm hitting the bear morpher's now exposed throat.

Saz falls forward with a gasp. Wheezes and soft growls intermingle as she attempts to catch her breath.

Julie looks over to the shocked deer morpher, "You better get your friend something more than a slurpee. I'll take care of her while you take your walk by yourself."

Elliot jogged over to Saz. Worry overrides the pain in his knee.

"Holy shit Julie."

Julie shrugged, falling to her knees to rub the broad back of the morpher still struggling to catch her breath.

"I told you I fight to win, Elliot."

#writeblr #random writes #Fucked at Five #I almost feel bad the way I be putting Saz through it

[mara-xx217]

Ending H (Fear & Hunger) Ch. 13.0- Wizened or Witless?

I'm doing something a little different this time and making what I guess could be called a 'multi-choice' chapter. The parts will be finished soon so I hope you enjoy!

The last of the Fellowship is the current reigning king of Ma'habre but it couldn't be the old man that stands before you, could it? Still... there's an undeniable power in his eyes that makes you shiver in disgust. Is there a point to delving any deeper, or should you just give up while you still retain the remnants of your sanity?

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Leering, Genuinely Unpleasant Discussions

“You’d do well to stay clear of that cursed, rotted place.” 

You had already delved too deep. Could you simply just… leave? The man before you was old, ancient, with dark, leathered skin and an iron-grey beard that spilled over his legs and onto the ground. He was hunched over as though pained by the years that he carried on his back. There was… something about him, what, you were uncertain of, but whatever it was, it made your stomach twist into knots and made your fingers reflexively tremble and reach for your weapon. Your companion, Frederick, already had his weapon drawn and was pointing it at the stranger, who didn’t even spare him a glance as he stared a hole straight through to your core. 

“A man cannot attain true godhood. The souls of men are too wicked and tainted, too frail to do so.” With the heel of his foot, the old man tapped on one of the cages behind him, the dog within barking loudly and lunging against the metal walls that contained its feral fury. Every time the cage jostled violently, your heart sank to the depths of the Abyss and came surging back up whenever the beast remained locked in place. 

“What do you know of godhood, old man?! You’re nothing but a fool! A fool that-” As Frederick spoke, the man burst out into laughter, though it was sharp and cruel and lacking any warmth of joy. 

“‘A fool’! Yes, yes! A fool, indeed! Though a fool that you will not best, methinks.” His eyes finally shift away from you and land on your companion, his shoulders visibly bristling under the old man’s gaze. 

“What was that?! You think I am incapable of killing the likes of you-?!”

“D-Don’t-”

“-do not TOUCH me-! You little wretch-!” As you reached for his sword arm, Frederick pulled it from your grasp. He never turned away from the stranger and spat in his direction. Phlegm landed on the man’s steel-toed foot, his facial expression never wavering as he watched your companion turn to walk away from him. 

“-you aren’t worth the effort it takes to raise my sword arm. Come-” Frederick beckoned you over his shoulder as he left the kennel. His footsteps were wet in the urine-soaked floor and echoed against the temple’s walls. A knot formed in your stomach as you watched him walk away.

“...fool. A fool’s ego is a terrible thing, indeed.” The old man was staring at you again, almost as if he was sizing you up. You feel that, if he weren’t so enfeebled and you armed, that he would have inflicted some sort of evil upon you. Sensing your discomfort, he smiled, again void of any warmth or friendliness, just as most things in this accursed place was. 

“Are you a little weasel? Or are you capable of something more?” He was looking you up and down, his eyes raking against your body with enough intensity that you could feel his gaze on your bare skin. It made you shudder in disgust and fear. 

“Hmph- No, I doubt very much that you could do more than be an extension of a foolish man’s dominion…” The old man’s laugh was harsh and kicked your body into motion. You left him, gooseflesh covering you from head to toe. 

Rounding the corner, you can still hear the man’s laugh ricocheting off the walls around you. Frederick was already down the hall, not having bothered to wait for you to follow him. He knew that you would follow him and you did, blindly and with your head down as the old man’s words still repeated in your head. 

‘I doubt you could do more than be an extension of a foolish man’s dominion…’ 

In between the clacking of your and Frederick’s heels, a loud, metallic clank snaps you out of your thoughts. It must have started Frederick too, as he stopped mid stride and exclaimed aloud-

“What the hell was-?!”

The sound of claws scraping for purchase on the urine-slick floor and barks loud enough to reverberate throughout your bones nearly deafens you and freezes you in place. Four large, ragged and frothy-mouthed dogs barreled down from the side room that the old man was standing in. Cold fear freezes the blood in your veins. W-Why would he-? 

Frederick was frozen too, eyes wide and limbs stiff, unable to raise his sword. You both only need to flee deeper into the temple to reach the end of it all. The end…? Or… another path? The temple was the beating heart of this old, decaying place and the entire reason why he journeyed to this terrible place. He couldn’t even remember what the country that he hailed from looked like. What it sounded like… What it smelled like… You were just the same as he, losing what you once were every passing second that you are in this terrible black. 

If you remain in place, you will die, but you will die as yourself and not what you could possibly become should you fall into the shadow of the last withering new god. 

However, if you don’t… 

What will you do?

Run

Stay and fight

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather, @horny-3

#fear & hunger #fear and hunger #fear and hunger ending h #ending h #fear & hunger Francóis #Francóis the Dominating One #fear & hunger x reader #multipart chapter #there'll be links for the two choices at the end lol

[akugyu]

pairing : gojo satoru x reader.

genre : angst. mental health awareness. sweet gojo <3

word count : 1.2k

warnings : severely unedited, and contains word vomit. . . this is a vent post for myself, and mental health. it does not at all depict any specific form of illness, nor is it meant to be accurate for each individual. this is for me, and my emotional stability. it’s how me, myself, and i, feel.

11:25 AM.

"i think that our last mission actually went pretty well! fushiguru, nobara, and i handled it all quickly. gojo sensei even said he was proud of us!" yuuji spoke to you, walking side by side with the other two students that he cared so deeply about.

the only issue was… you stopped listening. it wasn't that you were uninterested, or didn't care about the excitedness that took him over. in fact, you cared about them all very much. you wanted to listen, to hear every word and be proud of the group for getting stronger and working together; but you couldn't. not when your hearing kept fading in and out. your ears only caught every other word, unable to piece any of them together. with each step you took, you felt it got harder to breathe. your eyesight occasionally unfocused, everything within just a few feet of you going blurry. only the outline of shapes could be seen.

were you just asked a question by someone? you couldn't quite tell. the only thing that sounded in your head was an obnoxiously loud buzzing, that made your brain go fuzzy. as if on cue, your sight clouded again. a seemingly innocent pebble landed in your way, causing your ankle to just barely twist as you hit the harsh sidewalk belonging to the jujutsu school. your body tripped forwards, and you landed with a thud on your knees. that was it. it had to be. just a little scrap to your body, and you'd be on your way again. hopeful to finish the conversation you had tried desperately to engage yourself in.

… only, the buzzing grew louder.

it pounded on your head, abusing your skull as if it had been a cage that the sound was trapped in. pounding, pounding, and pounding to be released. why wouldn't it stop?

make it stop! you silently begged to yourself, the plea going unheard by everyone as they watched in horror. what had gotten into you? the three students stepped away, afraid to speak, console, or even touch you. they didn't understand. why were you pulling so violently at your hair? why were you screaming out into the courtyard that the noises wouldn't stop?

it grew more intense. your skin began to feel as if it had a creature underneath it. crawling beneath it quickly and steadily, only before it began clawing at you. it wanted out. the anxiety wanted to rip you to shreds, and it made you dig at your skin for it to stop. another painful scream echoed out of your lips, sounding as if your throat had already gone hoarse as you did nothing but sob into your hands begging for it all to stop. had you finally cracked? every feeling and emotion that you hid beneath the surface– the worry, fear, and anxiety, all crept through until it could chip away and leave you here. a void of your own doing.

hands fell onto your shoulders, bringing your shaking frame into something steady. the feeling made you jump back, looking to escape. the embrace only tightened. he should have known to not touch you so suddenly without warning; but something had to ground you quickly and get you somewhere quiet to breathe. he didn't have the time to wait. especially not when he heard your screams from across the campus, and became burdened with his own fear for you. realizing you had nowhere to run, you opened your eyes to stare up at what had held you. gojo satoru kept you secure to his chest, while you struggled to breathe.

his lips were moving… what was he saying? you couldn't read them, and your ears refused to pick up on any sound other than your heart beating violently against your ribs. you needed to hear that voice. to feel his own heart instead of yours. you needed– yet you couldn't have. listen to him speak, dammit, you thought to yourself. tears streaming freely as you couldn't escape the mental prison you had somehow locked yourself in.

"gojo, what's happening to y/n?!" itadori asked, concern contorting his expression.

nobara was next, almost in tears of her own. "are they going to be okay? what can we do?!"

gojo shared a look of pain with megumi, hoping he'd understand. he had to get you far away from here, and keep you somewhere safe and to yourself. he knew this would happen, he tried so hard to protect you from the world; but it turned out he couldn't protect you from yourself. gojo looked relieved as megumi turned away from the two of you, grabbing his friends hands and dragging them towards the dormitories. shouts of disapproval and frustration from them could be heard by everyone in a ten mile radius. you could almost make out the words… until your sight refocused on gojo's lips. he was talking. was it to you? what was he saying?

come on, heart. shut up… quiet down, would you?!

"i'm sorry i wasn't here sooner, dove. i should've noticed you weren't okay," he sighed, pressing his forehead to yours as he began to lift you into his arms. "i'm going to take it all away for a little while, alright? long enough for you to rest, and come back to me so that i can help properly this time. i need you to be okay, i can't lose you."

truthfully, your boyfriend was terrified for you. it had never gotten this bad before, and he knew that he had no way of truly helping you escape the place you were often stuck in. he couldn't do much… but he could gently press two of his fingers to your forehead, mumble an i love you that you couldn't hear, and cause you to sleep in his arms. it wasn't a permanent fix, but it allowed you to stop crying, and for your heart to cease its aggressive palpitations.

when you awoke, he vowed to see to your peace.

time no longer felt real with you tucked away in his apartments. your senses regained their purpose, but you clung to him like a wounded child that was lost. over and over, all you could mutter into his skin was soft 'i love you's'. nothing peaceful would ever last for you, that much you knew. no matter what you did, you would never find happiness so pure that it would save you from the darkest parts of yourself. the parts that caused your own destruction time, after time. not every moment could be laughter, and serenity.

. . . but with gojo satoru around, you could at least breathe without restrictions.

© All rights reserved by OKOTSUTA. Do not modify, repost on any platforms, plagiarize, or claim as your own.

#𓆸 cigarette skies #jjk by ; akugyu #gojo satoru #gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo fluff #gojo timestamp #gojo satoru timestamp #gojo scenario #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #gojo satoru scenario #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru drabble #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk scenarios #jjk drabble #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen drabbles

[axewchao]

Sharp Yellow Eyes

A redraw of something I made back in January of 2020 and never posted. I've been switching back and forth between the old and new version in tabs and GOD it's so satisfying to see… =w=

Nothing quite like waking up in the void and seeing this standing before you, am I right? :'D …noseriouslyyouneedtorun—

The old version came with a story that I still really like, so the new one gets it too!

"I can't believe it... It's really you-!!"

Dalex could only stare in confusion at the figure standing before him. For a moment, he thought it was Ludwig, but the tone of the younger Koopa's voice made it very clear it was not.

The figure let out a faint giggle, like a fan meeting their idol for the first time. Dalex was used to that sound; he'd heard it plenty of times when someone approached any of the Koopalings and he happened to be nearby. However, hearing it this time sent a chill down his spine, and he wasn't sure why.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dalex began noticing other things. Things that he always associated with Ludwig, but seemed... wrong on this Koopa. His hair was big and spread out away from his head, but looked unkepmt, like he hadn't bothered to tend to it for days or even weeks on end. The toothy grin was the same, but showed more fangs. It reminded Dalex of his friend Makani, only this guy didn't have braces. His tail was crooked, like Ludwig's, but was bent the other direction, pointing up instead of down. Like it'd been broken and just left alone.

Last but not least were his eyes.

They were the same golden eyes Dalex knew, but instead of being round, warm, and welcoming, they were sharp, cold slits. They were glowing as they locked on to him, and for a moment, Dalex felt like he couldn't look away. Not because he liked them, mind. Rather, it felt as though looking away would lead to something bad. He didn't want to find out what that "something" was.

"You're here! You're actually here-!! A real live Poison Koopa, right in front of me!!" The figure giggled again, and took a step closer. By instinct, Dalex took a step back. He did not want this Ludwig-lookalike getting near him at all. "And here I thought I'd never get to meet one, let alone you..."

"Uhh..." Dalex was at a loss for words. Sure, he knew Poison Koopas were hard to find, but... Nevermind. He needed answers. "Who are you? And where am I?"

"Let's just say I'm... a friend of a friend." The other Koopa waved it off, not even blinking. "And where we are is not important, neither is how you got here. What matters is that you're here, and we can finally talk about you, Dalex."

Dalex's tail stiffened. "How... How do you know my name?"

"I hear things through the grapevine, that's all~" The Koopa chuckled, his grin somehow getting wider. "But you don't have to worry about that; your name is all I know about you." He stepped closer. Again. "Though I will admit, I am curious to know more. Is it true that your venom takes a mere ten minutes to kill someone?"

"What-??" What kind of question is that-?!

"Or maybe it takes longer? You clearly have Boom Boom genes... Perhaps being a hybrid has weakened it somewhat? That's been my main hypothesis; hybrids always have a detriment to counter a benefit. But who else would know the truth other than the man himself? Hmm??" The Koopa placed a hand on his chin as he stepped even closer. Dalex took three steps back. "Tell me."

Dalex held up his hands. "Back up. Why is my venom so important to you-??"

"Is it not obvious? I want it."

Dalex fell silent once more. After a few minutes- which felt like an eternity- he cleared his throat. "...Excuse me?"

"Your venom, Dalex. I want it." The blue-haired Koopa's eyes grew even more intense, if that was even possible. He visibly shivered, "Just thinking about it is so exciting... The perfect weapon, and it's right in front of me...! I know how kind you are, Dalex. So if you'd be a dear and donate some of of that lovely venom to me, I'd greatly appreciate it~!"

Dalex shifted, legs tensing as he mentally readied himself to run. "I'm gonna say no to that. It's mine. And with that-!" Without giving the downright creepy Koopa a chance to respond, he took off. He had no idea where he was going, or how he was going to get home, but anywhere was better than spending one more second with that guy. Whoever he was.

The figure blinked, then chuckled, that toothy grin never falling. "We'll see about that, Dalex. After all... Kooky Von Koopa always gets what he wants. One way, or another..."

#Super Mario #koopalings #Kooky Von Koopa #Ludwig Von Koopa #Koopa!Dal #Dalex Rathmore #since it's his POV in the story- #also; didja notice that Kooky doesn't have eyebrows in this pic? #after I realized I'd forgotten them I was *gonna* add them in #but then i figured that it'd actually *add* to the scare factor if they were absent #like it's so dark that you can't see much of his face. just the glowy eyes :3c #axewchaoscribbles

[scoutpologist]

i think one thing about living in a gendered world is that identifying as genderless is one of the most lonely and isolating things you can be.

i've had periods of time where i thought i was a man and periods of time where i thought i was a woman. admittedly, the brief blips of thinking i was a man were a lot shorter than the decade and some change i thought i was a woman. each time it felt murderous and constraining, but some part of me loved the community, and that's what kept drawing me back.

this isn't to say being a man or being a woman is easy. being any binary gender experience other than a cis man opens you up to heaps of oppression i wish people didn't have to experience. even being a cis man sucks. i don't want to discount that. binary people probably have it worse than i do. but my pain is real too and i have never seen anyone talk about it.

i struggle to extract myself from gender. it's one of the most emotionally difficult things in the world, because if i leave behind all the things i thought i was, all the things everyone else is, i'm left staring at a pure void. out self concepts are built on the conception of others, or at least mine is; i'm this because i'm like this person. when i take that away, take away the foundation of gender, i often don't feel like i have anything left. so i turn back to gender, despite the dysphoria and horror and wrongness i feel.

femininity and masculinity taught me different things, and they are both constraining to me. i prefer to dress in a more "masculine" fashion, if only because i have bad dysphoria when i dress in anything overtly "girly", but when it comes to everything else, i ache for both. i ache to embody feminine joy and care and companionship just as much as i ache to embody masculine intensity and practicality and laughter.

i know these things should not be gendered. to me, as a matter of principle, gendering basic human traits is just nonsensical. but the fact is, unfortunately, that they are gendered, and feel like i will never be able to fully embody the masculine traits i have without abandoning my feminine ones and vice versa. i know i can, but it feels like i can't. and sometimes i can fool myself into thinking that one of them is enough, but it never is. i want to be free.

i'm not bigender, to be clear. i am not a man and i am not a woman. i don't have a gender. it hurts me to say that. i wish i had pride in it, but it hurts me.

i feel like i'm in a double bind. i almost always reflexively think of myself as a girl. i ache to be a girl. i miss being a girl. it gave me a sense of purpose, a sense of camaraderie, a sense of having a place in the world. there's no place in the world for nonbinary people. there's no place in the world for people like me who's souls ache to not be constrained but who's hearts are so caught up in how things are "supposed" to be. but i'm not a girl. i know i'm not a girl. it hurts.

everywhere i turn i find other people outside the binary who are not like me. i don't think a single other person has the same gender experience that i have. no one experiences genderless nonbinaryness like i do. this is liberating. this is also crushing, and that's the thing that's killing me about it.

i get excited at the idea i might not be nonbinary, that i might have a gender, but at the end of the day, i always come back around to this. this is who i am. i'm deluding myself to think otherwise, and i'm sad about it.

i guess i have a lot of internalized enbyphobia, or exorsexism, or whatever you call it. i'm a very black and white person. my mind is stuck in binary even though my soul doesn't even know there's a dichotomy at all. i feel like every day i'm killing some part of me who just wants to be free.

i don't know if anyone else feels like this. if you do, you aren't alone, obviously. i just wanted to get this out. i guess. feel free to reblog and do whatever you want with it. i hope we can all find peace in our genders (or lack thereof) one day.

#op #long post #nonbinary #agender #<-- so i can find it on my blog #that was a lot longer than i though it would be

[stayatsam]

I’m trying to find a way to express how much I love your art without sounding insane and also without writing a massive essay here. A few things though that I want to say are:

1. The energy of your art or the vibes it creates are always so intense and palpable I stop dead in my scrolling without fail every time I come across it on my dash and stare and that is not an exaggeration (and also I can always tell its your art even before looking to see who posted it, even though you don’t always post the same style it is all so distinct in a very good way and I love it)

2.  I do not mean this in a weird way at all and do not ever expect this but if your work was in a physical exhibition, going to said exhibition would be like a concert to me is I feel the best way to explain it. All consuming, physically feeling the bass in your chest vibes, but with your art. I am imagining very large versions (almost life sized figures), maybe low lighting that matches the lighting in a lot of your work (ie “he’s got eyes just like mine” or “dog after midnight” or “late train home” kind of idea to name a few) but literally any version of looking at your art is an Experience in the best way possible

3. all the details in your art are insane and every time I look at a piece I notice something I didn’t before. I love the details I love the colour I love the compositions, literally every last thing I always really enjoy

I could actually write an essay and this is already too long so I will stop and I hope you don’t mind me saying all this, but the tldr is I really love your art and it moves me in a way that I don’t experience often with visual art styles and I really appreciate what you do and you sharing it, so thank you (and I hope you are having a good night and weekend and have a great week coming up!!)

THIS IS SO NICE i read every word thank you so much!!! it's so nice to hear how you really get to have a relationship with the art i put out there in the world!

sometimes im afraid im putting it in an empty void but its soooo so wonderful to know there's people who are getting the intention i post it with: This piece is a conversation between you, the viewer, and it

#sam crying #keep #thank you so much for voicing this im so happy!!!