#intertwined histories my beloved……

[coveredinsun]

empires SMP worldbuilding: the empires we know, and the ones that came after

in a continuation of this post, i’m back on my bullshit (worldbuilding). this time, it’s about the old empires in the wake of the apocalypse, and how they developed into the kingdoms we know today. @defonotsmajor please interact

this post follows the assumption that both stories take place in the same world, with a continent in the southern hemisphere (season 1) and the northern hemisphere (season 2). consider this a timeline of sorts.

paragraphs spaced out for ease while reading. without further ado, enjoy!! <3

the helianthians who leave immediately, devastated by the loss of their livelihood and beloved queen, are considered the first wave of emigrants to the northern continent. they settle very far away, on the northeastern coast. as their settlement grows into what we know today as the kingdom of dawn, their sun-centric beliefs combined with tales and songs of their old queen gradually morphs into the sun religion most citizens subscribe to today. pearl, the sun’s final champion and breaker of dawn, lies at its center.

the combination of fae, helianthians, and mythlanders leads to a population highly prolific with magic. the “gifts” that used to be rare, and only recorded within the helianthian population (the greatest known example was farmer queen pearl’s golden wings), grow somewhat common. the land was no longer that of three separate kingdoms, but a combination of the three before it. guardian katherine and king sausage oversaw this in their good friend pearl’s stead.

upon wizard gem’s premature death due to prolonged use of advanced arcane magic (her exact age is unknown today, though it’s said she was likely in her early 40s, a very common occurrence for wizards before her), count fwhip and king sausage leave the southern continent, riding upon gem’s fully grown dragon.

at this same time, more citizens chose to emigrate the southern continent– many to follow the old dynasties they grew up with and still held loyalty to, many for other reasons– and they are classified as the second wave. those people, very magically inclined, established what is now known as glimmer grove. however, in an entirely different place, the nature magic was very weak, and eventually “gifts” were not found in the population anymore.

those who never moved to the northern continent made up the citizens of sausage’s old kingdom. on the land that was once mythland, the overgrown, and gilded helianthia, the kingdom grew to be the most prosperous on the southern continent. harvests were excellent, just like under the old farmer kings and queens, and the ground itself sprouted homes and businesses and livelihoods, often compared to the giant flowers of the overgrown. there were countless people with “gifts” and the magic thrived until the great purge.

#esmp2 #geminitay #pearlescentmoon #katherine elizabeth #mythicalsausage #couldn’t have done this without my beloved talon. thanks bestie!!!! #intertwined histories my beloved…… #s2 empires being related to the s1 empire of another creator my beloved…… #s2 empires my beloved. #empires smp worldbuilding #empires smp season 2

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hello again! I am that Anon that requested the Reader is a Smiling Critter and blah blah, I need more and thank you for making these, my heart is filled <3

This is gonna be quite detailed, feel free to change it!

Note: This might be a lil ooc or perhaps more of an AU?? Ah yes, Dogday's legs aren't gone, still attached just for the sake of the nature of the dynamics here.

The reader is a Smiling Critter once again, they had a dream about their old friends ( ex: Smiling Critters or maybe the other toys ). After they woke up in tears, soon they decided to go around the factory in hopes of finding the mini toy versions of their old friends, something to hopefully lessen the ache in their heart. Yeah, they also forgot to tell Catnap where they went and uh the living mini toys noticed their absence and reported it to Catnap 💀

Catnap ain't happy about it, he finishes up whatever he was doing and went on to find the Reader himself ( we're special jk- ). Later, he finally found them, whatever he felt at that time came to halt as he saw the Reader sitting down on the floor, in a pile of toy versions of their old friends, HIS old friends, their old friends, silently weeping to themselves. Without a second thought, he curled up around the reader, patting their head as if to silently reassure them it'll be okay, Catnap was actually genuine about it though the reader knew that it's not that simple ( with the whole prototype and how Catnap just listens to him 💀 ). But in their sadness and loneliness, they let their guard down and sink into the giant cat's affection, feeling nostalgic as they remember they always used to do this during naptime, with THEIR old friends.

After the reader fell into a deep sleep, Catnap decided to just stay where they were even with second thoughts in his mind, in this very moment, the old Catnap is back, not the one that follows the Prototype like a lost puppy. The Catnap his old friends know, the one Dogday knows, the one Reader knows. But he snapped back to his senses, deciding to rest his head on top of the Reader's in order to shutdown all those thoughts, purring while at it. This is ALL FOR THEM, FOR JUSTICE, TO END THE MADNESS, the Prototype promised him.

.....

Dogday is silent as he listens to his " former " friend talk about the events that occured a few hours ago. Catnap has decided to visit Dogday, free him from the belts to eat the food he brought. Dogday silently took the food and ate them as he listens Catnap's talk, understandably hesitant to butt in. It was more than weird, Catnap changed so suddenly and drastically, but recently he was softer, more like the old Catnap, albeit still threatening.

" Dogday... " That made the giant dog snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing his name, his eyes met with Catnap's. Before letting out a surprised yelp as the cat pounced on him, Dogday was terrified for his fate until he felt long arms curled around him. Catnap was hugging him tightly. Read that again. Hugging him. The so-called heretic. Dogday now knows what his friend ( Reader ) felt when Catnap helps them get back to sleep.

This is the Catnap they knew, the actions speak louder than words one, he wasn't truly gone after all.

Night Befallen

Note || I cast brain rot upon ye 🤲

WC || 1,384

Sypnosis || Maybe, just maybe knowing what one can know now—your old friend isn’t entirely stolen away from you.

You had found yourself immersed in a poignant dream, revisiting cherished memories of old friends. Awaking with tears lingering on your lashes, you felt an insistent pull to embark on a heartfelt quest. Determined to reconnect with the essence of your past, you resolve to venture into the depths of the factory, in search of the miniature toy replicas of your beloved originals. With each step forward, anticipation intertwined with nostalgia, guiding your path through the echoes of your cherished history.

You just wished things had truly stayed the same, why did it all happen before–this, Hour of Joy–whatever it had been. CatNap, the same cat you came to cherish and love had been completely twisted, viewing Prototype as a god?

It just made no sense to you, everything is madness.

For now, perhaps you could absolve in finding peace with your recreational little toys, shadows of former friends they may be of course. 

“Tch-” You snorted, trying to keep yourself from breaking down in the face of your tiny little friends that are piling up around you. Just like all the old times before, the times… before. All the tiny smiling critters were just plain adorable though, so that was advantageous. 

Beyond the shadows, some creeping figures watching you took notice of your absence. No, not in CatNap’s home, nothing goes one without CatNap knowing of anything. 

A small critter skittered away, you didn’t notice—you were far in too deep to properly take recognition of anything happening, only mourning your former friends. Who knew trying to take a look at the essences of your past, a past of once where you were happy, content. You were just doing your job as a fellow critter, you loved your job. You loved being a critter, you loved your friends.

“You guys are so cute..” You smile softly, hugging them close in spite of the few stray tears streaming down your face. Normally, you’d wipe them away, but right now you just wanted to stay in the moment. 

Stay with all your old friends, even if they weren’t your real ones. 

You could be allowed the peace of illusion, atleast.

To say he was furious was an understatement, what had the tiny critter meant by your absence? 

In CatNap’s eyes, this was unacceptable. 

One should remain where they are, they are not to derail from their paths. You shouldn’t be derailing from your path. No matter the reason, he will quickly finish his patrolling, and come straight to you to put you in your place. Mostly, being stern. 

Should he allow you that courtesy? Yes, CatNap should. You are his old friend, you were so kind as to work with the Prototype (even if you were completely against it), CatNap will be lenient with you. 

Suddenly CatNap had gotten lost in thought, and lifted his paw to see what he was doing. Oh yes, he was killing a human survivor for their incompetence – that is what was happening. He repeatedly shook his paw to get the remains of the human off his claws and paw as well, the blood remained on his fur unfortunately. CatNap can find some way to clean that off later.

As if he was sighing, CatNap’s mouth emitted a large breath of Poppy Gas, something of which he used sparsely; only when he wanted to block out people from areas he didn’t want them in. CatNap admittedly felt as if what he was doing here was wrong, but it was only in the name of the Prototype. 

CatNap finally went on his way once he cleared his head of these troubling thoughts, he was going to deal with you and he wouldn’t delay it any longer.

He always had eyes all around Playcare, did you really think you could get away with this so easily? Prototype is leader, god. He would not allow anyone to defile Prototype’s name, not even you.

No matter, he was going to make this quite clear.

It seemed the small smiling critters had felt his immense aura for bloodlust, causing them to skitter away from whence he came. CatNap without a shadow of a doubt, can be terrifying. 

CatNap simply paid no mind, and continued on making his way toward you. 

Even in all the rubble and dust, one clear distinction his keen ears could pick up was reminiscent of crying. To the normal ear, one would not be able to hear this. It was so silent, was it out of a fear that you were crying so silently?

No, it was because of the smiling critters, the smaller bodies. Merely replicas, but so well done for just being copies of the original critters. Shadows always danced in CatNap’s headspace, perhaps he could make it out the same within your case. He had always crossed his heart, locking it away in soul and key. CatNap deemed it all unnecessary. Yet, with you it was recurring.

Slowly enough, whatever emotions – whatever anger he had before was fading away. CatNap was overcome with a sense of sympathy, he wanted to comfort you, his friend. Now he just came to a complete halt, trying to figure out what was wise on what to do. 

CatNap felt pitiful, sounding low when he remembered those very screams. 

You have seen just as much as he did.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward, CatNap didn’t want to frighten you out of your stupor. His long elongated tail wrapped around your being, calmly re-adjusting you with a steady stance. CatNap laid down, folding his back legs and crossing his front ones. He so suddenly cuddled up against you, patting your head to reassure you silently. 

You nodded your head, snapping to the attention of CatNap’s presence. You knew otherwise that he wasn’t being as genuine, in spite of it being real in his eyes. 

Otherwise, you didn’t feel as on guard. You weren’t stressed or protesting in any case, you felt as if you were falling asleep. You began to fall asleep, CatNap sensed this, curling up against you to feel more comfortable. 

That was in your sadness and loneliness, had sleep finally claimed you – purely out of nostalgia that you had used to do this during naptime, with your old friends. 

Abornormally enough, he didn’t feel so angry. CatNap felt more as if he was at peace with you, even with these thoughts. How the Prototype had promised him justice, to end all the madness, just for you… for all of them. 

In a moment soon enough, CatNap had promptly followed you into sleep. 

If death was a choice, then he rejects it.

Silent and contemplative, DogDay listened as his "former friend" recounted the recent events, memories of comforting you when tears flowed and offering solace in the embrace of sleep. CatNap's unexpected visit and the subsequent act of liberation from his restraints were met with wary acceptance as DogDay consumed the offered sustenance, his attention captured by CatNap's unusual demeanor.

It was a peculiar sight, witnessing CatNap revert to a semblance of his former self amidst the oppressive atmosphere of their surroundings. Despite the underlying threat that lingered in CatNap's presence, there was a glimmer of familiarity in his actions, stirring a sense of unease within DogDay's battered psyche.

“This isn’t his usual behavior,” or “He’s just now had a revelation?” 

Lost in his thoughts, DogDay was abruptly pulled back to reality by the mention of his name, a sharp reminder of the precariousness of his situation. Anticipation coiled within him as CatNap lunged forward, bracing for the inevitable retribution that awaited him. Yet, to his astonishment, instead of aggression, he was enveloped in an unexpected embrace.

Stunned and bewildered, DogDay felt the weight of CatNap's arms around him, a gesture of affection that defied all expectations. In that fleeting moment of connection, DogDay experienced a revelation, a glimpse into the profound bond shared between you and CatNap, a bond forged amidst the chaos and strife of your shared existence.

As the echoes of their encounter lingered in the air, DogDay found himself grappling with newfound understanding. The warmth of CatNap's embrace, though fleeting, offered a glimpse of redemption amidst the shadows of his past transgressions. And in that moment, DogDay realized the profound impact of companionship, transcending the boundaries of fear and prejudice.

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #catnap poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #x reader

[arcielee]

Zȳha lyks

Summary: You find an ally with the second son of King Viserys. Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 2.4k+ Warnings: AFAB Reader, fat phobia, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, overstimulation, loss of virginity implied. Author's Note: This story is based on this request:

I definitely tweaked it a bit but I hope you enjoy it.💜 Thank you to my beloved beta reader @annikin-im-panicin for your insight with this peace and to @azperja for your emojis 💜 Valyrian translations: Zȳha lyks is his peace 💜 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

It was your father’s ambition to weave himself in the inner circle of the crowned princess that pulled you away from Claw Isle, leaving your brother behind to step into the role vacant for House Celtigar. During your journey, your father would repeatedly impress the importance of absorbing the tutoring of the maesters, to learn of your ancestral history before it had been so diluted by the blood of Westeros…but he was also adamant that you were to take advantage of your social seating, to make worthwhile and lifelong allies while in King’s Landing. 

You were quick to note the marionette strings that Prince Aegon held, allowing the Strong bastards to hold their heads high with their snide comments on how they found you, “pleasantly plump enough,” or so they supposed. 

It cut through your skin and burrowed into your heart, but your face never betrayed your anger nor your hurt. Instead, you went to your father with your heartache but his response was almost flippant about your torment. 

“Our blood stems from the veins of Old Valyria,” your father now spoke of this as a fact, as something without any room to argue against. “They are our kinfolk and we seem destined to intertwine our blood with the blood of the dragon.” 

But on this day you pushed aside your father’s words the moment you saw Prince Aegon and his puppets shift their collective cruelty onto the second son of King Viserys, Prince Aemond Targaryen. 

He was a quiet, sullen boy, who always seemed sunkissed and kept his large, lavender eyes downcast. You saw how his pain curved his posture, a hooded melancholy draped across his slouched shoulders. He blanched as the boys retrieved the Pink Dread, his freckles stark on his porcelain skin. 

Their gibe laughter echoed within the Dragon Pit and it boiled your blood, urging your steps forward to push past the brunette pair of princes and towards the puppeteer. Aegon’s brow raised, amused with your flushed fury that was staining your features, quick to sneer his comment on how, “–perhaps this swine could be mounted in–” but it stopped once your balled fist cracked into his nose. 

Your satisfaction trilled up and down your spine with the pop of cartilage, watching as he cupped his face and the crimson that poured between his fingers. His wounded howl called back the Dragonkeepers and the White Cloaks assigned to them, all horrified at the sight. You were in trouble, undoubtedly, feeling the large hand that curled around your wrist to drag you back to your father. You dared look at Aemond, catching the upturn quirk of his mouth, the glitter in his eyes that met with your own.   

It began a bond with the foundation of a mutual disdain, a hatred that would be solidified with events at Driftmark. 

The events that followed that fateful night were flurried: the crowned princess all but fled the capital with her new husband and children, while your father decided to uproot and follow after. This had been halted by the queen’s request, behest of her daughter Princess Helaena, asking if you would remain as one of her ladies and confidants. 

It was something that could not be denied and you found yourself alone with Helaena, her first request was for you to bring a book to her brother, who had since been boarded up in his room to recover. 

“Am I to read to him?” You peered up from the cover to Helaena. “What if he does not wish to see me?” 

“I believe this book and its company would interest him,” she glowed with her sweet smile, “I believe he would enjoy the change in narration, as our maester is rather monotone,” was all that she offered. 

At first, Aemond had been hesitant of your company, bashful of the bloodied bandages that required to be tended to, but you showed to be steadfast, unflinching, but with a sense of empathy without the effortful pity that came from everyone else. You saw how he warmed as your visitations turned habitual, with you joining with his lessons and remaining when the maesters left. Helaena would slyly dismiss you for the day and this allowed Aemond to help you practice your shared ancestral tongue, or listen to whatever tome caught your attention in the library, even delving into bits of gossip or updates that pertained to his dragon. 

“Vhagar flies over once a day. I assume it is to check on you,” you informed him one afternoon, “and she rests on the outside of the city walls, overlooking the bay.” 

His cheeks pinked with his shy admittance, “I can feel her.” 

You could not help your smile in return. Whereas Helaena was always sweet and always kind to you, and even Aegon had a newfound respect in your regard, you found it was the second son of King Viserys that allowed you to find a sense of comfort that you thought had been left at home. 

Aemond recovered, as you knew he would, and you still remained at his blindside as he reacclimated to his new depth perception. He began to wear an eyepatch over his scarred socket, its wrathful red line curling above and below, along with his apprehension to the whispers of the court about the marred Targaryen prince. 

“You are the rider of Vhagar, with the blood of the dragon in your veins,” you reminded him, your own blood rising to the surface. “Pay them no mind.” 

Aemond listened to you, as he always did, focusing his determination on relearning his world with his handicap. You watched as he grew tall, his sinewy frame becoming taut under his fitted tunic and slacks, a result of the countless hours he spent training with Ser Criston. He matured with a severity etched into the marble he seemed to be chiseled from, though you still would see a perpetual smirk that would play across his lips. 

Your heart fluttered until it bruised against your breastbone when he shyly asked that you would walk on his right side. “I wish to be able to see you,” he murmured and you burned with his words. Aemond showed consideration to match his gait with your steps and you enjoyed the heat that seemed to permeate from him; his large palm would cover your own, tucking it into the crook of his arm to keep you close at his side. 

Worthwhile and lifelong allies, your father’s mantra repeated in your mind, but on his eight and tenth nameday, you felt the thrum of an unknown emotion vibrating within you with his close proximity. 

His mother had gifted him a sapphire stone that was carved to fit where his eye once been, and when he focused his bicolored gaze on you–how the blue was brought out in his lavender eye with the complement of the gemstone, its amber flecks in the shine from the candles lit–did you feel the air pull from your lungs. 

You had never cared for the vicious tittering of the noblewomen and would find yourself arguing how Aemond was handsome still, as it seemed a quality trait that most Targaryen men possessed. But in that moment, as the warmth flooded your features from his steady stare that now bore through you, you began to grasp it to be so much more for you. 

Aemond misread your reaction, flinching to pull on his eyepatch with his apology: “I would never want to offend you–” 

Your hand reached with its own volition, touching his elbow to stop him. He paused and looked at you and you took a breath before you could manage to say, “Aemond, you are beautiful.” 

You burned from your boldness that was spilling from your tongue, your realization of what began as a mutual hatred for his nephews was on the precipice of something you knew you could not ignore. 

Aemond watched you, his eye flitting over, before he tucked his eyepatch into his pocket and then offered his elbow to you. “Come, Lady Celtigar, we should not keep them waiting,” his voice low, and only then did you notice the rose hue that touched his cheeks. 

After his celebration, it would be romanticized how the prince disappeared, taking Vhagar to fly to Claw Isle and demand your hand in marriage, against the Lord Hand’s protest for a more strategic pairing. Aemond would not be deterred and he returned with the intention to have you as his wife, which you graciously accepted. The ceremony that followed was intimate, steeped in the tradition of Old Valyria and sealed with a kiss that tasted of iron. 

It was then you felt a new shyness that swept through with your muted mortification of the intimacy that was now expected of you, that Aemond would see all of you. He always seemed to take pride with how you were dressed in your finery, gowns stitched to complement your buxom figure, but you soon learned that Aemond much preferred what was beneath the silk and lace. 

That night he would show you. He relished to peel away your layers, his mouth ravenous to taste your skin, his tongue licking to follow the natural slopes of your breasts and to the valley between. Aemond was panting with his anticipation, placing hot, opened mouth kisses to cherish your every curve, with gentle nips of his teeth that left blooms of rose as he continued towards your soft stomach and lower. He savoured your taste and how your body responded, how you were breathless, flushed, writhing beneath him. 

“Aemond,” you gasped as he nestled between your plush thighs. 

He shushed you, his breath warm against your silken folds, and it tickled in a way that caused you to squeeze his head between. His pleasure spilled with a low, guttural groan that rattled your bones beneath, but he would never pull away, as you would learn.   

Your fingers combed through his silver hair as he began to tease you, sparks licking the base of your spine as he drank your essence. His gentle touch fell in tandem with his tongue, a pacing that was harmonized with your sweet sighs, only quickening with the flutter of your walls. The sparks of pleasure flashed white with your peak shuddering throughout, pulsing around his digits that remained knuckle deep, coaxing you to completion. 

When your breath finally returned, you felt him grinning against your cunt. You found the muscle strength to tilt your chin down and meet with his eye blown, the shine of you on his smug expression. “One more for me, pretty girl,” his tone was low, commanding, his lips feathering your now swollen bloom of nerves. 

You were boneless and quivering from your second release and only then did Aemond shift to move on top of you, melting against the softness of your skin, fitting in a way that you never realized before was missing from you. 

He captured your mouth, his gentle thrusts filled you, completed you, and he trembled with his own reserve until you finally begged, “Aemond, my love, please, I need you–” that he rolled his hips against you, burying to the hilt with a rhythm that grew desperate. The litany that spilled from your lips as you clung to his shoulders, the flashes returning but with color from this new pleasure rekindling deeper within you.

That night, Aemond showed you the dragon that you were always aware thrummed beneath his practiced poise, something insatiable and wanting. He played the perfect gentleman in court, though his large hands always reached to touch, to grab whenever eyes were turned. You were his peace personified, decorated with love bites of your passion shared, the lifeline to his sanity that balanced on the edge of the coin flipped by the gods. 

And it was tested when the crowned princess returned to argue for the claimant of Driftmark. 

That night, the dinner had a palpable tension that the minstrels tried to drown with their music. Aemond held his gaze, piercing, loathsome, waiting for a moment to lash out, and that moment came served on a platter: a suckling pig that crackled still from the flames it had been removed from. 

You first noticed the crass snickering of Prince Lucerys that was followed by the swell of your husband’s anger, something you quickly abated with the gentle press of your hand to his forearm as you pushed to stand. The room halted, the attention trained to you as you made show to hold up your gilded cup. “Final tribute,” your sickly sweet tone began, “to the health of our nephews…” 

You knew that Aemond was watching, his agitation holding him rigid in his seat, his curiosity browed as you continued your insincerity, stating all three of their names with emphasis, “...each of them handsome, wise,” and your lips, stained by the wine, curled upwards, “Strong.” 

It was a rippled effect: the shock of the queen, the sharp eyes of the Lord Hand, the heated glare from the other end of the room, but it did not stop you. Instead you looked for the perpetual smirk that was now playing across your husband’s mouth. 

“Come now,” you gestured again with your goblet and even Aegon, with a dark chuckle, raised his own, “let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” 

“I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond pushed to stand, his ire returned with a force as he moved to wall you away from Jacaerys. “You dare raise your tone to my wife,” his wrath cut with each word, the fire in his blood pouring from him. “She only meant to compliment you… or do you not think yourself Strong?” 

It ended as quick as it had begun with Jacaerys thrown across the floor and a throaty chuckle from the back of Aemond’s throat. The clash of dragons was split apart by the White Cloaks and you watched your husband with a pride blooming in your chest, knitting with the love you now realized you had always carried for him: he was truly beautiful, squared off and fearless, his severity now furrowed onto his features that showed golden from the candles lit. 

You held your head high as you walked to grab his sleeve and his attention returned to you, to your touch, though his scowl remained splayed on the sharp edges of his face. You pulled him to leave, to return towards your bedchambers; Aemond brimmed with a passion that you knew needed a release and you would forever be willing to be that vessel for your husband.

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @hb8301 @snowprincesa1 @namelesslosers @darylandbethfanforever9 @helaelaemond

arcie's hotd masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond taragaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen x plus size reader #plus size reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #Zȳha lyks #his peace

[mitschki]

Husband Zhongli headcanons! female reader

in social settings, your Husband Zhongli is an epitome of calm and knowledge. however, the moment the conversation drift to his beloved wife, a noticeable change washes over him. this demeanor, though quiet and gentle, is unmistakable to those attentive listeners. a softness in his gaze and a smile that only thoughts of you can bring. it is a silent declaration of his love, visible in the sparkle of his golden eyes and the warmth of his smile.

Husband Zhongli, when asked about his wife, his usual façade of solemnity melts into a tender expression, "ah, my wife. she is doing quite well, thank you for asking," he smiles, his tone carrying a note of pride intertwined with fondness.

Husband Zhongli, ever the connoisseur of Liyue’s history and culture, treasures his wife even more than his most cherished antiques. he believes you are far from just another prized possession in his collection. whenever he talks about his wife, his love for you is obvious! as lasting and solid as the ancient stones he holds in high regard. it is clear you are not just part of his life, but rather the core of his very existence.

Husband Zhongli, knowledgeable with the lore and landscapes of Liyue, cherishes the moments spent wandering its paths with you. zhongli is accustomed to narrating tales but the excitement that surge within him as he shares every detail to you is incomparable. he revels in your attentiveness, the way your eyes light up in fascination at his stories draws a soft smile to his face.

Husband Zhongli who values the small physical ways of showing he cares. whether it's wrapping his arm around your waist when you're out together in public, or simply a soft touch on your back or shoulder. or on occasions, he'll find a moment to gently tuck stray strand of hair behind your ear, a silent reminder of his constant and gentle attention towards you. Reminding you that he's always there, always so attentive to you.

ahh sorry if this one is short!! i sort of don have any motivation to write! but um hopefully it returns! (o^^o)

#zhongli #morax #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #zhongli x you #zhongli fluff #fluff #geo archon

[dragon-ascent]

SINI! I have a thot, that’s also somewhat sad!

Ok I’ve been thinking about the dragon reader ask you had earlier and I thought about something that’s been in my brain since 7am this morning.

What if Zhongli met this female nature eastern dragon (who had antler shaped horns because she symbolizes the wildlife) that he met before the archon war and slowly fell in love after her almost tearing him a new one after invading her sacred pool in the forest. She then fights by his side only to die while taking a shot meant for the geo archon. He held her as she passed, whispering to him “Do not cry my beloved, our lives will always intertwine. I will see you again.” Before giving him one last smile as she took her last breath.

He waited centuries for her soul to reappear, he would scout the entire region just to feel a sliver of her soul. However over the years he never found her, until one day he finally returned where they had first met. To be greeted by a woman who resembled his love from so long ago.

At first he was skeptical, until the woman finally turned and as the light became a halo and a glimpse of antlers ghosted her crest. With a gentle smile she took in a breath before speaking.

“Oh my beloved, how I’ve missed you~”

I apologize if this is erratic, but the adhd is strong rn. I love your writing even the short stories! Much love MWAH~

- Antler Dragon anon!

AAAAAAA omg how cute and bittersweet and lovely!! Waiting thousands of years for his darling to return, never once losing hope, always ready to have his arms open and waiting for her...

And when the fated moment of reunion arrives at the brink of an innocent dawn, she's there to continue her place in the story of his heart, as if the pages hadn't been left blank for millennia.

He remembers everything about her like it was only yesterday they were frolicking in the fields of Dihua, only yesterday they were glazing jade pendants for prosperity...only yesterday she had sacrificed herself for him.

This time, though, wrapped in serenity against the backdrop of a more peaceful Liyue, history would not dare to repeat itself.

(She'll have to get used to calling him Zhongli, because his other names and titles would raise eyebrows in this day and age, but trifling matters am I right?)

Thank you for sharing, it's such a sweet headcanon~ much love to you too!! ♡

#sini answers #antler dragon anon #man would wait as long as it takes #and his patience is rewarded

[mononijikayu]

love wins all ━ geto suguru.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history. Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken.

note: this is the story 'to build a home' from suguru's perspective!!! i wanted to get it out much early for his birthday but i was hungover from uni night!!! anyway, enjoy this little gift!!! happy birthday, my beloved suguru!!!

Genre: No Curses AU, Priest Suguru AU, Fleabag AU;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Grief, First Heartbreak, Break Up, Emotional Scars, Forbidden Love, Star Crossed Lovers, Closure to Healing;

masterlist

play: love wins all by iu

WHEN HE WOKE UP THAT MORNING, GETO SUGURU WONDERED WHAT WOULD COME. As the first light of day filtered through the window, its gentle glow fell upon his squinting eyes, coaxing him reluctantly into wakefulness. Despite the beckoning of dawn, he found himself unwilling to rise from the comfort of his bed. A petulant expression settled upon his face, a silent protest against the intrusion of consciousness into the sanctuary of sleep. Memories, long buried or so he thought, resurfaced in his mind, clouding his thoughts like a thick mist refusing to dissipate.

Each detail of the dream remained vivid, etched into his consciousness as he lay beneath the guileless gaze of the ceiling. With an almost desperate longing, his hand reached towards the blank expanse above him, as if attempting to project the fleeting images onto its unimaginative surface. Dreams of them, recurring like a haunting melody, stirred his heart with a warmth that contrasted sharply with the chill of reality. He welcomed their ghostly presence, for in those ephemeral moments, they were all he had, all he desired.

In the relentless march of time, Geto Suguru found himself ensnared by a persistent yearning, an ache that defied the finality of separation. Despite the temporal chasm that had grown between them, the specter of a love once vibrant and all-encompassing lingered in the recesses of his being. It was a love that had etched its indelible mark deep within his soul, an intricate tapestry woven with threads of shared moments and intertwined destinies.

The memory of tender hands, the warmth of fingers interlocked with his own, resonated within him like an echo of a bygone melody. The captivating hue of mischievous eyes, pools of depth and mystery, still held him captive in the realm of nostalgia. Those lips, once orchestrators of joy that painted color onto the canvas of his world, now lived on in the corridors of his mind, their ghostly kisses a bittersweet reminder of what once was.

This longing, profound and relentless, manifested as a bittersweet symphony within his consciousness. Each note played with the delicate precision of cherished recollections, harmonizing the echoes of laughter, the soft caress of shared glances, and the sweet cadence of whispered confessions. The symphony was at once an ode to the beauty of their connection and a requiem for the irretrievable moments that slipped through the hourglass of time.

In the tapestry of his dreams, their shared moments became vivid landscapes, painted with the hues of emotions that transcended the boundaries of reality. These dreams, so palpable and alive, became sanctuaries where the boundaries between the corporeal and the ethereal blurred. In the realm of slumber, he could almost reach out and touch the contours of a love that once enveloped him, a love that refused to be relegated to the annals of the past.

These dreams, though ephemeral, became pillars of solace in the stark absence of their physical presence. They were a fragile bridge between the realms of memory and waking life, offering respite from the harsh reality that they were no longer intertwined in the dance of existence. Each night, as his consciousness surrendered to the realm of dreams, he willingly embraced the illusion, allowing it to weave its enchantment around his senses.

As he traversed the waking world, the yearning persisted, an ever-present companion whispering in the recesses of his mind. It was a testament to the enduring power of a love that, even in its absence, refused to be extinguished. And so, Geto Suguru found himself caught between the echoes of a cherished past and the uncharted territories of a future that beckoned with both uncertainty and promise.

With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly relinquished his grip on the dreams that bound him to the past. The bed, once a sanctuary, now felt unyielding beneath his weight, its surface as unforgiving as his thoughts. Yet, still he lingered, clinging to the remnants of a love that refused to fade. Slowly, he rose from his prone position, strands of raven hair swaying with his movements, a silent testament to the weight of his burden.

Geto Suguru stood in front of the mirror, his reflection a stark reminder of the responsibilities he bore. The smooth fabric of his robes felt heavy against his skin, a tangible weight that matched the burden of his obligations. As he straightened his collar, his thoughts drifted to her—the one he loved, the one he could never have.

He remembered their stolen moments together, fleeting and forbidden. The warmth of her touch lingered in his memory, a bittersweet reminder of what could never be. He had made his choice long ago, committing himself to a life of service and sacrifice. But with each passing day, the ache in his heart only grew deeper, gnawing at his resolve.

The tolling of the church bell echoed once more, pulling him back to the present moment. With a resigned sigh, Suguru steeled himself for another day cloaked in duty and devotion. As he made his way towards the sanctuary, he whispered a silent prayer, seeking solace in the divine presence he longed to feel.

But deep down, he knew that his true salvation lay elsewhere—in the tender embrace of the one he loved, a love that could never be spoken aloud, a love condemned by the very vows he had sworn to uphold.

Yet still, he carried on, a solitary figure in a world colored by shades of longing and regret. For Geto Suguru, this was the price of loving someone—a price he paid willingly, even as it weighed heavily upon his soul. And so, with each step forward, he embraced his fate, walking the narrow path laid out before him, guided by the flickering light of a love that could never be extinguished.

Suguru knew that he sins against God often.

But God also knew the truth of all his vows.

God knew he would never abandon him now.

For he made sure that love, even now, wins all.

IT WAS JUST LIKE YESTERDAY WHEN HE WAS TOLD THAT THE CAR CRASH HAPPENED TO HIS LOVER. Everything about that day had played into his mind as though it was from the pictures. They reeled in a loop over and over ever so raw, burning his head into grief. Geto Suguru felt like the air was sucked from his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. The sunflowers he had saved up to buy wrestling against his tight touch. He ran like a madman, he really did. Suguru couldn’t even care about the cars rushing here and there in the narrow streets, nearly killing him from the force. He knew he had to get to his lover. 

When he took his first steps into the hospital halls, petals of the sunflower clustered into a mess. Almost as though the sun itself has been torn apart. A distressed look passed his face, chest tightening as he huffed for air. Nothing was making him feel relieved. He was shattered at the sight of his lover, eyes closed, full of bruises and cuts. His lover lay motionless, almost as though there was no life in them. Everything was in a haze. He drops the sunflowers as he tries to get closer. Tears streamed down his face like a sudden downpour, blurring his vision and leaving him stumbling blindly.

His legs gave way beneath him, buckling as if the ground itself had turned to quicksand. He collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud, the sound echoing in the sterile hospital room. His lover’s mother looked at him, clearly as distraught as him. Her hand wrapped against his back, telling him to be strong, that it would be alright. Tears clouded his vision, obscuring the sight of crisp white coats and polished floors that overwhelmed him. It was the worst news of Suguru’s life, a blow that left me reeling and broken.

He does not remember how he managed to stand, to even fathom to gather himself from the wreckage of my despair. He was told that there was doubt whether or not his beloved would ever wake. Those words echoed in his head. He could not fathom it. His beloved was fine when they bid each other good night, wrapped in those fits of laughter in between of those greedy kisses. Suguru shook as he wiped the tears from his face. 

It was pathetic. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even do anything to prevent this from happening. He could feel the weight of guilt in all the world. If he had not left the night before, if he had not let himself go out early by himself to pick up those damn sunflowers. His hands curl into a fist. Suguru squeezes and squeezes until his knuckles turn white.

With trembling steps, the dragon eyed young man curtailed to her bedside. There they were, my love, laying on the bed as though they were mere corpses rather than one with the living. The sight of them filled Suguru with a bittersweet ache. The memories composed of happier times spent together fractured at the sight of his worst nightmare come to pass. He could not help but bring his hand on top of their own, his weary hand resting on his lover’s colder one. 

Tears threatened to spill once more, but he gathered all his strength and fought to hold them back. The memories in his head were no comfort to him. His grief shadowing the happier ghost, all of it fading into the recesses of time like wisps of smoke. Suguru wished that his joy was not ruined, shattered by the thought of bitter goodbye. He longed to hold onto them, to freeze time and relive those precious moments again and again. To make more and more memories once more. To live together, to love each other till they were old and gray. 

He traced the lines of their face with trembling fingers, committing every curve and contour to memory. The bruises and cuts stood out starkly against their pale skin, a cruel testament to the violence of the accident that had torn them from him. Suguru's heart clenched with each shallow breath they took, a painful reminder of their struggle for life.

His mind raced with a torrent of emotions—guilt, regret, despair. If only he had been there, if only he had never left their side. The weight of his choices bore down on him like a heavy burden, threatening to crush him under its unforgiving weight. He squeezed their hand tighter, as if trying to anchor himself to the present moment, to this fragile connection that bound them together.

But amidst the despair, a flicker of hope remained. Hope that they would wake, that they would open their eyes and smile at him once more. Suguru clung to that hope with all his might, refusing to let go even as the darkness threatened to consume him.

Time seemed to stand still as he sat by their bedside, lost in his thoughts and prayers. The steady rhythm of their heartbeat was a comfort to him, a reassurance that they were still fighting, still holding on. And so, with a silent vow, Geto Suguru resolved to stay by their side, to weather this storm together, no matter what the future held.

For in that moment, as he gazed upon the face of his beloved, he knew that love was stronger than any tragedy, stronger even than death itself. And though the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty and pain, he would walk it with unwavering determination, fueled by the boundless power of his love.

He wishes he could give them his life.

He wishes that they wouldn’t suffer anymore.

Geto Suguru wished that fate would be kind.

He wishes that fate would let love win it all.

THE RAIN HAD KEPT POURING THROUGH THE WEEKS THAT PASSED. Misery has become him, one with the sky with the tears he had shed till his eyes were red. Until his there were no tears left to shed, until everything had become swollen with grief. As Geto Suguru stood in front of the towering wooden doors of the church, a sense of solemnity washed over him, mingling with the tears shed by the heavens. The rain fell in a steady rhythm, its soft patter echoing the turmoil in his heart. He took a deep breath, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him like a heavy burden.

As the rain continued to fall, mingling with his tears, Suguru closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer to the heavens. He prayed for strength, for courage, for the wisdom to navigate the tumultuous waters of his heart.

The wide wooden doors of the church creaked open as Geto Suguru stepped inside, the dim light filtering through stained glass casting colorful patterns on the ancient stone walls. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace as he made his way down the aisle, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space.

The ancient stones of the church embraced him as he stepped inside, the hallowed air wrapping around him like a familiar cloak. The scent of polished wood and aged hymnals filled his senses, a poignant reminder of the solace he once sought within these walls. The flickering candles on the altar cast dancing shadows, and the dim light played on the arches and stained glass windows, creating an ethereal atmosphere.

Suguru's heart echoed with wants and desires in the silent chamber. The teachings ingrained in him from childhood whispered in the recesses of his mind, urging him to find refuge in prayer and divine guidance. The echoes of hymns sung by generations before him seemed to linger in the air, inviting him to return to the fold of tradition and the comfort of familiar rituals.

Yet, as he stood before the altar, the image of his beloved flashed in his mind—their laughter, their touch, the profound connection that transcended the boundaries of his faith. The pull of his love was relentless, an undeniable force that demanded his allegiance, even if it meant deviating from the path he had been raised to follow.

Suguru felt the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders, a burden he willingly bore for the sake of love. His humanity, with all its complexities and emotions, now took precedence over the structured teachings of the church. The internal conflict simmered within him, a storm raging in the sanctuary of his soul.

He closed his eyes, seeking a moment of inner peace amidst the turmoil. The hushed whispers of his prayers mingled with the quiet echoes of the sacred space. In that moment of vulnerability, he admitted to himself that, while a part of him longed for divine reassurance, the deeper recesses of his heart yearned for relief.

As Suguru opened his eyes, a sense of resolve hardened in his gaze. The silent sanctuary bore witness to his decision. He would navigate the uncharted waters of his heart, where the currents of love clashed with the tides of tradition. Whatever trials lay ahead, he would face them with the strength drawn from his love, embracing the complexities of his humanity with an unwavering spirit. And so, within the sacred walls that had once been a refuge, Suguru embarked on a journey that would test the boundaries of faith, love, and the intricate dance between the two.

With each step, his heart beat louder in his chest, a frantic rhythm matching the desperation in his soul. He approached the altar, where candles flickered and cast dancing shadows across the marble floor. Dropping to his knees before the crucifix, Suguru clasped his hands together in prayer, his voice trembling with emotion.

And as he opened his eyes once more, a sense of determination settled over him like a cloak. For he knew that his love was worth fighting for, worth sacrificing everything for. And no matter the obstacles that stood in his way, he would persevere, driven by the unwavering power of his love. Even at the cost of his suffering, he would do it all. As long as there is mercy on his grievous soul. As long as his beloved lived.

"God, please," he whispered, his voice raw with anguish. "I beg of you, spare their life. I would do anything, anything at all, to see them open their eyes again, to feel their touch, to hear their voice."

Tears streamed down his face unchecked as he poured out his heart to the heavens, his words a desperate plea for mercy. He recounted every moment they had shared, every laugh, every touch, every whispered word of love. He promised to devote his life to serving others, to spreading kindness and compassion in their name, if only they would be granted another chance at life.

"Take me instead," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion. "Let me bear their suffering, their pain. Just please, don't take them from me. I cannot bear to live in a world without them."

His anguished cries echoed off the stone walls, only to be swallowed by the oppressive stillness that surrounded him. The weight of his despair pressed down on him like a physical force, threatening to crush him under its unbearable burden.

The ancient tapestries that adorned the walls seemed to hang motionless, their once-vibrant colors muted by the somber atmosphere of the sacred space. The flickering candles on the altar cast dancing shadows that danced across the floor, but even their gentle movements failed to break the oppressive silence that enveloped Suguru like a shroud.

He bowed his head in resignation, his heart heavy with grief as he awaited any sign, any glimmer of hope in the suffocating darkness. His breath came in shallow gasps, the sound barely audible in the quietude of the church.

In the absence of any response, Suguru's mind raced with doubt and fear. Was he truly alone in his suffering? Had his prayers fallen on deaf ears, unheard and unanswered by the divine presence he had once believed in so fervently?

Desperation clawed at his chest as he searched for some semblance of comfort, some sign that he was not abandoned in his hour of need. But the silence remained unbroken, stretching on endlessly like a vast expanse of emptiness.

And yet, amidst the despair that threatened to consume him, Suguru clung to a fragile thread of hope. He refused to surrender to the darkness that threatened to engulf him, determined to find solace in the faint whisper of his own breath and the gentle rustle of the church's ancient tapestries.

For in the depths of his despair, he knew that even the smallest glimmer of hope could illuminate the darkest corners of his soul, guiding him through the shadows and leading him towards the light. And so, with a heavy heart and a steadfast resolve, Suguru bowed his head and continued to wait, praying for the strength to endure and the courage to persevere in the face of adversity.

Grief clung so desperately for hours and hours.

When he left, he was told of the good news.

Yet, when he came back to the church, he knew.

All good things, even love, come with a price.

SUGURU HAD NEVER CRIED SO MUCH IN HIS LIFE. But he was sure his beloved cried even more than him.The room exuded an aura of scarred intimacy, illuminated by the gentle flicker of candlelight that danced across the walls, painting them in hues of warm amber and soft gold. The soft glow cast a serene ambiance, enveloping the space in a cocoon of tranquility, yet beneath its soothing facade lay an undercurrent of tension that crackled in the air like static electricity. 

The silence hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating, wrapping around Geto Suguru and his beloved like a vice. It was not the comforting silence of a peaceful night, but rather a haunting void that seemed to echo with the weight of unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Everything about this moment felt like a ripple of harsh waves crashing against the two of them over and over again. Yet they knew they couldn't do much about it. 

Each passing moment only served to amplify the eerie stillness that permeated the room, casting a pall of unease over the space. It felt as though time itself had frozen, leaving Suguru and his beloved suspended in a limbo of uncertainty and apprehension. 

The bitter taste of silence lingered on Suguru's tongue, a bitter reminder of the words left unsaid and the emotions left unexpressed. It was a silence that felt cruel in its relentless grip, refusing to yield even as the tension between them threatened to suffocate them both.

As they sat in the suffocating stillness, Suguru's heart ached with the weight of the unspoken, the words trapped within him like caged birds desperate to be set free. But the silence held them captive, binding them in its icy embrace and leaving them to grapple with the bitter reality of their unvoiced fears and unacknowledged desires.

In the midst of this oppressive silence, Suguru and his beloved found themselves adrift in a sea of uncertainty, their hearts heavy with the burden of what could have been, what should have been, but was not. And as they struggled to navigate the treacherous waters of their shared silence, they could only cling to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of their intertwined hands amidst the bitter chill of the eerie stillness that enveloped them.

Geto Suguru sat across from his beloved, their hands intertwined in a tight embrace, fingers laced together in a silent resignation. The flickering shadows cast by the candles danced across the room, their movements reflecting the depth of the turmoil that churned within Suguru's heart. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, each breath laden with unspoken words and unvoiced fears. The palpable sense of unease hung thick in the air, wrapping around them like a heavy shroud, casting a shadow over the room despite the warmth of the candlelight.

Suguru's gaze never wavered from his beloved's face, his eyes searching theirs for any sign of understanding, any flicker of acceptance. But beneath the surface, he could sense the tumult of emotions that roiled within them, a storm of uncertainty and apprehension that mirrored his own inner turmoil. His beloved’s eyes were red from crying, swollen with grief as they made sense of the words uttered. What does it all mean, they wanted to ask. What does parting mean?

The air between them crackled with tension, a silent barrier that seemed to grow thicker with each passing moment. Suguru felt the weight of their shared silence pressing down on him, a suffocating presence that threatened to choke the words from his throat. And yet, despite the heaviness that hung between them, Suguru clung to the fragile thread of hope that lingered in the air. Hope that there would still be love, that there would be understanding. Even if he has to leave, leave the person he loved dearest, that love still wins. 

In the soft glow of the candlelight, amidst the flickering shadows and the palpable tension that filled the room, Suguru and his beloved sat together in a silent embrace, their hands clasped tightly as they braced themselves to make sense of the world that now was birthed with his words. Suguru took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew would change everything. His heart raced in his chest as he met his lover's gaze, the warmth of their eyes like a balm to his troubled soul.

"I know this is hard to accept." Suguru began, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But I have to. I have to leave. I need to.”

His lover's eyes widened in shock, their grip on his hand tightening almost imperceptibly. "But why?" they whispered, brows furrowing into sorrow. "Why now? What about us?"

Suguru's heart ached at the pain in their voice, the anguish written plainly on their face. "I love you," he repeated, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than anything in this world. But I….”

"But you love God," his lover countered, their words heavy with resignation. "More than you love me."

Tears welled in Suguru's eyes as he shook his head, his heart breaking at the accusation in their words. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "That's not true. I love you with every fiber of my being. But this is something I need to do. I need to. Not because I…..”

His lover's shoulders slumped in defeat, tears glistening in their eyes as they looked away. Suguru reached out, gently cupping their face in his hands, willing them to understand.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I'm sorry for the pain this will cause you. But please know that my love for you will never waver. It will always be a part of me, no matter where life takes me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of their head, his lips lingering against their hair. "I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I love you more than words can express."

And in that moment, as they sat together in the dimly lit room, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the weight of unspoken words, Suguru held his lover close, praying silently that they would find solace in the depth of his love, even as he embarked on a journey that would take him away from them.

When the morning came, he was already gone.

By the afternoon, he looked at the altar once more.

By night, he surrendered to the heavy priestly robes.

Love wins all, even the dawn of all the heartbreak.

WHEN HE SAW THEM AGAIN, HE KNEW HE WOULD BE BREAKING HIS HEART OVER AND OVER AGAIN. But as Father Suguru Geto looked into his lover – how they lived and how they have aged so beautifully, he couldn't help but feel no regret at breaking his heart once again. They still look the same, so wondrous. It was as though they were the beckoning stars watching over them. His heart pounded against his chest, bursting with yearning and grief, over a life already lost. His love for his beloved continued to persist, to win it all – at the expense of his beloved standing before him, living a life beyond him. 

“Long time no see," Suguru whispered, the words escaping his lips in a hushed tone, laden with a mixture of nostalgia and restraint. The blink that followed seemed to bridge the gap between the past and the present, a futile attempt to clear away the emotional fog that hung between them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you too.”

"Sugu—No, uh, Father. Father Geto," they stammered, the words catching in their throat as they struggled to reconcile the familiarity of the old name with the newfound title of reverence. The transition from the intimate to the formal underscored the undeniable transformation Suguru had undergone.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history.  Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken. 

"Indeed, it has been a long time," Suguru replied, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. The use of the formal title added a layer of formality to their exchange, a thin veil attempting to conceal the depth of the emotions lingering beneath the surface.

A heavy silence settled between them, and the flickering street lamp seemed to cast a spotlight on the unresolved tension in the air. Their gaze lingered on Suguru's face, searching for traces of the person they once knew within the contours of the priest before them. Father Geto, his expression a mask of duty and restraint, nodded in acknowledgment. 

"Yes, it has," he replied, his voice a measured cadence that echoed through the quiet night.

They bit hard at their lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the turbulence within. The words unsaid, the questions unasked, hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to unravel. The night embraced the weight of their emotions, and the street lamp continued to flicker, casting its dim glow further upon the scene—a reunion tainted by the passage of time and the choices that led them down divergent paths.

Their eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Suguru let the passage of time settle in the air. The chasm between them widened, and in that moment of silence, it seemed to stretch into eternity—a vast expanse of unspoken emotions and missed opportunities.

"Suguru," They whispered, unable to mask the vulnerability in their voice. The name hung between them, a bridge attempting to span the gap created by titles and time.

Suguru's gaze flickered with a mixture of pain and understanding. Yet in between, so much love. So much devotion – sealed away for what remained of all his life. Reserved for a lifetime where his yearning to duty, to god, did not win.

"Please," he began, the weight of his own emotions evident in the quiver of his voice, "Call me Father Geto. It's the only way we can navigate this... this impossibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the constraints that bound them. They merely nodded, a small, pained acceptance of the reality that lay before them. He could see their despair in their orbs. He could feel himself wishing he could rush to them, to wrap his arms around them once again. To comfort them. To give them the warmth of the world, to keep them safe—beside him. Yet he knew more than anyone that this was better. This distance was better. 

"Father Geto," They uttered, the words tasting foreign on their tongue.

A sigh, heavy with the burden of unspoken regrets and heartfelt apologies, escaped Suguru's lips, its fragile tendrils weaving through the quiet air like wisps of smoke seeking release from the confines of his troubled soul. Each breath seemed to carry with it the weight of a thousand moments left unsaid, a silent lament for the words left unspoken and the emotions left unexpressed.

In that fleeting exhale, Suguru released the pent-up tension that had coiled within him like a tightly wound spring, allowing the weight of his regrets to spill forth into the quiet space between them. It was a sound that spoke volumes, a poignant expression of the complex emotions that churned within him—a mixture of remorse, longing, and the profound ache of a heart burdened by the weight of its own unfulfilled desires.

As the sigh dissipated into the stillness of the room, it left behind a palpable sense of vulnerability, a raw honesty that hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to be acknowledged. Suguru's gaze, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs, seeking solace in the silent communion of shared pain and unspoken truths.

In that fragile exhale, Suguru bared his soul, offering a silent apology for the wounds he had inflicted, both intentionally and unintentionally. It was a gesture of humility, a recognition of his own fallibility and the impact of his choices on those he held dear. And though his words remained unspoken, their presence lingered in the air like a whispered prayer, a plea for forgiveness in a universe that seemed indifferent to the intricacies of human hearts.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he confessed, his eyes betraying a sadness that transcended the boundaries of their shared history.

"I know," they replied, aching with the burden of understanding. The streetlamp's flickering light cast a dance of shadows on Suguru's face, emphasizing the lines etched by time and choices.

The heavy silence persisted, a tangible force that hung in the air like a shroud. Their gaze fought to be tender as they remained fixed on Suguru's face, as though trying to find solace in the familiar features that had once provided comfort and warmth.

Father Geto, a master of self-discipline, struggled to maintain the mask of duty and restraint. Yet he no doubt knows that his lover knew him better than that. His eyes tell every story ever so easily. Only his beloved would know how to see the universe in his eyes. Yet he knew that his beloved wouldn’t dare. He knew that they would not want to break even more than they already have. It was the right thing to do. Suguru was certain that he would let the tears flow, to let his eyes reflect the sufferings of his own heart in full view.

"We are bound by different paths now," he said, each word resonating with the finality of their choices.

They took a hesitant step forward, their movements tentative as if navigating the treacherous terrain of an emotional battlefield. Each footfall seemed to echo in the silent space between them, a solemn cadence that resonated with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

With each step, they inched closer, their gaze fixed on Suguru's face as if seeking reassurance in the depths of his eyes. It was a gesture fraught with uncertainty, a silent plea for understanding in a moment fraught with tension and apprehension.

As they bridged the distance between them, it was as though they were traversing an invisible barrier that separated their hearts, a boundary erected by the complexities of their shared history and the weight of unspoken truths. The air crackled with anticipation, a palpable sense of unease hanging heavy in the space between them like a shroud.

Their movements were cautious, deliberate, as if treading on fragile ground that threatened to give way beneath their feet. Each step forward carried with it the weight of their shared past, a delicate dance of vulnerability and courage as they navigated the uncharted territory of their emotions.

And yet, despite the uncertainty that hung in the air like a veil, there was a palpable sense of determination in their movements, a silent resolve to confront the barriers that stood between them and the possibility of reconciliation. With each hesitant step, they drew closer to Suguru, their hearts yearning for the connection they had lost but never forgotten.

"Do you ever regret it?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the quiet night.

Suguru's eyes, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs in a poignant exchange that spoke volumes without the need for words. In the depths of his gaze, they glimpsed the echoes of their shared past, a tapestry woven with the threads of laughter and tears, joy and sorrow.

There was a vulnerability in Suguru's eyes, a rawness that betrayed the weight of his unspoken regrets and the ache of missed opportunities. In that moment of silent communion, they felt the weight of their shared history pressing down upon them, a burden too heavy to bear yet impossible to ignore.

And yet, beneath the veil of sadness that shrouded Suguru's gaze, there lingered a flicker of hope—a glimmer of possibility that danced on the edges of their shared sorrow. It was a fleeting moment, a fragile ember amidst the ashes of their broken dreams, but it was enough to kindle a spark of longing within their hearts.

As they stood locked in a silent exchange, each searching the other for traces of the love they had lost, they found themselves teetering on the precipice of a decision that would shape the course of their shared future. In the depths of Suguru's haunted eyes, they saw a reflection of their own yearning, a silent plea for a second chance at the love that had eluded them.

And in that moment, as the weight of their unspoken desires hung heavy in the air, they knew that they stood at a crossroads—a fleeting moment suspended in time where the possibility of reconciliation hung in the balance, waiting to be seized or lost forever.

"I would be lying if I said I didn’t," he admitted, the confession heavy with the weight of his own longing.

Tears welled up in their eyes, and they fought to keep their composure. They struggled against the truth of their feelings yet soon enough, they spilled the truth as easily as one would notice a river flowed into the stream. His beloved looked down, almost besotted with the nostalgia of a love still overflowing. They would never escape the thought of loving one another. Not in this lifetime and nor the next. Their love for one another would win all, even this distance wrought with sacrifice and tears. 

"I thought time would make it easier," they confessed, a raw vulnerability laid bare beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Suguru offered them a weary smile, a flicker of shared pain passing between them like a silent lament for what once was. The weight of their unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air, a palpable reminder of the wounds that time had failed to fully heal.

"Time has a way of revealing wounds we thought were healed," he said, his voice carrying the weight of hard-earned wisdom as he gazed into their eyes, searching for traces of the love they had lost. The truth echoed through the hallowed space between them, resonating with the bittersweet melody of their shared history.

The night embraced them, its silent embrace a testament to the intricacies of their intertwined destinies. Beneath the flickering street lamp, they stood as silent witnesses to the fragile beauty of a love both tender and tormented, its echoes reverberating through the quiet air like a haunting melody.

"I miss you," they whispered, the words a whispered confession that hung in the cool night air like a delicate promise, laden with the weight of untold stories and the lingering ache of unresolved emotions.

Suguru, offering a tender smile that belied the depths of his own sorrow, whispered back, "It'll pass," his voice a gentle reassurance in the face of their shared pain.

"I know," they replied, their voice carrying the wisdom of a soul that had weathered the storms of love and loss, accepting the transient beauty of their shared pain with a quiet resignation that spoke volumes of their resilience and strength.

As if prompted by an unseen force, they both turned, their hearts guiding them toward separate destinies. They who are still tethered to the past, lingered in the shadows of what could have been, as if waiting for a final resolution that might never come. Suguru, facing the far reach of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, took a moment to compose himself, tears betraying the stoic facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed, the words a whispered goodbye, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

And then, with a heavy silence enveloping them like a shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the grand tapestry of life.

As if propelled by some unseen force, a cosmic hand guiding their movements, they both turned away from each other, their hearts pulling them in opposite directions, toward separate destinies. Yet, they remained tethered to the past by the fragile threads of memories and regrets, lingering in the shadows of what could have been, their souls yearning for closure that might forever elude them.

Suguru, standing before the grandeur of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, faced the far-reaching expanse with a heavy heart. His demeanor, usually composed and stoic, betrayed the turmoil within as tears welled in his eyes, threatening to shatter the carefully crafted facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed softly, his voice barely audible above the hushed whisper of the night, the words a whispered goodbye that hung in the air like a solemn vow, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

With a heavy silence enveloping them like a suffocating shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step they took echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the intricate tapestry of life's ever-unfolding narrative.

They will be fine.

They will live together.

They will continue to love.

Love will forever win all.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk drabbles #getou suguru #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto x reader #geto x you #jjk x you #jjk geto #suguru #jujutsu geto #kayu writes ! ! !

[darknesseddiem]

𝐀𝐧𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐬'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥: 𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Amidst the dawn of creation, when deities strode the earth as equals among mortals, humanity thrived in serene unity, untouched by the grasping tendrils of greed that would later mar the landscape. Stirred by the inherent goodness of their subjects, the divine council elected to endow them with a peerless boon: a guardian, a celestial warrior sculpted by the ethereal hands of the gods, ordained to safeguard the vulnerable and uphold equity amongst all.

Yet, the idyllic tranquility swiftly dissolved into a harrowing nightmare. With no need for celestial intervention, humanity succumbed to the seductive allure of avarice and pride, exploiting the guardian-warrior as an inexhaustible wellspring for their desires. Gold, jewels, fineries—all were but a whispered command away, conjured effortlessly by his boundless power.

Thus dawned the era of enslavement, a grim testament to humanity's descent into moral decay, as the defenseless fell beneath the yoke of callous overlords devoid of empathy. As calamity flourished and the divine pantheon grieved the degradation of their once-beloved charges, a decree resounded through the hallowed halls of eternity: the token of gratitude and trust bestowed upon mortals would be reclaimed and returned to its celestial sanctum.

Yet, the gods failed to anticipate a pivotal revelation: the guardian-warrior, born of their divine essence and combined prowess, surpassed even his creators in strength. Fearing his uprising following their futile attempts at annihilation, they decreed the most severe of punishments: eternal imprisonment.

Unaware of the extent of his own power, the warrior endured a punishing ordeal, encased within a sarcophagus of obsidian and unyielding stone, assailed by the venomous embrace of serpents and scorpions, his form suffused with chilled mercury—a spectral warden, condemned to an eternity of solitary confinement.

A formidable curse, imbued with the arcane power of millennia past, was woven into the fabric of his sarcophagus, its hieroglyphs serving as a dire warning to any who dared disturb the seal imprisoning the warrior, lest they unleash unfathomable chaos upon the world once more. However, amidst the shadows of time, an ancient prophecy, shrouded in the enigma of celestial movements and cosmic whispers, stood poised to redefine the very tapestry of humanity's fate.

In the heart of an unprecedented archaeological endeavor, an intrepid explorer embarks upon a quest of unparalleled magnitude, driven by the tantalizing allure of uncovering secrets buried deep within the sands of antiquity. Yet, intertwined with her journey lies a prophecy etched into the annals of time itself—a prophecy veiled in mystery, its origins lost in the mists of history, foretelling a cataclysmic confrontation between forces ancient and divine.

As the threads of destiny unfurl, two diametrically opposed forces emerge from the annals of legend: one heralding the dawn of salvation, the other portending an abyssal descent into darkness. Amidst this cosmic conflict, the archaeologist finds herself cast as a pivotal figure, entwined in the struggle between light and shadow, tasked with deciphering the enigmatic prophecies that hold the key to humanity's ultimate fate.

In this crucible of uncertainty, where the past converges with the present and the future hangs in the balance, the question lingers like a specter haunting the recesses of the mind: Can the immutable laws of destiny be defied, or does the intrepid explorer possess the audacity to chart a new course for humanity, rewriting the very fabric of existence itself?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: +18 MDNI, violence, torture, Eddie has a demi-god name, etc. More will be added later.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: It's been a while since I had this idea and after my hiatus I finally had time to write, I hope you like this baby of mine just as I already have a huge affection for this story. Thank you for your support, I'll be back soon!! TAGLIST IS OPEN.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝐤

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

If you like my works, support me with a small 𝐊𝐨-𝐅𝐢!!

𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲: Sutenankh, once revered for valor, finds himself ensnared in the ethereal confines of divine justice. As he awaits his fate within the celestial sanctum of Horus, his heart heavy with remorse, the gods decree eternal imprisonment. Meanwhile, a clandestine pact between Anubis and Horus births a prophecy of hope for a future liberator. Betrayal, anguish, and the weight of celestial retribution collide in a tale where virtue and destiny intertwine.

𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧: Ramses Thothmes, a wealthy Egyptian magnate, extends an invitation for a new excavation, promising untold secrets hidden beneath the desert's surface. As you convene with Thothmes to discuss the venture, a new figure emerges from the shadows – the enigmatic Colonel Duncan Smith.

Under Smith's watchful eye, the expedition sets forth into uncharted territory, where ancient ruins conceal dark secrets and lethal perils.

#darknesseddiemfics #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie smut #eddiemunson #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #bestfriend!eddie munson #older!eddie munson #demigod!eddie munson

[whenthegoldrays]

ELLY'S TOP TEN K-DRAMAS (with songs to match!)

10. Would You Like A Cup of Coffee? (2021)

Centers around Kang Go-bi and the regulars of 2Dae Coffee. Coziest show ever.

Song for this drama: Slow Down

9. Our Beloved Summer (2022)

Former high school/college sweethearts Ung and Yeon-su are brought back together by work five years after breaking up. My favorite OST!

Song for this drama: skinny dipping

8. The Matchmakers (2023)

A royal decree to marry off old maidens forces uptight prince Gyeongwoonjae and professional matchmaker Soon Deok to join forces. Prettiest show you've ever seen.

Song for this drama: Caught In A Blue

7. Extraordinary Attorney Woo (2022)

Woo Young-Woo navigates her career, life changes, and love as a rookie at Hanbada Law Firm and a woman on the autism spectrum. Young-Woo is a darling, and her boy is the greenest flag ever.

Song for this drama: pov

6. Familiar Wife (2018)

A married couple who have fallen out of love get to see each other in a new light after the husband, Ju-hyeok, goes back in time and changes their history. You've never rooted this hard for such an infuriating man.

Song for this drama: No One Knows

5. Castaway Diva (2023)

After 15 years stranded on a desert island, Seo Mok-ha pursues her dream of becoming a singer while searching for the boy who helped her escape her abusive father. Despite the horrors, this show will make you believe there is good in the world.

Song for this drama: Sweet Chamomile

4. Hometown Cha Cha Cha (2021)

Yoon Hye-jin moves to a seaside town to open a dental clinic and finds the home she always wanted amidst its colorful residents. So funny and the male lead is basically the perfect man.

Song for this drama: Apple Pie

3. Crash Landing On You (2019-2020)

After a freak accident lands her in North Korea, Yoon Se-ri must rely on the soldier who saved her life in order to survive, stay hidden, and get back to South Korea. Rips you apart in the best possible way.

Song for this drama: If I Never Knew You

2. Live Up To Your Name (2017)

Renowned acupuncturist Heo Im falls 400 years through time, where his life and fate intertwine with cardiac surgeon Choi Yeon Kyung. Beautiful, unmatched chemistry.

Song for this drama: epiphany

1. Twinkling Watermelon (2023)

Ha Eun Gyeol is mysteriously sent back in time, where he meets his parents as teenagers and discovers he didn't know as much about them as he thought he did. Peak family feels, peak soft couple, and peak enemies to lovers.

Song for this drama: Long Live

#i finally did this!! #and congratulate me i did a 10-drama list and only used two ts songs #i was going to do a maisie peters song for watermelon but long live was just way too perfect to not put it #and if i never knew you for cloy!! literally meant for both couples on the show #so yes this projects combines my two favorite things to scream about: kdramas and songs that match my characters/ships #this probably won't get many notes but it was a passion project so it's okay #and now for all the tags shgdhs #would you like a cup of coffee #our beloved summer #the matchmakers #extraordinary attorney woo #familiar wife #castaway diva #hometown cha cha cha #crash landing on you #live up to your name #twinkling watermelon #long post #elly's posts #kdrama #show recs

[yippi-yipp]

World on Fire

author's note: hi! this is my first time EVER writing a fanfic! i thought long about it and decided to publish it. english isn't my first language so there might be some errors (sorry!). its not proof read :( hope you enjoy reading it!! :)

AU: Rhaenyra and Aegon are twins, they are both 16 years old. Aemma died while giving birth to Aemond, who is now 12 years old, while Helaena is 14. Viserys decided to not remarry. Alicent has the same age as the twins.

!!Warnings!!: incest (targcest), barely explict sex.

Chapter I

Rhaenyra was strolling in the godswood garden, the sun high up in the sky, a gentle breeze made her silver hair, which was in a soft braid, flow in the wind freely.

She spotted Aegon, sitting against the heart tree, reading some book that probably had 2000 pages, it was probably an erotica; like that one time that she found him reading 'A Caution for Young Girls' by Lady Coryanne Wylde, one of the ladies-in-waiting of Queen Alysanne.

When he saw her shadow on his book, he lifted his head up to look at her, a smirk appeared on his face, some of his silver hair was stuck to his forehead due to the hot weather that made him sweat like a pig.

She looked down at him and smiled softly, her arms were behind her back, she leaned down and took a look at the book that he was holding: "What are you reading? I assume that it's an history book, studying a little would do you quite well." she said in jest, she knew him well enough to know that he probably held an history book once or twice.

He looked down at his book and then back at her: "Well, it's definitely an history book!" he said jokingly, an heartly laugh coming out of his lips.

"I'm still reading the book that one of the ladies-in-waiting of Queen Alysanne wrote. I doubt that it's actually a biography like people say, but it's still a pretty good book. It's entertaining enough." he continued, before closing his book with a loud thud and now giving her his full attention.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with some septa, doing womanly things like knitting or something?" he asked, putting the book down beside him.

Rhaenyra sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around her legs, her pale yellow dress getting a little dirty from sitting down in a not-so-clean garden.

"I didn't feel like doing that. I preferred spending some time with my oh-so beloved brother!" She said with a smile, her head turned to the left to look into his amethyst eyes.

"Are you going to sneak out and go into the city tonight?" she said quietly, not wanting anyone to hear them.

"Aye, i always do that." he responded quietly as well. "Can you bring me with you? I've practically never went outside of the Red Keep." she asked quietly, reaching out to take his hand in hers, their fingers intertwining.

"What?! Are you crazy? Father would kill me if he found out that I took you with me out into the city!" he responded in a loud tone, he didn't want to take her out with the fear that, if, Viserys, their father, found out he would have his head.

"Please Aegon, I'll die if i spend one more boring night here!" she begged him. "Nonono, i like my head attached to my body, thank you." he answered, almost angrily, before letting his gaze soften, he leaned in to kiss her, hoping that she would forgive him for not taking her into the city.

She kissed back, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight as she kissed him passionately. When their lips parted, a string of their mixed saliva still connected them to eachother, Aegon chuckled before kissing Rhaenyra again to get rid of the string.

They were still in eachother's arms, their breath mixing, both of them taking in the smell of them together. Rhaenyra leaned in to give him a soft peck on his rost lips.

She leaned back and frowned slightly "Then why don't you stay at home with me? Just for tonight? We could...hide in some corner of the Keep, enjoy eachother's company."

She suggested hoping he would accept. "Just for tonight." he agreed. She smiled widely, and he did as well. "Do you think that father will accept to marry us? I'm 16 now, he wants me to get married soon and I don't want to marry a fat Lord or something like that. I want you" she changed topics.

They had already talked about marrying eachother, they would have loved waking up next to eachother for the rest of their lives, spending their days teaching their children High Valyrian.

Her eyes were looking straight into his, a profound sadness was into them, Rhaenyra always looked sad and he had no idea why. She had everything, people would kill to be in her place but she still complained about having to wear pretty dresses and spend her days reading on a bed with gold sheets.

"I think he will. If he won't, we'll get married anyway. We could...flee to Dragonstone and get married in secret, like King Jaehaerys did with his sister Alysanne." he responded softly, Rhaenyra smiled gently, hoping that he's right. "I should get going. I have a lesson with the Maester now. I'm actually going to study History now, I'm on the chapter about Aegon the Conqueror." he continued.

He kissed her lips and hugged her before he got up and walked away from the heart tree, stepping inside into the Red Keep. Rhaenyra was now all alone, she followed his every step with her eyes until he was no longer visible.

She could feel herself getting hot under her gown, the way his long hair looked like melted silver, it fell gracefully on his shoulders. She saw that he left the book that he was reading onto the soft grass, she took it up and opened it into a random page, reading a few lines of that erotic tome that Aegon loved so much.

It was page 104, the first lines cited this: -It was like there was a waterfall between my legs. He pulled me into a stable, a white stallion was next to us while we copulated. He pushed me gently onto the hay, he opened my dress open, he almost ripped my undergarments, he couldn't wait anymore, he had to dominate me right there, that second precisely. He placed himself right before my entrance, he was the key to my lock, my lips were parted in anticipation.-

Rhaenyra's cheeks became red, she understood now why the High Septon had burned almost all the copies of this book, but she was grateful that Aegon managed to keep one copy perfectly intact, she was quite invested into the biography of Lady Coryanne Wylde now: people say that she actually lost her maidenhead into that stable with that farm boy.

She closed the book with a thud and stood up, she looked up at the sky, the red leaves of the heart tree were casting a shadow over her, protecting her eyes from the sun. She held the book in one hand and the hem of her yellow-ish dress in the other, so she wouldn't trip over it and fall.

She walked inside and quickly strolled into her chambers, greeting Ser Criston Cole outside of her door and locking it behind her. She put the tome on her bed and changed into her night wear: a soft silk nightie in a beatiful white color.

She undid her hair, the braid that it was put in left it in soft waves. She hopped inside her bed and under the sheets, she opened the book and started reading it from the first page, hoping that in a few hours Aegon would sneak into her room from the secret passage that was next to her wardrobe.

After reading a few chapters, she fell asleep, even if it was still early in the evening, the sun was still high up in the sky and cast a soft, orange light on her face, enhancing her heavenly features.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #game of thrones #rhaenyra targeryan #game of thrones au #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fandom #alicent hightower #hotd aegon #queen rhaenyra #hotd fanfic #hotd #aegon smut #aegon targaryen smut #targcest #house targaryen #alternative universe #aegon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra x aegon #rhaneyra smut #rhaenyra targaryen smut #AU #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #world on fire #rhaneyra fanfiction #Aegon fanfiction #king aegon

[gliyerabaa]

Prompt 11 I beg of you... put more gelohie fluff into this world

mat of COURSE YOU PICKED THE ANGSTIEST OF THE FLUFF PROMPTS >:(

11. Person A noticing person B is getting overwhelmed and helping them out.

musicalverse

--

There they sat, outside the towering doors of the Wizard's throne room. Anticipation practically crackled in the air, as both Elphaba and Glinda knew in their hearts that this meeting with the Wizard would change the trajectory of their intertwined lives forever.

Glinda distracted herself from her nerves by marvelling at the grand architecture of the Wizard's palace, almost otherworldly in its design. Towering pillars led upward into sweeping arched ceilings, engraved with emerald-studded murals of the history of Oz. The fairy queen Lurline cast a jewel-studded smile over the both of them, and Glinda, who been raised Lurlinist but had never had strong religious convictions, felt a stirring in her heart; felt safe and protected under Lurline's watchful eye.

What a grand and marvelous artistic testament to Ozian history, Glinda thought. The Wizard, rumored to be from Another World, certainly took great care in documenting the culture of Oz despite his otherworldliness. He must be a great man--

Glinda was distracted from her thoughts by Elphaba's shivering-- it was audible-- and she quickly diverted attention to her beloved.

"Elphie?" Glinda kept her voice soft, for she had never seen Elphaba this unnerved before, "Are you alright?"

Elphaba responded silently, shaking her head 'no'.

"May I touch you?" Glinda asked, and upon being answered with an eager nod, she took Elphaba's hands in her own, stroking them in a repetitive, soothing motion, "Just breathe, Elphie."

Elphaba visibly relaxed at Glinda's gentle touch, sighing as Glinda drew a hand across her jawline.

"The Wizard invited you here, Elphie." Glinda whispered, "He sees your potential, he knows you are a capable sorceress..."

"But..." Elphaba spoke slowly, her voice trembling and fresh, "What if I'm not good enough for whatever he needs me for? I'm used to being a disappointment, sure, but letting down the most important person in all of Oz? Not even I could stand that..."

"Sure, he may be the Wizard of Oz, but you can't let one person bring you down like that. Our lives are going to change today, Elphie." She took Elphaba's hands again, "But you must realize that it's going to be for the better. You're going to get to work with the Wizard of Oz, and that's a monumental accomplishment in itself. The Wizard will not expect perfection from you, so you can't continue to hold yourself to those impossible standards."

"Right." Elphaba said, not appearing entirely convinced.

"And you know, my dear, whatever comes next..." Glinda glanced at the ring on her finger, running her thumb over the matching band on Elphaba's finger. They'd proposed to each other last night, vowing to persevere through such a monumental change, "We'll be facing it all together."

"Hm..." Elphaba smiled, "You're right. Glinda, you make me feel like I can do anything. For you, I could keep the sun shining, I could defy the very laws of gravity. You empower me, my sweet. I love you."

They kissed softly, briefly, then pulled apart and rested their foreheads against each other, simply sharing breath and sharing space on the precipice of this monumental shift in their lives.

Then, the grand gates opened, and a stocky man stepped forward.

"The Wizard will see you now."

#gelphie #wicked the musical #wicked #my writing #writing prompt #yes i will allude to them being engaged/married every damn chance i get leave me alone

[reivrze]

MEET THE OCS . . .

(  禍  )   —   TALES OF TIME | 해지유

" In the abyss of love's dark dance, souls entwined, hearts shattered, beauty found "

2023 | 18+ | SERIES | ENHYPEN + OCS

GENRES. coming of age, historical fiction, mystery, romance, joseon dynasty, drama, angst, graphic violence

TAGLIST. open ! send an ask or comment down below to be added ! taglist for each member's story will open soon :)

— cho jiyeon is a spirited young woman, yearning to discover her hidden talents. she grew up with her father raising her alone. she learned basic martial arts skills along him but never got the chance to refine her skills after her father's early passing.

— yun haewon, is a captivating and enigmatic young woman with a natural grace that captivates all who witness her dance. Born in a small village, her life has been deeply intertwined with the art of movement since childhood. Tragedy struck her family when they were caught in the crossfire of a brutal war, leaving her orphaned and seeking solace in her passion for dance.

— choi iseul, a resilient and enigmatic woman, carries the weight of a difficult past. Born into a destitute family, she tragically lost her parents at the tender age of 15. left to fend for herself and her younger sister, Iseul battled against poverty with unwavering determination. amidst the hardships, one glimmer of solace emerged—the game of gomoku, played with her beloved sister.

— rin yoonji a spirited young woman in her early twenties, grew up in the humble embrace of her grandparents in a small village nestled amidst the ancient beauty of korea. with a compassionate heart and a curious mind, yoonji cherished the stories her grandparents shared about their country's rich history. now, in her twenties, she works in the royal palace as a naemyeongbu, a housemaid for the royal Sim family.

— hoshino yumiko, a mischievous and playful kitsune, was once a part of a prestigious kitsune clan in Japan. However, due to her rebellious nature, she was ultimately kicked out, leaving her without a place to call home. Seeking refuge and anonymity, she found solace in Korea, where she has been evading those who seek to capture her.

— kang mina a young scribe in 18th century Korea, possesses a gentle charm that captivates those around her. Behind her endearing smile lies a secret burden, as she carries within her diary the perilous truths of the kingdom. Despite the weight of her knowledge, Mina's kindness and compassion never waver, as she spreads warmth and support to all she encounters.

— miura noa was born into a humble family in the midst of the joseon dynasty in korea. as a child, she displayed a natural affinity for healing and medicinal herbs. despite her family's limited means, noa's parents recognized her potential and sacrificed their own comforts to provide her with an education in the healing arts. noa's skills flourished, and she became known for her exceptional abilities as a healer.

© miyu 2023 - do not copy, translate, repost or plagiarize my work anywhere !

#( 禍 ) — TALES OF TIME | 해지유 #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fluff #enhypen masterlist #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #enhypen jake #jake sim #jake x reader #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #sunoo #kim sunoo #sunoo x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #niki #nishimura riki

[wrestlezaynia]

16, Zowens!

Subtle suggestive smut prompts.

"Mon Amour." Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Summary: After months of being apart, Kevin decides to take an early flight to surprise Sami.

Must be 18+ to read under cut.

It has been several months since they've been apart. They had plans to catch up the following weekend for the holidays, but Kevin couldn't wait that long, he needed to see his Sami.

With tonight's episode of Raw playing in the background, Kevin prepares the room for Sami's arrival. Wincing as he watches the love of his life take numerous bumps from McIntyre, thankful he had a bottle of massage oil handy to pamper his beloved when he returns.

With the lights dimmed and the bed adorned with rose petals Kevin patiently waits for Sami, eager to see his boyfriend after so long.

After an excruciating match, Sami wobbles into his hotel room. His muscles aching as he prepares to undress. He's down to his boxers when he feels a strong pair of arms engulf him from behind.

Kevin remains out of view, watching intently as Sami disrobes. The mere sight making his dick hard, but he'd have to restrain himself for now. "Surprise." He whispers, his breath hot against Sami's ear.

A shiver runs down Sami's spine as he melts into Kevin's touch, having been deprived of it for far too long. His warm embrace providing a source of comfort he so desperately needs. "I'm so glad you're here." He sighs contentedly, placing his hands atop Kevin's.

"I couldn't stay away." Kevin murmurs softly, brushing Sami's ginger curls aside to kiss the nape of his neck. "I missed you so much, Sami."

Sami's eyes flutter shut, the feeling of Kevin's soft lips against his skin leaving him weak in the knees as he leans on Kevin for support. "I missed you too, Kev." He murmurs back, his body aflame with desire.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." Kevin's voice taking a more sultry tone as he caresses Sami's muscular chest, leaving a trail of feathery kisses from his neck to his collarbone, occasionally flicking his tongue to taste him. "Those long, sleepless nights without you by my side."

"Kev." His name escaping Sami's lips as a whisper. He can feel the pre cum leaking from the tip of his penis, his legs becoming wobbly and buckling beneath him as Kevin's grip around his waist tightens.

"Don't worry, I've got you." Kevin soothes, scooping Sami into his arms with ease as he proceeds to carry him to the bedroom. "I'll take care of you." He adds softly, carefully lowering Sami to the foot of the bed.

Sami leans back on his elbows, giving Kevin the best come-hither expression he could muster in spite of being battered and bruised from his grueling matchup with Drew hours prior. "Come here, tiger." He smirks seductively, patting the empty spot beside him on the bed.

Their eyes lock in a heated gaze as Kevin moves to stand between Sami's legs. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, but is halted by Sami now standing mere inches away, helping Kevin pull the garment over his head. They stare longingly at each other, hearts beating fast.

The air is thick with sexual tension, both men hungering for the other. Sami cups Kevin's cheek gently, looking deeply into his eyes, those piercing silver eyes that hold so much history. He leans in close, brushing his lips tenderly against Kevin's, their souls intertwined.

A soft whimper emerges from Kevin's throat as soon as their lips connect. He nearly forgot how sweet Sami tastes, fingers tangling in his wavy crimson locks as he slips his tongue into Sami's mouth. Swirling it slowly and sensually against his own, devouring him.

Sami eagerly kisses back, pressing his body into Kevin's. Wanting him to feel how hard he is for him, his erection poking him in the thigh. His free hand groping Kevin's cock through his sweatpants as a muffled gasp escapes him. "You're so big, Kev." He whispers against his lips.

"All for you, mon amour." Kevin whispers back, holding Sami's gaze as he slips his thumbs into the waistband of his pants before peeling them off to reveal he isn't wearing anything underneath. His manhood exposed and standing at attention as he pulls Sami into a fiery kiss.

Sami watches Kevin remove his pants intently, his breath hitching as his hard cock is released from its cotton prison. Before he has time to act, Kevin's lips are on his, soft but firm. He returns the kiss with fervor, moaning into Kevin's mouth at the feeling of his naked body pressed taut against his slender frame. Never has he been so aroused.

With their lips still attached, Kevin guides Sami towards the bed, carefully lowering him to the mattress. Passion intensifies when he breaks away to kiss down Sami's neck, an erogenous zone that drives him wild, the silence shattered by Sami's moans of pleasure.

"Kev." Sami mewls as Kevin continues his descent, taking Sami's nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it before grazing his teeth over the nub, sending shock waves over his entire body. "Kevin, please, I-I want-" Sami stammers out, the plea dying on his lips as Kevin reaches his stomach, his back arching into the mattress.

Feeling Sami squirm beneath him accompanied by the heavenly sounds spilling from his lips makes Kevin's member twitch, but after the grueling match and long absence, he wants to please his lover in every way possible. "Tell me what you want, mon cher." He murmurs against his skin, licking his navel. "In details."

"You." Sami replies in a breathless whisper, his body trembling with desire. "I want you, Kev." His voice thick with lust as he runs his fingers through Kevin's short spiky hair. "Fait moi lamour."

Whatever Sami wants, Sami gets and right now he wanted Kevin. A hush falls over the room, the only sound that can be heard is the rhythmic thumping of their hearts beating in unison. Sami raises his hips off of the mattress so Kevin can remove his boxers, his breath hitching as soon as his meaty cock is exposed, biting his lower lip.

His eyes meets Sami's, heavy lidded and full of lust as he crawls back up, positioning himself at his tight hole before gradually easing his way inside. His gaze locked firmly on Sami as he starts to thrust, watching his face contort with pleasure, clinging to him tightly.

Despite how long it's been, they don't miss a beat, finding a perfect rhythm. Their foreheads pressed together as Kevin picks up the pace, gazing deeply into Sami's warm hazel eyes as he reaches up to cup his flushed cheek. "I love you, Kev." He whispers softly, his voice wavering.

A tidal wave of emotions crash over Kevin, gripping Sami's backside firmly as he thrusts hard and deep, bucking his hips against Sami's, causing the bed to bang against the wall. "I love you too." He murmurs breathlessly, kissing Sami passionately as he finds his release, filling Sami's hole with his seed and moaning into his mouth.

Sami isn't far behind, digging his fingernails into Kevin's back as his orgasm washes over him. His body drenched in sweat and shaking as Kevin pulls him into his arms, both exhausted and panting heavily.

Once the pair come down from their respective orgasms, a thought occurred to Sami. "Kev, how did you get in my room?" He inquires.

"I told the receptionist you were my husband and forgot to leave me a key." Kevin replies with a sly grin. "Which seems pretty plausible."

"Husband?" Sami thought to himself, his heart skipping a beat. "Which part, being your husband or forgetting to leave you a key?" He asks.

"Both." Kevin softly replies, capturing Sami's lips in a gentle kiss.

A/N: Thanks for the request! I have a Christmas-y fic in the works, so be on the lookout for that. Thank you for your support, as always.

Tagging: @loki69zowens, @kayfabebabe, @racerchix21, @unintentionaloracle, @low-x-battery, @stardust181, @coloursflyaway, @riveliciousx, @kevinsteen, @pikapuff-316, @kristalynn94, @existwithpride, @eleanor24, @go-beatrizaf-blog, @anothersabah, @himbos-hotline and @theemorose. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, LMK. Thank you for reading! 😊

#Zowens #Sami Zayn #Kevin Owens #Request #NSFW.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

The Wildest Dream: Conquest of Everest Film

The film The Wildest Dream: Conquest of Everest, Distributed by: National Geographic Society is a thrilling documentary that explores George Mallory’s attempt to climb Mount Everest in 1924. Mallory and his climbing partner, Andrew Irvine, were last seen 800 feet from the summit of Everest in 1924, and in 1999 American mountaineer Conrad Anker discovered his body frozen on the mountain. Did Mallory make it to the summit?

This is the official history of the 1924 expedition, it is considered an exceptional account of the 1924 tragedy; also of the discovery of Mallory's body in 1999 and the historic "re-enactment" of the climb in 2007, where the famous "second step" was climbed freely as Mallory would have done, had he and Irvine made the "summit" in 1924. There is a surprising amount of detail, skillfully told in a way that maintains the reader's interest. The mystery of whether Mallory and Irvine were the first to reach the summit of Everest remains, but we now know more intimately the trials and tribulations they endured in their effort to do so. In an era of technological advances, the rise from the North remains formidable. The film, the soundtrack and this book already exist.

Mallory had promised his beloved wife Ruth to leave a picture of her at the top of the mountain. No picture of her was found in Mallory’s very much intact remains. Does that mean he left the picture at the summit, and therefore made it to the highest peak in the world decades before Edmund Hillary officially climbed Everest?

Conrad Anker, in modern climbing gear, ascends a nearly vertical rock formation on Mount Everest during the filming of The Wildest Dream: Conquest of Everest. PHOTOGRAPH BY JIMMY CHIN

The film The Wildest Dream: Conquest of Everest, is a mix of historical documentary and modern-day climbing adventure. It is a love story intertwined with Mallory’s insatiable passion that haunted him to achieve his “Wildest Dream” to climb Mount Everest. It parallels Mallory’s fears and desires with that of modern-day climber Conrad Anker.

Modern climbers Conrad Anker and Leo Houlding dress in attire and use gear that Mallory and Irvine would have used in their 1924 climb of Mount Everest. Courtesy National Geographic Film

Conrad Anker, with the help of National Geographic Entertainment, decided to find out if Mallory could have indeed reached the summit in 1924. It seems very appropriate that the man who discovered Mallory’s body was the one who would return to Everest and find out. Using hobnailed boots, and recreated gabardine apparel, Anker simulates some of the climbing conditions Mallory would have faced. Using modern gear, but no fixed ladder, Anker and his climbing partner attempt the “Second Step”, the famous last section of Everest that Mallory would have had to free-climb to reach the summit.

Modern climbers in vintage climbing gear of the 1920s

An additional element of intrigue is that the film was narrated by Liam Neeson and his late wife Natasha Richardson. Richardson recorded the part of Mallory’s wife, Ruth. Just before the actress Richardson passed away in a fatal ski accident in March 2010, she was reading the part of Ruth Mallory, who had to tell her children about their father’s death. Film director Anthony Geffen said that she teared up and said she just couldn’t imagine telling her children such news. Just a few weeks later Liam Neeson had to do exactly that!

The film is based on the biography of George Mallory: The Wildest Dream. Chronicles all three of Mallory's Everest expeditions. Illuminates how Mallory reconciled his ambitions on Everest with his unquestioned love for his wife and family.

@kiaora45 It was my pleasure 💙

#biography #GeorgeMallory #TheWildestDream #ConradAnker #LeoHolding #ConquestofEverest #NationalGeographicSociety #GeorgeMallory #RuthMallory # mountaineer #alpinist #climber #LiamNeeson #NatashaRichardson #Everest #NationalGeographicEntertainment #Film #AnthonyGeffen

#Youtube

[ofmiceandwomen]

Today I decided it will be a good day to talk about a private RP project I’m a part of in one secret TMA server which I share with @the-symphony-of-lydia-brown, @envisionedeternity and @thistlesandstories from our irl friend group and @mersilisk as the guest star and amazing antagonist.

I don’t post much and especially not for The Magnus Archives but I admit the podcast is very important to me. My favourite thing about it is the Regency Harem™️ and the historical episodes. Intertwining the lore with the actual historical events and characters is just amazing.

My irl friends know that I have certain level of interest in military history, and therefore I decided to make a use of it and suggested a plot line for a private RP - a short prequel story for Robert Smirke and young Jonah Magnus meeting. Also, we wanted a Slaughter story because there’s way too little of those in the podcast.

And the background is… The Napoleonic Wars. My beloved @thistlesandstories is a reenactor from that era and therefore they got very excited about the project. The excitement grew contagious and turned @the-symphony-of-lydia-brown into a proper horror DM.

The plot line so far:

Europe, 1811. Napoléon Bonaparte decided to be the problem. Given his notable military accomplishments, the Slaughter just couldn’t leave him unnoticed. After all, the concept of the Total War is born. One day, the Slaughter had came to the young Napoléon and offered him that he would become the greatest warrior of all time. The First Consul of France has agreed.

The Slaughter is rising, therefore it is convinced that the time has come to attempt a ritual. But for a war ritual you sorta need to have two sides, right. There are plenty of “other sides” - and there is one talented general, very dedicated to defending his country. Honourable and skilled man - Viscount Arthur Wellesley, soon to be the Duke of Wellington. Wellington was not having a great time in the Portuguese campaign as his forces were being pushed out by the French, when the Slaughter called to him - offering a victory in exchange for his service. Wellington considered, out of loyalty, he agreed with the nightmarish pact.

The situation improved as now the British and Portuguese army set up an attrition trap with the French falling in. Then guess what - the Slaughter calls again. (The attrition war is usually not exactly Slaughter aligned thing. The soldiers die of starvation, freezing, sickness, which is inherently a corruption thing - The Slaughter wants the bloodbath). Now, the Slaughter has called for a French man again - Marshal Michel Ney, said the Bravest of the Brave, known for his extremely risky approach to the war. An ideal candidate, so it seems . When the French finally retreated and Ney successfully bought their exhausted troops some time by his rearguard actions, the Piper showed up to him, offering him the victory. However, the French marshal has none of that shit and literally tells the War itself to shut the f**k up. Obviously, the Slaughter hates him now.

But now it’s May 1811. Now, time for some historical liberties, yay! Ney lost his command after he disrespected his commanding officer, and his wife convinced him to take a break - therefore they ended up chilling in a little German spa town with their children. The resort happens to be the favourite place of one of the Würtemberger aristocrat Albrecht von Closen. This young man decided it would be nice to invite his British friend Jonah Magnus.

Jonah is very young, he just turned 18, he inherited notable amount of money from his deceased uncle and he has many admirers for his intellect and general charms. However, even now, Jonah is more of a cold academic, a silent observer, with little interest in changing the world. He only wants to know and to understand. And he is just as cold to his companion, sir Barnabas Bennet, who is not really financially stable, but somehow he managed to incite himself to go with Jonah. Barnabas is like a pure opposite of Jonah - hot headed, adventurous and painfully irresponsible.

The last guest to arrive is… nobody else than Viscount Wellesley himself. He has earned a short period of leave and he just picked the same recreational spot as his enemy, Ney. It’s not a coincidence however, the Slaughter is still feeling petty and it wants to ruin Ney for his insolence. The future victor of Waterloo seems to be a good tool for ruining the Marshal’s involuntary holiday.

Oh well. He might not be the last to arrive. There is one more man, who will go down the TMA history - a certain gifted character in his early thirties, working hard on something barely connected to the architecture. Maybe it has something to do with his paranormal obsession. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome sir Robert Smirke!

So yes. The scene is all set. So far it goes very well. Except… it is not.

The disasters are here!

Jonah Magnus seems more interested in Wellesley than in his travel mate Barnabas. Out of desperation, Barnabas decides to finally confess his feelings for Jonah. It went well in his head. He approached the armchair in the lounge, seeing those rich copper curls. He took a deep breath and finally kissed him… Only to realise that Jonah Magnus is not the only one to sport this hairstyle. Red-haired marshal Ney is not amused and his first instinct was hitting the perpetrator right in the face and showering him with list of French profanities.

Albrecht von Closen has really bad feeling about Arthur Wellesley. He is himself a very sensitive and observant man and he disapproves of Jonah’s interest in the famous British commander. It is not the first gut feeling of this kind Albrecht had and he is not exactly sure what to do with that. He meets an unlikely ally - very angry Marshal Ney who is certainly not happy about Wellesley’s presence either.

Robert Smirke found what he was looking for- the presumed Slaughter avatar, aka the Napoleon’s bravest Marshal (please consider that Smirke is a Brit and therefore the idea of future Duke of Wellington as the avatar of the Slaughter is just unimaginable to him). The architect is not exactly a good candidate for a spy and therefore he gets noticed by Ney’s children who decide to take the situation in their hands and reveal the man who keeps stalking their father.

This happened so far. But the plot shall go on because… Enter The Stranger!

The Stranger is still obviously pissed after the Slaughter’s agents ruined their ritual in 1787. So it wants a revenge. And the ideal idea of their revenge is taking the Slaughter avatars one by one and turning them into waxworks. And obviously, their victim is the Napoleons’s marshal Ney.

Jonah Magnus is getting bored of relaxing and he is ready to meet a new friend: the famous Robert Smirke. The man, who will unknowingly bring the Apocalypse two centuries later.

The reasons for posting this is the following:

It’s 255th birthday of Michel Ney! He was originally meant to be a background character, but he sort of stole the show. I might or might not be responsible since I’m the one playing the gingers.

Also, this post might or might not work as a peer pressure for @the-symphony-of-lydia-brown to turn it into a fic 👀

The special acknowledgment goes to @thistlesandstories because we have discovered that somehow we really enjoy fighting with each other after six years of being together. The prequel for Ney and Wellington in Portugal was the best part of this year’s Christmas. I’m still crying for the French officer taken by the Piper though I also love the amount of research it goes into this activity. We ended up with new books on Ney and Wellington.

Credits:

Albrecht von Closen, Aloys Ney: @the-symphony-of-lydia-brown

Robert Smirke: @envisionedeternity

Arthur Wellesley, Barnabas Bennett, Eugène Ney: @thistlesandstories

The Stranger Danger, Léon Ney: @mersilisk

Jonah Magnus, Michel Ney: Me, because I’m all the gingers

#the magnus archives #tma fic #tma rp #tma jonah magnus #barnabas bennett #robert smirke #regency harem #napoleonic era #Napoleonic fiction #arthur wellesley #michel ney

[thekagehinacafe]

hiiii bestie ♡♡♡ i've been thinking abt kagehina wanting kids and i was wondering if u'd do something with that?? and can i order it with uhhh blackberry sauce, orange syrup, chocolate syrup and maybe a hint of espresso? tysm i love you !!!

i love u moreee !!! here u go ♡

[domesticity, holding hands, hand kink, implied smut (post-sex pillow talk)]

-

give you my wild, give you a child

Shoyo is in bed, setting sun peeking slightly through closed curtains, his husband's hands - beautiful, wonderful hands, romantic hands, hands that took him past the moon mere moments ago - lying delicately on his ass, head in his neck. He's nude - he doesn't care where his clothes have gone, stripped hours ago for the desperate need for proximity - and so is Tobio, the fresh bitemarks on his biceps starting to bruise.

Love binds them in this moment. Lust, the frenzy, brought them here, and love keeps them here, not paramours but partners; "til death do we part, my sunshine".

Shoyo feels that wanton hand trail up his waist, to his shoulder blades, to his cheek. Tobio looks so delicately at him, long fingers on smile lines, adoration in his stare.

"I love you," he murmurs, and it's almost romantic, between the sweat and the saliva and the slick.

Shoyo reaches for him, grasping at his hand, holding his palm like a sacred artifact. They lie there, regaining their breath, holding eachother and intertwining fingers, duvet discarded. They are marble statues, post-sex monuments, lewd tapestries.

"I love you too."

Tobio looks down, past his own straight nose and pointed chin.

"Have you ever-" he stumbles, to this day still struggling with sincerity, "-thought about kids?"

Smiling, Shoyo doesn't recoil, but bathes in the idea.

"I'd like that."

"Teaching them volleyball and- and you could make their bento-"

"Why would I have to make the bento, asshole? I wanna teach them to spike!"

Tobio looks grumpy, an old familiar glare that's lost its poison.

"Our kids will be setters, dumbass! And you're a better cook than me! Don't be stupid!"

"I'm not being stupid! You're a better cook than me, idiot!"

They bicker, a tradition of sorts. Hands never leave hands, noses never part, and words continue to pummel without ever causing pain. Their old habits have evolved, but will never leave them.

"And they'd HAVE to be spikers, mean-yama! You can't have a whole team of setters!"

"Fine! We'll have six kids, enough for a team, and I'll teach the setter!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

 Shoyo begins to laugh. How poetic - from arguments as children, which position was better, which was cooler, which got more time with the ball - now to arguments as adults, hand in beloved hand, about children, which position would be better, cooler, get more time with the ball.

History repeats itself in the most romantic of ways.

This, at least, is something Shoyo has always found.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #cocoa powder #hinakage #hinata shoyo #kagehina #kghn #mythicalbinicorn #orders~ #100kghn24 #give you my wild give you a child #blackberry sauce #orange syrup #chocolate syrup #espresso #domesticity #holding hands #hand kink #smut #implied smut #pillow talk

[cellarspleen]

video essay recommendations 23-25

Who’s Afraid of Modern Art: Vandalism, Video Games, and Fascism by Jacob Geller

what it's about: modern art, obviously, that's the title.

who might like it: everyone who doesn't "get" modern art, or gets it and wants people to talk about the brilliance of modern art, or people interested in video game discourse

watch or listen: recommended to actually watch it, the editing is quite good, and the creator included a lot of footage

mood: serious!! do not watch if you're looking for something light-hearted

Mamma Mia 2 is an Absurdist Masterpiece by Media Processing

what it's about: 10+ absurd things about the second installment of the beloved jukebox musical series mamma mia

who might like it: people who like abba, people who watched both movies, people who refuse to watch the second movie

watch or listen: watch! the creator is a video editor and shows some example of the video editing used in mamma mia 2

mood: very funny

The Witch Trials of J.K. Rowling | ContraPoints by ContraPoints

what it's about: dissects the podcast "the witch trials of JKR", intertwines the whole discussion with "anti-gay crusader" anita bryant and talks about the age old question of calm discourse and cancelling. this is the essay i would actually recommend the most, it made me question my previously held and very privileged view that all discourse should be held in a calm and collected way. it actually shouldn't! not when it's about peoples right to live!!!

who might like it: just watch it (former harry potter fans (or current?), people interested in lgbtqia+ history)

watch or listen: you can only listen, although the editing is nice and supports the arguments well, and contrapoints outfits are a-ma-zing

mood: it's a serious topic, but some parts are funny

#jacob geller #whos afraid of red yellow and blue #barnett newman #zoe qinn #whos afraid of modern art #mamma mia 2 #mediaprocessing #the witch trials of jk rowling #jkr #boycott jkr #jkr tw #contrapoints #video essay #video essay recommendation #recs