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#true form has been shed
woonderfullie · 10 months
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Quasi-Kuro related ramblings about the demons under the cut
(most of it is in the tags)
Demons as catalysts for change and upheaval, or at least ardent advocates for it, using their presence to tip the scales
Could demons be summoned with less for less, through sacrifices that don't involve bloodshed but still have the power to drastically alter the course of one's life?
#woonderfull rambling#not canon in the slightest#psa vis a vis the tags: i was very sleepy and going /through/ it when i wrote these and it shows 乁⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠o⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠ㄏ#kuroshitsuji#The cultists make no true sacrifices tied to their own identities. They offer nothing of value. They'd return to their lives unchanged!#Its just set dressing and debauchery for the sake of debauchery#In contrast O!Ciel's existence has been irreversibly transformed.#the vibes of supernatural elements acting as facilitators for the evil acts of humanity (initially well-intentioned or otherwise)#“There is no will in the angels but something higher than the will”#forget the dichotomy between good and evil; I'm talking law vs chaos#law embodies the divine. demons cannot completely shed the vestiges of heaven manifesting in the form of rules and contracts#“He alone could discern light and darkness Who also could foreknow before they fell those who would fall.”#Imagine being confined within the boundaries of your predetermined destiny only able to subtle subvert your purpose(⚆ᗝ⚆) truly a vibe kille#Humanity: the beings that have the capability for true chaos and 'evil'. Vessels for rebellion#*shakes Christianity* You can fit so many headcanons in here ⊂(・ω・*⊂)#This was ghost written by Thomas Aquinas#Oh my papa hasn't given me the capability for true free will? It's a shame left all these humans about...#I mean back to canon-relevant things: the Reapers as an organisation (arguably an antagonist to Sebastian ) pretty much embody order.#Not to imply they're angels but you know??#Let's not acknowledge whatever the undertaker is doing right now - he's single-handedly going to shoot holes in this post with a gatling gu#but then again I don't entirely subscribe to the school of thought that all devils = fallen angels so 😬😮‍💨#the tags got away from me admittedly ಠ⁠﹏⁠ಠ
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Majazz Project is a Palestinian-led record label and research platform founded by Mo’min Swaitat in 2020. Over several years, Mo’min amassed an archive of rare tapes and vinyl from Palestine and beyond, spanning field recordings of Bedouin weddings to revolutionary tracks and synth-heavy 80s funk and jazz. Many of these were acquired from a former record label in Jenin in the north of the West Bank.
Majazz Project was borne out of the archive and is focused on sampling, remixing and reissuing vintage Palestinian and Arabic albums. It is a collaboration between Arab and non-Arab DJs, producers and artists interested in shedding new light on the richness and diversity of Arab musical heritage.
Palestine Sound Archive is a celebration of music, spoken word and album artwork from historic Palestine, mainly from the 1960s-1990s.
[In 2020, during the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic in Palestine, London-based artist Mo’min Swaitat discovered a large collection of cassette tapes and records from his youth in Jenin. Amongst them was Riad Awwad’s Intifada, the first album released in the first Intifada, containing revolutionary songs. It had been lost for years after the Israeli army confiscated all the copies they could find – 3,000 in all – and arrested Awwad. Inspired, Swaitat founded the Majazz Project, a record label that focuses on sampling, remixing, and reissuing vintage Palestinian and other Arabic cassettes.]
Majazz now has a show on London’s NTS Radio, called the Palestinian Sound Archive, where you can get a flavor of what we do. We hope to become stronger as the label grows and evolves. In April 2022, we put out an album with remixed interviews with my mentor Juliano Mer Khamis (1958–2011). The label is about so much more than just releasing songs as dance or background music. We aim to revive a sense of joy and celebration, much needed after so much Palestinian suffering, sure. But more than that, we aim to preserve the work and memory of the many artists who have formed the backbone of our cultural identity. Palestinian archives have been looted, dismantled, censored, and destroyed since the Nakba. There is true power in reclaiming these sounds and stories and in platforming the incredible range of artists who were making music during such fascinating and turbulent periods of Palestinian history. The label is as much about sharing their stories as it is about the albums themselves. And it feels particularly powerful that the label is Palestinian-run. There are a few international labels that are putting out some amazing Arab tracks – and there’s a whole other discussion to be had around that – but I feel an immense sense of pride in knowing that these albums are available to listeners around the world yet ultimately remain in our hands. Moreover, the reissues are borne out of a very close collaboration and discussion with the artists and their families.
We are going to reissue as much as we can and, in the long term, work on making everything accessible online as well as in a physical venue in Palestine. The plan has always been to build an audio-visual immersive digital platform, where people can discover more about the history behind each song/genre, building on my love of both theater and cinema. …
“So much Palestinian culture has been lost or locked up in Israeli military archives, so it was magical to find this. It’s a journey through the past and the future of a whole people.”
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ivesambrose · 2 months
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𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𐙚
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Its been a rather cold month so I decided to channel something warm to look forward to 🤍
To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at [email protected] with your name, date of birth and query
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Picture 1
You may have been dealing with challenging situations or people who are quick to throw jabs at you or throw a wrench in your plans. This may have led you to question your own intuition and potential making you scared and hesitant to take a step forward or take any risks in the fear of failure. You'll realize that their scattered mindset and opinions aren't supposed to be your core beliefs. You're not supposed to take advice from people whose life you don't see yourself living. Rather, you should focus on what makes you bloom from within.
You can look forward to a shift in belief system that will in turn change your entire life and reality for the better.
You can also look forward to something that excites you in the form of a rewarding opportunity (especially in terms of career for most of you) that you have been wishing for or were being patient for the longest time.
You can look forward to something valuable that will grow with time and won't be a fleeting thing. You'll be able to trust your intuition and judgement again. You'll be receiving nurturing and quality connections in your life as well. People who care and support you and your dreams.
All of this comes at the small cost of slowly letting go of your self sabotaging tendencies.
Timing: Coming 21 days
Picture 2
You've recently fathomed the power of your thoughts and words and how time and circumstances are irrelevant when it comes to them materalizing. This has been happening a lot but in the past you have questioned them but now you've grown more adamant, strict and assertive. You've learnt to stand your ground. You want to fully step into your power more than anything and allow no one not even yourself to stand in your way.
You can certainly look forward to a completion and celebration. Your labour has been steady and your harvest will be abundant. Enjoy your prosperity. You'll also be embarking on a new journey in your life, ideas and outlook will expand, no one will be able to confine you.
There's a lot of passion coming your way, it will allow you to overcome any fear you may face.
That long awaited renewed hope, clarity and peace is finally yours. You can actually see your path ahead, the destination that you'll reach, so you'll choose to embrace and enjoy your journey.
You can also look forward to a physical glow up, being appreciated, being proud of yourself and your achievements. Shedding guilt. As well as connecting with people or existing friends who feel like your tribe, with whom you don't have to mask your true self to be loved and accepted.
Timings : coming 14 days, stay loyal to your end goals. (September for some of you too)
Picture 3
You can see the dots connecting in your life, maybe you don't know how exactly, you may not have the outline laid out in front of you but when you aren't overthinking it, you realize how one thing leads to another and gain momentum. Things aren't exactly as a standstill as you think. You're extremely disciplined and focused, so whatever you have set sights on is bound to happen or be yours.
You may not realize how powerful your esoteric gifts are but you will. You can look forward to your visions, dreams, written words actually coming true as though it were a prophecy. Be mindful of the people you share your wisdom and insights with. I do see you aren't as happy with your current social circle or people you interact with. You trust very few and you sometimes feel very isolated. But you excellent foresight and there's always a silver lining in your circumstances.
Life will begin to change as the days get warmer and longer.
There's so much beauty in you, you don't even realize that you're a muse to many or are about to be. You might go into hiding only to rise from the ashes as something wild and free. The transformation that you seek is ongoing and something you know is inevitable. Celebrate it when time comes or start from today itself.
Timings: Coming 12 days, summer season (July and August is standing out for some of you as well)
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bluetooththereptile · 4 months
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Unwelcomed embrace (part two)
Yandere super family x neglected reader
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( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)
Note: this one shot is continuation of this one.
Tw: mentions of violence
"Why don't you have one of those small micro earphones that you attach to the collar of the clothing?" You groaned as you tried to find a good position to rest your hand on under the weight of the mic in your hand, you sighed as you looked at its round head, you didn't like it that much, it felt uneasy in your palm. The chair was too rigid for you to sit comfortably on it, creaking under your weight. You looked down at the mic that had a sock on as a muffler, smiling at the inventiveness of the reporter. "I presume your budget is not that much huh?" The reporter nodded with a sheepish smile as he tried to put on some powder to conceal some of the scar marks on your face, well, as much as your skin color let him do so. "Yeah..." he sighed "the budget is low."
You looked at him, focused on his task, young and ambitious, just like you, you felt like he had the same recklessness as well, why would a sane person come and meet a dangerous anti-hero over a post on Twitter? "Ready?" He asked as he adjusted his camera, you shifted on your seat once more, checking the dark background of the warehouse you were in, and then looked back at the shiny lens of the camera. You paused, still, your hand didn't have a good place to rest its elbow on, huffing in irritation, you rolled your eyes, you had to do something about it, if it kept irritating you, you'd end up messing everything up. So you focused on the cemented floor below, making a thick-bodied plant sprout out of the harsh floor and bend towards you, its leaves forming a cocoon, you smirked and put the mic on the head of the plant and used it as a stand, chuckling at the amazement of the reporter "Now I'm ready!"
"1...2...3..." the reporter spoke softly before the camera started filming and the red light on its front started blinking. "Alright, please introduce yourself..." he spoke to you behind the camera, tapping his pen nervously, you hummed to yourself and tapped your chin as you crossed your legs, trying to find a point to start from "I feel like a Podcaster now..." you joked, before clearing your throat as you started "Well, I'm what media used to call the "Green super" You used quotation marks in the air, your voice showing hints of your initial irritation to the name, which had associated you with superman since your powers were nearly the same. "But now I go with the Green Death, pretty cheesy, but I like it" you chuckled and continued "Well the name is not that far off from my personality either, I am green, my skin is that color."
"So, Green Death, your name has been on the news as the sole force that has kept the Armageddon from happening, twice, already, and now you, all of a sudden, while you had ignored the chance of interviewing with huge media broadcasters, have decided to have an interview now, here in the middle of nowhere, why is that?" You rubbed your chin as you thought about a response, your lips tilting upwards in a smirk "Well, now I have enough evidence to finally show the world who the heroes truly are." You paused, taking it the confused expression of the reporter, adding quickly "Make no mistake, I'm not going to expose their identities, that would make hell break loose, I just simply want to shed a much more different light on them and their actions. As you may know, I was a part of the young Justice League and then Justice League itself for a few years, and I'm the result of a 'heroic affair' myself, so I'd have a very different insight on them..."
"Why though? I mean we pretty much know about the heroes..." You let out a soft chuckle, leaning back in your seat "Well, that is sort of true, but tell me, do you know of the assaults and different crimes that have happened by their hands? For example, do you know Batman has kidnapped nearly three people and has erased their documents out of the system, making them vanish into thin air, never to be seen?" The reporter's eyes widened at that, your smirk turned into a wide smile as you continued "I have both the video footage and documents of it happening..."
"B-but why do you want to expose them for their deeds, knowing well you are fully aware of what they can do, surely they don't want anyone to know that... " "I have exposed the bad guys of the story already, my mother is after me because of that, so I don't think exposing the heroes would be any different...the world has to know who they truly are!"
You were hellbent on tarnishing the images of the heroes once and for all.
Since the time you had left the Justice League, your life had changed a lot, just within two years, you had gone from being a hero to a villain and then to an anti-hero, a cruel topsy turvey irony. It all had started with your mother finally owning up to her parenting role and had found you in your most vulnerable state when you were struggling to pass your days in your trailer. She took you in and tried in her twisted way to help you, for a short period you felt like you had a family, she seemed genuinely nice. But a few months later, you ended up joining the dark force, how? You still were not sure, all you could remember was your mother's voice echoing in your mind as she puffed a shiny dust in your face, and you shaking hands with the Darkseid himself as he had that disgusting grin on his face. It was after that night that you found out that bitch had manipulated you into joining the bad guys, well who wouldn't want to have a version of Superman in their league that wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite? At first, you tried to pretend that you did want to hurt people just for the fun of it, in your mind, you were taking revenge on your father, who looked devastated whenever you had joint missions with your new teammates.
Well, you couldn't deny that the sheer rush of dopamine you felt was great, no rules were there to hold you back, just destroy and enjoy, the loot was lucrative as well. But, still, something in the back of your mind nagged and you couldn't overlook that you hated hurting vulnerable people and you couldn't do it anymore, so at a very crucial mission, you ended up killing all of your teammates before fleeing. You gave your mother a good beating up before you dropped her on the Arkham's doors and then vanished into an abandoned base until things became normal. After that your way of life became of an anti-hero, you didn't want to admit it but annoying the heroes was fun, at least you weren't killing vulnerable people. You did what they couldn't do, you fought without rules and the results were more drastic.
But you wanted to roast your father more, you wanted to make him burn, and what was better than exposing him? "As for Superman, he at least has killed more than 100 people in his missions, the government has already covered that up but I have the proof...flash has caused a climate change that ended up ruining agriculture of the whole world for a year, resulting in famines, Aquaman has sunk a few ships, that were NOT of military-related, killing civilians, also, Wonder woman has kidnapped a few people...and so on and so forth." You started warming up, mentioning more and more of what you knew.
The reporter took note as you spoke, and you were liking the role of the one exposing the hidden secrets of the heroes. You were actually enjoying it too much, so much in fact that your super-human sense didn't detect the flight of Superman and Superboy coming to your location at a bullet-like speed. And within seconds they both crashed into the warehouse Kool-Aid style, making a huge impact.
You were quick to react, using your laser eyes to attack Super Boy, but Conner was quick to dodge, Clark quickly pulled the reporter out of the range of the fight and out of sight, he let Bruc take care of the reporter and his evidence later, now he had you, his troubling child that was now entering dangerous waters. Conner and you fought, trashing the warehouse even further, you didn't know why but Conner's grin was getting on your nerves already.
The two supers had a plan of taking you down, and it was going pretty smoothly, going just as planned, you grew to angry and Conner used it to his advantage, pinning you down by a broken pillar, giving Clark enough time so he could throw the pollen towards you, damn it! How the hell they had gotten their hands on the special pollen that your mother had created just for controlling you?! You tried to not breathe, but the bitter taste of it already had formed in your mouth, making your mind go foggy. Damn it! Damn it!!!!!!
"We need to talk..." Clark's voice echoed in your mind, your vision was so distorted that you could only see the silhouette of your father approaching you "And we need to talk properly!" His voice made your heart skip...uh oh...Clark was serious.
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semischarmed · 2 months
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Thread
Don’t blame me for this one, you guys voted for something diabolical.
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The references were esoteric. In fact, I had to hide my true research from the university, under the guise of reclassifying “ritualistic” items. The irony did not escape me. I was actually looking to access a “ritualistic” item that was classified as mundane. 
Legends spoke of a god of flesh. One that manipulates the body as one would manipulate clay. Its name has long since been lost to time, but there are echoes of his work in the myths of old. We often hear of a creator god shaping man from the earth, of half-human hybrids and giants and other such peculiarities. Glimpses of this god of flesh. I had only read into such a figure from a blog by happenstance. A miracle of probability. 
I eyed the needle, now in my hand. It was unassuming but carried a supernatural weight to it, like the weight of time immemorial. I grinned, practically moaned as I pricked my finger with the needle. 
I expected some sort of magical fanfare, maybe a gust of wind but found none. I stared at my hands and then I noticed it. My hands. My flesh. I could feel all of it. I stared intently as I pinched the skin above my finger, I willed the pleat to hold its shape and smiled. I was ready.
- - - - 
I thought through the myths, now partial realities in my head. Though I felt myself brim with power, I knew the drawbacks- there had to be a reason the myths had not made it to present day. The answer appeared in my head. There is only so much one man can do, and being giftedoften made one a target. A word echoed in my head. “Protection”. That did seem to match my records. Humans of old would change their flesh to be stronger, more resilient, adapting to every circumstance thrown at them. But the weakness persisted. One prick to channel the same power as the god of flesh, and another prick locks you from that power again. I smiled to myself. I just needed to get… creative. 
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Joey Cooper was well-known around the college. A fifth year senior majoring in Sport Science. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he always meant well. He had an air of confidence to him that often aided his statuesque form. Despite this, something else drew my interest even further. His unattainability. The man was often called by his nickname “old faithful,” having been in a relationship with his girlfriend Britney for as long as any can remember. Guys and girls from all walks of life have tried to tempt “Juicy Joe” (A nickname he wasn’t aware of). None of have succeeded. 
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And then there was Charlie Cooper, his younger brother, a freshman with the face of an angel. He had unattainability in a different sense. Kind eyes and gentle curly locks framed a face that often wore a worried expression. Unlike his brother, he was timid, and a bit reserved. He had a lack of confidence that seemed to be a hindrance to his social life. Charlie would often shied away from conversation, despite others regularly visiting his dorm. Charlie roomed with Joey in the school dorms, a rarity for this campus. I overheard a conversation with Charlie once on this oddity. Beneath his unintelligible mumbling he mentioned something about being “faithful to Brit” and getting Charlie “out of his shell”.
I bit my lip thinking about the prospects.
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“Oh hey Joey!” I waved casually as I approached a Joey returning to his dorm room, face flush and covered in a sheen. He must have just come from the gym. He was consistent with his workouts, so it was no surprise he would still be in campus after finals to get one last pump in.
“Hey dude! Uh, sorry I don’t remember names to well”. He replied back in a friendly manner. I shook my head at that.
“No need to apologize. I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.” He looked back at me expectantly, hand outstretched to greet. I shook it as I continued. “My name’s gonna be Joey too”. He nodded and smiled politely but the man’s face couldn’t hide his visible confusion.
I clung onto the lack of rejection on Joey’s part as an invitation for myself. As he continued into his room, I followed, allowing the door to close behind us. The silence from the near empty dorm was deafening. He turned around, again making a polite smile. “Uh hey again… Joey… can I help you?”
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I dropped all pretense, rushing to his bed and taking a whiff. “Fuck dude, you smell so hot”. Everything in the room carried a small sample of his scent. Like a gentle sweaty musk overlaid with his detergent. I looked to the sweaty Joey, inching closer and taking a whiff of his fresh personal scent. Divine. I felt my jaw unlock in a small moan. His post workout scent was like a concentrate of the pleasant musk I smelled before. Like raw testosterone and shallow breaths, and a hint of earthiness that exuded power. Juicy Joe. I was drunk on the scent, mind transfixed, until I caught him staring. He was starting to get upset.
“Hey bro, you should probably lea-“ He froze as he saw me extend a nerve out of my hand, like a red root outstretched into the air. “The fuck?”
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He began stepping back but as soon as my nerve landed on his arm, he struggled back into stillness. I smiled in euphoria as I felt every individual root of my vein burrow into his skin and connect with his. Checkmate. He watched as more and more of my nerve rooted into his flesh, screaming as he felt the violation to his sense of touch. 
“No one can hear you bro, it’s after finals, remember?” I twirled the needle in front of him before setting it on the table. “Can’t have you taking a shower and removing your natural cologne”. Joey was still frozen as he saw me begin to undress. Juicy Joe had a body brimming with power, and I knew it would burst at any moment. I took care as I undressed, rooting and unrooting my nerves, and making sure to always keep at least one red thread of control on him at all times. 
Joey glared as he saw me finish placing my clothes in a neat pile on the floor. “Your turn”.
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“What the fuck dude!? What makes you think-“ He was cut off as the red strings bridging our flesh began to writhe. In turn, he felt his meaty arms begin to move, and pull down his compression shorts. The feeling was altogether unfamiliar, as he felt his own flesh betray him and move to my will. I willed him to hand me the soaked shorts. Even with the power of the god of flesh on my side, I could feel Joey struggling for control through sheer willpower alone. I laughed a little in my head. There are other ways to break a man. 
I brought his heavenly scented shorts up to my face, gorging myself on the potent raw musk of man. Like a pungent blast of earth and humidity and testosterone. A Joey-concentrate. I could practically feel the potency of it clawing at my nostrils. A sweat-laden Joey reeked in the best way. I must have been lost in pleasure, because my eyes refocused to his pleading face. “P-please man, just stop whatever this is. What do you want?”
I laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s you. I want you. Every part of you.”
A few more nerves shot from my legs, and directly into his. With some new tethers in place, I pulled the threads connecting my arms to his, and quickly slipped under his sweaty workout shirt. I clung to his muscled chest for dear life. ‘Bless these stretchy workout shirts,’ I thought to myself. I felt along the ridges of his spine, across his shoulders which screamed power, and with my hands, I greedily caressed the flesh previously only touched by Britney. I gripped our embrace tighter. Joey was screaming and writhing, soaking the shirt further and my body in his struggle. I moaned as he screamed, as every turn and twist his body made also pushed my chest closer to his, confined by his own workout shirt. I sighed dreamily as his struggle compressed us closer together.
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With the power of the needle, I made myself much more malleable and began to slip my arms to into the arm sleeves of his shirt. I spiraled them across his meaty biceps, possessively claiming every square inch of his flesh as my own. I did the same with my legs, wanting to bind us further.
The sight must have been bizarre- two men, naked from the waist down, both in the same sweaty workout shirt. And the smaller man, stretching and wrapping his arms and legs over the other.
“Now for some real fun” I stated, as I shot out as many of my nerves into him as I could. He screamed at the sensory assault as he fell unconscious. I merely continued rooting into him, relishing in being able to feel every inch of Mr. Unattainable. I slowly stumbled our bodies toward his mirror, making sure to have him grab his own phone.
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When Joey came to, he saw my head hanging to the side in front of his, and his body enveloped by mine. He panicked when he saw more threads from my face rooted into his neck and mouth. “Fuck Joey, I can feel how strong your lungs are. Even your breaths feel like a top jock” I moaned. 
Like raindrops, I felt his tears stream down his cheek and onto my face. “L-Let me go man. Look I’m sorry for whatever I did to you. I swear I don’t remember doing anything.”
I laughed callously. “No need to apologize, bro. You haven’t done anything to me. I just want you all to my own.” I brought his phone up to his face so he could see the name on the call screen. Britney.
“Babe?” She answered. “What’s up?”
“H-HEL-“ He tried to holler. Instead, his neck swelled and throat strained as he my red thread began to writhe. 
“Joey? Is everything all right?” She asked in a worried tone.
“Fuck yeah it is,” Joey’s mouth laughed, while his eyes showed fear. I continued to use him as my mouth piece. “You’re so boring, Brit. Just called to tell you it’s over.” Tears began to well in his eyes. I could practically hear the tears in Brit’s eyes over the phone.
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“Joey… I. Is something wrong? You never call me Brit. I told you how my dad used to…” She trailed, trying to rationalize the situation.
I continued the puppet show as Joey’s eyes continued pleading with me. “Nothing’s wrong, Babe. In fact, it’s finally all right over here.” He stated with a smile. Joey’s eyes winced at the venom spewing from his mouth.
Joey grunted as he tried to stop his free hand from fondling my ass. “Do you know how many girls and guys wanted in these pants, Brit? Do you know how hard is to always turn someone down. They all want a piece of Juicy Joe.”
“I mean, yeah, I guess you mentioned it once…” She sniffled. “But I thought we were fine” said a choked up Britney.
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“Fuck no this isn’t fine. Look at me. I’m a fucking bull.” Joey was forced to say, while sticking his tongue out. I briefly stopped his hand from groping my cheek to force it into a biceps flex. He tried to squirm his head away but was ultimately forced to lick it and moan. I huffed and whispered in his ear. “I bet you taste fucking salty, Joey.” 
“Babe, what’s wrong? You never talk about your body that-“
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“Brit, just shut the fuck up”. That seemed to shut her up. “Always fucking whining too…” I made Joey huff. The upper half of his head was sobbing now. I forced his free hand back over my ass, and used his other hand to set the call to speaker. “It’s over”.
Joey dropped the phone on the table- still mid call, as I willed his other hand to cup my other cheek. Squeeze. “Fffuuuuck” I moaned. “You’re fucking mine, Joe.” Like his musculature, I commanded my cock into a malleable state, snaking over his, encircling it like a fleshy sleeve. Then, all at once, my red threads of control stirred, as Joey fucked his thick jock dick into my makeshift cocksleeve. “I’m fucking yours”. I made him say. My eyes fluttered in drunken bliss.
“Joey- who is that?”
I felt his head struggle as he tried to stop his body from growing hard. At this, I made sure he had full control of his cock. His plump ass cheeks tightened as his body was forced to thrust into me. I saw him wince, but we both felt the change. Even without me controlling it, his cock stirred to life.
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I willed my flesh puppet to answer. “Oh, him? I’ve been fucking him during this call, Brit. That’s how boring you are. Stupid too- we’ve been fucking for months and you never noticed” I make him say it to his reflection as well, topping it with a sleazy grin he never wore. I also made a point to moan, to force him to thrust his hardening dick into me in loud, boisterous grunts. “Fuck. Brit. You. Never. Felt. This. Good”. I make him gasp in between breaths. 
“So you’re fucking him, right now?” She asked, now turning to anger.
“Mmph… YES” I let him shout, as I tightened my fleshy trap around his engorged dick and milk his seed dry. To add to the injury, I released control of his mouth at the same time, so in that moment, he felt himself scream bloody pleasure and coat my flesh in his juices.
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“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD TO ME,” Britney shouts, before hanging up.
Perhaps it was due to the pleasure, or the bombardment of his senses, or the sheer perversion of the situation, but Joey’s eyes rolled back to its whites and his head slumped into my shoulder. 
I basked in the moment, coated in the sweat and baby batter of Mr. Unattainable. Breathing in sync with his unconscious form. With his head still slung forward, I willed his upright form to give my ass another squeeze. “Take me, bro. I’m your fucking meat puppet. Feel me. Use me. These muscles, this body. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.” I make Joey say. Mr. Unattainable wholly mine.
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I kept him upright, facing the mirror without a care for how sore his post-workout body already was. I made sure he stirred awake, to still see himself playing and groping my fleshy form, bonded together supernaturally by the god of meat. He sobbed silently at our union.
With Joey whimpering and broken, I began to retreat into my original form, letting his arms and legs and chest free. All that connected our two naked bodies now was just a single thread of red. But just one thread was all I seemed to need. I no longer felt resistance from his body, as his sullen face just looked to me with defeat. 
I made him reiterate my will. “I’m all yours,” Joey mumbles. I puppetted him to close the distance, and pull my back towards his abs. Joey did not resist as body grinded into mine. He clumsily grabbed my head for a sloppy kiss. And once again, I tasted and experienced something only Brit previously had. His tears smeared into my cheek as I started making him kiss me. My eyes fluttered closed as I was in ecstasy. True pleasure. His lips slowly pried mine open, then the tip of his tongue touching mine. In our deranged intimacy, I savored the taste of Joey’s mouth and of his tongue now forced mine. I didn’t want this to end. Joey’s body pulled back from the kiss and began groping itself, repeating his new mantra. “I’m all yours.”
Still repeating his mantra, my eyes locked with his, before he grabbed the needle from the desk and pricked his hand with it. In that instant, I heard the door unlock. 
What were the chances? Another miracle of probability. There was a single late final on campus, for an upper div class that freshmen rarely took. And yet, it seemed there was one freshman that did happen to take such a class.
Just my luck. 
Charlie.
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= = = = =
A two-parter. Could not for the life of me get usable photos of “Joey” in a compression shirt, so you’re gonna have to use a little imagination for that one haha.
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cryptonite-exe · 1 year
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lust for life
𓆩♡𓆪 diluc x gender neutral! reader
𓆩♡𓆪 header artist ; @/erimmyon
𓆩♡𓆪 genre ; smut (don't interact if you can't handle smut)
𓆩♡𓆪 cw ; submissive diluc, breeding kink, teasing, handjob, creampie, diluc begging bc hes babyboy
𓆩♡𓆪 a/n ; coming back from hiatus with this 🤸
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there was an apparent cozy atmosphere within the tavern, perhaps it was the reason a few patrons had fallen asleep. the soothing tunes of the local bard fell flat as diluc gestured that it was closing time. diluc stays behind the bar, cleaning the used glasses as charles escorts the intoxicated and drowsy customers outside to go home to their probably fuming partners.
after a while, charles bids farewell and leaves diluc to close the tavern. the dim lights and fading candlelights are all that's left to accompany him. he wipes down the tables as he reminisces of the past hours. recalling the pleasant conversations he had with frequent patrons and the not so pleasant ones with drunkards picking a fight. his hands set down the last cup into the cupboards and he throws the towels into a basket in the corner. he sighs from relief, seeing all his work done for the day.
after throwing on his coat, he locks up angel’s share and leaves. the once lively tavern during the day turns into a lone one in the dark, waiting for the arrival of its owner at dawn. the trail to his manor is a long one, nothing but the silence of night to be heard. as exhausted as he is, his guard remains up nevertheless. he found the quiet journey all the while worth it. when he arrives at home, he leaves his boots at the front, the boots you gifted when you saw how worn out his past ones were. he sheds his coat and hangs it on the coat rack before heading up the stairs to the bedroom.
he gently turns the knob and enters. the aroma of honeysuckle immediately enters his senses. a small smile forms when he notices the scented candle on your tableside. he removes the remainder of his clothing, changing into nothing but pajama pants before joining you in bed. you must’ve noticed when the bed dipped as you stirred awake. you shifted from your position to face whatever awoken you from your sleep. you could barely see with what little light illuminated this person, but when you saw the familiar head of red hair, you let out a hum of satisfaction. “mm, how was work?” you ask with a hoarse voice, evident of your slumber. “missed you so much.” he says, pulling you closer to him. his arm remains around you, holding you close while rubbing circles on your back. he kisses the entirety of your face, from your nose to your cheeks to your forehead and lastly at your lips. you laugh at how ticklish it felt. he continues to softly kiss you, smiling into it when he feels you snake your arm to the back of his neck. when he moves down, he makes sure to pay attention to every part of you. whether it be caressing, kissing, nuzzling, he leaves nothing untouched.
“missed me that much?” you tease when you notice the desperation in his touch. he replies with a hum, too busy nipping at your skin to give a full reply. “shouldn’t you- be sleeping?” you stutter when you feel his cold hands roam under your nightgown. “we haven’t done it in so long, i need you.” he pleads, looking up at you with eyes shining in the moonlight. you look back at him with a surprised expression but it’s true, conflicting schedules and busy days resulted in this. one of his bartenders has been out sick for the past week, making diluc take more shifts than he usually would. he’d come home tired and barely conscious enough to reply to your attempts at a conversation, but you don’t hold it against him. 
“if you say so mr. darknight hero” you tease once more, enjoying the immediate flushed expression on his face. “oh, stop it” he replies, embarrassed at the given title. the cheeky grin on you soon disappeared when he started removing your garments until every part of you was met by the chilly air in the room. but before he could touch another part of you, you were quick to push him down onto the bed. his eyes widened when you straddled yourself onto his lap, settling right on top of his crotch. “figured you need a reward for working so hard,” you say, looking down at him. you could hear his breath hitch when you leaned down, your lips on the soft skin of his chest, slowly leaving love marks sprawled out. as stoic and as aloof of a man diluc is, that side of him fades away to your very touch, showing the vulnerable touch starved part of him to you. you made your way up his body, returning the gesture with numerous kisses. words don’t come out of his mouth to retort as you reach his lips. soft lips on soft lips, the kiss was as sweet and passionate as always. you let out a soft gasp when you felt him grow hard underneath you. still continuing the sensual makeout, you slowly grind your hips against his, creating friction enough to have him moan into the kiss.
you could see how untouched he’s been for days on end. his hips move to try and meet your movement. when he finds the rhythm that matches yours, his moans grow louder as his voice breaks up more. “hngh- please! i need you” he moans. you could feel his precum soak through his pants, creating a wet spot on the fabric. his muscles stiffen as he feels you pull down his pajamas along with his underwear. his cock springs out, eager with the way it hits his abdomen. there's a pool of pre on his tip, along with the sound of arousal coming from him as the midnight air hits his cock. your lips form a small smile, seeing diluc in such a state. your hands wrap around the base, making sure to place a firm hold that gives him pleasure from that alone. you stroke upwards, all the way to his tip. a whorish moan makes it past his lips along with his hips bucking into your hand. his hands long left your body to cover his face. perhaps he felt embarrassment from this arrangement because, at such an angle, you can see every part of him. the way his thighs twitch, the way he sucks in a breath every time you stroke his tip.
but oh how cute.
“c’mon don’t hide from me, i wanna see your pretty moans” you coo. your hand still continues to jerk him off. your thumb running along the slit of his tip sends his head back into the pillows. he feels the heat in his stomach intensify with each stroke of your hand. “oh archons, please please please! so close!” he sobs, tears prickle his eyes as his climax approaches. his moans are a mix of pleas and cries. yet at the edge of his incoming orgasm, you release the tight grasp you had on his cock. he immediately whines at the loss of that ecstasy. you chuckle at his cute whimpers. he was still trying to catch his breath when you took his hands and guided them down, resting them on your thighs. you raise your hips, leaning your balance on your knees. you line the tip of his cock against your entrance. “wait you’re n- ah!” he exclaims. his grip on your thighs tightens as you plunge yourself down his cock. “fuck! i’ve been.. touching myself when you’re not here.” you moan, not giving a fuck about anyone hearing you. for the past week, not having diluc around really tortured you. in the evenings, it gets worse. the usual intimate hours for you both became lonely ones for you. you’d fuck yourself open like he was watching. but the way his cock stretches you out even more has you delirious, your fingers were never enough to have you like this. he could only moan at your confession. his mouth hung open with endless moans flowing out of him as you’d raise yourself up to only drop back down on his cock over and over. “mm.. you’re so big, so good!” you slur out due to the overwhelming feeling of his cock brushing against your walls. both of his hands settle on your thighs, harshly gripping the flesh there. he grits his teeth and thrusts up, meeting your pace. you couldn’t help but throw your head back in awe. your tight hole clenches around him at every thrust. you were sure your voice will be long gone by the time the sun rises, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck about that right now.
“you, feel so good, so fucking good, angel” he alluringly wails. the aching hunger for him easily outweighs the burning sore on your thighs. you mewl when he brings you down for a kiss. the kiss was sloppy and slow, desperate moans leaking in between each breath. the sensual kiss progressed into a deep embrace, savoring the taste of each other. your bouncing became careless grinding to chase your high. “i’ll take a day off, a week off- i’m never letting you go again” he proclaims, wrapping his arms around your waist. he helps the knot in your stomach slowly unravel. your elbows rest on his shoulders with your hands cradling his head. you mumble whatever your conscious mind can conjure while he whispers sweet nothings to you. 
your mind turns fuzzy as he continues ruining your insides. your head hangs low as you feel like you were about to burst from all this pleasure. his fully hard cock reached places no toy of yours could ever touch. beneath your thighs lie a pool of both pre-cum and sweat getting continuously mixed from the endless thrusts from diluc. and if somehow it could get louder, yours and diluc’s moans did. when you could feel the edge of your orgasm approaching you, your breath started to stagger. you knew diluc was approaching his as well when his thrusts started staggering. “my angel, my sweet angel, please please! ‘m so close!” he whimpers. “let me cum inside please! wanna fill you up so bad, i’ll breed you so good!” he pants, tightening his hold on you and pulling your body flush against his. your mind can barely think of a single word and neither can your mouth say a word. “hhnnn! yes! oh fuckk.. fill me up ‘luc-” you stutter when you felt his cock twitch inside you. and by some possibility, he fucks you even faster.
in just a few thrusts, that familiar euphoria rushes through your body. “ah! ahh! i’m cumming- there! righttt there!” you cry out. your toes curl and your back arcs at the intense sensation. your vision blurs, and you could only lean on diluc for support. diluc doesn’t stop ramming into you like his life depends on it. your hole practically became a pretty toy for him to use at his own disposal. “you’ll let me fill you up, right? you feel so good inside, darling” he pleads, desperation replacing what little shame he has left. “haa.. yes! fucking fill me up to the brim until i’m full of your seed!” you shout as your jaw slacks from the overstimulation and from how he keeps hitting your sweet spot again and again. his cock twitches inside you upon hearing your words. he mewls when you bring him in for another kiss. amidst it however, he breaks off when the last few thrusts send him to his climax. he thrashes his head, and his eyes roll to the back of his head when he reaches that place of pure ecstasy. 
as the moans and love proclamations died down, the sex in the atmosphere surely stayed. you both catch your breath but your bodies still stuck to each other in an embrace. diluc gently sets you down, slowly pulling out. how amusing, he kisses your hand oh so softly as if he wasn’t just fucking your brains out a minute ago. “i’ve missed you so bad, my love.. rest now, i’ll take care of you,” he says. he makes sure to kiss you on the lips before getting up. the last thing you saw was a messy head of red hair before you passed out.
diluc was a man of his word. every promise he pledges to you is a vow he makes sure will be fulfilled. when you awoke the next morning, there he was. no more waking up to a cold bed or shifting around the sheets finding what was missing. the chilly atmosphere the past week is now replaced by his warmth. he’s here. he had his arms around you tightly as he sleeps so peacefully. you notice the slick running down your legs the night prior is long gone, and the nightgown you wore was replaced by one of his fresh dress shirts. you brush away the strands of hair that curtain his face. “mmm...” he mumbles, barely awake as he feels you lightly kiss his lips.
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© this work is by cryptonite-exe, please do not copy and post on any other platform.
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youremyheaven · 7 months
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The 8h in Astrology💀🦇✨
(this can apply to both tropical and vedic placement of 8th house because regardless of the system employed, the energy felt and experienced is the same :-)
The 8h is perhaps the most mysterious house in astrology and is most commonly associated with sex, death and unexpected events. Its also related to one's longevity, wealth, debts, transformation etc
It is a very misunderstood house, so I thought I'd make a post analysing it and shedding light on its nature<3
8h is connected to finances, occult, revenge, taboos and fears.
Sex, death and transformation form the core of 8h (scorpio). These are very Scorpionic themes and we must understand why. I had already explained how sex and death are interrelated and kind of go hand in hand. Sex and death are similar in the sense that they both offer release from life; the former temporarily and the latter permanently 💀 and when there's talk of sex and death, there is bound to be talk of transformation because both of these are deeply transformative activities.
It is interesting that a water house, like the 8h rules over sex because water is an element that absorbs things quickly. Sex can be best understood as a transfer of energy between two people; this is why sometimes with certain people, sex can feel very draining and post-coitus, many people describe feeling melancholic. Water is the most emotional element because, unlike other elements, it's in the nature of water to merge itself, like rivers merging with the sea; union is essential because water by design flows from itself to eventually reach the ocean.
Each water sign expresses this emotional depth differently but it is at its height in Scorpio which is generally understood as a very "intense sign".
Scorpio is known for its highly sexual nature but it's very rare to see a Scorpio enjoy casual sex (unless they have other placements that encourage it). This is because they deeply crave emotional connection and emotional intimacy.
It is why it's advised to be selective about one's sexual partners; because sex can have a profound impact on one's spiritual energy and cannot be considered a purely physical activity. it's possible for one to be disconnected from their emotions but being intimate with someone is not an un-emotional act by nature since sex is ruled by the water sign of Scorpio/8h.
In French, an orgasm is called "le petit mort" or "little death" and its safe to say that sex & death are closely associated in many cultures.
there is a reason why sex, fears, trauma, taboos are all 8h topics. if you've ever come across someone who naturally exhibits a very potent, magnetic sexual energy and aura, 8/10 times they've lived very messed up lives or come from a home that was less than ideal. this is because sexuality is inherently dark and shadow-y; someone who has a very potent sexual aura can easily intimidate others; they're bound to have a very unsettling effect on others; this is because we unconsciously pick up on the fact that they've been through things we can't imagine. they project things we fear. historically sex symbols have always come from really abusive families, have terrible relationships with their father, usually had to bear their mother's emotional burdens, they've most likely had a string of bad relationships and likely suffered abuse. why is this? whatever we project on the outside is a reflection of what goes on within us.
There is a reason why most people say Old Hollywood actresses were so much more unique and better than the current lot. Not only did they have a distinct persona but they each reflected it energetically. True raw sexuality always points to darkness lurking underneath; this is what makes us curious about them, what draws us in and what makes their presence so intense; like they suck up the air around them.
Most celebs today are beautiful on the outside and possess every feature it takes to be "sexy" but they do not have sex appeal. They lack presence.
(I went off on a tangent lmao, anywayyyyys)
8h is connected to transformation. Birth and death are two of the most fundamentally transformative experiences, not just for the people undergoing it but also for everyone in their lives. In our lives, we also experience ego deaths and spiritual re-births, so we live and die many times before we actually die. Sex too is an activity that is supercharged with transformative potential. There is a reason why sex is performed ritualistically in many occult initiation ceremonies and why Tantra is so heavily associated with sex that it is practically only known as some kind of crazy yogic sex thing. Sex opens up an energetic channel, a doorway so to speak, that allows for new energy to be invited in. There is a reason why many creatives consider their partners to be their muses (although its not necessary for a muse to be their sexual partner; i will get into this in more depth in a future post).
the 8h is connected to unexpected events because by nature we cannot predict either birth or death. we can come up with a tentative time frame but it's not possible to conclusively say someone will die/be born at this specific time. 8h governs all matters that are unexpected; positive and negative. life can turn on a dime. you can go from rags to riches over night but you can also lose your empire in minutes. 8h transits bring about crazy transformative experiences and depending on your placements and aspects, create a lot of emotional turbulence as well.
I have noticed that many 8h natives tend to be heavy sleepers whereas 12h natives often struggle with insomnia.
8h is connected to both wealth/finances as well as debts. This comes down to the fact that the 8h is connected to transformation. Our resources/money is a significator of our karma (in spirituality karma means actions) and therefore they are always undergoing change. There are certain aspects of our life we cannot change (where we are born, who we are born to etc) but our finances are up to us to change and transform. Its interesting that the 8h is linked to loans, debts etc. and not just accumulating wealth. An afflicted 8h can show someone who has a lot of debts or an inability to keep hold of money.
8h is also related to what is kept hidden or secret and finances/debts are usually the things that people are extremely private about (so are other 8h activities like sex and death).
Wherever you have your 8h, you're probably better off keeping those matters very low-key and private because its easy to attract evil eye.
the reason 8h is also associated with revenge is because it represents our shadow side, its the 8th house from the 1st house of self/ego, so it represents what we keep hidden/our shadow. The reason why we feel so triggered by certain people is because they project our shadow (in the Jungian sense of the term). If we ever hate some people for no reason, there is a HIGH chance that our 8h placements are present in their chart.
8h synastry can create some of the most toxic relationships and lead to a lot of purging and projecting on to each other. This is never good for long term relationships.
This is also why 8h is connected to fears. Our fears are usually subconscious and hidden from others and even from our conscious selves. This is again why its also connected to taboos. The 8h essentially covers all that lies underneath the surface.
"A human being is a part of the whole, called by us “Universe”, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest — a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. Nobody is able to achieve this completely, but the striving for such achievement is in itself a part of the liberation and a foundation for inner security."- Albert Einstein (Jyeshta Moon) 8h
its very common for 8h natives to feel trapped or stuck in their circumstances. being "caged in" is a very definitive 8h experience.
In Tibetan Buddhism, the concept of "Bardo" is present. It is the intermediate, transitional or liminal state between death and re-birth. This need not refer to literal death and re-birth of course.
The experience of Bardo is transcendental, allowing an individual to experience reality in the clearest way possible but it can also be terrifying. It is an opportunity for liberation but it can also prove to be dangerous as one experiences hallucinations based on their karma.
Bardo can be experienced during times when the usual way of life is interrupted, such as during the course of illness, during meditation etc. Such times can prove fruitful for spiritual progress because external constraints diminish. However, they can also present challenges because it can also make us impulsive.
8h transits can often feel this way and having 8h placements itself can feel this way; you're capable of immense spiritual depth but also of causing so much trouble and sometimes its impossible to separate the two.
8h natives could be heavy sleepers or struggle with insomnia (this is more 12h imo)
8h transits are often connected to death 💀 and the 8h placement can provide significant clues about one's lifespan, nature of death etc
“Whoever loves becomes humble. Those who love have , so to speak pawned a part of their narcissism.”― Sigmund Freud (Moon in 8h)
8h natives experience a riptide of emotions but are unable to channel it effectively. They are not the best at expressing how they feel verbally. The reason why Moon is debilitated in Scorpio is because these natives are unable to express how they feel and unable to receive energy in the same way as Cancerian natives (Moon rules Cancer) this is not due to any other reason but that these natives have such a vast reservoir of emotions and such depth that it's almost too much for them to process and grasp emotions in a nonchalant way.
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”― Stephen King (Jyeshta Moon/Moon in Scorpio)
8h in an earth sign could signify dying of old age, 8h aspecting neptune/uranus/pluto could signify unnatural death, 8h in fire signs could point to violence/accidents.
since the 8h is connected to the subconscious realm, its also linked to psychology, magic and secrets. magic involves tricking the mind into believing something is real when it's not, it's a very 8h activity.
the subconscious also stores our secrets which is why its connected to hate and revenge.
the natural ruling planet of 8h is Saturn and Saturn stands for discipline, justice, karma and time. in life we get what we give (this is also a sexual principle) and this explains the connection between 8h and sex, as well as 8h and saturn.
ultimately scorpio's waters represent that which we hide, be it desire, fear, traumas or taboos.
in vedic astrology, scorpio is exalted in ketu whereas rahu is exalted in taurus (the opposite sign of scorpio is taurus). the fact that ketu is the tail of the dragon with no physical form of its own and that its exalted in a water sign is very telling.
"Ketu signifies the spiritual process of the refinement of materialisation to the spirit and is considered both malefic and benefic, as it causes sorrow and loss, and yet simultaneously turns the individual to God. In other words, it causes material loss to force a more spiritual outlook in the person." (this is from wiki)
I would say Scorpio/8h can be described very similarly. experiencing loss is a big theme in the life of an 8h native. its very easy for 8h natives to give into drugs, other substances and live a very hardened life. its through experiencing loss and heartbreak that an 8h native can break through the cycle and seek spirituality because the 8h is innately connected to the spiritual realm.
these natives can veer between either extremes, i.e, they can be alcoholics/addicts, never experiencing true love/meaningful relationships but through pain, a divine channel opens up and many reform their ways for the better. because an evolved 8h native is capable of profoundly deep intimacy and are the most loyal and protective of companions/partners/friends.
its hard for these natives to find stability and most 8h natives are naturally guarded people, suspicious of others and their intentions which makes them true blue introverts.
🌹true romantics deep down, these natives desire love profoundly but feel unable to express it adequately. if your partner is an 8h native, they'll remember all your likes and dislikes, every little thing about you, pick up on your habits and preferences but they'll seldom verbally gas you up or be affectionate. they're more covert with their love.
being extremely mysterious, many 8h natives could have a not so good reputation. people perceive them in ways that are far removed from who they are. they could also have many secret admirers.
symbolised by the scorpion, a fiercely guarded creature that is intelligent, defensive, dangerous and ruthless to its enemies, 8h natives imbibe quite a few of these traits. they are so defensive because they feel like they have to protect themselves. being a water sign, they absorb things easily and this pollutes their energy.
they're the kindest people underneath it all<33
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thesensteawitch · 2 months
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Insights About Your Destiny!💌🍃
Pick A Pile Reading
(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)
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Hey, Senstea Souls!🤍
This collective reading is divided into three parts:
-Your destiny when you were born
-How it changed due to your karma
-Where it's leading you now (Paid)
Parts 1 & 2 are available in this blog but to know Part 3 you'll need to pay $10 and get a personalised reading about where your destiny is taking you.
Choose your pile intuitively. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't as it's a general reading.
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Pile 1
Your destiny when you were born
Tarot Cards- The Devil, King of Cups, 7 of Swords, The Lovers, The Moon
Okay, my dear pile 1. The first thing that I heard was 'twins'. It's very specific but some of you have twins. I also sense that your mother may have faced difficulty during delivery. Probably a lot of pain. You have been emotional since birth. Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio are coming up (sun, moon, or rising). I also hear, “When you're young they assume you know nothing.” When you were born your destiny was all about dealing with relationships. You were a child who could easily absorb people's energy. A lot of karma you carried in this lifetime. When you were born some of it started settling in your subconscious. Your destiny was all about choosing because I also sense Gemini energy here which shows confusion and difficulty in finding balance. It was written that you'll find it difficult to say no. I am sorry to say but I also sense that some of you have even dealt with sexual abuse of some kind. That too at a very early age. My heart is with you pile 1. I send you so much healing and love. It was written in your destiny that you will face many betrayals and will see the devil behind sweet faces. But no one would believe you. So you'll keep a lot of truths to yourself. Not to avoid conflict but because you had conflicting thoughts. You questioned yourself when others were the ones to be questioned! Up until now, you may have faced a good number of heartbreaks. All the relationships in your life were/are meant to make you realize your true potential. Because you are so different from the crowd pile 1. You couldn't see that since childhood. You felt like an outcast or maybe unimportant. But that's not true. You were born to be different and realize how unique you are! I also sense that you developed your intelligence. It wasn't like you were born intelligent. Since the day you were born, you are only shedding skin and becoming new now and then. Your destiny was all about finding true connections right through the false and painful ones. Many of you were born to be artists or do something different/out of the league. I also sense that your decisions have always been governed by the trauma you went through and the good thing is that you are aware of it.
How has your destiny changed based on your karma?
Tarot Cards- 7 of Wands, 6 of Swords, The Fool, 4 of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles
I am so proud of you pile 1. You worked hard to be who you are today. You've changed so much. You were practically pushed towards your purpose. Your soul couldn't take it anymore is exactly when rage intervened and you found your strength. You always did your best. You changed your destiny. Where it was written that you're continuously going to face relationship trauma you found your way out of those patterns. You made yourself aware. Despite opposing forces and disempowering words, you stood your ground. I must say your initial years of stubbornness made you walk to the other side. Your rage and stubbornness were the beginning. You suddenly became the warrior. You have finally unlocked new chapters and have shifted the vibrational frequency of your destiny. Otherworldly concepts influenced you a lot to change your perspective towards life. You left the fear-based reality far behind. You became a risk taker. You have developed some very special gifts and are holding onto them. You're also hoping to grow yourself further. You have got a lot to learn and you know that. You want to learn more. You are continuing to be on this transforming journey. No matter how painful it is, you're still moving ahead. You have a thirst for truth, hence you have the patience to wait for it. Currently, you are letting go of the control. Slowly but steadily.
To know where your destiny is taking you book a reading with me only at $10.
Pile 2
Your destiny when you were born
Tarot Cards- 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, 5 of Cups, Page of Pentacles, 4 of Cups
Hello, my beautiful pile 2. The first thing I saw was that either you were born into a well-to-do family or a family that was financially facing a tough time. For some of you, I also see a big family. But when you were born something major happened. Someone with whom you were close to when you were born or someone who loved you dearly when you were born is no more. I say this with utmost sincerity and love for you. I sense that your destiny was about dealing with a family where everyone and everything was perfect except you. You were ridiculed a lot for how you looked or your overall personality. I also sense that you were given everything but still, there was something that you were looking for. Your destiny was about coming out of the cocoon of the perfect world and truly experiencing life with its imperfections. I also sense that you have lived among perfectionist people. Deep in your heart and destiny's chart, you were meant to give something to the world. Everyone around you was focused on taking but you wanted to know how you can make others lives better. You were destined to be dependent on yourself and create a life of your own. A life that is not defined by your background. You are someone who was destined to see the darkness behind the gold and glitters. You have been somebody who always questioned the ways of the world. I hear, “You're on your own kid. You always have been. You were destined to bring a powerful change in your family. Any direction you have chosen was only meant to take you to a better place, closer to your purpose. Some of you may even have gone through some health crises as it was written because you function differently compared to other members of your family. You were meant to be the trailblazer.
How has your destiny changed based on your karma?
Tarot Cards- Knight of Wands, King of Pentacles, 3 of Wands, The Emperor, King of Cups
I hear you had to break your own heart to free yourself and move towards your purpose. You weren't understood and that created a deep wound, a longing to move away, especially from your family dynamics. I strongly sense that you lost someone very dear to you. For a very few of you, it might be literal death. Based on your karma you created a certain reality in your mind and it still gives you pain. You're asked to change your thought patterns and question yourself. To want what you want you had to learn what you don't want. And what you don't want is what you got since the beginning. But I see that you've made yourself firm about certain aspects of life. You have your guard up but deep down you are a very emotional and caring human being. You somewhat have your emotions locked up but you do feel them in silence. You are now moving towards making yourself a better human being and growing yourself so that you can genuinely contribute to the world. I also see that some of you have been traveling for quite a while now but still some days you feel restless. You are still being asked to look within and look closer. You're somewhat distracted and still aren't following your purpose. Making money is not the end goal and you know that. Your soul knows that. Always staying on your guard is stressful and you feel that. You're still living in a survival mode. Though you have made slight progress you still need to see the truth. You're missing the details. You're afraid of expressing yourself. I hear your destiny saying, “I just wanna keep calling your name till you come back home.” Now, go deep into the meaning. Don't read it on the surface level. Stop feeding your mind with negative thoughts. Your destiny is still calling you to look in the right direction and release the pain. You deserve love and you'll find love. For some of you, I also sense that love will heal you. Finding someone who loves you dearly will heal you. All you need is love. You're passionate but you stop yourself as you think you need to present yourself in a certain way. You are looking for something and I am telling you all you need is someone who can provide a safe space for what resides deep within your heart.
To know where your destiny is taking you book a reading with me only at $10.
Pile 3
Your destiny when you were born
Tarot Cards- Knight of Cups, Judgement, King of Swords, 3 of Cups, The Devil
Hello, my beautiful pile 3. The first thing that I observed was that your cards were very eager to come out. There was a desire that you couldn't fulfill in your past life and your soul wanted to have that fulfilled in this lifetime. I sense that you have been an active kid in your childhood. Someone who loved making friends. But there was also something saintly about you. You seem to be a bit flirtatious too. I sense that your purpose was to reconnect with your soul tribe. Some of you are walking on the spiritual path. Your purpose was to find romantic connections that could liberate you from your patterns and make you reborn into a different being every time. You were destined to go through all the unwanted situations and meet unwanted people to finally find what you want. You were meant to heal your wounds around friendship and romantic bonds. I also hear your shadow side saying, “You broke me first.” As you may have been aware of this destiny for a very long time so you lived in pain and stayed in this cycle where you kept hating those who broke your heart or who played with your heart. Some of you may even like to dance. Move your body often and release stuck energy. Dancing can have something to do with your purpose too. Your destiny was to go through emotional ups and downs to finally think logically and see the truth of your life. To see why things happened the way they did. You were meant to reflect years after a situation happened. You may have found many answers to your trauma years after it happened. This is for your inner child, “I keep every hour of every day keeping you safe.” You won't be able to escape your destiny. BECAUSE IT IS THE PATH LEADING YOU TO YOUR SPIRITUAL GROWTH. I also hear, “I am just protecting my innocence. I am just protecting my soul.” Protect your inner child. It's a part of the destiny you were born with.
How has your destiny changed based on your karma?
Tarot Cards- 3 of Swords, Ace of Pentacles, 4 of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, Strength
Wow, pile 3. Well done! You're healing your heart chakra. You're appreciating and seeing the lesson in situations you came across. You're no longer blaming people but trying to see the divine reason behind things. You're not stuck on one polarity. You see all the perspectives and can make peace with them. You've gained a lot of strength right through this desire to find the right people that match your mindset. Though you haven't found them yet you soon will. I see some of you are even working so hard to make yourself financially stable. The painful cycle that you have been in for years is now approaching its end because you were willing to learn the lesson. You're so brave, pile 3. You've developed this spark and light around you that others can't help but notice. You've mastered the art of self-transformation pile 3. You didn't let yourself stay stuck in the energy of looking for your worth in the other people. Some of you may still be realizing it and are working on it. You've finally found your balance. You're keeping your calm and continuously learning the lessons. Some of you may have strong Sagittarius placement (it's not necessary). You are no more afraid of the predators that are out there in the wild. You have trust in your intuition. Consider reading pile 1 too if you were drawn to it. I am finding some similarities. You're currently on the verge of balancing your private and personal life.
To know where your destiny is taking you book a reading with me only at $10.
🐦Bookings Are Open!!!!!!🐦
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brewed-pangolin · 2 months
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What would soaps downtime be? Like who is soap when he's not in 141 mode?
A million apologies for this taking so long. I went on a super long rant about this but eventually turned that into its own post.
This is just Soap in his regular civilian life.
A bit of NSFW? Of course.
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Soap outside of the 141 is both still the same man yet wholly different altogether.
He's a military man through and through, so he still appreciates a certain level of control and structure even when he sheds the Kevlar for a more comfortable civilian outfit.
It takes Soap a few days to pull his psyche out of the usual 'bump and grind' of being a soldier. He breaks this cycle by recharging in the simplest way possible. Sleep.
And when I say sleep, I mean sleep.
Dead to the world. Borderline comatose. (Brought on by massive amounts of Trazadone because, y'know, nightmares)
And after a few days of restful hibernation, he'll quickly pack up in preparation for his next necessity: escapism.
Soap finds himself, his true self, deep in the wilderness. Away from the world of responsibility and within the rejuvenation of fresh air and nature.
He'll spend a few days out in the wilds and come back with a fresh mind and a clear conscience. And that's when this man truly shines in his natural form.
Soap is a man with a very busy mind, so don't expect him to sit around while on leave. In fact, you should make a list of things he needs to fix. He'll love it.
Leaking faucet? Done. Need your oil changed? Already putting it on the floor jack. Hell, you wanna remodel the whole kitchen? He's already got a sledgehammer in hand ready for the first swing.
Point is, keep him busy. Send him on errands and keep him focused on anything else rather than you because oh my God your body needs to recover from the endless fucking he puts you through.
Soap is a man who aims to please and make up for lost time. This means the moment his mind is clear, it's laser focused on bending you over as many times as possible.
He actually doesn't care how you both do it. As long as he can bury himself in the sanctuary that is your wet pussy, he's happy.
Christian the entire house. Fuck in the 4Runner. Embrace your inner animals and let him mark his territory in the woods as he growls so loudly that you think there's a bear inside the tent.
Let him fill you. As many times as possible. He needs it before being pulled away into the line of fire once more. Needs it to remind him of the salvation he has to come home to. (In more ways than one).
You're one of the few outside the 141 that have seen him break. Head buried in your chest, arms wrapped like a vice around you as he sobs. Incoherent mumbles of the hell he's been through, and all you do is soothe him in this moment of pure emotion and vulnerability.
You remain strong for him. A beacon in a world of darkness and grazed bullets as he loses himself in your tender and affectionate embrace.
These moments are few and far between. Still, when they read their heads, you give him the time he requires to heal the mental scars to become whole again.
Of course, he enjoys times at the pub with his fellow soldiers. Throwing back a few pints, reminiscing over war stories and close calls within the familiar walls of their treasured tavern. It builds comradery. Strengthens the bond of the brotherhood outside the line of fire.
And gives them the mental break they need in the ease of civilian life before being thrusted back into the perpetual grinder that is being a soldier.
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brainbuffering · 1 year
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An argument that regularly occurs within the discussion of accessibility in cinema, is that creators should not have limitations put upon them. If their creative vision requires Strobe effects to be used, then they should be used regardless of any adverse effects they may have on the viewer. 
Others before me have spoken about how the health and wellbeing of your audience should be more important than any artistic vision. However, I think something that is never noted is that creatives are already placed with strict limitations in the form of age certificate guidelines, and other broadcasting standards. 
Now, fair warning. I am going to use a lot of uncensored profanity here. If you are offended by slang terms that refer to the act of sex, genitalia, a person's moral/social standing, or any form of bodily fluid then you may wish to step away. 
"Cunt. Cunt cunt cunt cunt. Cuntity-cunt-cunt! I'll say it again you shit faced bastards! What is up with all these mother fucking cunts, on this mother fucking cunt ass plane?" is a phrase that beloved merc-with-a-mouth Deadpool is not allowed to say. The rating of the series doesn't matter. The nature of the character doesn't matter. The fact that, objectively, nothing of true offence to any individual beyond the realm of fiction has been said; doesn't matter. The words used are deemed as offensive by the society in which we live in, and so the producers and editors have decided to place limitations on the writers. 
British Swear-tastic Political Comedy "The Thick of It" famously had to carefully count the number of cunts and fucks in order to meet with "broadcasting standards". This limited their actors ability to improvise more effectively, and led to scenes being forced to be cut or heavily edited in post production. Yet nobody ever questions whether the limit on swearing was unreasonable even though it was fundamentally detrimental to their creative process. 
These may seem like some extreme examples, but one must remember that this applies to all cinematic media. It does not matter that a depressed, middle aged Peter Parker would be perfectly at home letting our a quite "Ahhhh fuck." when he drops his pizza on the floor, because Spider-Man films need to be rated PG-13 in order to maintain sales. This policing of language does limit the ways in which a character is allowed to express themselves, and the sort of stories that are therefore allowed to be told. However the majority of fans deem it perfectly reasonable and acceptable. It does not cause outrage in the same way that suggesting a PG-13 film does not contain Strobe effects heavy enough to send someone to hospital. It would appear that society has deemed the word “Fuck” worse than a Seizure. Peter Parker cannot say fuck in order to protect viewers, he can, however, bombard them with deadly strobes. 
And why is this? What is it about our society where we have deemed it more traumatising for a 14 year old to hear the word "cunt" than it is for them to have (or even witness) a seizure? I can assure you, from personal experience, that seizures have caused far more long term damage to my brain than the word "cunt" ever has. 
Cinematic Limitations are not just put down to language though. Blood shed is also something that is carefully monitored during ratings. If one watches the extended edition of "The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies" one will note significantly more blood shed during the extended sequences! A level that is far more realistic than what was shown in the original. This is because the cinematic release needed to be a 12a, whereas the Extended BluRay was allowed to be a 15. The creators had to work around creative limitations that were put in place to protect their viewers' sensibilities. 
Of course standards for these things differ across nations. Other recent examples of this include films such as "Demon Slayer: Mugan Train". Demon Slayer is a Japanese animated film based off of a comic aimed at young boys, and as such was given a PG12 rating in its home nation. However, in the UK it was rated as 15 due to "Strong Violence" including "strangling, slashings and stabbings with bladed weapons, dismemberment and decapitations which result in extensive blood spurts and other forms of bloodshed." The US release was given an R Rating for similar reasons, although it is perhaps important to note that whilst in the UK the film was not allowed to be seen by anyone under the age of 15, in the US a child could still go see the film so long as they had adult supervision. 
Yet it is also interesting to note that whilst Japanese Society considers fantasy levels of blood shed to not be a problem for their children to watch, they do have some of the strictest photosensitivity laws for broadcast TV. This is as a direct response to the infamous "Pokémon Incident" where 685 children from across Japan were taken to hospital after suffering from seizures following an episode of the Pokémon anime in 1997. “Electric Soldier Porygon” has hence been banned from ever being broadcast again, and the titular Porygon has never been seen in the anime since. Even though the trigger for the seizures was Pikachu’s attacks, not Porygon’s. #PorygonWasInnocent. 
Most fans consider this a reasonable response to children being put in danger by a TV Show! Indeed, when people watch the episode on YouTube (some things simply refuse to stay lost) folks tend to agree that the lighting effects were incredibly severe and TV Tokyo were right to ban the episode. Yet in 2018 (over a decade after Electric Soldier Porygon Aired) when Pixar also caused children to have seizures in the cinema during "The Incredibles 2" the film was not pulled from screenings or revised, and anyone who suggested it should be was met with volatile abuse from so-called-fans claiming that if their creative vision involved strobe effects, then those strobe effects should be allowed to stay in, no matter how many children might be hurt in the process! 
Interesting to note, too, is that the version of the film that aired in the USA was in actual fact illegal to broadcast in the UK due to the potentially deadly nature of the strobe effects, and so an altered version had to be shown. This version still came with an official warning (as is legally required in the UK) but was at least deemed not as likely to cause seizures in those who do not usually suffer from photosensitive seizures. What this tells us, is that Pixar had a version of the film that they could have easily re-distributed to theatres but chose not to. 
Pixar easily accepted limitations on their films in terms of language and violence in order to protect the moral/mental well-being of their audience, but drew the line at anything that would actually protect their physical well-being. 
You may find yourself reading this and agreeing with the certificate ratings. You may think that the words such as "shit", "fuck", and "cunt" shouldn't be used in media aimed at under 15s. That an excessive or realistic depiction of blood and violence has no place in superhero films that are naturally going to appeal to children! And yet, in my experience, the same people who have these views do not expand them to the use of strobes. Any time the mention of films such as “Into The Spider-verse” should not include strobe effects, a plethora of people will rise up to tell you that you are wrong and terrible and bad for daring to suggest such limitations be put upon cinema! Yet as demonstrated above, these films must already undergo limitations in order to be shown to mass audiences. If the creators wanted total creative freedom, they would keep themselves to small indie productions supported by Kickstarter. Yet when a film is made for a mass market, then it must accept those mass market limitations, especially if they wish for their film to be watched by a younger audience. 
Because, at the end of the day, whilst I may be forced to hear again and again that not all animation is for children, a coming of age movie about a teenager attending a brand new high school is, fundamentally, going to be aimed at people under the age of 18. A.K.A. Children. It is also important to note, that the age in which a person is most likely to experience their first seizure is between the ages of 13 and 18, the exact age range that these films are deemed safe for in terms of emotional and mental wellbeing. 
Now, I am no parent, but if given the choice between my child hearing Peter Parker call Green Goblin a "Little Shit", or having to hold my child's limp hand as I desperately prayed for them to wake up after suffering from a seizure, I know which I would rather. 
I’m not calling for a complete rehaul of cinema certification here. I’m not advocating for more swearing, or more bloodshed. I simply believe that if certificate ratings exist to provide guidance to parents and the rest of the general public about what to expect from films, and what society decides is and is not safe for children to consume, then their physical as well as mental health should be taken into consideration. 
And if you are reading this, and still find that a production company including the word "cunt" in their film is more offensive than that film causing someone to have a Seizure, then I have terrible news for you. I think you might be just a tad bit ableist. And that maybe, you, and vast portions of the western film industry, need to start addressing that problem. Before it becomes too late, and the voices of photosensitive people are lost to cinema forever. 
For, at the end of the day, if we cannot go see these films, how can we be inspired by them?
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cosmicanakin · 3 months
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drowning.
adult content | minors do NOT interact.
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pairing. rockstar!sam monroe x female reader.
contains. angst, drug & alcohol use, strong language, sucidal ideation, dysfunctional coping mechanisms, rockstar!sam, addiction, depression.
outline. drawn back to the one who broke your heart, you find only a shell of the man he was. facing past demons together may offer the chance to heal what was broken if you can survive the nightmares within.
authors note. he makes smoking look so fucking hot fuck!
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the smell of smoke and sweat hang heavy in the crowded venue as you work your way through the bustling crowd. you’ve been waiting all week for this show, hoping to catch sam at one of his gigs. being with him hasn’t been easy—the late nights on tour, his frenetic creative energy that leaves you drained. but his magnetism draws you back time and again to watch him in his element.
finally breaking through to the front, you scan the stage for any sign of sam. just then, the house lights drop and the roar of the crowd doubles in volume. familiar notes ring out over the PA system as sam and his band emerge, silhouetted by stage lights.
you drink in the vision before you—sam looking every bit the rock star with ratty jeans slung low on lean hips and, a black mesh tank clinging to his lithe torso. his lip and ear piercings glint under the spotlight, paired with familiar blue streaks raked messily through dark waves.
but what holds your attention the most are his eyes—ringed heavily in smudged eyeliner, their startling blue cut right through you even from a distance. raw emotions always danced just below their surface and you had a front-row seat to whatever tumult was crashing through sam tonight.
the band launches into their first song at full throttle and sam transforms—leaping, gyrating, pouring every ounce of vigor into each wailing note. you can't look away as he loses himself completely to the music, fingers flying effortlessly over guitar strings.
his voice cuts through each line like shattered glass, raw and captivating. sam has always worn his heart bleeding on his sleeve through his music, even if he keeps his true feelings closely guarded otherwise. but in those moments on stage, feeling every gasping member of the crowd hanging on his every word, he’s completely vulnerable and untouchable all at once.
as the intensity of the first song crests, sam finally locks eyes with you briefly across the sea of faces. in that split second, a storm of tangled emotion passes between you—longing, regret, understanding. just as quickly, his gaze is pulled away to another rapt fan as he launches headlong into the next track with even more fervor.
you let the pulsing rhythms and sam's searing voice wash over and through you for the duration. losing yourself to the collective catharsis, worries and tensions shed skin like an animal. right now, he and his music are the sole focus of every eye and mind here, in complete control.
all too soon, the final song ends and sam takes his bow to wild cheers and whistles. you finally allow yourself to breathe, lungs burning from holding your breath through the whole intense performance. you needed this—to drink your fill of sam unleashed and untamed, even if only for an hour.
backstage pass tucked safely in the back pocket of your black jean skirt, you make your way through the now dispersing crowd to find sam. dodging roadies dragging out equipment, you spot him taking a much-needed drag off a cigarette.
his chest still heaves, damp shirt clinging messily to defined muscles. sam blows smoke skyward before noticing you hovering, lips quirking into a small half smile around the cigarette. your stomach flutters as crystal eyes rake appreciatively over your form before beckoning you closer with a lazy finger crook.
“hey gorgeous. come here often?” sam drawls with a wry smirk, snuffing out his smoke against the wall without a care. you huff a laugh, happy to fall back into your comfortable banter with him even after so long apart. “only when you’re playing, rockstar.”
sam steps in, crowding your space as large palms skim your sides before coming to rest on your hips. you arch into his sweat-dampened body heat instinctively, breaths mingling as eyes trace every subtle change in tired but pleased features.
“missed me, baby?” he rumbles lowly, leaning down to bury his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. you sigh, threading fingers through inky hair matted with sweat to hold him close. “you know i did.” for a moment, you both give in to the simplicity of reuniting - tracing familiar contours, breathing each other's air like it's the first sweet gasp after drowning.
but reality has to set back in at some point as it always does with sam. he pulls away slightly, expression shuttering once more as distant eyes search yours. “i can’t do this anymore, y/n.” your heart drops to your feet at the admission. this was just the life raft you clung to whenever things between you drifted too far apart - his shows, finding your way back to his side even for just a night.
“what do you mean? are we...are you breaking up with me?” you hate how small and broken your voice sounds voicing the dreaded question. but you need to hear it, need confirmation this is really the end so you can start picking up the pieces.
sam sighs heavily, hands falling away as he steps back to put space between you. he drags both hands roughly down his jaw before meeting your eyes with weary finality. “i can’t give you what you need, y/n. i told you from the start this lifestyle wasn’t built for relationships. i’m barely holding it together as it is.”
hot tears gather unbidden to blur your vision as you nod shakily. “i know, i just...i thought if i gave you space when you’re on the road, it could work when you were home. but it’s never enough, is it?” sam reaches out gently to swipe a fallen tear from your cheek with his thumb.
“no, baby, it’s not you. you did your fucking best and i appreciate it more than you know. but the truth is i’m no good for anyone—i’m a mess. always have been.” his voice cracks slightly but he soldiers on with steely resolve. “you deserve someone who can give you their whole heart. and i...i gotta figure my shit out on my own.”
a sob wracks your frame but you bite your lip hard to contain it. you knew this day would come eventually, knew sam’s wild soul would never be fully tamed no matter how much he cared for you. but that doesn't make the loss hurt any less in this moment.
“so this is really it, then. you’re just...letting me go.” your voice sounds dead even to your own ears. sam looks away, jaw clenched in anguish, before nodding once tersely. “yeah. it’s for the best, sweetheart, i promise.” he risks a glance at your grief-stricken face and his resolve crumbles.
large hands cradle your jaw tenderly, thumbs swiping your tears as sam rests his forehead against yours briefly. “i’m so sorry, y/n. hurting you is the last fucking thing i want. but i gotta do right by you now.” lingering a heartbeat longer savoring your nearness, sam pulls away with a shuddering sigh.
“take care of yourself. and don’t wait for me, alright?” he murmurs, voice thick. turning before you can respond, sam disappears further backstage, and you collapse back against the dingy brick wall beside you in a crumpled heap, bereft. it was your only lifeline to stability.
days pass in a numb haze as you try to put your life back together piece by piece without sam’s steadying arms to shelter in. his words on repeat torment you - don’t wait for me. but how can you not, when that boy snuck past every defense to burrow in your heart?
nights you lay awake composing bitter letters, screaming desperate pleas into your pillow for him to come back, come save you from this bleak purgatory of half living. days drag slower still, colors dull without sam’s radiance lighting your world. you thought the pain of separation would fade with time but each day just peels back scabbed layers, wounds bleeding fresher than before.
rumors reach you in darkened dive bars—sam’s off tour now, holing up writing new material in some nondescript rental upstate. alone, tormenting himself with restless creative binges until inspiration strikes or sanity shatters, whichever comes first.
you can imagine all too well his gaunt form haunting shadowy corners nursing cigarettes and stiff drinks, wild eyes staring into the void willing answers to surface from chaos. an ache to soothe those frazzled edges grows too strong to resist and before you know it, you’re miles down the highway, legs trembling at what you might find.
pulling up to the ramshackle property under the cover of a moonless night, you cut the engine and sit frozen, replaying every tender memory with sam on an endless loop. so many haunting what-ifs to lose yourself within, none easing the emptiness left carved into your marrow with his departure.
no lights shine within as you steel trembling limbs and approach the front door gingerly. your knock echoes ominously through halls undoubtedly stained with ghostly remnants of sam’s artistic anguish. long moments pass without response and chilled panic sets in he may not even be here until—
footsteps wander nearer before the door creaks open, spilling faint light across the weathered footpath. sam peers out blearily, grip white-knuckled on the frame like it's the only thing holding him up.
his eyes widen in disbelief at the sight of you shivering before him. “y/n? what are you doin’ here?” he rasps, hoarse from disuse. you swallow thickly, fighting to find your voice. his tousled hair hangs limp around a dreary face, but it’s his eyes that steal your breath—dark hollows ringed in bruise-like shadows, devoid of their usual dancing light.
this isn’t the sam you remember. this is a stranger haunting his body, tormenting his soul.
“i had to see you,” you manage finally, willing the lump in your throat down. “i had to know you were okay.” sam shakes his head slowly, a tired smile quirking his lips that fails to meet lifeless eyes. “you shouldn’t have come, baby. i told you not to wait for me.”
his words wound all over again even as you expected them. but you’ve come too far to run now.
“you don’t get to decide what i do anymore, remember?” you counter softly. “please, sam. just let me in out of the cold. i won’t stay if you really want me gone.” you lay your heart bare and hope with everything in you he still cares enough not to shut you out completely.
seconds drag like hours before he sighs and steps back, gesturing you inside wordlessly. the inside matches his appearance—sheets and empty bottles clutter stained floors, dust gathering in untouched spaces. you follow him through the maze to a cluttered kitchen where sam pours two fingers of whiskey with shaking hands.
he passes you a glass and you drink, letting the liquid courage sear down your throat. “talk to me,” you plead gently once the burn fades. his gaze falls to hands clutching his drink.
“what’s left to say? i’m a fuckin’ mess, just like i said. can’t write, can barely get outta bed most days. no use to anyone like this.” you ache to reach for him but resist, letting him unravel at his own pace.
“i hadn’t realized how much you kept me together too, y/n. leaving you was the dumbest fuckin’ thing i ever did but i was so fucked in the head...i thought it was for the best.” a raspy laugh cuts off on a choked sob and your heart shatters all over again seeing him so destroyed.
“i miss you so goddamn much. every day it just hurts worse.” sam finally cracks, tortured eyes meeting yours damp with unshed tears. “i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry.”
you can’t bear another second apart, launching into his trembling embrace, glass shattering forgotten on the tile. sam clings to you like a lifeline, burying his face in your neck as heart-wrenching sobs wrack his powerful frame.
stroking his disheveled hair soothingly, you let your own tears fall silently, relief and grief crashing over you in waves held back too long. he’s here, broken but real, and that's all that matters in this moment.
sam cries himself out clinging to you before pulling back slightly, red-rimmed eyes searching your face desperately. “say somethin’, darlin’. please tell me there’s hope...”
your heart clenches at his raw plea. you know staying opens you both to deeper hurt but walking away now would be abandoning the one you love most when he needs you most.
cupping sam’s jaw tenderly, you lean up to brush your lips softly against his in a promise. “there’s always hope as long as we face this together,” you murmur against his lips. “let me help put you back together, sam. let me love you through this darkness.”
his arms tighten around you almost painfully, relief and gratitude washing over his worn features. sam rests his forehead against yours, breathing your air like it's keeping him tethered to shore.
his voice comes out small and hopeful. “together?” you nod, threading your fingers with his to squeeze reassurance. “together.” and with that vow, you begin the long road of healing—through pain, tears, and late-night confessions—strengthened through promises kept in the ashes of endings given new life.
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moronkombat · 6 months
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Hi! How do you think Syzoth would react when his s/o sees him in his true form for the first time but they're not afraid of him? Is he more Open to be around his s/o in his true form?
time for soft syzoth
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Relationships are a tricky thing. Wicked and twisted ones mind can become when entranced in one. The wickedness of such a thing is not entirely unfortunate. No, this a wicked bliss to be caught in the web of trust and love. Syzoth has once know such a thing but it came to end by hands coated in greedy magic.
He thought never again would he be lost in a world with someone else. Syzoth thought himself alone to such a treasure but you had proven him wrong. Meeting you, loving you, hadn't been part of his plan. Then again, there much in Syzoth's life that he never planned for.
You were one of those fortunate plans and he grateful for, he grateful for you. Where he had been lonely, you provided company. When he felt the shiver of chills you there to warm him. Syzoth is happy again and he hopes you are too.
He has seen all of you. Your kindness, your heart and the tender flesh showed only to him in those moments lost away in the bedroom. Yes, he has come to know all that you are but it not the same for him, is it? No, it is not. The skin he has shown you but a lie, a facade of humanity. When your hand holds onto his, there is the pang of devouring guilt at what hides behind warm and pale flesh.
Syzoth knows you are aware of what is truly is, he is aware that you know he is not human. But your eyes have never the truth beyond the mask. Behind tattooed skin, hidden behind flesh so pale is a creature that stalks and hunts. Fingers are claws and a face is warped into fangs that shred and pull apart. You know what he is but have never seen it.
How fair is that? Syzoth cannot help but wonder. You have exposed all you have to him and yet he still hides what is his truth. Why? Because he is afraid. To be Zaterran is to hide, to flee. His true nature can never go accepted by those who dwell in the sun and unblemished skies. He is a monster and a savage. Would you think the same?
There are hopes that you won't but there are doubts that are greyer than any winter day that float around in his head when thinking about showing you. You have never asked him, never commented on it. What would you say if you were to see scales instead warm skin? What would you do if you saw a mouth filled with sharpened teeth where there once a smile?
Questions like these eat away at him, gnaw at his stomach and soon Syzoth begins to break. He must know. He must be truthful. He has to. He has to for you. Whatever comes of it, he must accept. Obscuring himself, while it keeps him safe, does not keep him true.
You are brought to somewhere quiet. A place far from anyone else. It does little calm the nerves Syzoth feels all over his body. He stands away from you and he thinks briefly about changing his mind. He pauses and feels perhaps he should not do this. How can he not when you stand there across from him, smiling and waiting.
Consequences cannot hold him back, not any longer. The process of changing is neither painful or pleasurable. It is simply there as natural as it is to breathe. Skin sheds and scales replace it. Bones snap back into the places they should and, throughout it all, your eyes never leave him.
You watch as the form of man is morphed into a preternatural champion. You expression one that does not sway to either side of fear or happiness. Merely, you watch him and wait until he is ready to step forward. It seems, however, that Syzoth unable to move. He cannot bring himself to. He is afraid.
Eyes look over him, taking in the truth he has kept so close. But now it is exposed and he is seen. Will he shy away? Will he retreat within himself? No. You will not let him. Skin is now scales and teeth have become weapons most dangerous but it changes nothing. You see not a man nor a monster. You see Syzoth. The Syzoth you fell in love with. The Syzoth who has captured your heart.
It matters not what form he takes because it is him all the same. Finally there is a smile from you, small and kind. Your footsteps crunch the grass as you move closer and closer. Eyes are drawn to the hands that wield long and sharpened claws. You look up to him for a moment, giving the Zaterran a smile coated in admiration.
Then your hands face his. Palm to palm, cold to warm. Fingers spread apart and you guide his to lay against yours. The difference in sizes so very clear. It is like leather against skin but you don't mind. No you don't mind at all. Hands find his face, he's so much taller now. You reach up and rest your palms against either side.
"You are beautiful."
Rose red eyes seem to widen when those words are spoken and Syzoth thinks to himself how this can be real? Here you stand with palms resting on scales and spines of his face but there is no fear, no malice. No, your gaze is the same as it always has been. He is loved. He is accepted.
Syzoth will never have to hide again. Not when embraced in your arms, not when wrapped in your love. No, Syzoth doesn't want to keep all of himself away from you again. Two lovers exposed to each other completely and this is how it will remain.
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ellethespaceunicorn · 5 months
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The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Four
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Chapter Four: Unbridled Instincts
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI
Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader
Word Count: 3.4K
Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.
Chapter Summary: There is a time to wait and a time to act. You and Walter fuck around and find out what time it is.
Warnings: masturbation (f), slight voyeurism, oral sex (f receiving), slight brat taming (if you squint), hint of choking, monster fucking, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mentions of ovulation, biting, knotting, breeding kink
A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Without her help, this chapter would have been a complete fucking nightmare. I adore you, Peyton!!!
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But your brain goes back to this morning. Walter’s arms around you. His scent is fresh on you. If you could keep extra quiet, you’re sure you can crank one out without waking the beast downstairs.
Right?
At first, it’s the temperature. The fever from a fast-healing wound. Plus the warmth from being near a potential mate. He sheds his clothing during the night. Eventually, he has to remove his boxer briefs, as the material is just too tight on his sweat-soaked skin.
Then, it’s the hint of sweat as he inhales. The sweet, tangy taste of it clouds his nostrils causing him to stir in his slumber. 
Next, the overwhelming lure of arousal that pheromones release like tentacles attaching themselves to him. 
Lastly, the sound of a rising heart rate pounds in his ears. It all screams your name.
Opening his eyes, he gets his bearings on where he is. A living room. Pup’s. 
Whimpering from your bedroom catching him by surprise, he isn’t able to stop himself from shifting. 
His hands grow longer with claws, dense fur, and thick, black padding on his palms. His legs and feet contort and reshape into the hind legs of a wolf. A fluffy tail pushes its way down and out of his spine. His broad chest is covered in the same dark chocolate pelt, the color of his human hair. Arms fill out with hairy musculature. His nose and mouth form a small snout and his teeth sharpen and elongate. His beard and hair grow a bit wilder around his ears now resemble those of a wolf high on his head, completing his transformation.
Once he hears you whimper again, he springs over the back of the couch, lands on his hind legs, and bounds up the stairs taking them two at a time. He sniffs the air as he gets closer to your bedroom door. He can smell it as plain as day.
You’re aroused. And when you whisper his name, the heavy weight between his legs becomes harder to ignore. Reaching a hand down, he squeezes the base of his veiny, mammoth cock near his knot. The bright red tip is already leaking, and his swinging balls yearn to be emptied.
His slow steps, punctuated with claws against the wood floor, finally reach your door. Wasting no time, he swings the door open, catching you with your fingers in your pussy and your nightgown around your tits.
Somehow you don’t hear or see him come into the room, so wrapped up in chasing your orgasm. He uses your ignorance of your surroundings to his advantage and walks to the side of your bed. Looking over your body, his instincts take over. He sniffs the surrounding air, sensing that you are ovulating and ready to be bred. You had the perfect body to carry strong pups.
He could see it already, your full tits and round belly with a kid on your hip and one running around you. He would keep you nice and pregnant as much as you could stand it. 
“Walter, eat my pussy...please, I’ve been a good girl,” you murmur, eyes still closed while your finger circles and teases your clit.
A deep rumble in the room alerts you, the growl from deep in Walter’s chest sending a chill up your spine. You look up at him covered in fur and larger than before and your first thought isn’t to scream or hide your body. Giving in to his natural sexiness, you want nothing more than to worship him.
Turning on the bed so that your cunt is facing him, you beg him, “Please, Walter?” Every thought about waiting is long gone from your head.
Within seconds, Walter is on his knees at the edge of the bed while his mauve tongue hungrily hangs out of his muzzle. His hands hold your legs out of the way so that his nose can ghost over your folds. Inhaling its wet arousal, exhaling warm air from his lungs across your most sensitive parts. 
When you reach a hand to the top of his head, his eyes close momentarily as he pushes into your palm. Once you scratch at his ear, he lets out a groan deeply from his chest again, he picks his head up slightly to lick from your delicate petals to your swollen nub. 
While he uses his tongue to explore your cavernous deep, his thumb rubs against your clit. Tongue brought to a point, where he strokes inside you, and he finally attacks your inner bundle of nerves. You watch as he gently cups your mound. 
Withdrawing his tongue, he licks at his maw. He picks up the pace of his thumb on your clit. Your mewls, piercing his ears and wrapping around his heart. He stands to lick at your neck’s pulse point, nipping and whimpering into your skin. 
One hand caresses you leaving the other to explore other places. His giant paw finds your neck, squeezing slightly while you stare into his glowing eyes. He seems to be willing you over the edge, his stare forcing your body closer to completion.
“Come. For me,” he forces out, the words sounding distorted in this body.
And that is the little push you need. Along with the paw gripping your neck, the tongue lapping at your skin, the finger flicking your bean, and the command in that gravelly rasp. The longing in those words is too much for your resolve to hold even a moment longer.
“Walter,” his name a breathless whisper on your lips as your climax takes you over.
Your eyes roll into your head as your back arches. Hands rushing out to his, one at your throat and the other stilling on your clit. Your walls twitch and flex around nothing, pushing your sweet nectar out of your hole.
You watch as he collects your wetness and brings his sticky palm to wrap around the leaking, red erection that now has your attention. Its shiny surface has you wanting to lick it like a lollipop and Walter watches as you wet your lips in anticipation. But it’s far too sensitive for that kind of attention right now.
Instead, Walter gets on the bed between your legs. He raises your ankles to place them on his shoulders, leaning forward, so his face is inches from yours. You’re being folded like a pretzel and you couldn’t be happier as you feel the pointy tip of his cock teasing through your lips. 
It slides up and down from your clit to your hole over and over, as if he doesn’t want to give you what you crave most. You’re so close to the edge, if he doesn’t push inside you in the next few seconds, you are going to scream!
He rips the nightgown from your body, not that it covers you in any way. He didn’t want to leave anything between you. No clothing, no barriers, just your bodies and whatever sounds you made together.
It is then that he pushes himself inside you, slowly, inch by inch. He works himself into your walls, letting you adjust to the shape and size. So kind of him to take you apart with the speed of a snail. Once he is seated inside you as fully as this position will allow, he grabs both hands and holds them in one paw above your head. You nod, silently pleading for him to move.
“Make you mine,” he promises, the hefty growl reverberating through your chest. His hips retract and come back to meet yours, his canine cock filling you to the brim. 
“Wanna be all yours, Walter. Please,” you breathe, ready to be fucked open by him.
The answering groan is all you get before Walter is snapping his hips back and forth inside you. With your arms unable to move, you instead try to move your legs down off his shoulder to wrap around his waist. He gets the hint soon enough, only slowing down slightly, then returning to a punishing pace when your heels are digging into his ass.
He shifts his angle a bit to hover his face above yours as he leans forward. When he slides home, he can bump against your clit. Grinding his pelvis against yours, he easily brings forth your next orgasm, he is not surprised when the base of his cock is nice and wet from your eruption. He pulls out after fucking you through your orgasm.
Sitting back on his heels, one hand slowly stroking his length, he looks down at you. Blissfully fucked out, almost asleep, cock-drunk. Too bad for you, he’s not done. Before you can register what’s happening, Walter is turning you on your stomach and putting a pillow under your hips. Straddling you, he enters you smoothly, your walls molding to him. He lays his chest against your back, both arms enfolding you. One around your waist while the other hand wraps around your neck.
“Mine,” he whispers, lips snarling next to your ear, “Say it, Pup.” He only grinds his hips against yours, not fully fucking you yet.
“Yours,” you huffed, trying to find your voice with the weight of him bearing down on you.
“Louder. Can’t hear you,” he demands, he begins tugging his hips back slowly only to push in even slower.
“Yours! I’m yours...Wolfie,” you hum, holding in your bratty laugh for all of three seconds until it’s cut off when Walter tightens his grip on you. 
He widens his legs on either side of yours, his toes digging into the mattress for leverage. From this angle, he can fuck right into your sweet spot while his heavy, full balls swing back and forth into your clit.
Your squeaks and moans punctuate each thrust, and it’s music to Walter’s sensitive ears. Your groans and squeals cause his ears to twitch, your elevated heart rate lets him know he’s doing all the right things. 
And he certainly is doing all the right things.
It almost wasn’t fair that your first time with him was in wolf form. But as good as this feels, you just feel like human sex may end up a bit lackluster. Which is not what you should be thinking right now with him turning your insides to mincemeat.
He must sense that you were getting distracted, growling lowly in your ear. Dragging his wet nose along your neck, he inhales deeply. He unhurriedly licks at the sweat dripping from behind your ear, his tongue trailing up around the lobe and shell.
His hips start to stutter, and whines in the back of his throat are forced out. You can feel the sudden fullness of his cock as he pushes in even deeper than before. His tip is pressing into your cervix and the pressure is almost too much. As you feel his length twitch, warm jets of cum paint your walls. 
He growls again and bites the nape of your neck, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still while his knot settles in place. It felt like a plug just inflated inside you and you feel the fullest you’ve ever been. You try to reach your arms back to grab at him in any way you can. Feeling held in place at two points of contact was just too much.
You try curling inward to relieve the pressure in your pussy, but Walter painfully wails and bites down on your neck harder. You realize both you and Walter are in pain with his knot stuck inside you. 
You take a second to get yourself together. Getting your breathing under control, you can calm down Walter enough to slow the blood flow rushing toward his knot. When he releases your neck, he licks and soothes at the marks left behind.
Once he can slip out of you, he unhooks his arms from around you. His hands hold you open, so he can see if he hurt you. You’re more than flattered when he licks over your fucked-out little hole, but you push him away once he goes for your still-sensitive nub. 
“Too much,” you mumble, rolling over and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Walter moves to follow you, but you push him back to lie down. “I’m ok, Wolfie. Just going to the bathroom to freshen up. You stay in bed and keep it warm for me.” 
You watch as his brows grow concerned, but he pulls up the comforter over himself and your side of the bed. You thank him and head to use the bathroom. While you sit and relieve yourself, you think about how aroused you were for Walter. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You haven’t had an attraction like that in ages, if ever. Likewise, you didn’t necessarily plan on having him cum inside you, but once it was an option, you didn’t exactly stop him from pushing deeper inside you.
And then there was the knot. Granted, you had done some research on werewolf anatomy, so you weren’t surprised by the knot. But the length of time it was in you, how big it was, that wasn’t in any of the articles you had stumbled upon. 
Also not mentioned? The hyperspermia, which could just be a Walter thing, but it seems like a wolf thing too. You felt so full of his cum and you had already pushed out so much of it. You will be surprised if he doesn’t get you pregnant, and you don’t know what it means when that only brings a smile to your face. What the hell…
Yeah, you might have it bad for this man. 
Or you’re flying high on the level of dopamine coursing through your veins from the number of orgasms Walter has given you.
They can both be true at the same time. 
You realize you’ve been in the bathroom for quite some time, and your legs start to grow numb. You wipe, flush, and stand on wobbly legs to wash your hands. Splashing water on your face, you steady your nerves to go back and be with the wolf that fucked you silly.
You open the door, turn to shut off the light and walk right into Walter. Standing outside the door with his hand raised, ready to knock and check on you.
The oof that escapes your lips compels strong hands to your biceps to steady you on your feet. The feel of bare human skin on yours is comforting and familiar. You look up and notice the frown on Walter’s face, knitted brows sit above fretful aquamarine eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his human face now back in place along with the rest of his body.
“Oh, that? I’m fine. Just need to watch where I’m walking,” you smile, trying to reassure Walter’s concern.
“I meant, more along the lines of whether you’re hurt. It’s just, I have this pull. This...intuition. All I want to do is take care of you. It’s all I can think about,” he confesses, sliding his hands down your arms to grab your hands, “Would you let me look you over just so I can see you’re alright?”
You open your mouth to tell him you feel amazing, but you close it just quickly. He wants to make sure he doesn't go too far, and you respect that. If you think about it, it’s possibly the hottest bit of aftercare you could ever have.
You nod, welcoming his assessment. He moves you more into the bathroom and turns on the light again. He examines your wrists, but seeing a bit of redness doesn’t alarm him. Inspecting your neck where his teeth sank into you, he’s delighted to not see any broken skin, but there will be heavy bruising there if you don’t apply ice to it soon enough. Thankfully, your clothing should cover up most of the area.
Seeing his heartsick eyes look over your neck in the mirror causes you to turn around and hold his face in both hands. His hands come up to cradle yours, your eyes finally grabbing his attention.
“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I can hear the gears turning, Wolfie,” you plead, hoping that he will illuminate you with his thoughts.
He sighs, and you can tell he doesn’t want to worry you. You can also tell he’s becoming weak to your suggestions, seemingly wanting to do whatever pleases you.  
“Need to get ice for your neck, or it’ll bruise,” he mutters, looking down before continuing, “We haven’t known each other long and I already feel protective over you. Hearing your breathing, recognizing your scent. It felt like you were in danger, and I shifted. Then, seeing you...like that, I needed to claim you. I haven’t felt that in so long, it’s like I’d forgotten the intensity that comes along with it. My wolf brain took over and instinctually, my body reacted the only way it knew how.”
“What do you mean?” you breathe, your brows scrunching together.
“I could smell that you were ovulating and all I wanted, all I could think of, was to breed you. The fact that I didn’t give you a choice...it weighs heavily on me,” he admits, taking a deep breath before starting again, “I shouldn’t have taken that from you. I would understand if you never want to see me again after that.”
The distraught look on his face makes you believe that he thinks the worst of himself. That only makes you want to fight whatever demons put that thought into his head.
“I’ll be honest, I did intend on waiting a little longer before taking things further. But, there is something about you. Probably sounds weird, but I have a pull toward you too. Like, this invisible string that’s tied around my rib cage, and every time I’m near you, I feel it tugging. I feel the urge to touch you, to feel your skin on mine,” you confess, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing that you both were struggling with staying away from each other.
“So, we both feel this connection. What do we do now? What can I do for you?” he prods, his hands moving to your sides as yours weave in his curls.
“Well, the good news is that we don’t need to figure this all out right now. We know how we feel about each other, and that’s most important. So, for now, we can do one thing,” you offer, a smile playing on your lips.
“And what’s that, Pup?” he wonders aloud, thumbs pressing into your hips.
Foregoing speaking, you stand up on tiptoes to press your lips against Walter’s. A chaste kiss or two gives way to open mouths and tongues getting into the mix. You hum into his mouth, and he answers with a groan. The grip on your hips tightens and his length grows against your thigh. 
You feel him dip to grab and lift you under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him. When he breaks from the kiss, his nose nuzzles your cheek and neck as he inhales your potent scent of arousal. He turns to shut out the light before exiting the bathroom and taking you back into the bedroom.
Laying you down, he hovers over you and smiles lazily down at you. When he doesn’t say anything for a beat, you roll your eyes and sigh.
“What are you smiling at, Wolfie?” you tease, secretly loving how he looks at you like you hung the moon.
He opens his mouth to answer, but instead, he nudges your nose with his before peppering a trail of kisses over your cheek, chin, and neck. Using one hand to position himself at your opening, he collects some of your moisture to help slide in. Slowly, agonizingly he enters you. 
Once seated inside, he grinds his hips against yours. He wants to take it slow this time. You want nothing more than to give yourself to him in any way you can. Everything else can wait until the morning.
To be continued...
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A/N: Ok, so about that whole ‘let’s wait’ thing...um, I got this idea in my head that this is where this would all happen. And Reader and Walter didn’t seem upset about it so, yeah.
(Also, if you are upset about fictional characters not using protection, please use that anger and either register to vote in the next election or contact your state representative to see how you can help make sure safe sex education can be taught in schools in your area. Didn't think you would get political advice in this author's note, didja??)
A/N 2: Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a wonderful day!!
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ellovett · 4 months
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☣️🍳Krahn n Akna revival!!!
ive redesigned my twst kronk and yzma to their true and FINAL form [im fr this time cos im really happy with them] !!
complete bios under the cut blehh 😋
rbs>likes !!
Name: Krahn Quiroz
Age: 31
Height: 210 cm
Homeland: Sunshine Lands
Affiliation: Night Raven College Staff, The Squirrel Scouts
Occupation: Head-Chef of the cafeteria, Teacher's assistant, Scout facilitator
Subject taught: Science-centric subjects since he mainly assists Akna in teaching
Favorite food: Papas a la Huancaina
Hobby: Dabbles in a LOTTT of hobbies, but cooking is his main one!
As the Head Chef, Krahn is one of the few friendly faces in the Night Raven College staff, he has that warm and welcoming aura to him that's able to put anyone at ease just by being around him. He's popular with the students by how nice he is, and he's friends with a lot of students that pass by the cafeteria for lunch. He and Akna are a package deal, and are often seen together, and even gets dragged into helping Akna with her schemes. Krahn may be rather dim witted most of the time, in fact he isn't exactly the brightest tool in the shed, but ultimately he has a heart of gold, and is genuine in everything he does.
Trivia:
Krahn is very athletic and has inhumane stamina, you could say he's a gymbro, he can run around the field track for like 10 hours straight and not even show ANY signs of fatigue.
also serves as a scout facilitator for an elementary scout group in his off time! he's great friends with the kids there, they often just go hiking to explore nature ..and to learn how to talk to squirrels.
Great friends with Ashton, they're workout buddies!! Though Krahn isn't too keen on Ashton's … raw egg eating habits.
His hugs AND his spinach puffs are life-changing
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Name: Akna Yglesias
Age: 35
Height: 185 cm
Homeland: Shaftlands
Affiliation: Night Raven College Staff
Occupation: Substitute Alchemy/Potions professor
Subject taught: Sciences [Alchemy, Potions, and Biology]
Favorite Food: Ceviche
Hobby: Making potions, studying alchemy, trying to take Divus' place as Alchemy teacher
Theatrical, grandiose, and short-tempered, Akna Yglesias is a teacher at Night Raven College who has a very commanding presence and is someone who knows exactly what she wants and goes through various lengths to get it. As a substitute not only does she fill in on unavailable science teachers, she is also responsible for co-facilitating science-centric clubs. Her schemes to take over the teaching position for herself are over-the-top and her jealousy moreso. She's a genius in alchemy, but Divus had long been established as the Alchemy Professor when she started working in NRC, and has vowed to take him down ever since.
Trivia:
Values lab safety more than anything, and always changes her clothes into something more appropriate for her classes. Enforces this onto Divus and her students as well, much to their dismay.
Is one to call Divus out on any mistakes he makes, she's a substitute after all, shouldn't she help? Give him a nudge? A rough shove even?
Has a very close familial bond with Krahn, a bond that has existed way before their years working for NRC
During her years of working, she's constructed a secret lab in the undergrounds of the campus, and all without Crowley's knowledge, how Crowley hasn't figured it out even she can't tell why.
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elliesbelle · 10 months
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nobody compares to you
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chapter 3
pairing: ellie x reader
synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?
content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of vomit, a little bit enemies to lovers, minors do not interact
word count: 1.6k
chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen
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i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎
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The sunshine streaming from your bedroom window wakes you up that Sunday morning. You groan as you lazily got up from bed to close the blinds before returning to your bed with a flop. 
After five seconds of loud moans of grogginess muffled into your pillow, you lay on your side to check your phone. You thank past you for remembering to charge it before completely passing out when you got home last night. 
Two messages from “D Money 💛” and six from the group chat with your other friends are what you noticed first. 
Looking in the group chat, it was your friends Astrid and Tara texting along the lines of, “who’s nursing a massive hangover rn, woohoo 🎉 good job ladies.” 
A half smile forms on your lips but you decide not to respond for now, still a little annoyed at your irresponsible friends and their antics. 
You then proceed to open Dina’s texts. 
u hungover rn?
causeeee i shall be pounding at your door at 9 am sharp with ur usual!😘 
You glance at the time on your phone. 8:03. You have a bit of time to get decent, not that Dina hasn’t seen you in worse conditions. 
Groaning, you force yourself off your bed. The only item of clothing from last night that you’d shed were your boots. You peel off the rest and toss them to the side, making a mental note to actually put them in your hamper later. 
You rummage through your dresser for a set of house clothes. Settling on an old high school t-shirt and grey sweatpants, you head towards your bathroom. 
You lived in an off-campus apartment that was just a 15-minute walk away from your school. You had it all to yourself, which you were originally reluctant about, but you later came around to. 
Entering the bathroom and blinded by the bright white lights, you place your clothes on the sink and finally looked at your reflection in the mirror. 
The state you’re in has present you chastising past you for not getting ready for bed properly. Your hair is in utter disarray, eye makeup and false eyelashes all askew, lipstick more on your cheek than on your actual lips. 
Hot fucking mess, minus the hot. 
After attacking your face with several makeup wipes, you hop in the tub for a well-deserved hot shower. 
It’s while you were rinsing off the shampoo from your hair that you finally allowed yourself to think about Ellie. 
What the fuck was that last night? Did that really happen? Was I that fucked up and imagined the whole thing? No. Dina’s coming over for a reason. It must have been true. 
You let the shower water run over your back for much longer than you needed, finding comfort in the heat. After finishing up, you tiptoe out of the bath while shivering from the absence of warm water. You walk into the living room five minutes later, freshly showered with comfortable clothes on, teeth brushed, and your wet hair wrapped in your bath towel. 
Settling on your small grey couch, you decide to scroll through your phone mindlessly while you wait for Dina’s arrival. New texts were waiting in your friends' group chat, but you disregard them once more, deciding you were not in the mood and that you have nothing useful to contribute anyway. 
After a while, you hear the sound of keys unlocking your front door. This doesn’t surprise you as Dina (and Jesse) have a set of keys to your place. You think about her previous comment about “pounding at your door” when you both knew she’d just do this anyway and chuckle.
You glance at the time. 8:55. 
Oh, she means business. 
Dina walks in carrying a coffee carrier with two cups wedged in it. Dropping the keys on the dining room table, she locks the door behind her. She looks up at you and smiles widely. 
“Oh, look who’s up and presentable!” 
“Semi-presentable.” 
“Did you shower just for me?” Dina says, placing her free hand on her chest and gasping dramatically as she approaches you. You chuckle inwardly over how similar her mannerisms are to Jesse’s. You silently envy the intimacy they share.
“I didn’t want to subject you to a disgusting, hungover version of myself after last night.” 
“Babe, first of all. I have seen you in far worse conditions. Second, you were nowhere near the most disgusting of everyone last night,” Dina says, placing the coffee carrier on the coffee table in front of you. “Tara apparently was cleaning her shoes off for about an hour after she got home last night ‘cause Astrid decided to throw up all over them.” 
You scrunch up your face in disgust. 
“Gross. And okay, fair.” 
You point at one of the coffee cups. 
“That mine?” 
Dina smiles and says, “Mocha frappe with extra syrup and extra whipped cream.” 
You reach for the large plastic cup of coffee with a straw poking out of a swirl of whipped cream decorated with chocolate syrup. 
“You are a saint among mortals, D.” 
She gives you a big smile and sits on the opposite end of your couch, kicking off her shoes and burying her feet underneath one of your throw pillows. 
“How are you even awake right now?” You asks before taking a sip of your coffee. 
“Sheer willpower. Plus Tara had an early shift at Ruston Coffee earlier, so she let me cut the line for our coffees.” 
You notice that her cup is already drunk from. 
Licking some whipped cream from your top lip,  you question, “So do you wanna tell me why you’re at my apartment at 9 A.M. on a Sunday morning?” 
“What, can I not bring my dear friend her favourite drink while she’s hungover?” She asks jokingly. 
You give her a look. This is be something that Dina very much would do. But you knew that there are ulterior motives this time. 
Dina sighs. 
“Can we talk about whatever happened with Ellie last night?” 
“Nope.” 
“Babe—” 
“There’s nothing to talk about, D. Really.” You assure her, making sure to take a long sip from your straw to avoid elaborating further. 
“Look. I love both you and Els dearly. And after almost three years with you and around fifteen or so with Ellie, I know that you’re both incredibly stubborn and repress your feelings to an unhealthy extent.” 
“I don’t—” You begin, but Dina holds a hand up. 
“Yes, you do. And I understand why. Especially with what you’ve gone through the past few years.” 
You gulp and avert your eyes elsewhere. 
“I don’t like seeing my friends in pain,” Dina says softly. “Especially not when I can do something about it, or at least try to help. You’ve gone through enough. I just want to be there for you as much as I can.” 
You look back at her and meet her sympathetic eyes. You understand why Jesse has stayed in love with her after all these years. You understand why Dina had so many friends and was well-loved by so many. You know you were lucky to feel loved by her. 
“I love you, Dina. Thank you.” You say, teary-eyed. You reach your hand out to her. 
She holds hers out and squeezes yours softly. 
“Anything for you, honey.” She says. 
You pull your hand back to wipe away tears before they fall. 
“Anyway,” You sniff. “Did you come here to make me cry or—?” 
She chuckles. 
“Sorry about that. But I came to talk about Ellie.” 
You sigh, relenting. 
“What about her?” 
She looks at you intensely for a moment or so, seemingly choosing her words carefully. 
“I want you to be completely honest with me.” She starts, placing her coffee cup on the table. “Are you still in love with Ellie?” 
Your breath hitches. 
“No.” You say, a little too quickly. 
“I said to be honest, babe.” She replies, apprehensively. 
“I’m not in love with her!” 
Dina holds her hands up defensively. 
“Okay, okay! If that’s the answer you want to give me right now, that’s fine.” 
You glare at her. 
“You know that I know the truth, even if you refuse to admit it to me or even to yourself.” She says, looking at your indignant expression. “You can be mad all you want, it’s okay.” 
“Why are you asking this?” You question. 
Dina places an elbow on the couch’s arm and rests her head in her hand. 
“Jesse and I were just watching you two last night. And there’s obviously a lot of unresolved shit there.” 
You begin anxiously playing with your straw. 
“If being mad at her for the rest of my life counts as unresolved shit, then sure.” 
“Babe,” Dina continues. “If this were some two-month fling of Ellie’s where she screwed them over, I wouldn’t bother. But it’s you, and I know you both still care about each other. You think I didn’t notice Ellie going after you to the bathroom last night?” 
You gulp, remembering how observant Dina and Jesse were of both your absences from the table the previous night. 
“She was just being nosy.” You mutter. 
“About? Wait, you don’t need to tell me that part if you don’t want. But did you two actually talk about anything?” 
You sigh and say in one quick breath, “I basically told her to fuck off and that my feelings don’t actually matter to her and that I’m not her friend or her girlfriend and that she has no obligation to me.” 
Dina’s eyes widen. 
“Ah.”
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author's notes:
i'm so sorry for such a short chapter!! i didn't want to overfill this one cause i really planned for this to be short BECAUSE the next chapter is going to be quite a novel! (sorry not sorry)
is reader's fave coffee order a mocha frappe because my fave coffee order is a mocha frappe? no, who told you that?
as always, let me know what you think! likes & reblogs are appreciated AND very much welcome :)
taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr
please let me know if i missed you in the taglist or if you’d like to be added! ♡︎
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Text
A Philosophy Behind Writer's Block: Valuing Despair
Unfortunately, it happened again where I went a little over a month without writing anything I was happy with. I would attempt to get some words down, remembering that even a little bit is progress; but, no matter what I did, everything just felt so dry and dull. Not only that, my stories felt like they were boring or just not worth it anymore. It was awful.
I tried everything that normally helped with getting over writer’s block. I’d try out different times to write, read other books for inspiration, focus on another hobby—still, it all felt like I was banging on a brick wall. That’s when I turned to my philosophy studies, as if there was some sort of deeper consciousness of an answer that would aid my issues.
Well, there was. The infamous Kierkegaardian Despair.
The Sickness unto Death
The Sickness unto Death is a book written by Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard in 1849 under the pseudonym Anti-Climacus. A work of Christian existentialism, the book is about Kierkegaard’s concept of despair, which he equates with the Christian concept of sin, which he terms “the sin of despair.”
In Kierkegaard's work, despair arises from a fundamental disconnection from one’s true self and from God. He distinguishes between different forms of despair, including the despair of having a self and the despair of not wanting to be oneself.
Now, take what you will from the Christian existentialism part (I’m pagan, so I already had mixed opinions on many classic texts on God), but it doesn’t erase how the concept of despair can shed light on the underlying struggles that writers—at least, myself—may face.
It’s Never Just a Phase
Writer’s block can be seen as a manifestation of existential despair in which we feel disconnected from our creative essence or authentic self. This disconnection may stem from various sources, such as self-doubt, fear of failure, or a sense of alienation from one’s creative impulses. We may experience a profound sense of emptiness or meaninglessness, unable to access the inspiration and clarity needed to write.
Moreover, Kierkegaard’s notion of despair as a failure to align with one’s true self suggests that writer’s block may arise when our creative endeavors are driven by external motives or expectations rather than genuine inner inspiration. The pressure to produce work that meets societal standards or fulfills commercial demands can lead to a sense of existential disorientation and paralysis.
Don’t Just Overcome it. Value it.
If you resonate with Kierkegaard’s work, you will agree with his observation that we are always going to despair over something. It’s not about waiting for the tide to roll over or for the dry spell to ease up, but to examine our own self’s relation to what we are lamenting over. He writes:
“Despair is an aspect of the spirit, it has to do with the eternal in a person. But the eternal is something he cannot be rid of, not in all eternity… If there were nothing eternal in a man, he would simply be unable to despair… Having a self, being a self, is the greatest, the infinite, concession that has been made to man, but also eternity’s claim on him.”
Let’s break down the quote and explore how it can inform our approach to overcoming writer’s block:
Despair as an Aspect of the Spirit: Kierkegaard suggests that despair is not merely a psychological state but an aspect of the spirit, rooted in the eternal dimension of human existence. Kierkegaard’s conception of despair invites us to recognize the creative process as a site of existential tension and struggle.
Writer’s block is not merely a technical or practical obstacle to be overcome but a profound existential challenge that confronts us with the limitations of our finite selves and the aspirations of their creative spirit.
The Eternal in a Person: Kierkegaard asserts that despair is linked to the eternal within individuals, suggesting that it arises from a tension between the finite and the infinite aspects of human nature. The finite aspects encompass the temporal, material, and contingent dimensions of life, while the infinite aspects involve the eternal, transcendent, and spiritual dimensions. This tension is inherent in human consciousness and manifests in various forms of despair, such as the despair of weakness, the despair of defiance, and the despair of not willing to be oneself.
This tension between the finite and the infinite can be understood as the conflict between the limitations of our creative faculties and the boundless possibilities of imagination and expression. Writer’s block often emerges when the writer feels constrained by external pressures, self-doubt, or perfectionism, inhibiting their ability to access the infinite reservoir of creative inspiration within them.
Moreover, Kierkegaard’s concept of the finite and the infinite highlights the paradoxical nature of creativity. While the creative process involves the manipulation of finite materials—words, images, sounds—it also taps into something transcendent and ineffable, something that exceeds the boundaries of ordinary experience. Writer’s block can be seen as a manifestation of our struggle to bridge this gap between the finite and the infinite, to give form to the formless, and to articulate the inarticulable.
Having a Self as Eternity’s Claim: In Kierkegaard’s philosophy, the concept of “having a self” refers to the capacity for self-consciousness, self-reflection, and moral agency that distinguishes human beings from other creatures. It involves the awareness of one’s own existence as a distinct individual with thoughts, feelings, desires, and responsibilities. “Eternity’s claim” suggests that the existence of the self is not merely a temporal or transient phenomenon but is imbued with profound significance that extends beyond the confines of earthly life. The self, according to Kierkegaard, is intimately connected to the eternal dimension of human existence, reflecting the divine spark within each individual.
“Having a self as eternity’s claim” suggests that the act of creative expression is not merely a personal endeavor but is also a manifestation of the eternal striving for meaning and significance. Writers, as self-aware and self-conscious beings, bear a profound responsibility to give voice to their innermost thoughts and feelings, to explore the depths of human experience, and to contribute to the ongoing dialogue of humanity.
Embracing Existential Depth
So how do we value despair and overcome writer’s block in light of Kierkegaard’s insights? Writer’s block often extends beyond mere technical or practical challenges and can be rooted in deeper existential concerns. This involves grappling with questions of identity, purpose, and meaning in the creative process. By recognizing writer’s block as a reflection of these existential concerns, we can approach it as an opportunity for self-exploration and growth. Rather than viewing it solely as a barrier to productivity, we can use writer’s block as a catalyst for deeper introspection and self-discovery. This might involve journaling, meditation, or engaging in conversations with fellow writers or mentors to uncover underlying psychological or philosophical issues that may be contributing to the blockage. I have previously posted a blog on writing soliloquies. Embracing existential depth allows us to transform our struggles into sources of insight and inspiration, ultimately enriching our creative work.
There is a large aspect of accepting what you cannot control, another widely-known philosophical concept. Swimming against the current, after all, may prove to be more tiring than it’s worth. Instead, be kind to yourself and practice self-compassion during these moments. Understand that experiencing creative struggles is a normal part of the writing process and treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding you would offer to a friend facing similar challenges.
Seek social support. Reach out to fellow writers, friends, or mentors for support and encouragement. Sharing your struggles with others can help you gain perspective and feel less isolated in your creative journey, because, trust me, we have all been there.
Ensure that you are also setting realistic goals. All I would want to do was upkeep my 3k word/day momentum, but I would feel even worse about myself for being unable to do so. Break down your writing goals into smaller, more manageable tasks and set realistic deadlines for yourself. Celebrate small victories along the way to maintain motivation.
Finally, what has helped me the most, is to read widely. Immersing myself in diverse genres, styles, and voices provided so much insight into what I could be missing in my own work; or, it simply sparked my love of story-telling all over again.
Closing Words
Remember that writer’s block is a temporary obstacle that can be overcome with patience, persistence, and, apparently, a bit of philosophy. Where there is frustration, we will find insight.
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