#it reflect so beautifully in the sunset too

[onyourowndaisymae]

don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer // mammon // levi // satan // asmo (you are here) // beel // belphie -- others coming soon, NSFW warning below, gn!reader

asmodeus, who thinks you're interesting for a human. he sees studying you as a sort of self-care, for he too wants to know what was so special about you, how you quickly gained three of his brothers' pacts before he knew it. he'll look up from his mirror with a sharp eye, taking in the intricacies of your interactions, hiding behind his reflection again before you notice. you fascinate him. it's become part of his routine to linger in the common areas to hear his brothers' loud conversations spill from your room into the hallway.

asmodeus, who wants to know everything about you. he studies you like he studies himself-- wide-eyed, thorough, memorizing the curve of your smile, the softness of your skin, the size of your ears and nails and nostrils and every mundane part of you that makes his heart race. in the celestial realm, he was always known to see the good in everyone. with you, though, he doesn't even have to try. you're dawn in the devildom, sunset in the heavens. you're unlike any human he's ever met. when you finally make a pact with him, he feels foolish for not seeing your potential earlier.

asmodeus, who knows you're into him. he can sense when people are attracted to him, but even if he couldn't he'd know. he sees you dodge eye contact, the way you shudder a little at his affectionate touch-- he knows. and it delights him. asmo captures hearts without even trying, but yours is the most precious treasure of all. your genuine, unspoken feelings slip through gaps in conversation, or your smile, or the glow you have when you're around him. he finds you stunning, of course, so don't mind the way his cheeks flush a little when you laugh like that.

asmodeus, who doesn't dare bring anyone over to the house of lamentation anymore. he wouldn't disgrace your sacred space with the bodies of others. there's a neatness to him disappearing for a few hours only to pop back home, to your shared home, slipping in a quick bath before finding his way to your side. he doesn't want his lust to deter you. he doesn't want you to think he's not serious about you, crazy for you, just because he seeks others to satisfy his needs. and a part of him doesn't want to realize how it's affected his sex life, too. he stumbles home from another clandestine meeting after dark and tries not to think too hard about his wandering thoughts. he should have been lost in the moment. their hips moved so beautifully against his, their needy keening delightful in his ears as they approached another orgasm. but he was thinking about you. he wondered what it would be like if it was your lips around his cock, your hips bouncing back into his, your sweet hole milking him dry. he doesn't even realize these lustful thoughts have the power to push him over the edge until the demon underneath him cries out in pleasure. in that moment, he realizes the hold you have over him. oh, what is he going to do with you?

asmodeus, who wants you more than he's ever wanted anything else. he's used to getting what he wants, when he wants-- but he'll wait for you. he'll wait to see if you want to cross that bridge with him, to turn passing flirtations into intimacy, taunts into promises, ginger touches into desperate grabbing for each other's skin. so when a spa night in his room becomes less than casual, he's excited, but ultimately hesitates. is this okay? are you sure? he lowers himself between your legs when you assure him this is what you want, pleased grin disappearing as he pressed kisses to your thighs. his tongue glides effortlessly across your slit, gathering the fluids he finds and spreading them across your sex with careful, methodical strokes of his tongue. your moans are divine, and he saturates his fingers in your juices just to ease them into your tight hole. his lips wrap around the most sensitive part of your sex as he sucks, carefully at first then with renewed vigor as you cry out. you're quick to cum and he's quick to please you through it, deft fingers thrusting ruthlessly inside you to bring you to another peak. then another. when he's satisfied with how pliant you feel around his fingers, he finally sits up and ease himself into you, sliding his cock in slowly, until his hips are flush against you. his eyes are filled with nothing but love as he takes your hands in his. his fingers intertwine with yours. he leans in and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. the gasp that catches in between you two as he slowly begins to move is all the proof he needs-- he wouldn't trade the world for you, for this moment, to have your body intertwined like this with his. because nothing, no other creature alive, compares to you. he'll never be satisfied with anyone else again.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable

#fun fact: he inspired this series #i hope i did him justice #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #om nb #obey me smut #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me asmo x reader #obey me x reader

[oracle-of-dream]

Photo Finisher

Minors DNI

Summary: You've been tasked with capturing photos of AB6IX for their comeback, Salute. Within the four-member group, you find a gem that's hidden away. All you need is to give him some encouragement to shine.

Warnings: Male Reader, Blowjob, Handjob, nickname: Hyung, Creampie, Backscratching, Flexible Reader, Vocal sex, Unprotected Sex

Wordcount: 2.1k

Today's client was AB6IX, a four-member boy group from Brandnew Music. When you'd read that it was a four-member group in the documents, you smiled to yourself. Fewer members meant you could leave sooner, a complete win if you could be done with the shoot before too long.

You walked into the studio that had been prepared for you. It was a black and gold theme with leather furniture everywhere, and golden-orange set lights drenched the room in a sunset glow. The staff on set greeted you as you walked by, avoiding your eyes and speaking softly.

You wore a white satin shirt with flowing wine-red pants flared at the base of your legs.

Inside the dressing room, the four idols were getting their make-up done. You'd seen the photos that were sent to you, but lackluster photos taken by mediocre photographers couldn't tell you anything. The four men were distinct in features, standing out from one another. Good. As you entered, the men stood to introduce themselves to you.

They all stood beside each other and bowed, saying in unison, "Hello, we are AB6IX! Thank you for working with us today."

The staff greeted them back as you nodded in acknowledgment toward them. You looked them over keenly. Their outfits were more risque than you originally expected. Satin black shirts and pants with a golden trim design, reminiscent of Louis Vuitton's styling patterns. It didn't match their small physical forms and round faces, but the contrast would make for excellent shots. You needed to give a word to their designer for this one, it made your job ten times easier.

One in particular stuck out to you. Woong, if you remember his name right, kept stealing glances at you. You knew he had something special about him, he just needed to show it to you.

You stood straight and addressed the room, "Alright everyone, let's work quickly today. I'm sure we're all busy people." You left the room after giving your short words, letting the makeup team finish their touches as you checked in with the stage set-up team.

The stage had lovely black marble flooring that reflected the furniture beautifully. It looked so clean you could eat off it. While admiring your reflection, you see another one come behind you. It was him again.

Woong cleared his throat and said, "Hello, Mister y/n, I wanted to bring you this gift on behalf of our group." He presented a signed album, with a small thank you message from each member.

He was on the shorter side of the idols you normally worked with. And his clothes covered some serious muscle definition, you could use that... "Thank you, how kind," You said with a smile as you took the gift from him, letting your hand graze against his.

Woong's ears took a soft shade of pink at the contact. "I look forward to working with you–bye now." Woong took off quickly toward the dressing room where his members watched from the doorway.

He was someone you needed to keep an eye on.

Not long after the shoot took off in full swing–You always allowed your interns to take group photos, coaching them on operating a camera. When it was time for solo shots, you started from Donghyun to Daewhi, then Woojin, purposely leaving Woong for last.

You were decently surprised by this group. The shadows of the lights and their muscle tones were captured beautifully without you needing to do much work. Woojin and Donghyun opened their shirts more to get that extra allure in the shot.

As Woong approached the set, you watched him closely. His posture and confidence changed from the boy you'd seen before, he seemed more like a man here.

You took a few shots, then told your team to take a break, giving you the room alone with Woong.

He lay on the black reflective surface of the coffee table, his hands behind his head as he looked at you. He noticed everyone leave and spoke softly, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just think we need something a little more intimate. If you'll let me?" You approached him, and sat on the table, your hand on his chest. "Do you think we can open this a little?"

He nodded shyly. And his pink ears turned red as you unbuttoned his shirt, from top to bottom, leaning closely down and using both hands to open his shirt. You purposely took deeper breaths, letting the air rake across his skin as you slowly exposed his torso to the cold room. Your skin rubbed against Woong's muscular body as you worked on the shirt, as you focused on the shirt you could feel Woong's eyes watching you. You stepped back to look at your work–Woong's face turned pink as he looked around the room. Anywhere other than looking at you.

"Is it too open?" You giggled.

He nodded wordlessly.

"Would you like me to fix it?" You close one button in the middle of the line, covering his chest but leaving his abs open for display. The way they protruded and showed so proudly, he must've worked out right before the shoot. As you finished, you stayed close with your head hovering over his stomach as you looked up at him. "Better?" You asked.

"Y-Yes," His voice shook.

You noticed the bulge in his pants, getting more prominent.

"Mr. Woong, are you okay? You look like you're having a hard time," You cooed.

"N-No, I'm alright, just sore."

You looked at how his stomach flexed. "Oh, is this position uncomfy?" You climbed on top of him, resting your ass right above his waistline, and you leaned on his chest as you slid your hands under his head. "Please try and relax. I can't afford you cramping up."

Woong's eyes were wide as he slowly let his hands down, resting his body as you held him close. "We're so c-close," He muttered.

"What's that?" You leaned down further, letting your head lay in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, could you say that again?"

Woong's hands rose, awkwardly, unsure what to do. "I–We're so close. I don't–"

You shifted, pushing your clothes dick against his abs, and moaned in his ear. "Mr. Woong, your body is too sexy. I just can't help myself. Can you help?" You reached down to touch his hard cock, squeezing it, "Maybe we can help each other."

Woong hummed in your ear, "Mhm. I want to help you, however you want me to." His hands find a place at your hips as he guides you, pushing your crotches together and brushing against one another. You plant your lips on his neck, as you moan sinfully in his ear at the sensation. Woong slips your shirt past your shoulder and kisses it before sucking on it. "Call me hyung," He commands.

You moan in his ear, "Hyung~"

"Fuck–Moan more for me, I want to hear every pretty noise from you," He said as his hips started bucking into yours, desperate for more.

"Can I see it? Your cock," You nibble on his ear as you ask. Woong nods quickly as he groans from you playing with his ear. You slid off his lap and kneeled before him as he removed the gold-belted jewelry around his waist. Woong slid his pants and underwear down to unveil his cock, so pretty and shaved. He propped himself on his elbows to watch you as you wrapped your hands around his stiffness, staying at a slow and even pace as you stroked him. "Tell me how you want it, Hyung."

Woong groaned, "faster, like this." He took your hand and moved it at the pace he wanted, which made his whole body shake as you continued without his hand to guide you.

You study his face as you try different parts of his skin, squeezing and kissing on his shaft as you search for any sensitive spots. Every time you found a sensitive spot, Woong's groans would spike, peaking into a more high-pitched moan. You took him into your mouth, making his head roll back as his eyes lost focus.

"A little warning next time," He moaned as you flexed your tongue around him, sucking at the same time. "Holy–You're so good. Keep going," He pants as his hand lands on your head. His hand started pushing, questioningly at first, but with more strength when you allowed him to move you. As you take him deeper into your throat, Woong's hand tightens in your hair. "That's it. You're doing it so well, don't forget to look at me." You look at Woong, your eyes wet and some spit dripping onto his abs. That look must've been a trigger as Woong pulled you off him, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself.

You stroke him, earning more moans from him. "Did I do something wrong, hyung?"

Woong grabbed your hand, stopping you from stroking him. "N-No, you were perfect. So good, I almost came."

"I want you to cum, Hyung." You tried to move your hand, but Woong's grip was too tight.

"And I want to cum in you," He said with a deep voice. You smiled at him and that seemed to break his concentration on you. "I-If you'd let me," He added shyly.

You slid off your pants. "You want me to ride you, hyung?"

"No, you're already working so hard. Let me reward you now." Woong let you over to the leather couch, laying you on your back as his cock throbbed in anticipation. He lifts a leg onto his shoulder and positions himself at your hole. "Try not to get too loud, but let me hear you, beautiful." Your hands wrapped around Woong's neck as he pushed into you, your eyes rolling back as he stretched you. He gave an experimental thrust, sinking deeper into you. "Did you prepare early?"

"So what if I did?"

"You were going to seduce me the whole time, weren't you?"

You nodded. "Your afterglow will be an amazing capture in my camera."

Woong smirked as he fucked into you, starting with a quick pace. He felt you clench around him as he watched your face change from the sensations. "Fuck–Kiss me," Woong commanded as he leaned down to kiss you, fucking you as he did. He bit at your bottom lip before breaking the kiss and attacking your neck. "You're too much for me, I can't kiss everywhere." Woong moved to your collarbone, forcing your raised leg to your head. You arched your back as the burn from him flexing your leg and the pleasure from him hitting your prostate, made you see white.

Your hands scratched at Woong's back as you moaned. "I'm– Can't–"

Woong felt the way you tightened more around him. "You're close? Please, cum for me. Cum for hyung!" He pushed extra hard, getting deeper than before, instantly finishing you off as you came on your white shirt. Woong's eyes were sealed shut as his thrusts were getting more frantic. You rubbed his cheek, which made him look into your eyes. "You're so beautiful... I'm cumming–I’ll fucking cum, all in you. I'll cum so deep in you. I'll cum all I can!" Woong fulfilled his promise as he came inside you, pushing as far as he could. Your moans synced with his in harmony as Woong collapsed on top of you, his cock still pumping cum out.

You lifted his head, getting a look at his face. It was sweaty, his hair stuck to his forehead, with a lovely pinkish glow. "You're so perfect, we gotta hurry!" You pushed him off you, forcing his cock out of you with a pop. Woong was still exhausted so you dressed him again, leaving the couch behind and returning to the table. You posed him again and started taking photos as cum threatened to leak out of you.

You finished capturing him and got a change of clothes from one of your set bags. Woong came up behind you as you finished sliding on a new pair of pants, hugging you. "So, will hyung see you again?"

"Call your company and tell them to book a solo photo shoot. Then maybe."

"Maybe when you're not working?"

You turned and pat Woong on the head. "I'm always working, Mr. Woong."

Woong stared at you, awestruck. "No, hyung?"

"Sorry, special requests are only during photoshoot time. Like I said, have your company book another appointment. Work out, you can get on the cover of men's health. I know they call me for photos all the time."

Woong nodded quickly. "I'll make it as their front cover, and demand you take my pictures, love."

"That's Mr. Y/n, to you." You winked as you pushed past Woong.

A few weeks later, your work was displayed in the teaser photos for the comeback...

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #x male reader #x reader #kpop male reader #ab6ix #ab6ix woong #jeon woong #ab6ix x reader #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #woong

[jinnify]

ribs — jake sim

pairing: jake x y/n genre: fluff, comfort warnings: none word count: five hundred eighty-one now playing: get up by newjeans extended note at the bottom.

you lightly pressed your hands to his chest, feelings the thumping of his heart rate speed up when you looked him in the eyes. golden embers flickered about in his brown irises as the sunset glimmered on the horizon, its warm hue reflecting in his eyes. a warm smile spread across his lips as he looked down at your face, watching for any tiny micro-expressions he could catch. you bit down a smile the best you could, knowing that jake was doing exactly what you were. you slowly blinked your eyes, as if you were a cat trying to tell its owner that you loved them, to signal to him to close his eyes without having to open your mouth. 

you continued to carefully watch him stubbornly shake his head no; his wavy hair flopping around his head like puppy ears. at this point, your cheeks had begun to hurt from how hard you had been smiling at jake over how cute he was. your hands slid around his torso, locking him in your embrace. you blinked slowly again; jake followed along this time.

you brought your hands up to his cheeks as you awkwardly slid your nose into his, trying to fit your face against his. you wanted to be as close as humanly possible. the position should've felt uncomfortable, with you holding yourself up above him, but you couldn't have felt more comfortable on a plush bed than with him at this moment. you loved him. you loved him so much, it hurt. it hurt you physically to not be a part of him. you wanted to be inside him, in the little spaces between his ribs, where he could carry you absolutely everywhere. where you could be with him forever until you both died of old age. 

you wanted to breathe him. you wanted his scent lingering on your olfactory receptors until the end of your existence. your fingers carefully slipped themselves into his hair, feeling its silky texture on your palm. you lightly pulled, eliciting a soft groan from him. you felt his brow furrow against your face before he moved you both to plant a kiss on your lips. dozens of fireworks went off in your chest, making you feel as if you were vibrating all over.

he ignited something so wonderfully primal in you. you had no idea how to react other than by having embraced him in the tightest hug you had ever given a person in your life, accompanied by a multitude of sweet kisses to his lips that left traces of your soft pink lipstick all over his mouth. 

you picked up jake’s hands from off your hips, placing even more kisses on his knuckles eliciting a beautiful sound from his chest, his laugh. you could, both, listen to his laugh for an eternity and fall into a blissful sleep listening to jake laugh. his adorably high-pitched laugh that sounded like an angel’s choir to your ears. you completely adored watching jake’s face scrunch up in amusement. happiness looked best adorning his features.

his skin shined beautifully in the golden hour, the sun rays bouncing off his honey skin, glowing around him like a halo. you could stare at jake, and drink in each of his features until your vision grew blurry.

“have i ever told you i love you?” you smiled, not taking your eyes off of jake’s eyes.

“only every other hour,” jake teased, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

EXTENDED NOTE. bonjourrrr ~ i wrote this at four in the morning while i was sleep deprived and nearly delirious bc jake is the loml😋 i didn't even try to proofread this bc i do nawt have the mental capacity to do that so please don't judge my writing too hard .. anyway this was just a lil something for my engenes meanwhile i work on m:ot !🫶🏼

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen comfort #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #jake fluff #jake comfort #jake x reader #jake scenarios #jake imagines #📁 enhypen: jake

[dailyreverie]

Chain 'round my neck

A/N: ...can you still tell taylor swift is my entire personality this year? Whatever. Title comes from the song "Call it what you want" from Taylor Swift.

@flufftober - Day 23 Trinket

Pairing: Steven Grant x reader

Word count: 820

Flufftober masterlist

He was going to hate you. Steven was going to get home any minute now, and he was going to hate you. You had been looking for the necklace for what felt like hours now, everything you had in your handbag now scattered on the bed, your boxes of earrings emptied out the same way, yet the very same necklace Steven gave you for your birthday, with your initial beautifully carved in gold, was nowhere to be found. 

Did someone ripped it on the bus? Did you take it off at work and don’t remember? Damn it, you didn’t even had a good excuse for it and you could already hear the clink of Steven’s keys outside the door. “I’m home!” He called, with his usual chirpy tone and a smile in his voice.

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, going through your scattered belonging one last time before facing him. 

“I have a surprise for you, love!” The excitement in his voice only twisted your stomach more, guilt eating your insides.

“Steven, honey, before you say anything-”

“Is everything alright, love?” Steven found you sitting by the edge of your bed, the place you landed after giving up with your search. He joind your side, backpack still across his body, finding your hand and looking for your eyes.

“No, it’s not alright.” You took a deap breath, bracing yourself and looking for the strength you needed. “I lost the necklace you gave me.” Your eyes were filled with tears when you looked up at him, and even though you expected him to get mad, you still squeezed his hand; it was natural by now, looking for his reassurance any time you were upset.

“Oh. Honey you didn’t-” Steven tried to stop you, but you kept going about it anyway.

“No, no, I did. I lost it, and I don’t remember how or when, I don’t even remember if I wore it this morning now and I feel like shit because I love it so much and-” 

“I have it.” He spoke a bit louder, only so you could hear him above your nervous rant.

“What?” You asked after a beat. “You have it?”

Searching in his bag, Steven pulled out a little red velvet bag and placed it on your hand, leaning to see your reaction only to find you confused.

“I took it this morning because I needed to get it fixed for this.” He signaled the bag with his head, waiting for you to move and open it, not realizing how confused you were until he looked at you and saw your furrowed eyebrows. Steven chuckled, kissing your cheek sweetly, making you turn to look at him with tear-filled eyes. “Here, let me.”

With delicate fingers Steven took the small bag and untied the cords, opening it and pulling your necklace out of it. Extending it over your hand, you felt your heart swelling when, right next to your golden initial, you saw a golden moon - a crescent moon, pointing to the right just as the moon in their suits did.

“Seven… this is…” You were speechless, looking at the moon in your hand not knowing what to say.

“I saw it at an antique shop, the one we like by the museum. I saw it last week when I went for a book and it made me think of you, and how beautiful it would look on you. I needed the chain to get that little loop on top just right, I’m sorry, I should have-” He stopped when your hand reached his cheek, cupping it before meeting his lips in the middle.

“It’s beautiful.” You beamed, kissing him again and feeling him smile too. “Thank you,” You whispered, not trusting your own voice after going through so many emotions only to land in the love you had for him.

He swiftly took it from your hand, softly turning your shoulder to guide you to face away from him so he could place the necklace were it belong around your neck. When you faced him again you were both smiling like a goofs, the reflection of the sunset outside casting over your room making the charm shine. 

“Now we’re all matching.” Steven said with a grin, his eyes locked with yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for an embrace that made the remains of the worry and anxiety you felt before fade away, leaving nothing but the endless love you felt for each other.

“I’m sorry I freaked out.” You whispered, now feeling a bit embarrassed. 

He chuckled and held you tighter, his voice soft and affectionate. “You know I love a good treasure hunt.”

Maybe you necklace was never lost, yet still, you had found once again how truly lucky you were to have Steven in your life, making every moment as enchanting as a crescent moon on a starry night.

🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂🌙🍂

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#flufftober 2023 #flufftober #day 23 #marvel #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant headcanon #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant imagine #steven grant fluff #steven grant x gender neutral reader #steven grant x y/n #steven grant fic #steven grant blurb

[look-at-the-soul]

Vows Renewal

Cillian Murphy x Mexican reader (blurb)

Request by anon; thank you for sending in this lovely idea! I already had a similar idea with a reader from Brazil so I wanted to make this completely different 🤭 Que lo disfrutes! Enjoy

Translation in English will be in italics 😉

Cillian felt like his face had been hurting from smiling so much.

It was a beautiful evening by the beach with his wife by his side and their loved ones.

Skin sun kissed, the smell of the sea, the crash of the waves softly as if it was the music background, happiness to the max. What could he possibly ask for? If he already had it all…

His closest family members and friends traveled all the way from Ireland to one of the most beautiful places in the world, there was no other place with a sight like this Mexican beach. They chose that place to celebrate their vows renewal because it had a special spot in their hearts as it was the very same place where they celebrated a second wedding -to give the family the chance, they made two small weddings back then both in Ireland and Mexico over ten years ago- and now they just needed another excuse to go back.

It had been an incredible ceremony, they exchanged their rings and vows both in English and Spanish in a private resort, after posing for photos and taking a moment to welcome everyone they had the most delicious dinner and dessert. His kids sitting at each side of them at the table, everyone thought having a Mexican buffet was the greatest idea ever, as they requested all kinds of traditional dishes to be served as well as another table for sweets and spicy desserts that included from glazed churros to grilled corn with different toppings. Drinks flowing in every direction, everyone wearing a contagious smile.

He decided to take it slow with the tequila that night, there would be plenty opportunities to get drunk but he got to celebrate ten years of marriage once.

Spotting the beautiful bride among the people around her, he smiled pleased. Her dress had loads of embroidered flowers made by Mexican artisans.

“Señora [Mrs.] Murphy?” He chuckled at her surprise. “May I have a word with the bride?”

“Mum! Can I’ve some cake?” Azul their daughter asked, interrupting the two of them.

Y/N raised an eyebrow towards the girl. She knew her father would say yes, her eyes sparkled and lighted even more the blue/green tones in her eyes.

“Puedo comer otra rebanada de pastel?” She asked in Spanish this time around.

“Una pequeña, corazón.” [A small piece, sweetheart.] Y/N replied.

“Yo también quiero!” [I want some too] Whined Oisin.

“Está bien.” [Alright] She agreed feeling a pair of arms wrapping around her waist from behind.

“Quiero postre también.” [I want dessert too.] Cillian whispered against her ear, giving her goosebumps all over her skin.

“Esta noche.” [Tonight] She promised turning around in his arms, she wouldn’t mind getting lost in his eyes.

Leaning down for a short kiss, he could feel himself getting lost in that smile that made him go back in time to the first moment he saw her.

“What?”

Cillian shook his head. “Visiting some memories.”

“Oh… may I know about what?”

“From the day we met,” her eyes danced towards his lips, and up again taking in the way the sunset reflected beautifully in his eyes.

Planting both hands on his shoulders, she rose to her tiptoes to find his lips, as her heart swelled with love and pride to remember also, of that day they met in that film festival in France. She had been chatting to a director and he suddenly bumped into her back distracted, after an apology and making sure she was alright, he smiled, after that moment, they spent the rest of the night together and from then on they never spent another night apart.

Well, except when he was filming.

“You want to know a secret?” His arm sneaked around her backless dress. “Señora Murphy.” [Mrs. Murphy.]

“Of course.” She beamed, brushing away the fringe from his forehead.

“I didn’t bump into you accidentally… I wanted to, no, I needed to meet you.”

Just as Y/N was about to reply something when suddenly the mariachi interrupted the party and started signing, the group received them with a chorus of chants and clapping. Bringing more happiness than they already felt.

***

Master list

Blurbs

A/N: I hope you like this! The girl’s name Azul means blue (color) in English but it’s a popular name around 💙 thank you for reading I loved writing this piece!! 🇲🇽♥️

Tag list: @lyarr24 @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @lauren-raines-x @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @rangerelik @lovemissyhoneybee @ironpen @kittycatcait219 @shelundeadxxxx @kathrinemelissa @autumns-apple @lau219

#that’s what Cill said #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fiction #cillian murphy blurb #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x fem reader

[theliterarybeldam]

Love Beyond Time - Chapter 1: A Fateful Encounter

It's finally here y'all! Please enjoy something that caused a lot of sweat and tears for me ❤️😭

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story besides my OFC and potential future OCs. This is purely a work of enjoyment.

Series Masterlist

The heart of London pulsated with energy as Lady Elizabeth Pierce, a woman of resplendent African descent, emerged from her stately home onto the bustling streets. Her radiant skin, as rich as the coffee beans of Ethiopia, contrasted beautifully with her elegant white dress. Her tightly coiled hair was tastefully pinned up, revealing her regal countenance and sparkling hazel eyes. Her mannerisms echoed a bygone era, a grace and elegance that seemed out of place in the current world.

The secret behind her timeless beauty was known to only a few. Time, for Lady Pierce, was a frozen river, her life a pause button that had been hit in her late twenties. Like Adaline Bowman from a story she once read, Elizabeth too did not age. Her tale was not of fiction but her own reality, woven through the warp and weft of over two centuries.

Lady Elizabeth Pierce was born in the heart of Ethiopia, a land teeming with lush flora and fauna, hidden from the world, housing secrets as old as time itself. The vibrant city was an advanced paradise, a stark contrast against the backdrop of its rich traditions and culture. 

Her childhood was saturated with the vibrant hues of the Ethiopian festivals, the thrill of tribal dances, and the wisdom conveyed through the ancient tales of her ancestors. She was brought up in the shadow of the majestic Panther God, always aware of the potent power that pulsed through their lands.

However, her life took an extraordinary turn when an encounter with a revered shaman left her with a cryptic prophecy - an intertwining of her destiny with the enigma of time. This mysterious event marked the beginning of her timeless existence.

Centuries later, as she stood on the foreign land of England, her memories of Ethiopia were as vivid as the sunsets, the rhythm of its pulse echoing in her heart. Her roots ran deep, grounding her to the heart of Africa, regardless of the miles she had traversed since then.

Her transition from a young Ethiopian woman to Lady Elizabeth Pierce of London was a tale of resilience and resourcefulness. With her timeless existence, she bore witness to the changing world around her, her eternal youth a blessing from the shaman that allowed her to navigate the ebb and flow of the centuries.

Embracing her immortality, she used the wisdom acquired over the years to amass knowledge, skills, and wealth. She found herself intrigued by the distant land of England, its culture, its monarchy, and decided to make it her home. With her wealth amassed over the years, she bought land and a stately home in London, her grand residence soon becoming a symbol of her stature.

Her intelligence, charm, and philanthropic nature soon caught the attention of Queen Victoria, who was so impressed by Elizabeth's contributions to society that she bestowed her with a title, officially making her Lady Elizabeth Pierce. Over time, she became a figure of fascination and respect, her seemingly eternal youth adding to her aura of mystique. However, she kept her secret carefully guarded, the mystery of her agelessness becoming an unsolved riddle in the heart of London.

Away in the frosty expanse of Russia, Count Alexei Vronsky led a life of solitude in his vast estate. Since the tragic end of his tormented affair with Anna Karenina, he had withdrawn from society, living with the ghosts of their past. However, the news of a grand ball in London, hosted by the illustrious Lady Pierce, coaxed him out of his reclusion.

As Vronsky embarked on his journey from the frost-laden expanse of Russia to the buzzing metropolis of London, he found himself in a state of melancholy contemplation. The biting cold of the Russian winter seemed a reflection of his own solitude, its icy grasp mirroring his internal chill.

The trip was long, the scenery changing as he moved across the continent. The vast Russian plains, stark and blanketed with snow, slowly gave way to the greener landscapes of Eastern Europe. The monotony of the endless expanses was occasionally broken by huddled villages and bustling towns. The harsh Russian winds slowly softened, replaced by the crisp, cool air of the west. Each part of the journey echoed his solitude, whispering tales of his past, stirring memories he had long since tried to bury.

He passed through cities that bristled with life, each one a stark contrast to his current emotional state. The elegance of Vienna, the charm of Paris, the majesty of the Swiss Alps - these places, magnificent as they were, held no joy for him. They were but waypoints on his journey, devoid of the warmth of home, echoing his own emptiness.

His arrival in London marked a significant shift in his journey. The city was a vortex of energy, teeming with life. Its grand architecture, the bustling streets, the rhythmic hum of the city - everything felt different from his homeland. Yet, as much as it was disconcerting, it also offered a glimmer of hope, a chance for a fresh start.

As he moved through the city, taking in the unfamiliar sights and sounds, Vronsky couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity. His heart, which had been in a state of icy numbness, seemed to thaw slightly. Here, in this city of endless possibilities, perhaps he could find solace, perhaps he could escape the shadows of his past.

The grand ball held by Lady Elizabeth Pierce was a spectacle of elegance and sophistication. Every detail was meticulously curated, each element a testament to Elizabeth's exquisite taste and attention to detail. The grand mansion was transformed into an extravagant carnival, its opulence matching that of the royal court.

The grand hall was illuminated with hundreds of glistening chandeliers, their light casting a soft glow on the assembly of distinguished guests. Nobles from the length and breadth of England and from continental Europe filled the hall, their gowns and suits adding a vibrant palette of colors against the rich tapestry of the mansion.

A live orchestra was stationed at one end of the hall, the music they played was a captivating blend of classical and contemporary tunes. Their melodies filled the air, adding to the cheerful buzz of the gathering. Couples twirled on the dance floor, their movements fluid and graceful, mirroring the rhythm of the music.

Servers, dressed in pristine white uniforms, moved around offering a plethora of delicacies. The aroma of roasted meat, baked goods, and exotic spices wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of fine wines and perfumes.

Conversations ebbed and flowed around the grand hall. From political debates and discussions of recent literature to harmless flirtations and whispers of latest scandals, the gathering was abuzz with engaging dialogues. Laughter rang out, toasts were raised, and connections were formed.

Entering the lavishly decorated ballroom of Lady Pierce's mansion, Vronsky was greeted by the intoxicating music of the orchestra and the heady scent of perfumes. However, it was Lady Pierce's striking beauty that held him captive. Poised and graceful, she navigated the throng, engaging with her guests, her lively eyes taking in the merriment. She was the perfect hostess, her aura commanding respect and admiration from her guests. Vronsky almost started to believe this was a goddess idly chatting with people who were truly clueless to who that was. 

The grandeur of the ball was momentarily forgotten as Elizabeth's gaze locked with the newcomer's. There was something hauntingly familiar in the man's eyes that drew her in, a sense of shared solitude that resonated with her own. She gracefully navigated through the crowd to introduce herself.

"Count Vronsky, I presume?" Elizabeth said, extending her hand in greeting. 

He took it, bowing slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes, and you must be the enchanting hostess, Lady Elizabeth Pierce."

Elizabeth gave a small, appreciative laugh. "Flattery so early in the conversation? One might think you're trying to win my favor."

"Only stating the obvious, Lady Pierce," he replied with a half-smile, his eyes twinkling with genuine admiration.

Their conversation unfolded naturally, starting from polite pleasantries and gradually delving into deeper topics. Elizabeth found herself drawn to the man's intellect and his perspective on art, literature, and culture, which mirrored her own. 

"You have quite the appreciation for art, Count Vronsky," Elizabeth observed, referencing their discussion about the Renaissance.

"Only as much as you do, Lady Pierce. It's rare to find someone who appreciates Botticelli as much as I do," Vronsky replied, his interest in her visibly growing.

“There is an agelessness about you. It feels as if you've seen the rise and fall of ages."

Elizabeth met his gaze, a soft smile touching her lips, "Perhaps I have."

They shared light-hearted banter and stories, their connection deepening with each passing moment. The world seemed to blur around them, their focus solely on each other. 

"Do you believe in fate, Count Vronsky?" Elizabeth asked suddenly, her gaze intense.

"I can't say I've given it much thought," he admitted, slightly taken aback. "Why do you ask?"

"Perhaps it is fate that has brought us together tonight," Elizabeth proposed, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. 

This unspoken shared understanding marked the beginning of a poignant bond between the two, a bridge of companionship across the chasms of their solitary lives. Their shared experiences of love and loss, and their ability to transcend them, tied their fates together in a dance as old as time.

As the last notes of music faded away and the merry chatter of the departing guests grew faint, a deafening silence descended upon Elizabeth's grand mansion. She found herself standing in the now deserted ballroom, the echoes of laughter and music only serving as a stark contrast to the stillness that enveloped her. 

The flickering light from the dying candles threw long, dancing shadows across the room, the extravagant decorations now seeming almost eerie in their quietness. Elizabeth's gaze was drawn to her reflection in the grand mirror on the far wall. Her timeless beauty, framed by the gleaming diamond necklace around her neck and the rich silks of her gown, was a sight to behold. Yet, the woman who stared back at her felt like a stranger, her radiant appearance belying the inner turmoil she felt.

Her heart felt heavy with names etched deep within its corners - names of lovers she had once held dear, whispers of affection shared in the silent watches of the night, remnants of love stories that had faded with time. Her life was a testament to the endless cycle of love and loss, each love story a reminder of the agonizing loneliness that followed their inevitably brief existence. 

The grandeur of her life was a double-edged sword, the vibrant celebrations and extravagant balls merely temporary distractions from the solitude that awaited her. As she stood alone, her heart echoed with the melancholy of lost connections, the vacant halls of her mansion reflecting the emptiness she felt.

The fear of losing someone again was a constant gnawing presence, a silent specter that loomed over her every time she found herself growing close to someone. Yet, she also recognized the longing for companionship that tugged at her heartstrings, the yearning for the warmth of shared affection, of heartfelt conversations, of love.

She was caught in a constant struggle - a tug of war between her desire for love and the fear of the inevitable loss that her immortality brought. As the silent witness of passing ages, her heart was an immortal battleground of conflicting emotions, the scars of past losses a grim reminder of her endless existence. Her solitude was not just a condition of her circumstances, but a fortress she built around herself, a protective barrier against the inevitable heartbreak that loving mortal beings entailed.

With the quiet hum of the London night as her only company, Elizabeth settled at her mahogany desk, the flicker from the nearby candelabrum casting a warm glow on the parchment before her. Picking up her quill, she paused, her thoughts lingering on the evening's encounter.

"Dearest Esther," she began, her script elegant and precise. Esther was her oldest confidante, the one person who had managed to see beyond Elizabeth's mask of endless youth and understand the solitude hidden behind it. Their friendship was a source of strength for Elizabeth, a treasured connection that had withstood the ravages of time.

"I met a man at the ball tonight, a certain Count Vronsky from Russia," she wrote, her thoughts returning to their engrossing conversation, the ease of their banter, and the depth she'd seen in his eyes.

"There's a depth to him, a sorrow that resonates with my own," she continued, her quill dancing across the parchment. "He carries the weight of his past like an invisible shroud, much like I do."

A thoughtful smile traced her lips as she remembered his words, his appreciation for art, his passion for literature. "His intellect is as captivating as his charm. His words weave a tapestry of profound thought, mirroring my own fascination for art and literature."

The memory of his gaze, warm yet haunted, caused an unexpected flutter in her heart. "His eyes, Esther, are windows to a tormented soul. I found myself drawn to him, compelled to understand the mysteries they hold."

Elizabeth sighed, her gaze momentarily drawn to the starlit sky outside her window. "I know the perils that lie in the path of my heart, yet I cannot help but wonder. Could I dare to love again? Could I dare to risk the agony of inevitable loss for moments of shared love and companionship?"

Her words echoed the turmoil within her. "I find myself at a crossroads, Esther. To love or not to love, that is the question that plagues me."

She signed off, "Yours always, Elizabeth," before sealing the letter. As she dispatched it to Esther, she felt a strange mixture of relief and anticipation. Sharing her thoughts with her old friend, even in the form of a letter, had always brought her solace. Now, she could only wait for Esther's wisdom to guide her through her inner turmoil.

#aaron taylor johnson x reader #alexei vronsky x reader #count vronksy x reader

[indigoraysoflight]

Thoughts on the TBOC teaser + sneak peek

There is a ton of fandom discourse on this, and I appreciate you all for taking the time to share your thoughts and perspectives. I discussed a bit of this in episode #26 of our podcast, but I wanted to expand on my perspective here in a nuanced way. If you choose to read this, know that I will be very candid in this post. If your mental health needs a respite from heavy discourse, please take care of your mental health first.

It's absolutely wonderful to have Carol back. The sneak peek was exactly what I expected. It built intrigue from Daryl's POV, expanded on Carol's headspace, and set the stage. But I wish I could be excited about the teaser.

Carol's POV was beautifully nuanced and as angsty as I wanted it to be, but there was a disconnect with Daryl's POV. Although you hear the frustration in his voice, it doesn't sit well with me that a show called The Book of Carol starts with the voiceover + a shot of another character positioned with Daryl in soft lighting gazing at sunset with the juxtaposition of Carol's raw loneliness as she desperately tries to get to him.

Carol's desperation is explicit, clear, and heartbreaking, but there is an imbalance because Daryl's POV needs to convey the same level of need to "find home." Obviously, we don't have enough promo material to define that clearly yet, which is why I'm hoping that people speaking up about their true feelings will help the marketing team position future promo in a way that elicits more overwhelmingly positive reactions from their audience.

I want to make it explicitly clear that my issue here is not with Daryl's character. I'm noticing discourse around how harshly he is judged sometimes, and I agree. My issue is with the way the teaser was spliced together and marketed. My concern for the season is because his character has historically been used to incite fandom wars through shipbaiting in an attempt to please all audiences. Which never worked, festered misogyny and fandom infighting, produced mixed reactions and resulted in Daryl's character paying the price for it.

At the root of it is ambiguity. Their audience was unequivocally united when the first teaser featured the following tagline. There's a reason for it.

To find home is to find each other

It's at the core of Carol and Daryl's relationship. That is the foundation of this show, the connective tissue that the majority of their fans instantly resonated with. It's the key.

I understand that they're at the start of their promo campaign and will continue to map the viewer's journey. Promo content from now on should ideally build hype, give narrative cues/hooks, and build audience awareness and understanding to set expectations for The Book of Carol. So, we may not see this tagline written out on every teaser, but it should still reflect in the content seen on the screen so the viewers make the connection.

In the current teaser, it shows up very sharply for Carol, but with Daryl, that messaging is muddled. This is why it's not resonating with some fans — everyone is interpreting it through their own unique lens.

TWDCaryl

It's nice to see the official accounts use this tag and pro-Caryl copy to promote the show; it's a huge step forward. But again, the feelings need to be reflected in what we see on the screen. If it's generating mixed reactions — the promo content isn't hitting the mark, and in this case, it's too ambiguous.

Any marketing team worth its salt won't give you any inclination of canon, reunion, or interactions between Daryl and Carol during the promo campaign — at least not this early in the campaign. They would want to save your excitement for when those scenes show up on screen.

But I hope the promo that comes out after this gives me more snippets of Daryl's desperation to find his way back. People invest in your brand if they believe they can trust you. Trust is earned. Many people have valid trust issues after the last few years. And this is the way they can build trust with people who have felt betrayed in the past and left the fandom.

The Daryl I know, love and trust

I fell in love with Daryl first. He's one of the strongest characters on the show, not only because of what he endured but also because of his determination to nurture and protect the people he loves. Most of all, because I resonated with his unwavering loyalty to Carol and their family.

The Daryl I know struggles to understand his worth and retreats into the darkness when he is isolated. His demons find him there. Carol is the only one who can pull him out of the darkness, just like Daryl is the only one who can pull her out of hers. They're each other's guiding light. The Daryl I know and love doesn't need to choose. There is no choice. His loyalty to Carol and their family is his first priority. Always.

The articles published by big media outlets surrounding the spinoff often suggest that Daryl is "conflicted". These articles started sprouting after the showrunner's interview, which added more ambiguity to the mix. Every writer added their own understanding of the ambiguity and wrote the articles accordingly, which muddled the messaging even further.

Whether people like it or not, these articles build awareness and set the stage for the show. They're an essential form of digital marketing, offering content that audiences can consume to understand the show. So if they're missing the mark, people consuming these articles will rightfully feel confused about what the season will bring.

A showrunner who gets them

I trust Daryl completely. I know where his heart lies, what his motivations are, and how desperately he wants to get back to Carol and their family. But I don't trust the showrunner who is writing him, and I don't think his motivations align with Daryl's.

Clémence is a talented actress. Her character had the potential to be a strong ally to Daryl and Carol. But her character was twisted to suit the narrative, which included a heavy helping of unnecessary shipbaiting. I'm tired of that.

Melissa's EP status gives me hope for Carol's story, but she's not the showrunner. Norman and Melissa's acting, chemistry, and understanding of their characters and relationship can only do so much.

I really hope they pick a pro-Caryl showrunner who can do justice to Daryl and Carol's story going forward and fill it with the love, vulnerability, gentleness, and deep richness it deserves. I'd personally like to see a progressive female showrunner who isn't afraid to support Caryl and write nuanced female characters who can hold their own regardless of the circumstances.

My hopes and fears for Caryl's future

I love Daryl to pieces, but I'll be honest and say I love Carol more. If you've ever listened to the podcast, that is clear. I'm so happy to have Melissa back. I cannot wait to see Norman and Melissa act together. But, to me, this season is make-or-break. It's a chance for the network to show their audience they're listening and ready to deliver satisfying, undeniable canon for Caryl.

I don't know if your thoughts align with what I said, but I think most of us can agree that we're absolutely tired of shipbaiting, ambiguity, and seasons that promise but don't deliver explicit moments between Caryl.

I hope to god this season proves me wrong. I hope they hear the thoughts that Carylers are bravely sharing here and adjust course accordingly, not only in the promo circuit but beyond. Because whether the posts are more positively inclined or negatively inclined, the ones I read more or less hit this note — Daryl loves Carol deeply, and they will fight the world to find each other, because they are each other's home. Always.

Whether any of this resonates with you or not, I encourage you to share your own thoughts and remember to tag caryl. Share why they are important to you, why you want them to go canon and what this show and these characters mean to you. Speak from the heart and share whatever you're comfortable with because your voice has power, and you deserve to take up space.

2024 is the year of Caryl. So many have waited a long time for it. Let's hope they honour that.

To those who are genuinely excited, I'm glad you're able to find something to hold on to. I wish I could join in, but I have to be honest about my reservations to honour how I feel about this. If you took the time to read this, I thank you. Stay safe and be well. ❤️

#caryl #caryl spinoff #the book of carol #twd caryl #discourse

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ep.11 thoughts

[You Are Going to Brazil]

(Contents: Immediate reactions, art direction)

OH JESUS, WHAT WERE THOSE THINGS? ANDY AND FUUKO WERE SURROUNDED, BUT ONLY FUUKO SEEMED TO CARE?? HOW CAN DAVID PRO JUST INTRODUCE A NEW FACET TO THE STORY AND NOT DWELL ON IT???

But seriously, it was kind of refreshing to see actual people in Undead Unluck for once, even if they found excuses to isolate our cast again as quickly as possible. By the looks of it, they actually added more people to the scene in the clothing store

Would've been really funny for Fuuko to be freaking out about being surrounded when there isn't a soul to be seen, though

All of the scenes between Andy and Fuuko were pretty faithful to the manga, and I think they all more than did them justice. Their relationship is just as cute and endearing as always if not more so being able to see them move and hear the emotion in their voices. Fuuko's Unluck in this episode was also executed perfectly, the comedic timing was absolutely excellent

The best part of the episode had to be the introduction of Rip and Latla, though. I'm a little sad that we didn't get to see Rip's attack like we did with Andy's in episode 3, instead just seeing a flash and the aftermath, but it gets a pass because not only is Rip a villain and has the excuse of being more mysterious inherently, but also because his little flourish with the scalpel was really fun

That color change after Rip attacked was an interesting choice, too. I've likely mentioned this, but I always wanted the UU anime to use colored blood, at least during high-tension scenes, on the basis that that's the iconic aesthetic of the volume covers and logo. I wanted Chainsaw Man to do the same thing, but apparently Yuki Yase and Ryu Nakayama aren't as visionary as I am. Especially weird since David Pro also does Jojo, so they're no strangers to that style

The colors changing for the blood in this moment as opposed to any other though implies that it's meant to convey the activation of Unrepair, giving us a greater visual cue that something is happening than just the guards declaring that they can't move and then not moving. I don't know if that's going to be a consistent thing for Rip, but I would like it if any given Unrepairable wound is accompanied by a consistent visual indicator, at least in the moment that they're dealt

The visual direction of this episode was also just really pretty. The sunset on the beach, the neon lighting as Andy and Fuuko sat down to eat, and most notably, the newly formed stars in the night sky reflecting beautifully on the ocean and creating the illusion that the ship was floating through space. It was such a great visual for such an innocuous moment, I really hope they keep it for the upcoming action scenes. If they do, then the upcoming fight may actually end up being the crowd-puller I was hoping the Victor fight would be

Don't want to get my hopes up too high, but I can at least be confident that it's going to be super cool

Until next time!

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #uu anime #4y1a reviews

[rossalotus]

A soft Koutarou in the sunset

For the lovely @kazenomegaminowanpisu <3 <3

March was almost over and cherry blossoms decorated almost every street in your path. The two of you walked slowly, hand in hand and easy going, as if every problem in the world could wait for tomorrow, or the next day, or not come at all

As you walked through the park, Koutarou pulled you to the empty park bench with the best view to the sunset. The sky was as pink as the sakuras around you and as you turned your gaze to your boyfriend you could see how the colors of the golden hour reflected so beautifully in his also golden eyes

Could be your imagination but for a moment you watched your own reflection in those stunning orbs and it was as if your face, too, was illuminated by the starshine that emanated from Koutarou

For everyone around you, Koutarou was an energetic, loud and amazing volleyball player, with the potential to become one of the best players this world has ever seen. People looked up to him for it and you were so proud to be his partner but honestly, it wasn’t that that made you fall for him

Of course, you loved the star ace Koutarou was but you loved even more the sweet boy that also lived inside him. The boy who loved watching the stars and the sun, the one that would shove your hands in his pockets to make sure they were warm, the one who would turn into a ball of softness whenever he saw a stray cat or a stray dog around, the one who would carefully caress your cheeks with his calloused fingers, locking his gaze in you as if studying your face with the most loving eyes you’ve ever seen - just like he was doing now

“What is it, Kou?”

His answer was just a little smile, then, without a warning, he got up and walked away. You didn’t have time to process the whole thing. What was going on? Did you have something weird in your face?

Before you could even react, he was back, a satisfied smile on his face. He sat down on the bench by your side once more and gently pushed your hair behind your ear, placing a cherry blossom there with so much tenderness that you couldn’t help but melt inside

Koutarou whispered “perfect” before placing a soft kiss at your forehead. You smiled at him and got comfortable in his arms, relaxing your head on his strong shoulders and watching the sunset 

Yes, this was perfect

#bokuto koutaro #haikyuu fanfiction #bokuto x reader #fluff

[thebigqueer]

Jason Grace & Piper McLean - "Happily Ever Afters" - One-Shot

Summary: cute/deep moment(s) with piper & jason where they discuss the existence of god(s) & jason's daddy issues. pre-break up. very self-indulgent Word Count: 3931 TW: Mention of religion, gods, & Chrstianity. Read on AO3

Piper never really questioned what happened after the “Happily Ever After” at the end of every romance book she’d read. They were happy in the end, just like the trope implied, and that was all she needed to know.

But now, as she reclines by the beach, watches Jason stomp around in the water, she’s starting to wonder. What did happen? Did they truly live happily ever after? Is there such a thing?

Maybe she shouldn’t even be asking those questions. After all, those romance books existed for a reason. There never was meant to be any questioning about what happened after. 

And maybe Piper should be doing the same. Maybe she’s just thinking too much about her and Jason’s relationship, and maybe her overthinking is making her paranoid. Maybe the silences between them are normal, and she’s just starting to get antsy. Besides, it’s not like they’re having any serious fights or anything. As long as they’re not fighting, they’re good. 

In fact, as Piper lays there, watching Jason come out of the water with the sunset glinting over his bare chest, illuminating each individual water droplet, the sun ringing his body with a golden halo, things are better than good. Great, even. 

Piper smiles as he drops into the sand. “How’s the water?”

“Cold, kind of,” he says. He takes the towel beside her and starts to pat himself dry. “I think because the sun’s going down, but still.” 

Piper winces. “Yeah, sorry. I feel really bad that I couldn’t get off work earlier.” 

Jason smiles and starts running the towel through his hair. “You’re fine. Besides, it looks really pretty right now.” As he’s getting the back of his neck, he fixes a grin on her. “I can’t believe there's just a beach near your house. That is so cool.” 

“I guess so. Just famous parent things, as everyone knows.” Piper allows a smirk to slip by her lips, just to let him know she’s joking.

Jason snorts. “Right, as everyone knows.” 

Another one of those silences buzzes around them, and even the lapping of the water or the crying of the seagulls can’t infiltrate it. Piper looks at her toes, trying to search for something to say, something to shatter this quietness.

“Oh!” Piper exclaims, and relief gets her heart pumping again. “I almost forgot. I have a gift for you.” 

“A gift?” he asks, but his eyes look panicked around the edges. “Why? Is it an important day?” 

Piper laughs as she throws open the beach bag next to her and pulls out a small box. “Can’t I just give you something for the fun of it?”

Jason smiles, but it’s still quivering around the edges. “Sure, but now I feel bad....” 

“Well, don’t,” Piper says as she places the gift in Jason’s hands. “Just consider this me treating you.” 

That finally pulls a laugh out of Jason, and it sounds like a cool breeze coming to lift away her worries. Piper forgets about that awkward silence, about all the things they’re not saying to each other. 

She and Jason are fine. It’s just in her head. 

“Okay,” he finally relents, pulling the ribbon wrapped around it. “But whatever it is, I’m going to get you a doubly awesome gift.”

“We’ll see about that, Sparky.”

Piper watches eagerly as he flicks the cover off and peers inside. His face goes through a ripple of emotions - anticipation, confusion, realization, confusion again, and then finally, amusement. He lifts the plain silver chain - topped with a cross pendant - and lifts it up. The drooping sunlight wraps itself around the necklace, makes it glint even brighter and even more beautifully than before.

But Jason has that kind of power. He makes everything more.

“This is stunning, Pipes,” Jason breathes, his eyes reflecting the glint off the chain. Then he throws her a grin and says, “Mind doing me the honors?”

“Of course. Turn around.” 

Jason hands her the chain and follows her instructions. Piper leans in gingerly, wraps her arm around his shoulders to reach the other end of the necklace, and something about this moment, being engulfed in his entire essence, feels right. She feels like the fifteen-year-old girl she was when she first met him, moving slowly, precisely, careful not to make any move that might scare him off, yet still daring to take a step closer, just to show him how dangerous she could be, how many risks she was willing to take with him. 

She brushes her fingers gently over the nape of his neck as she latches it on, absorbing this moment with him right here, just the two of them with the sun sinking around them, closing on another day together.

“Done,” she murmurs, afraid to let the moment go.

Jason turns back around to face her and grins, touching the chain and admiring the pendant. “It’s really so pretty, Piper. I don’t think I can ever take it off.” 

Piper laughs. “I’m glad you like it. It took a lot of deliberation, to be honest.” 

“Yeah?” Jason raises his eyebrows a bit. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… wanted to do something nice for you.” 

In reality, she wanted something to strike a conversation, something that would get them keeping each other’s gaze longer. But she doesn’t voice any of that. Instead, she says, “I couldn’t think about many things you really liked, and then I remembered you’re, like, making all those blueprints and models for that temple project you have going on, and you’re basically a priest now.” She shrugs. “I thought a priest should have something fitting.” 

Jason raises an eyebrow. “So you got me a symbol of Christianity when our entire lives are based on a pagan belief system?” 

In any other situation she might’ve felt outright humiliated, but the subtle buzz of playfulness ringing his eyes allows her to snort instead. “It was very thought-out, I promise. Firstly, as a Roman priest, Mr. Pontifex, you should know the Romans adopted Christianity as their official religion.” 

“True. But they also hated the Christians at first.” 

“That’s besides the point. The real reason I got it for you was because I know how much the religion thing means to you.” 

Not because Jason was particularly religious. But for the opposite reason - he was touched by the very idea of gods, of any religion. He didn’t necessarily believe in all of them (except for the Roman and Greek gods in their world, though that didn’t count as believing if they were actually, literally real) but he loved the idea of people putting their faiths in higher powers. Of having that utter belief that there was someone up there looking out for them.

“I think it’s just interesting, you know,” he’d said one night, lying on the floor of Piper’s bedroom, the two of them waiting for exhaustion to creep in on them. “I’ve been personally involved with real gods and I know what kinds of punishments they can give you for real, and a lot of the time I’m like, ‘This is so unfair, I didn’t ask for any of this!’ But then you look at, like, really faithful people and many of them say that whatever happens is just the will of their god - or gods. And, I don’t know… that’s just kind of cool, I guess.” Jason paused to chew on his lip. “I know Thalia told me once that our mom was a Christian, and we went to church a few times, but I don’t think we were ever serious about it. Like, I don’t think I’m particularly religious or anything. But having that kind of faith in someone higher is really… I don’t know… inspiring? To just have so much trust in their respective gods.” Jason paused for a second. And then, in a whisper, he thought aloud, “Maybe I think that’s cool because I don’t have that same trust in our gods.” 

“Our parents, you mean?” Piper whispered back. She knew she was treading dangerous territory here, whispering about the gods right under their noses, but a part of her liked the thrill. This was a part of Jason she hadn’t seen before. He always tried his best to be careful around them, diplomatic, mature, but this was different. And she admired this part of him, this inquisitive, insightful part that was questioning everything. 

Jason turned to her and shrugged. “I guess. But I feel bad saying that, because then it just makes me think… is my parental relationship to them the reason I just don’t believe? Knowing what the Roman and Greek gods are like, is that why I’m, like, scared to believe in a faith? Because I’m just mixing up parenthood and godhood?”

“Are you scared?”

Jason considered it. “I don’t think I’m scared. I think I’m just hesitant to commit.” 

“That’s fine, you know.”

“I know. I think I’d prefer not believing, though. But just the idea is something I think about a lot. It fascinates me, feeling so loyal to higher beings.” Jason sighed. “Maybe, in a way, it’s similar to how we act with the gods. I guess we’re loyal, too. At least some of us.” 

“Some of us more than others,” Piper said, and she gave Jason a pointed raise of her brows. 

Jason laughed and turned his face up to the ceiling. Piper watched the red glow of her LED lights bloom in his irises, turn them into a strange, darker red. There was something almost dreamy in his gaze, all his thoughts floating past his eyes like clouds over a sunset.

She turned her own head back to the ceiling and closed her eyes, ready to finally let herself relax, but then Jason asked, “What about you?”

So she opened her eyes and peeked at him. “What about me?”

“What do you think about religion?” 

If anyone else had asked that, maybe Piper would have ignored the question, or provided some short, unthoughtful answer. But the full confidence Jason had when he expressed his thoughts - like he could trust her with this little piece of him - urged her to reveal a bit of herself, too. 

She took a deep breath and turned back up to the ceiling. “I think religion is… inspiring to me, too, probably for similar reasons,” she said. “I think there’s power in it. There’s unity in it.” But then she shook her head and squinted her eyes, trying to narrow her thoughts into some coherent line. “I don’t really know much about my tribe, if I’m being honest. I know some stories my dad used to tell me, ones that his dad told him, but that’s about it. And I guess to me it just impacts what I think about religion. I mean, like, I don’t think I’ve thought about it enough. It’s not something that’s been super prevalent in my life. I know it exists outside of me, but it’s just been outside of my world.” Piper shrugged. “I guess that’s what I think about it. It’s just not something I’ve explored.” 

“Do you want to?” Jason asked. “Explore it?”

“Yeah,” Piper said, though there was a tremor in her voice. She felt like she was treading a new universe, completely alien to her. “I think so. Or maybe it’s less religion and more just, like, my culture as a whole. I think a large part of why I don’t really see religion as this big thing is because I feel like I’m just so removed from my own heritage, you know?” Piper paused, then snorted. “Wow, that was a much longer explanation than you were probably asking for.”

Jason smiled at her. “No. It was perfect. I get what you mean.” 

Piper’s heart shuddered at his words, and she smiled back. “Yeah, but anyway, long story short, I think I just want to get closer to my heritage.” 

“Makes perfect sense.” Then Jason touched his pinkie to hers and twisted his body to face hers. His smile was warm in the red lighting. “I like knowing your thoughts.” 

“You’ve heard my thoughts before.”

“Yeah, but I mean…” Jason sighed, then held both her hands. “What I mean is I like talking with you. About things that aren’t life-or-death. It’s cool. Like I get to see this part of you that isn’t demigod. Not that I don’t love your demigod side.” 

Piper laughed and leaned her head closer to his, so that their foreheads were almost touching. “Yeah, I get it. I like talking to you, too. Really talking.” 

Jason smiled, and the sight of it felt like the sun was shining right against her heart. “Good. I think we should do more of this.” 

But that was months ago. Now the little conversations don’t feel so stimulating anymore, just needed. Forced. 

But that’s why Piper got Jason’s necklace. It’s more than just doing something nice for him. It’s to remind him of one of her favorite moments, of being so real and raw with him. Maybe, just maybe, this will evoke something.

And watching Jason touch the cross gently, like it’s a fragile ancient artifact, sends a wave of pride over Piper. She must’ve chosen a good gift after all.

“Thank you,” Jason says, tilting his face so that the sunset falls over it, so that his blonde hair flashes like flames, so that the few droplets of water still clinging to him reflect the pinks and oranges and golds off his body. “It’s beautiful.” 

“You’re welcome.” Piper smiles, and this smile feels genuine, real, or at least realer than any smile she’s given to him in the past few weeks. “I’m so glad you like it.” She puts the now-empty box away and leans against his shoulder, but something inside of her hums in discomfort. She shoves that feeling down. 

“How’s it going, by the way?” Piper asks. “The planning?”

“Oh, it’s okay, I guess.” Jason shrugs. “A little slow, but I think I’m almost finished. I just have to add a few more spots on the diagram and figure out blueprints for some temples, and then I’m good to go.” 

“That’s good! When do you think you’ll get it started?”

“I was actually thinking I’ll start getting it in action next summer, when we’re off school. I’ll probably be done by then, and it’ll be nice to see our Camp Jupiter friends.” 

Piper nudges him. “Don’t forget about Camp Half-Blood, Sparky.” 

“Oh, right. Greeks.” Jason rolls his eyes playfully, and Piper laughs. 

“That’s exactly what a Roman-turned-Greek would say.”  

Now it’s Jason’s turn to laugh, and for a moment Piper almost believes the mirth behind it. But then she hears something else, something buried under that amusement, something heavy and doubtful. Not only that, but Jason’s eyes aren’t their usual striking blue anymore - they’re a cloudy gray color, crackling with some sort of dark energy. 

“Okay,” Jason says, and he shifts so he’s sitting with his spine straight, his eyes gazing at the sand. “I have a weird question for you.” 

“Okay. Shoot.” 

“It’s, like, really random. I don’t know. I’ve just been… thinking.” 

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe it’s kind of stupid.” Jason laughs again, but this time his laugh shudders a little, titters on the edge like it’s losing its balance. “Maybe I’m just overthinking.” 

“Jason!” Piper touches his shoulder. “Come on. Just ask. You can trust me.” 

Jason offers her a reluctant smile. “Okay. I don’t know. I think I’ve just been thinking about it a lot but…” Jason turns his gaze back out to the ocean, its roiling waves reflecting back against his pupils. He lowers his voice as he asks, “Do you think all these temples are deserved?”

Piper’s eyebrows rise, completely of their own volition. She can’t help the surprise that overwhelms her face. Her thoughts skitter in a pulse of panic as she tries to search for an answer to that question.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

Jason smiles. “If you’re brave enough.”

Piper hesitates. “I… don’t really think so. You can correct me if I’m wrong, but I kind of thought this project was just to console the gods. Not honor them, really, but just please them. I mean, wasn’t that the promise you and Percy made to that one goddess - Kymopoleia?” 

Jason shrugs. “Yeah, I can see why you thought that. And if I’m being honest, I think sometimes I do think it’s just to please them more than to honor them.” But then Jason’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t know. I mean, my entire life I was taught to just respect them. To give them offerings and pray to them and maybe, just maybe, they’ll answer my prayers. But after this summer on the Argo II, I feel like my opinion just… changed. I’ve just been questioning if they really deserve these temples.” 

“Well, I think to deserve something is kind of a deep question in the first place,” Piper says. “And I think if you were to ask someone who’s never actually met our version of the Roman or Greek gods before - like, maybe someone who isn’t a demigod but still believes in those pantheons - they’d probably be like ‘Why is that even a question? Of course they deserve them.’ I mean, they’re worship places after all. But we know these gods personally - at least to some extent - so it makes sense why you’re asking that.” Piper scratches her chin. “I think the better question is regardless of your answer, are you still going to carry on with the plan? Because if you are, then what does it matter if they’re deserved?”

Jason is quiet for a minute, allowing the lapping of the water to talk for him. He fingers a rock next to him, rolls it against the ground, scratches on it, and the anticipation of watching Jason, with his nervous energy buzzing underneath that one fingertip, makes Piper’s own nerves curl. 

“That’s the thing,” Jason says finally. “It doesn’t, because I know I’m going to go through with it. I think it's just something that’s been sitting at the back of my mind for a while. What my relationship to our gods is.” He squints, his eyes narrowing in on a thought. “I think I’ve had a lot of time to self-reflect lately.” 

“Yeah?” Piper digs her pinkie underneath Jason’s, hoping he’ll latch onto her, connect with her skin. Her heart is starting to beat faster at the prospect of being able to share another one of those moments with Jason, the one that she’s been reaching for so long. And maybe it’s selfish, only prodding him to entertain herself, but what choice does she really have at this point? They’re struggling to breathe; the air around them has turned stale. “What have you been thinking about?” she asks.

“Just that,” he says. “My relationship to the gods. What I think of them. That stuff.” Jason pauses. “I mean… my whole life was spent training for them. My whole life I was trained to support them, to fight for them, to give my life to them. I mean, yeah, it was also spent training to make sure demigods stayed safe, but I know underneath that it was about fighting for them. And I think I played that pretty dutifully, to be honest. But after the quest over the summer I’ve just been wondering, like… how much did they really deserve it? All that effort we did? We don’t hear from them unless they want something from us. Every demigod’s dream is just to meet their godly parent, but you don’t even get to meet them most of the time unless you do something totally worthy of their respect.” Jason sighs. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t even be saying this.” 

Piper turns his words over in her head. “So you’re wondering if you should keep believing in them.” 

“Maybe,” Jason agrees hesitantly. “Or maybe I’m just expecting too much from them. I mean, they’re gods, you know? Can’t ask for everything. They won’t answer all prayers.” 

“I guess so,” Piper agrees. “But it’s okay to question this, you know. I can guarantee you you’re not the only person to.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jason frowns again. “I don’t know, I guess I’ve also been thinking a lot about that time I told you that I might just be mixing up godhood and parenthood. But I don’t see how else I’m supposed to see it if not parenthood. I mean, they’re literally our parents. Don't they owe us some kind of admiration? Respect? Honor? Do they really give us any of that unless we do something that pleases them?”

Piper opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I was going to say something,” she says, raising her eyebrows, “but I think I might be better off not saying them.” 

“What? You can say it, Pipes.” 

“Promise you won’t hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?”

Piper bites her lip, then sighs. “I’m starting to think what you really mean is you’re not enjoying this tough love from your dad. Which is fine! I get that.” 

Jason blinks at her, and then a slow, deliberate smile creeps over his face. A wave of relief washes over Piper seeing it; at least he’s not angry. “You’re saying I have daddy issues?”

“Well, I’m definitely not saying you don’t.” 

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees. “Maybe underneath all that contemplating I’m just disappointed in my dad.” 

Piper huffs a laugh and taps her head. “Some real Freudian-level things going on here.” 

Jason laughs, too. “I guess your Psych class paid off.” Then he sighs and wraps his fingers over hers, and her entire body seems to heave a sigh of relief. This is right. This is normal. “I’m sorry, though. I don’t mean to dump all this on you on such a pretty evening.” 

“It’s okay,” she promises. Not like we have anything else to really talk about. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to do that to you. That’s probably better for some other time on my own.” Jason rises, and for the first time Piper realizes how dark it is, the sun no longer red but overwhelmed in shades of purple and blue. It reflects over Jason’s skin, turns him into a galaxy. He extends a hand. “How about we actually enjoy this time together? Maybe you can finally teach me to surf.” 

Piper laughs and takes his hand, letting him help her up. “I don’t know, it’s kind of dark for surfing.” 

Even in the growing darkness, Jason’s smirk makes Piper’s heart glow through her ribcage. “What happened to you being a dangerous girl?” 

“I’m dangerous,” she agrees, walking with him towards the midnight ocean, feeling the sand swim through her toes, “but not stupid. No surfing.” 

“Fine,” he sighs. “I guess you have a point.” Then he kisses her temple, and the kiss illuminates every cell in her blood, each pulse of her heart. She feels like she’s back watching that meteor shower with Jason, falling harder in love with every second. 

And when Jason dives into the water, when he brings her with him and splashes her, when she shrieks and splashes him back, she tries to tell herself that this is it. That she can live contently just questioning the existence of god and swimming by the beach for the rest of her life with Jason. 

That they’ve reached their “Happily Ever After,” and there is no other ever after to look for.

#my writing #yeah i have no idea what i wrote to be perfectly honest. it was just something in my head #piper mclean #jason grace #riordanverse #trials of apollo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #hoo #toa

[arsalamsyah]

The Happy Ending of 2023

On Dec 22, 2023, I reflected on how this year has been. I remembered everything that happened in Q4 but questioned, “what did I do in Q1 to Q3?” I couldn’t even remember until I scrolled up again my instagram archives, and found stories from April 9, 2023. Forget about the title above for a second. Have you ever cried naturally so ugly that you still remember how painfully aching it felt even after months passed by? I teared up again looking at those insta stories to flashback. 

For context, home for me has always been the east coast – mid-atlantic specifically – where, despite not owning a physical house, my soul feels belong to its surroundings. You know it already why LA was, is, and will never ever be home for me based on this previous comparison I wrote in 2021.

While I enjoyed my work at SPX, I didn’t find balance outside of work which forced me to take flights to DC or NY almost every quarter to keep my sanity checked. Following a business trip to Florida and watching the F9 rocket launch with bare eyes back in April 2023, I extended my trip to spend the weekend in DC as I was already on the east coast anyway. Only spent less than 48 hours at home with my “foster” fam, and it was the shortest time I ever spent on a long west-coast-to-east-coast route. 

So getting back to the question, have you ever cried naturally so ugly that you still remember how painfully aching it felt even after months passed by? The emotion on April 9 still lingers through those insta stories – it was right after this direct flight from DCA airport to LAX that my heart was too heavy to carry.

The above is a combined video since Tumblr doesn’t allow multiple videos in one post. First video – this take-off from DCA airport was too pretty to say goodbye to. Got the right-side window seat facing the National Mall and the weather was absolutely comforting. Then second video – before landing at LAX airport during sunset which was actually eyes-pleasing with another plane queuing on the side. The pilot failed twice to land safely due to poor visibility through thick fog & mist. Pretty much a sign of an unwelcoming environment.

It was right after this flight that my tears just burst out naturally while I was waiting for my on demand ride, on the side of a highway, where nobody else was there but cars passing by through the dark. I couldn’t hold it anymore that this cathartic cry had to happen and my chest was painfully suffocated. I turned around not to face the street because it was just too ugly to see, and had I not held my luggage tightly, I probably fell down to the ground crying like a baby. Admittedly, I had more cries living there than my entire life. The return trip from the east coast had never been easy even from the first time I moved there, “hhhh, why do I have to leave again?” “why am I here?” “God, let me go home.” “let me just go.”

What made the cry further uglier was the fact that the only thing (and there is only one thing) I can do is to repent for everything, asking Allah’s forgiveness. You can’t beat those pure senses. You just can’t. You can only repent and trust His puzzling plan. 

Earlier this year was a rough patch for me, living on the edge of decision to decision and negotiation to negotiation, mostly very last minute like mini heart attacks. But finally Allah let me flip it beautifully to a much happier life, and safely returned home for good for real foreveeerrrr. 

Ever since moving back to NYC, I experience happiness like never before. Like my soul returns to its body quite literally. Waking up happy, running the day happy, going to bed happy – constantly 24/7 every single day for the past few months filled with utter gratitude. I didn’t know happiness like this existed. I didn’t regret my past decision to relocate to California because had I not done that, maybe I wouldn't be as grateful as today. I tried. I did try. I tried to like it in so many ways for a couple years and it just didn’t work out. It's not my way of living. So don't you dare judging this cry is a test to my level of maturity or inability to accept uncomfortable situation. This is not.

To me to be home again is very personal & poetic. A relief, an ease, a reunion with my own self, being loved again, forgiving & compromising, tranquility over the heart, smiling from ear to ear, gratitude for every single breath, a comfort internally and externally – I shall never let that slip again. After a choking series of denials, a good friend once said, “listen to your heart, sometimes it tries to tell you something”. For another round of the sun, Alhamdulillahirrabil’alamiin thankful for the faith, the endurance, the persistence, and all other good traits that didn’t go unappreciated by my own (sometimes demanding) self.

it me, after moving back to Manhattan, at one of my favorite spots in Central Park during the peak of fall foliage season, living happily ever after beyond 2023.

#life #journal #personal #home

[springtimesdaughter]

relationship between your image on your avatar and your fanfiction, because I have severe hyperfixation and a mania for floral symbols.

Snowdrops symbolize youth, tenderness and hope.

And this, excuse my French, is too fucking good for Ethan and Percy.

youth, - obviously they are both so terribly young, it would seem that their whole life is just ahead, but the golden crumb in their veins has decided differently and war is brewing and with it the Sunset of life of one of them.

Tenderness - from the very beginning of Ethan and Percy's rapprochement, there was tenderness between them. Their slow-nascent friendship, Percy's blossoming feelings, Percy's throwing, his trembling recognition and Ethan's reciprocity.

Hope, - they both hoped. maybe they will both survive, maybe one of them will switch sides at the last moment, maybe everything will work out in some wonderful and stupid way, maybe it will last forever. Bittersweet is possible without which they would most likely have gone mad...

Possible never came true.

Snowdrops reflect their tragedy so beautifully and gracefully.

First of all thank you for resending this. I lost the original one when my Tumblr app kinda just stopped working. Anyway I had such a long response to this and I didn't have any of it saved. So I'll try and recreate it the best I can.

You caught one of the reasons why the flowers on my profile was choosen. Percethan is one of the few bits of content I have made for this fandom. I've made some other stuff but this is the work I am most proud of. The inherent tragedy that their love is when I first pictured it. One or the other was always going to die. Always whenever I have written them [posted and wips] one will always die. Their love is meant to outlast their youth, but their youth is not meant to finish.

It is the tragedy that they could have survived eachother, but they choose eachother instead. [In my AU not canon because in canon Ethan be dead dead.] They could have both lived but they choose to love eachother instead.

Aphrodite did say that she was going to have fun with Percy's lovelife. This was one of the most beautiful doomed love she would witness.

However there is a second reason that I choose snowdrops and its connected to the name I choose for the blog. It's a Riodenverse OC. I wrote the OC as a tragic character as well and the flower snowdrops connects to her two.

I choose the flower as a whole because it dually represented my two 'lifelines' to the PJO fandom.

And hey anon I love your thoughts please keep sending them. It's nice seeing someone else is just as obssessed as me.

#Percethan annon #percethan #pjo hoo toa #pjo

[sunflower-rat]

Double Life AU (Astera)

TW : Descriptions of death and drowning

‎ㅤ

Cleo is sat in an office, her fingers drumming against the table - because it's too quiet and the way the person in front of her Is writing too slow.

She's long since stopped needing to breathe - but her chest rises and falls anyway.

"You can stop staring at me like that." She glances towards the second archivist in the room who immediately tenses up. "I'm not going to eat anyone. Much less some scrawny little kid like you."

She tolls her eyes and goes back to tapping on the table.

"Everything seems to be in order." The older of the two speaks up. "We just need a general account of your background."

"You already have it." Cleo frowns. "I've given accounts to not one - but four different people. I was told this process would take a day - and it's been a week."

"This will be the last time." They assure. "I promise."

"It better."

Disgruntled, she leans back against her seat as they pick up the pens and ready it against the paper.

‎ㅤ

When she had three lives - she was human.

She was a guard and stubborn and fierce as her mothers were. She went out and hunted on weekends with her sisters and other days she arrested thieves and low lives that dared to threaten her community.

Her rune sat beautifully against her chest - spiralling directly from the middle of her neck in beautiful twisting vines and flowers - it's thorns carefully guarding the runic heart at it's center.

She doesn't remember how it happened.

She hadn't died at all.

All she remembers is walking among the other guards - and suddenly being overwhelmed by a startling pain that felt like her legs had shattered.

She didn't die in battle.

‎ㅤ

When she had two lives, she became obsessed with knowledge.

Adjusting to a rudimentary wheelchair, and keeping her resentment quiet in her chest - she studied runes and curses. She learned about magic and the species that made up her town - and she studied the soul bounds because they governed their world so strongly but so little was known about them. She studied about death and the undead - and how to preserve so many different things.

She studied a flower - vibrant and red, and how its roots burrowed into the ground and bloomed when it was exposed to the moon.

Sometimes she stared at her reflection in the mirror, and wondered if her soulbound knew what they had done.

If they could feel the hate - and the loathing in her heart.

They must have.

She just supposed they just didn't care.

Because she drowned in her own bed, gasping for air she never lost.

ㅤ

When she had one life, she fell in love.

They were researchers that had crossed by chance - an archeologist who studied the forgotten Gods - and gifted Cleo many ornaments and findings from their travels.

Of course, the wheelchair helped keep her patient, but - she was sure if she could walk, she would have drowned them in kisses and slipped their rings on their fingers far before the pastor could've even said a single word.

She wore a totem on her wrist and cherished it like she would the moon.

They were married on a beautiful sunset - and Cleo would never admit it, but it took everything to stop herself from running across the aisle and lifting her lover into her arms and kissing them - because she was so afraid that she'd suddenly lose herself.

Her last life was perfect.

ㅤ

Almost.

Because sometimes-

Sometimes, she would sit awake at night.

She would sit there while her spouse slept - and stare quietly at the apple in her hands - golden and shimmering.

The apple of Eden, or whatever else the religious texts had declared it to be.

Myth stated that it could break the bond between soulmates.

It would separate her and the person who broke her legs and drowned her in her sleep.

The one that made her wake up in the middle of the night, screaming because she could feel something burning her skin.

It would kill the heart that the thorns so lovingly protected with her own flesh and blood.

ㅤ

Because late nights laid awake - clinging onto her spouse, her jaws bared as invisible flames scaled her arms and tattoo'd her flesh with burns she could not see. She looked at her body and saw all the things it could've been - if her so called soulmate hadn't been so careless.

"But why would anyone want that ?"

And Cleo had so many reasons that it filled her mouth like poison.

Not once- but twice, her life had been taken away by something she had no hand to control.

Twice, she had died - unable to do a single thing to stop it.

And she hated it.

Because one day - her spouse would watch her die, because it was her soulmate that was dying instead, and she could hold onto her spouse as tightly as she could - but she'll die anyway.

ㅤ

So one night, she had raised the apple to her lips.

"Because I loved them." She had stopped tapping against the table, remembering the way her spouse had looked at her. "And I didn't want anyone to take me away. I didn't want anyone deciding when I got to die."

And thought about how it'd feel to be free from that fear.

Why would anyone want to be without a soulmate ?

The silence in the room was cold, but she didn't really care.

"And did you ?" They asked. "Did you take it ?"

She held her spouses hand in her own, her teeth grazing against the skin of the apple-

Cleo buried it in her garden and held her partner so tightly against her chest - and stayed up the entire night thinking.

Just... thinking.

"Sometimes I wish I did."

ㅤ

When she had ▊ lives, she had lost everything.

She woke up in a coffin and clawed the ceiling until the wood broke open and drowned her in loosened dirt and mud.

She gasped for air she didn't need and raked her fingers through dead orange hair and accidentally pulled out the vibrant red flowers that now thrived within it like a field.

They bloomed in moonlight and her skin burned in the day, and she sewed her limbs back onto her body when they fell, and refused to look at the rune on her chest - now a distorted shade of green, yellow, red.

But she could walk again.

So she walked, and walked - but never found her home.

She never found her spouse.

ㅤ

"Satisfied ?"

Cleo crossed her arms, staring impatiently at the two before her. "I've recounted my entire history - I've proven I'm not a threat. Now can you let me into the damn city ?"

The two officials looked at each other, hesitant - and eventually approved her request.

She got all her things - a satchel of nothing but some small trinkets and things she could find - and a golden apple buried in between.

#double life fic #double life zombiecleo #zombiecleo #hermitcraft #mcyt #traffic light smp #death cw #injury cw #doublelife #drowning cw #tai post

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

The first time Vax actually catches and rides a wave on his own, Keyleth is on shore watching and fucking Yelling with how loud she's cheering for him, she runs and meets him halfway in the water and he picks her up and they just hug so tight because he actually has been working really hard. and they have that moment where when they pull away they're just So close and meeting eachothers eyes and just smiling so much and it's just. a little too intimate for his surf coach😗.

YES OMG

He spins her in such big circle in the water and they're both laughing so giddily an Keyleth is professing how proud she is of him. And when he sets her down gods they're so close together and imagine that it's getting close to sunset and the sun is reflecting off the water so beautifully. And Keyleth just kisses his cheek and it tastes like salt.

#surfing au #critical role #vox machina #vaxleth #lis makes hcs

[zombvibes]

a suselle royalty x knight au but it’s opposite of what you’d think it’d be

im still thinking about this. im still thinking ab

* I hate this stupid fuckin thing.

Susie grimaces and pulls down the skirt for the millionth time before moving to claw the ribbons on her dress. What she wouldn't give to tear it all off in front of the entire goddamn royal court, flip em all off, and run into the fuckin' sunset with a violent cackle.

But as a princess, she can't exactly DO that without an entire kingdom chasing her. She'd never know peace, never be allowed to thrill in danger without someone having to drag her away and lock her back in the castle walls...

* M-my lady?

Susie tears her eyes from the sunrise with a groan - her one moment of peace if the morning stolen - and sharply turns around. Noelle Holiday, short and lanky, eyes bulging out of her head and two buck teeth that could chuck wood. Her armor, two sizes too big for her, once belonged to December Holiday and glistened in deep purple accesories.

* W h a t?

Susie does her best not to snap because... Noelle isn't THAT bad. She wouldn't toss her into an ocean if she had the chance so... yeah.

* You- you seem- upset? I-is there anything I can do?

See, and THAT? That right there??? How Noelle offers to help at every turn, how beautifully she smiles with a gentle crease to her eyes, and how polite she always is... it's fuckin' annoying. Susie can NEVER be mad at her, which doesn't make any fuckin' sense.

* Uh... I dunno. I mean - probably not. Shit, yeah, probably not.

* Then, p-perhaps her m-majesty would like company?

Susie ponders it for a moment and then pats the rail she leans against. Noelle, counting this as a blessing from the Angel, putters up to her with a series of clanks. Her posture stiffens and she gazes over to Susie. Susie, the princess with eyes bright gold but colder than the moon. Susie, the princess with freckles kissing her cheeks the way stars do to the night sky. Susie, the princess with a million stories to tell and laughter so infectious Noelle always wanted to hear it. Her hair curtains her face in long waves of aubergine, falling to the middle of her back in ripples. Susie's... nearly three times Noelle's size. Her paw could easily fit Noelle's head and toss her into the valleys below.

It's the beautiful strength in her and the odd mystery of her that pulls Noelle in.

OH, how her mother scolded her for this. The daughter of a noblewoman throwing her life away to be a pitiful knight to a barbaric princess- scandalous! Unheard of! But Noelle did so, and she'll never look back.

Even now, as she watches sunrise's sweet embrace of reds and pinks strike Susie's skin like the reflection of glass, she sees no mistake in her actions. No regret. She sees the weariness she knows so well, the desire to escape and be free, and she promises...

* I-I... as your k-knight, I... I never shall allow you a moment where y-you don't feel free-!

Susie turns to her quizzically and barks out a roaring laughter, an air of domination and mockery hanging in Noelle's stilled breath.

* Then try to keep up, deer girl.

And... the princess jumps off of the railing.

* ....

* ....

* WHAT?!

omg…

#zomb answers #why must my followers be more creative than I am? /j

[sloshed-cinema]

After Yang (2021)

I don’t want to live in a Star Trek future, I want to live in this one.  At least in terms of production design.  Kogonada’s team fleshed this out within an inch of its life, creating a very specific vision of a quasi-utopian society.  It feels very believable; the technology isn’t too far-flung from what we have now in terms of communications.  Corporate culture protects products and ensures that metadata belongs to the company rather than the user.  And the containers are just a little bit preposterous.  But it’s the consistency and commitment which realizes this vision.  Muted earth tones define the color palette for homes, and vaguely Asian silhouettes have entered into the norm of what is en vogue for fashion.  Little details abound, from foliage accents to the transport pods to museum exhibits about Techno sapiens.  

The largest leaps in speculation come from the treatment of alternate humans.  Yang is an android, specifically created to help his “sibling” retain her Chinese heritage despite being adopted by an Anglo family.  There are apparently other “models” created for differing intents, but they’re an integrated enough part of society.  Clones exist as well, Yang entering into a close relationship with a girl whose “original” he knew many years before.  These creations suggest a society that is, while harmonious on the surface, still uneasy with itself.  They cannot recover from loss, so they create clones.  They cannot help their children to adapt and yet live their full identity, so they create ambassador robots who spew “Chinese Fun Facts” and help instill language, but cannot introspect about the actual significance of what they relay.  

It’s here where Kogonada’s script falters.  It has a lot of Very Big Ideas, but the dissection of them comes across more as a PowerPoint presentation.  Slides read things like ‘Consciousness’, ‘Commodification of Asian Identity’, and ‘Familial Inability to Unpack Tragedy’.  The idea that Mika is bullied about her identity, that she feels insecure about her parentage, is swiftly followed by a scene wherein Yang shows her the beauty of grafted trees and their connection to Chinese culture.  The idea of Yang’s memories being preserved and displayed is paired with Kyra’s recollection of the android’s butterfly collection and his superficial statements about life after death which he cannot substantiate.  To his credit, Justin H Min plays the flattened affect of Yang well, just enough hints of uncertainty at his own thoughts to create a compelling portraiture of programmed existential contemplation.  And the film evokes gestures of its ideas beautifully.  Jake explores the rich field of memories from Yang’s core, alternately a neural forest, a galaxy, and a matrix.  The subjectiveness of memories is hinted at with overlapping loops of repeating moments, varying ever so slightly in blocking and delivery.  Déjà vu.  The ideas of memories being rifled through, repeated time and again as Jake sits on his couch staring through glasses reflects on the painful cycle of grief, of reaching out for times when someone you love who has passed was still there with you.  And within those memories, the attention to detail of Yang, ephemeral little memory snippets of simple, beautiful things such as a grove of trees or a sunset through gnarled branches, is poignant.  He could record only a few seconds of each day for posterity, and his choice of moments is often poetic.  It’s just that for all of its swinging for the fences in terms of theme, the film nets the success of a Sigur Rós music video rather than a grand statement on existence.  I was more aesthetically pleased than I was compelled.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says ‘Yang’ or ‘tea’.

The Brothers & Sisters company gets mentioned.

Big Theme Moment.

A memory clip begins to play.

BIG DRINK

Decomposition is mentioned.

Visual stutter-step.

Chinese Fun Fact!

#drinking games #after yang #kogonada #colin farrell #justin h min #jodie turner-smith #malea emma tjandrawidjaja #haley lu richardson #drama #sci fi #sci fi & fantasy