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#mental connection
feralhoundbones · 7 months ago
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Inktober I forgot to post
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nimsays-stuff · 7 months ago
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Mental connection is a rare thing ✨
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astrolovecosmos · a year ago
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💡Synastry Overlays: Mental Connections! 🧠
Sun in the 3rd
Sun in the 9th
Venus in the 3rd
Venus in the 9th
Mars in the 9th
Mercury in the 1st
Mercury in the 3rd
Mercury in the 9th
Mercury in the 11th
Jupiter in the 11th
Uranus in the 1st
Uranus in the 3rd
Uranus in the 9th
Uranus in the 11th
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omisan · a month ago
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She bust before I touch.
Mental mind fuck...
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theeightbts · a year ago
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Chapter 49
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Seven Korean Warriors and their Queen.
Always together. Finding each other in every lifetime. Their souls destined for each other for eternity. Sometimes as friends. Sometimes as lovers. Sometimes as spouses. Always together. Until around two hundred years ago, when the Queen vanished. The Warriors: Poet, Misdirection, Ferocious, Watcher, Mischief, Adventure and Passion, continued to find each other, always accomplishing great things in their lives. In their current lives, they’ve found each other and created the biggest boy band in the world.  When their Queen is found, and The Eight souls are re-united, they have to figure out how to live, and love, together again.
Chapter 49
   The Muse went gently to Yoongi’s mind. He was staring at his computer screen, apparently working. She sent a finger down his cheek and asked, “Are you ready to talk to me yet, my love?”
Yoongi froze. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath to steady his emotions. She felt his anger and anxiety at the situation.
“Yoongi, please talk to me. Would it be better if we sat face to face?” she asked, desperately wanting to be near him.
“Tomorrow.” he responded quietly. “You will stay with me tomorrow.”
She gave him a little ghost of a hug, wanting so much more but holding back so she didn’t upset him.
It had been 2 days since she’d had any physical contact with him. She felt like a piece of her was missing without his touch. It was an emptiness that was different than with her son. Her son made her heart hurt. Her soul felt Yoongi’s absence. She wondered how she survived being away from them all for 200 years. Did she just acclimate to the pain? Was she numbed somehow? How is it she had no idea who she was and where she was supposed to be?
“You weren’t numbed.” Min-Ho once again made his presence in her head known out of blue.
“You really need to work on being more polite with that.” The Muse admonished.
“I am thousands of years old. Why change now?” he said with amusement. “Anyway, back to what I was saying. You weren’t numb. Weren’t you suffering from severe anxiety in your old life?”
Suspicious she answered, “Yes.”
“Do you have any of that anxiety now that you are with your Warriors?” Min-ho asked.
She thought for a moment about the last few weeks since she’d been with them, “No. I haven’t felt anxious at all. How odd.” she thought mostly to herself.
“It’s not odd at all, Princess. You are back where you are supposed to be. You are reunited with your soul mates. One by one, you are all reconnecting your soul bonds. You haven’t been this whole in two hundred years.”
While his abrupt presence in her head was unwelcome, Min-Ho did have a point. With each Warrior she reconnected with, she felt more and more whole. More and more grounded. More and more calm. Once again she had to wonder what happened two hundred years ago that separated her from her Warriors.
   After giving Joonie a proper neck and shoulder massage to help with some lingering soreness, they cuddled up and fell asleep. The Muse woke the next morning with the feeling of being snuggled between two hard bodies, and she wondered if she had been moved in her sleep again. It took a moment, but she realized that it was Jimin that was reaching out, holding her in the best way he could in the moment. She smiled and sent him a little good morning kiss. His hands were caressing her all over, not in an erotic way. In a sweet loving way. He was loving her through their connection in a way that left her feeling special and warm. Jimin had a special way with her that she cherished. All of her Warriors and Husbands had special things about them that she loved. But, isn’t that the way with any relationship?
   With Jimin’s ghost hand caressing her hip, she felt his lips behind her ear, “Good morning, Yeppeun. I missed you last night.”
“Good morning Jiminie.” She ghosted her hand running down his chest, and back up to the side of his neck like she would if they were laying face to face, “I missed you, too. Did you sleep well?”
“Not as well as when you’re in my arms, but yes. I slept ok. I am sorry we didn’t get to finish what we started last night, though.” his ghost hand slid around to her bottom and squeezed.
The Muse was trying so hard not to giggle so she didn’t wake up Joon.
“Jiminnie! You aren’t here to take care of me if you start touching me like that!”
“Isn’t that the point of this game, Yeppeun? I can pleasure you when I can’t be there with you.” She felt his fingers move to caress between her legs. She moved away from Joon and closed her eyes, concentrating on Jimin’s touch, and sending him touches of her own.
“Ah, Yeppeun.” He said, “I feel you, baby. I feel you touching me.”
Her hand was ghosting down his chest and stomach, not stopping this time. She reached his cock, not quite all the way hard yet, she stroked and played with him. Even sent him the feeling of her hot, wet mouth sucking the head and down the shaft. The ghost fingers between her legs became more insistent, “Yeppeun, stop. I am not done with you yet and that feels far too good. God, I can’t wait to feel the real thing. Your lips stretched around my cock, getting me all wet with your spit. Do you want me to fuck your mouth, Yeppeun? Can I fuck you with my mouth, too?” His dirty talk was driving her crazy. She was trying so hard to stay quiet as she fisted her hands into the blankets. Then, she felt his tongue swipe through the fold of her pussy and she whimpered. She couldn’t help it. “Jiminniieeeeeeee” she moaned into his head. It was safe to be loud for him there. She heard him chuckle.
“I know how much you like it when I do that to you. Do you want it, baby? Do you want me to bury my tongue into your pussy? Do you want me to taste you? Nibble every fold, every little inch of that pretty little pussy of yours before I slide my dick inside?” she shuddered, mentally and physically. Jesus, he was good at this.
The Muse was trying so hard to concentrate on sending him as much pleasure as he was sending her, but he was winning by a long shot.
“Do you know what I will do when I slide deep inside you, Yeppeun?” he crooned in her head.
“No.” she actually whimpered that out loud, making Jimin chuckle. God, even his chuckle was sexy. She felt him at her opening. She felt his cock start to push inside of her. Even though he wasn’t actually there, her legs stretched open as far as they could to accommodate this ghost fucking.  Trying to keep her wits about her, she sent him what she was feeling. She wanted him to feel himself fucking her. “Ah, Yeppeun. God baby, you’re so tight, even from here. I can feel how hot and wet that pussy is for me. That’s MY pussy right now, isn’t it?”
She nodded, even knowing that he couldn’t see it. “Who’s pussy is this, Yeppeun?” he asked as she felt him bottom out. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed deep, holding himself there for a moment, making her gasp, eyes wide in panic that she might wake Joon as she looked his way. He was still snoring, thank god, because she didn’t know if she would be able to hide what Jimin was doing to her.
Jimin pushed even harder into her, “Who’s pussy is this right now? Answer me!”
“Yours! Jimin, my pussy is yours! Oh GOD!” he started moving his hips just like he does on stage. The dancer came out in him as he made sure his wife felt his presence from another room. His hips swiveled the thrust, his cock touching places inside of her she couldn’t believe.
The Muse grabbed a pillow and put it over her face, trying to stay quiet as her husband owned her. She was shaking, praying that Namjoon would keep sleeping as she neared her climax.
She felt Jimin falter. He was getting close to the edge as well, but he kept up the pace and those devilish hip movements until he heard her, “Jimin, Ugh FUCK!” as she came, her whole body convulsing and shaking the bed. Jimin, making a mess on his stomach in his room. They were both sweaty and breathing hard, “Jesus Jiminnie. That was incredible!” she ghosted him a sweet kiss, and he smiled. “Stay with me tonight?”
“I am staying with Yoongi tonight. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, too.” she added, with another little kiss for him.
“I know. I need to clean up. I love you, Yeppeun.”
The Muse moved the pillow off of her head and took a breath of cooler air, letting her body relax after such an incredible encounter with her husband. She heard Joon clear his throat and looked over at him. Namjoon was laying on his side, propped up with his head resting in his hand, a big smile on his face as he said, “Good morning!”
She giggled and threw the pillow at him. It really was a beautiful way to start the day.
Next
Master List
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thatredlady · 5 months ago
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what brings us together is stronger than anything that would separate us. we are dust that comes from the same star. we are bonded forever.
that red lady
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themadauthorshatter · 7 months ago
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Clipped Wings(A Good Omens Fanfic) CHAPTER 3
All TWs apply here, especially torture and angst!
Also, we’re meeting a character in this chapter that I might mis-name solely because I am uncomfortable with using his proper name.
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When Aziraphale opened his eyes, he expected to be in his own bed, in his own room, in his bookshop- or at least he hoped he would awake in his own bed.
Instead, he was greeted by the same darkness of the cell he'd been left in.
The last cell he was held up in was Bastille, all over crepes and a mere misunderstanding at the time, however poor it was, on his part. He at least had light to warm him, to help him see. He also had Crowley appear to save him, arriving out of thin air.
This time, there was no light and there was no Crowley.
Aziraphale pushed himself up along the wall until he was on his feet and close to the wall, leaning back with his arms raised and- after a moment of contemplation- his wings unfolding and straightening to shake off the soreness of sleeping against solid stone. He hadn’t felt a bed from his exploring before sleeping, but that didn’t mean that fellow Hastur would miracle one in while he slept just to be cruel; he was in Hell, so it would make sense that they’d do that.
But, as he felt around the room once more, he found there still wasn’t a bed, just like the night before- or what he assumed was night. 
It was impossible to tell anything in Hell. 
“Now I can see why Crowley always followed me on Earth,” Aziraphale murmured to himself, if only to fill the silence that the demon would fill with a hiss or some snide remark about his lot being worse than humans for once, though there wouldn’t be much a comparison anymore.
He expected his voice to echo in the room, he accepted it, but he wasn’t ready for the room to talk back to him. 
“Who followed you on Earth, Darling?”
The voice, smooth and surprisingly gentle despite its edge, made Aziraphale gasp as he turned, trying to find its source. 
“Hello?” he called, louder than he intended.
He was reprimanded with silence for it
“So sorry to ask, could you please speak again?” he asked as he waded to where the voice originated. “It’s so dark I can barely see a thing, so if you could say something, perhaps I can find you.”
The voice chuckled as it seemingly disappeared and reappeared behind Aziraphale once more, brushing its fingers through the feathers of his wings. 
“Of course you’re not used to darkness,” the voice mused. “Heaven is too full of light and not even Earth can leave you blinded. You’ll adjust, Aziraphale.”
The angel shuddered at both the touch and the words, at the fact this stranger, the demon who  he assumed had been watching him, had addressed him by name. “May-May I ask what your name is? For courtesy’s sake,” he added, for good measure. 
Warm breath hit his ear as the demon- he presumed- chuckled. “You’re a smart one,” the voice said harmlessly. “Take a guess.”
One thing was for sure, this couldn’t have been Hastur. This demon sounded too polite, too patient to go through with what was going to be Aziraphale’s eternal suffering in Hell. With that idea in mind, it couldn’t be the demon who was always with him, either(Ligur, he believed he was called). 
“Lord Beezlebub?” 
Another chuckle that made the warm air cold. “Take another guess, Darling.”
Not Beelzebub, either. 
Aziraphale’s mind raced as he searched for answer. Hell was filled with Fallen angels, ones that questioned the Ineffable Plan and were cast away because of it. Numerous angels were lost because of it, most being of lower ranks, but a few of a high rank, such as an Archangel, God’s eldest.
Aziraphale’s blood froze solid. 
“Lucifer,” he whispered. “You’re the Archangel Lucifer.” 
The touch on his wing deepened, fingers lacing between his feathers before giving a harsh tug and pulling Aziraphale back until he fell to the ground. 
“Close enough. A lot happened on Earth to make you forget."
In the dark, Aziraphale moved carefully to his feet to stand, but he was unwelcomely helped when Lucifer pulled onto his toes by his collar.
"Tell me," the devil asked. "Why are you here when my snake isn't? Weren't there supposed to be sides in this silly war?"
***
It was too bright when Crowley first opened his eyes, something that had been made worse with the absence of his sunglasses. With a hiss, he snagged the pillow from his bed, crouched to the floor, and slipped under his bed, squirming until he could lie as comfortably as he could with cold wood pressed against the skin of his temple and his head squashed against his miraculously flat pillow.
He barely remembered it, but he could've sworn with every ounce of liquor that used to exist on Earth that it was more comfortable than this.
He also hoped Aziraphale was alright.
Don't be stupid, part of Crowley snapped to himself. You know what'll happen to him now. And what'll happen to you.
Go to sleep, he said to it. Just go back to sleep.
It was only a matter of time before the Archangels would come to his cell, and Crowely, through his exhaustion and the cloud of sleep, wondered which one would arrive first.
Maybe Gabriel, who would gloat to him about being Heaven's new pet.
Maybe Sandalphon to call him 'Little Demon' again(the bastard).
Maybe Uriel to throw him around the room.
Maybe Michael to grab him by the neck again and hang him up like a pig.
Crowley groaned and pushed himself into his pillow further, trying to stop his mind from racing to the point it woke him fully. He instead directed his thoughts to a warm bookshop, to the smell of old books and a variety of foods, to the warmth of skin through old clothing, of a borrowed blanket and the ache of a hangover with a hint of fingers running through his hair.
The demon inhaled air he didn't necessarily need as a new ache he, one that struck him in his chest and kept striking.
It worsened as his cell door was unlocked and opened, the sharp click of shoes approaching his empty bed.
When the folding of empty sheets caught his ears followed by the rustling of clothes as the archangel knelt down, Crowley blessed at the fact he didn't think to tear open the mattress and hide in there instead.
A scream ripped out of his throat when a hand latched onto his ankle and yanked him out from under the bed and back into blinding light.
"Good morning, Sunshine. Sleep well?"
If only it was Hastur, saying those words.
Crowley's fingers dug into the pillow as he squinted, Gabriel's false smile just as bright as the cell itself.
"Mmm," he groaned. "'S too bright in here."
Gabriel chuckled as he looked around the room. "Yeah. I guess a millenia in Hell will do that to you."
Crowley pushed the pillow on his face. "Five more minutes," he said tiredly, voice muffled.
Gabriel's smile fell. "Get up. You don't need to sleep."
Then why put the bed in the room? "Right. Ten more minutes."
Gabriel stood and kicked Crowley's thigh, iliciting a yelp from the demon. "You don't need sleep."
Crowley jolted off his back and glared at Gabriel with a hand over his eyes. "What's the bloody point of the bed, then? Isn't this Heaven? If you have to tease me, at least spend a day with me first."
Gabriel's face contorted with impatience at the words and he grabbed Crowley's wrist and tie, yanking him to stand and leaving him wincing in the light.
"If you want to talk like a rebellious brat, just ask."
Before Crowley could think, a fist smashed into his cheek, just below his eye, and sent him to the ground. Gabriel continued to kick at and stomp on him, his shoe meeting Crowley's back, ribs, and stomach.
He'd taken a beating before- he'd been brought up in Hell. What couldn't he take faster that?- but with Aziraphale's absence, the light burning his eyes, and the fact he was stuck in Heaven, the huts hurt worse than they should have.
Then again, he was in Heaven, the forget from Hell he could get, and angels were the closet to God's grace.
Crowley had no power here and was at the complete mercy of Gabriel, who stopped beating on him for a moment to step back.
Crowley pushed himself up until he was on his hands and knees.
"Open your wings," Gabriel ordered.
***
Explaining the past millennia on Earth felt like swallowing a cup of thumbtacks, each word cutting Aziraphale's throat as he struggled to keep his voice even. As the devil circled around him, he explained Earth, humans, food, music, transportation, even the bookshop he'd owned and the Bentley Crowley had taken religious care of for 90 years, and then he explained how he and Crowley had been captured, made to watch the War, Earth's destruction, and Crowley race toward him as he was dragged down to Hell.
All the while, the only response from the fallen archangel was the occasional chuckle, gasp, hum, or any other reaction that could speak full sentences.
When Aziraphale finished his explanation, his wings were drawn close to his sides, blanketing him and uselessly hiding him from an opponent he couldn't see.
The memory of Earth left him in too much pain, and he'd barely gotten a taste of Hell's true wrath, save for a couple of mostly harmless hits. The memory of Crowley pained him ten-fold, remembering how the demon had raced toward him in order to stop his fall, how the Archangels watched with unhidden amusement or disgust, how Crowley's voice broke as he screamed the angel's name as he fell, accompanied by three vangeful demons that seemed all too eager to have an angel to torture for once rather than each other.
The rustling of clothes on the ground caught his attention, as well as the warmth of a human body given to most angels and demons at the time of their creation.
"You and Crowley have had such wonderful adventures," Lucifer sighed next to him. "But now it's all over. Because of some silly rivalry."
Aziraphale turned to face him. He was speaking to the Lord of Hell, he realized. The one entity that was more powerful than even Beezlebub or Hastur.
"Why didn’t you stop them?" He softly demanded. "You had the power to seduce a woman and conceive the antichrist!"
Lucifer remained silent, but Aziraphale cintinued.
"You caused the end of the world, and here you are laughing about it, even after you've Fallen. How can you do this!?"
The silence returned, but Aziraphale bit his lip as both of Lucifer's hands touched his face, his palms against his cheeks.
"I think you've forgotten, darling," he said, his voice suddenly cold, "but Crowley also Fell, and the only thing he's done as a demon is get by on luck and staying on Earth as much as possible. And now he's in Heaven, while you're here in Hell."
One of his hands left Aziraphale's face and drifted to his wing, holding a handful of long, white feathers in his palm.
Aziraphale fought to keep his breathing even.
He'd spoken out, snapped at the ruler of Hell, who could do anything to him and no one would stop him, not if they valued their own existence. He could tear Aziraphale apart, as snow as he wanted, as many times as he wanted, and there'd be nothing he could do about it.
The devil's words pulled him out of his thoughts and made the room go frigid:
"And we can't exactly have an angel walking around here, can we, darling?"
The hand that remained on Aziraphale's face moved as the other hand tightened on his feathers.
At the snap of fingers, the room changed, moving faster than light and disorienting the angel for a moment.
They stopped in a surprisingly bright cave, lit by flames and a large pond, one as hot and bright as molten fire, almost appearing to be the labs that had once destroyed Pompeii. The smell of the room burned the inside of Aziraphale's nose and throat as he took shaking breaths, coughing at the acidic, harshness of the air around him as Lucifer pushed him toward the pond, the angel uselessly following as he was blinded by the sudden light and pulled by the feathers of his wing.
"Deep breath now, Aziraphale," Lucifer crooned.
Aziraphale turned to ask him where they'd gone, where he'd been brought to, but he could only stare with wide eyes as he was shoved forward, falling back towards the pond's boiling surface.
Lucifer's grip on his feathers stayed locked on, a jolt of pain raced through the limb as the deathers were pulled and then ripped out.
Then he hit and broke the surface, caught by the faux liquid as it immediately attacked and burned his skin and body.
Sulfur. Boiling sulfur.
He'd been burned when he fell, he'd been terrified, too, but this was worse. This time, when he screamed, air left his mouth and the sulfur quickly replaced it, making his outsides and insides burn in a away the fall couldn't. Every nerve, eveny muscle, every part of his body, from his hair to his toes, was awake and alive with pure agony. It even seeped into his eyes, almost blinding him and leaving him in the dark once more.
His wings faced the worst of it, the new patch crying out as it was bombarded with the sulfur. The beautiful, flawless white of the remaining feathers shriveled and darkened, large amounts falling off and disappearing in the liquid as Aziraphale flailed to find a ledge to pull himself out with.
His hand broke the surface once more and grasped at a sharp rock, sturdy enough for him to drag himself out of the pit with until he crawled brokenly away.
Breathing was even more agonizing than before, niw that the sulfur had left its mark both inside of his body and out.
How he hadn't discorporated was a miracle in of itself, but that didn't stop Aziraphale from screaming, his voice filiing the cavern and echoing off the walls as it tore his throat further.
Lucifer simply watched; it was impressive to see another demon that had maintained his wings from the sulfur.
***
Before Crowley could ask what Gabriel had meant, his skin arrow with a burst of hot seering pain, as if he'd been put into a giant pan to fry like some delicacy.
Gabriel watched as the demon groaned and fought the urge to scream as he writhed on the floor, his wings sprouting and closing around him.
The only two things Crowley remembered that was close to this were the Fall and the landing in a pool of boiling sulfur. True, Aziraphale had fallen, but he couldn't have been burned too badly when there was nothing Crowley could feel from him.
The thought made the demon gasp as he struggled to push himself up.
The pool of sulfur. Aziraphale hadn't fallen into it, when he was taken to Hell.
The pain was replaced with cold, sick horror that bled into his stomach.
They're going to kill him.
Crowley groaned as he leaned against the foot of the bed to stand, Gabriel watching with odd confusion; odd because, from what Crowley could tell, the wanker knew just about everything.
"Aziraphale," he panted. "You can't let them keep him in Hell.
Warrior or not, Guardian of Eden or not, Aziraphale didn't know Hell like Crowley, didn't spend his existence always looking over his shoulder and learning to either take a hit or give a harder one back.
Then there was the devil himself, someone most notoriously known for never forgiving and forgetting, not when there was always a bone to pick on.
And he'd been given a new bone.
Gabriel gave Crowley a sympathetic smile before resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning into his ear.
"The only one you need to worry about, sunshine, is you."
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dancing-daisyy · a year ago
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cavaliers-wrench · a year ago
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Today, while reading Jane Eyre I was wondering about the meaning of life in that time where people were barely able to understand their state of consciousness. When they were not able to comprehend and process all the emotions both positive and negative. Where life was about societal customs and glory and not mental consciousness and now when I come back to my reality I find that nothing has changed. Even today we are not completely able to process our state of consciousness even today we are not able to process why are we feeling so much and so often but regardless of that even now, life is however all about societal customs and glory instead of seeking help.
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over-a-cup-of-coffee · a year ago
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I love the depth of appreciating someone because of their mindset, their humor, their kindness. All factors that are not just based on the physical appearance of a person but something that is within.
Not all people can do that. To look and appreciate what the eyes can't see but the heart and mind can connect to.
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howtodrawyourdragon · 2 years ago
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Sometimes There’s A Glimpse
Summary:  Hiccup understood dragons more than even he realized he did. But the dragons, they knew. And sometimes, when Hiccup lowered his guard and his mind was open and vulnerable, they could reach him.
Rating: General
Words: 1 077
Author’s Note: Oh look! A fic! Haven’t posted one of these in a while! Enjoy!
Constructive criticism is highly appreciated!
Hiccup let out a long yawn before stretching his arms and back, a sure sign that his day at the forge had been a busy one.
Resting his sore leg, he was sitting on a chair at the counter, waiting for any last-minute customers to pop up while Gobber finished sharpening an axe for the Acks in the background. He merrily hummed a tune as their work there slowly came to an end, like the sun gradually setting in the horizon.
Standing up, Hiccup leaned over the counter to look around and see if anybody was approaching.
In the orange and pink light of the setting sun, he could see the baker closing up shop for the day across from them, Not-So-Silent Sven running by with a cure for a sick sheep of his made by the elder Gothi, Bucket and Mulch returning from another long fishing trip, but there was nobody headed their way. Very few people were still out and about now, prefering to have their dinner at the Great Hall instead.
Toothless was lying right outside and raised his head up from his forelegs to gaze at Hiccup when he heard movement on the other side. He's been waiting for him to finish work. Even if Hiccup was needed at the forge, the Night Fury rarely left his side.
Hiccup briefly shot him a smile before sighing and sitting back down again. He crossed his arms on the counter, resting his chin on them and staring straight ahead.
He was tired. And bored. He wanted to go on an evening flight with Toothless, grab some dinner and go home. Maybe he could draw a little in his room. He hasn't done that in a while and his fingers were itching.
With nobody coming, Hiccup thought that it wouldn't matter much if he rested his head a little. Though not at all intending to actually sleep, he wanted to close his eyes for a moment. There was little else for him to do at the moment and perhaps it would allow him and Toothless to have a longer flight a little bit later.
Toothless joined him, laying his head on the counter next to him with a soft rumbling sound coming from him. Hiccup could feel his warm breath. Having him so close only helped Hiccup relax even further.
It wasn't his intention to fall asleep, but he ended up close to dozing off anyway.
Eyes heavy with sleep, breathing evening out, exhaustion of the day catching up to him, Hiccup felt himself slowly drifting off.
"... up."
He heard a voice.
"... cup."
It was neither a dream nor something familiar to him.
".. iccup."
Starting out soft and muffled, it became louder and clearer. He could almost make something out.
"Hiccup."
"Hiccup!"
Jumping up in his seat, Hiccup found Gobber smiling down on him and laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. It didn't matter to him that he saw his apprentice almost sleeping on the job, he was tired too. Although he did still look as merrily as he sounded a tad bit earlier.
"Gobber."
"Why don't you go home early, lad? I'll close up the shop for today and you have a very bored Night Fury to take on a flight." The sweaty blacksmith told him, giving his upper back a few good pats.
"That would be great. Thank you, Gobber!" Hiccup called after him as he walked away and wiped his brow with his tunic, humming.
Getting up and removing his apron, Hiccup quickly hung it up and left the forge for the day. He was eager to meet with Toothless outside and get up in the sky.
"Hey, Bud-" Walking out, he was expecting to see Toothless, hear a happy rumble and feel him physically try to push him up in the saddle. The Night Fury, much like his Rider, had a particular dislike for staying on the ground for too long, though he didn't mind waiting for Hiccup to finish work first.
Hiccup even expected to maybe get an excited lick, affectionate as they both were towards each other, but instead he wasn't quite sure what he just wandered into. Voice trailing off, he noticed that all of the Dragons were there waiting as well. Stormfly, Hookfang, Meatlug, Barch, all five fo them were there and they were staring.
Hiccup came to a halt as he stared back at them, it wasn't a habit of theirs to wait for him along with Toothless. But what surprised him the most was that they looked almost expectantly at him. Even Toothless, instead of greeting him, sat there and eyed him up and down with one brow arched, seemingly waiting for.... something. Hiccup wasn't quite sure what.
"Uhm... Is something wrong?" He asked, fidgeting in place. He wasn't used to dragons making him feel as awkward as he usually did around other humans.
And then they left. When whatever they were waiting for apparently didn't happen, they simply left. Stormfly chirping before returning to Astrid, Hookfang and Meatlug grumbling quietly to each other as they turned. Hiccup could've sworn he saw Barf and Belch shrug. Toothless wasn't the only dragon steadily learning human behaviours.
Hiccup was left to stare at them as they disappeared from sight, taking off and flying away. Now confused and awkward as well as tired.
Toothless joined him by his side, crooning and nudging Hiccup's hand and arm with the flat, scaly top of his head.
"Don't worry about it." He seemed to be telling him in a way only his Rider understood.
He turned to show the saddle on his back and Hiccup got on without hesitation, clicking his prosthetic in place. Toothless easily noticed that his reassurance did little to deter his Rider's bewilderment. Hiccup wasn't quite sure what to make of what had just happened.
"You're never gonna explain that to me, are you?" He asked his Night Fury and Toothless shook himself, stretching his wings out to prepare for a nice and long flight.
He gave another croon and Hiccup picked up on the comforting tones within it. Though not sure why Toothless was so dismissive of this minor event, he let him take off. Maybe some time spend in the sky with the wind and other dragons before heading home would clear his head a little.
Hiccup was sure of one thing, though.
There was now a throbbing headache bothering him that wasn't there before.
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the-wandering-whumper · 3 years ago
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Two characters get stuck with some kind of emotional link where if one of them feels negative emotions it causes the other person physical discomfort/pain, that gets worse the stronger the emotion is (also imagine them getting into an argument..)
Now this is a trope I can get behind!!!!! Can we have psychic nosebleeds with it? I loves me some psychic nosebleeds. 😍
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theeightbts · a year ago
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The Eight, Chapter 32
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Seven Korean Warriors and their Queen.
Always together. Finding each other in every lifetime. Their souls destined for each other for eternity. Sometimes as friends. Sometimes as lovers. Sometimes as spouses. Always together. Until around two hundred years ago, when the Queen vanished. The Warriors: Poet, Misdirection, Ferocious, Watcher, Mischief, Adventure and Passion, continued to find each other, always accomplishing great things in their lives. In their current lives, they’ve found each other and created the biggest boy band in the world.  When their Queen is found, and The Eight souls are re-united, they have to figure out how to live, and love, together again.
Chapter 32
   Taehyung was very entertained with their ability to touch each other's minds, and was having a great time playing with it.
“You’re saying that I can make you feel like I’m touching you when I’m not there?” He asked while they were getting ready to leave the next morning.
“Yes,” she said cautiously, sending him the ghost of a kiss on his lips. His eyes went wide.
“How? I want to do that to you, Yeppeun.” He said, with One arm wrapping around her while the other hand came up to draw his fingers gently down her cheek, looking deep into her eyes.
She smiled, enjoying his exploration. “Can you picture it? Where you want to touch me? And the pressure you want to use?”
He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving hers.
“Imagine you’re actually doing it.”
She felt the ghost of a suckling kiss on her bottom lip.
The Muse inhaled deeply. Eyes darkening, her gaze left his eyes to look at his lips. He smirked and laid his lips on hers. She felt his intent morph quickly from a sweet kiss to having her trembling and screaming his name on the bed. She knew they didn’t have time before they had to leave for the airport, but her inability to say no to her Warriors meant she didn’t care. He was lifting the hem of her dress, and she had her hand in his pants when a loud knock came at the door. The managers were there to make sure they would be on time.
The couple giggled, knowing they were caught.
After straightening their clothing and checking their hair, they were ready to go.
    With their connections to The Muse, Yoongi and Jungkook were well aware of what she was up to with Taehyung while they waited to leave, and both were highly entertained at the heated couple being interrupted. Jungkook thought it was especially funny since Tae had laughed to the point of tears when staff had walked in on him with their wife bent over a bathroom sink, seconds away from an explosive orgasm that never happened as he was needed for rehearsal of his solo stage, and the staff member insisted he ”leave right at that very moment.”
   The Muse sat next to Yoongi on the plane ride to New York. They held hands and talked for a while before she felt the ghost of lips on her neck. Taehyung was playing with his new ability. Those lips traveled south, and soon she could feel a suckling sensation on her clit.
“Tae!” She exclaimed in his head, “What are you doing? Ohmygod,” her free hand gripped the arm of her seat as she tried to keep her wits about her.
“You need to stop!” Yoongi was watching her with a curious expression that quickly became one of knowing. “Which one?” He asked with a chuckle.
“Kim Taehyung,” she breathed out.
He just nodded and began stroking her knuckles. You wouldn’t think that knuckles would be an erogenous zone, but at that very moment the feeling went zinging straight down to help the ghost lips on her clit.
She felt another pair of ghost lips joining in on the action. Her head jerked to the side, and she saw Yoongi, looking at his phone with a devilish expression on his face. His ghost lips were sucking and nibbling on her nipples. Between the two of them, it wasn’t long before she came with a strangled cry, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. Hoseok turned to look at her, “Are you ok, Yeppeun?” She nodded, then gave Yoongi a dirty look.
“What?” He asked with the most innocent expression he could come up with.
Deciding that retaliation was the way to go, she ghosted her fingers up his shaft. Yoongi jumped in his seat, eyes wide and pleading. He wasn’t her main target. No, she had a different husband that needed to be dealt with.
The Muse sent Taehyung the same ghosting fingers up his shaft, and saw him jerk in his seat. She would be having no mercy on him.
Knowing he was hard now, she sent the strong sensation of lips wrapped around the tip of his cock. She heard him moan, and Jimin asked if he was alright.
“Please, Yeppeun, stop. I am sorry. Please!” She chuckled at that.
“You had no mercy on me. Besides. Where’s your sense of Adventure.” With that she added the sensation of hands along with the lips on his shaft.
He made another strangled groan, and jumped to get to the bathroom.
She knew when he came. And she knew that he got an adrenaline rush from what they just did.
“Oh, Yeppeun.” He said in her head, “I think we may have found a new game to play.”
Next
Master List
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emotionalwords · 4 years ago
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darcyolsson · 4 months ago
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wish i could grab coffee w my mutuals. mentally we are in a cute café right now
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we-are-not-celestial · 3 years ago
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tornadoquest · 3 years ago
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derowere · a year ago
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