#negative energy plucking

[limerental]

modern au triss WOULD be an asmr artist who does like "personal attention I brush your hair until you fall asleep and tell you you're doing good" whispery videos

#also she's an astrology girlie #and tarot #and does negative energy plucking #triss like aw bestie it looks like you're hanging onto a lot of negative energy :/// thats no good #meanwhile she's in a messed up thing with negative energy in human female form #triss merigold #i am thinking about her just all the time

[baldyeosang]

i think if i could time travel one thing id do is go up to people and just start doing asmr until they burn me for being a witch idk i think itd be fun

#'and im just gonna... PLuck the negative energy-' 'WIIIITCH!!!!!!'

[utterlyotterlyx]

When I Danced Under The Stars

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Part Three

Summary - Tamlin's visit leaves your soul in tatters, but there is someone who knows your pain better than anyone.

Warnings - mentions of sexual abuse and neglect, angst, mentions of trauma, fluff

Part One - When I Kissed the Teacher

Part Two - When I Met The Devil

The fear and despair rippled down the path which led to your front door, the pulsating negative energy causing Rhys to roll his shoulders in discomfort.

He imagined your home looking rather spectacular in the daylight, the pale wood and white railings, the small well-kept garden full of blooming tulips, the natural warmth that no doubt usually emitted from the hearth. It was no wonder that Azriel had forgone his own space to spend time in yours.

Rhys had appeared at the end of the cobbled path, wings nowhere to be seen, with tired, worrisome orbs and a heavy heart. It had taken much convincing from Rhys to convince Azriel that he should be the one to talk to you, that if anyone was going to be able to understand your pain it would be him. It felt like eons since he though of Amarantha and what had transpired Under The Mountain, but as he saw you stood there, frozen in fear and overcome with your past traumas, he felt some of his own return to him.

The High Lord had little reason to think of the traumatic events he too endured not that long ago, he had a mate, and a child, and a loving growing family. Amarantha and everything she did was in the past, they had all moved on, he thought he had too but something still lingered deep within his soul, that fear that the past could one day repeat itself. It was a feeling he was doing his best to hide.

Knocking on the door, Rhys sighed when he heard your sniffles, and he pictured you standing on your tiptoes to peer through the peephole at whoever had come to pull you from your turmoil. Then you opened the door, and Rhys wanted nothing more than to bundle you up in his arms and tell you that it was all going to be alright.

Tears stained your red tinged cheeks, your eyes were puffy and swollen, and you were holding yourself, rubbing your arms with your hands whilst standing half behind the door, "Are you here to tell me to leave?"

Rhys could have cried at your broken strangled voice, it was like Lucien had said, Tamlin had the power to strip the light from you, there was no love in your eyes, just pure unfiltered fear. Rhys tilted his head to the side and shook his head, "I'd like you to walk with me," he stepped into your home, and it looked exactly as he had imagined it.

Childish artworks were strewn across the coffee table of your living area, workbooks were marked and stacked to the left of the said artworks, books upon books were stacked on the floor since your bookcases were bursting full of other titles. It was light and airy but oh so comfortable, he could picture you and Azriel cuddled up on the deep rooted love seat talking incoherently about your shared dreams. A faint scent of coffee clung to the air from the not-yet-emptied filter left in the coffee pot in the kitchen, it mixed with the aroma of the burnt firewood from the evening before.

Rhys took a step forward and plucked your cloak from the railing by the stairs, noting the neatly placed belongings on the table there, lined up in a row so that you wouldn't forget anything during the morning rush before school. You stood unmoving by the door, your eyes flickering furiously as he draped the garment over your shoulders and offered you a hand which you stared at for a moment before sliding your hand into his embrace, shuddering in a mixture of fear and and comfort as he placed your hand on the indent of his elbow.

The Sidra bubbled along the rocks, pebbled stone skitted beneath your shared weight. Neither of you said a word, Rhys was content in just having you near, where he knew you were safe, and you were equally as content looking at the night sky full of stars and wonder. A stark difference to the sky of the Spring Court.

"I'm putting you all in danger," you muttered, eyes still fixated to the dancing starlight weaving in the moons embrace, "You should send me away."

Rhys slowed to a stop and turned to face you, examining your features with a look void of any anger, in a way it was unsettling. You were far closer to Feyre than Rhys, it wasn't like you weren't friends, but you'd never spent a moment alone with him, "I'm not sending you anywhere, y/n," he told you softly, with an understanding speckle of kindness in his eye. Your High Lord lowered himself to your level, placing his hands on your upper arms and stroking the clothed skin there, "I'm here because I want you to know that I understand."

Leading you to a small ledge, Rhys perched beside you on the lip of earth, his legs dangling beside your own as the Sidra swam along down the stream, "I know what it's like to be used against your will. I know what it's like to feel tainted and unworthy of anything good. You feel like you don't belong in a way, that everything you went through was deserved and the Mother must see you as evil," he paused and brushed his arm up against your own, to give you some form of caring contact, a break of sunlight in your clouded mind, "I'm sorry that he did that to you, and I'm sorry that you've been living with it all this time. I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't tell us. I'm sorry, y/n."

Rhys felt the small sobs catch in your throat, you looked up at the sky and blinked hard, furrowing your brow and exhaling softly before looking sideward to him, "Is Feyre angry at me?"

"Cauldron, no," he told you incredulously, shuffling closer to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, "If anything she's worried about you, we all are. What you went through is something no one should ever have to deal with, let alone someone as gentle and bright as you."

"You know?" It was a whisper and your chest thundered with the possibility that they all knew what Tamlin had done, that Azriel knew what Tamlin had done. Panic sat in your chest, a birthing monster of gruesome darkness that was threatening to swallow you whole, "How?"

"Lucien," your heart fluttered, Lucien was perhaps the only person who looked out for you then, working directly against Tamlin's orders and desires to set your free, wanting nothing in return but your happiness no matter where you wound up. As if sensing the deep rooted bond between you and him, Rhys spoke, "He's here, he only told us what we needed to know. I hope you don't mind," Rhys' fingers drifted over the tips of your unbound hair.

"No, I don't. It saves me from having to explain it," Lucien was in Velaris. You knew of his bond with Elain, but you never thought you'd ever see him again, you never had the chance to thank him before he threw you onto a horses back and sent you soaring into freedom, "He's really here?"

Rhys hummed in agreement and he felt your chest grow lighter, your shoulders seemed more relaxed and your eyes didn't seem as sad anymore, "I just want you to know that I know what you went through, I went through it too, and if you ever need someone to talk to, someone who understands, then I'm here. I'll always be here."

A small smile graced your lips, "How long did it take you to heal?"

"I'm still working on that. Healing from this kind of trauma isn't instant. I still wake up at night sometimes thinking I'm back under that mountain with her arm draped over me," his eyes glazed over and you knew he was lost in a memory, "Then I realise that I'm next to Feyre, that I'm in Velaris and I have a son. That it was all worth something, it was worth it to be here now with everything I ever dreamed of."

Resting your head on his shoulder felt natural in that moment, like two kindred spirits finding their other half of understanding, "I hope I get to feel like that one day."

Rhys rested his head atop your head and sighed, "You will. I know you will. Velaris is your home and you're safe here, y/n. You're surrounded by people who love you. One day you'll have what I have and look back at this moment and think about how incredibly wise I am."

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes at Rhys, groaning softly as he moved to stand before you, hand outstretched and a wide grin on his lips, "Dance with your High Lord under the stars?"

Smiling, you slid your hand into his, "How could I say no to that?"

It was a tender moment, Rhys placed an arm around your back, his palm flat against the centre curve of your spine, and you leaned into him, head on his chest in the most platonic sense possible as he swayed with you, taking a moment to twirl you under his arm and relish in the joyful giggle that spurted from your lips, "Thank you, Rhys."

"There's no need to thank me, y/n. You mean a lot to us, I think Nyx likes you more than me at this point. Like it or not, you're a part of my family. You make Azriel the happiest I've ever seen him, you've been an amazing friend to all of us. The least I can do is make sure you feel supported and understood."

The pair of you continued to sway, "Azriel is happy?"

Rhys chuckled, "I swear I've never seen him smile so bright or blush so deeply than whenever he returns home from being with you," Rhys pulled away from you slightly, still holding your hand in his, "Azriel would wait an eternity in the depths of hell if it meant he would have the chance to hold you in his arms for a singular moment."

The gaze of your High Lord flickered behind you and his eyes softened as he pulled away from you, "Welcome to the family, y/n. We're all bruised and broken in our own way, you'll fit right in."

That familiar warmth swarmed you, cool kisses snaked up your calves, curling around the small cuts inflicted on you from the broken glass that you hadn't had a moment to clean, "Thank you," your words were sincere and full of blinding relief, Rhys simply bowed his head to you and disappeared into the night.

It was like he knew you needed a moment, just a moment to ground yourself and exhale shakily before your turned into his awaiting arms and flung yourself into his embrace.

Azriel wound his fingers around the back of your neck and inhaled your scent, blinking hard and burrowing his nose into the nape of your neck, "I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I'm so sorry, Az."

"Shhh, don't do that," he told you, his lips pressed against the curve of your neck and shoulder, "Don't apologise for what others did to you. Don't ever apologise for what he did."

"I feel so tainted, and dirty," you sniffled, his shadows caressed your cheeks and he secured his arms tightly around your waist, "I don't deserve you. I'm too ruined, Azriel. Now that he knows that I'm here, I'm not safe. We're not safe."

It didn't escape Azriel's notice that you couldn't even say Tamlin's name, it was like if you did say it then you'd perish into ash. Azriel took your face in his hands, his touch so soft and pure compared to the grip Tamlin had on you only hours before, "I will protect you until my dying breath, and even then I will raise from my grave and return to you. Nothing will ever keep me from you. You are my empire, y/n. You are the one I will burn for, you are the one I will douse myself in blood for, you are the one that makes every single bad day worth the chance of one blissful moment. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise, okay?"

"Please don't leave me," your face contorted and tears spilled from those eyes that he could spend the rest of his days gazing into, "You make me feel alive, like there was a reason I survived. It was to find you."

Azriel's heart sang at your words and he could have crumpled to his knees before you if you weren't the one holding him up.

The stars shone overhead, glittering the sky with endless possibility and Azriel couldn't stop himself from closing the gap between you, capturing your lips on his in the most ethereal embrace, so soul shaping that he didn't think such a feeling was possible. Your tears wet his cheeks and your fingers raked through his hair in desperation, in desperation to feel loved and something other than the heartbreak of your trauma. To feel worthy of something good.

Pulling apart, you were both breathless, and Azriel could see the exhaustion in your eyes. It had been a long day for you, from worrying all day about Nyx and your family, to seeing Tamlin again and feeling the tidal wave slaughter over your soul, to feeling like you had to leave. Azriel pressed his lips to your hairline and held you close, "Let's get you to bed."

You gripped onto him as he went to pull away, "Will you stay? Tonight. Would you?"

"I'd do anything for you," his words pierced your heart, you entwined your fingers in his and allowed him close enough to lift you into his arms, unfurling his wings, "And tomorrow, maybe I can take you to see Lucien? Or we could stay in a read?"

Humming drowsily, you responded, "Lucien, please."

The stars were so close as Azriel soared through the skies of Velaris, cradling you into his chest. You felt nothing but serene slumber pull you into its embrace as the stars sang their sweet lullaby, singing their love to you as your eyes fluttered closed and you became shrouded in their safe, loving arms.

You are safe. You are loved. You are strong. You are worthy.

Authors Note

Ahhhhh!!!! I hope this was worth the wait x

Part 4??

Taglist

@fxckmiup @sh4nn @acourtofbatboydreams @lilah-asteria @iloveboba777 @lisanna2000 @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #imagine #fanfiction #azriel x reader #rhysand #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel fluff #acotar angst #tamlin #lucien vanserra #rhys acotar #rhys x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #feyre cursebreaker #azriel fic

[mymarifae]

i want to talk about an.

i want to talk about an in “kick it up a notch!” specifically, and correct a slight misconception i’m starting to see pop up about her character development and how it relates to the rest of VBS but mostly akito.

an is alone in her fear of being left behind and all her other feelings of inadequacy and jealousy in regards to kohane’s astounding growth as a singer. akito is not going through the same thing she is. for one, that’s not his partner. he’s not the one who plucked kohane out of a crowd and he’s not the one who designated himself as her mentor and expected to always be the teacher and never the student.

that was all an.

that’s why this is hitting her so hard. she assumed that she was the natural talent of the vivids - and i’ll get to why that is in a second; bear with me. and no, akito does not feel this way about toya. at least not anymore.

akito’s able to pick up on what’s going on with an so, so easily because he’s extremely observant and emotionally intelligent for his age. and because yeah, he’s been through his fair share of struggling with abandonment issues and feelings of inadequacy.

key words: been through.

akito isn’t... over his problems by any means, but he’s already felt what an feels now. all the way back in middle school, when he and toya were just BAD DOGS. hell, he felt it during that soccer game that made him quit the sport altogether. and just... in general, with the way the shinonome household is, he’s well-versed in feeling untalented, and like he’s not special, and like he will never accomplish anything in his insignificant life.

he’s gone through this shit before. he’s confronted those nasty, traitorous feelings of jealousy and the fear and the despair, and he worked through them with toya. and they came out on the other side stronger and closer than ever.

i’ll get into why in just a second again, just keep bearing with me, but i need to stress that an has never been seriously challenged before. that’s why this is happening the way it is. that’s why she has no idea what these feelings are or how to deal with them. it will probably be easiest for her to lean on akito as she works through this because he understands best the very specific circumstances of her emotional turmoil:

“i picked some guy off the street and made them my partner and it turns out they’re better at singing than me.”

but akito is old friends with negativity and he knows how to channel it into positive energy, into something that will push him forward and push him to prove everyone wrong. and you know what? he’s finally getting somewhere.

“find a way out” was literally about him starting to realize that he’s not... just endlessly chasing after the rest of vbs anymore. he’s managed to close that distance he’s felt for the past... 325734254889 events.

performing against the musician that bullied him all those years ago let him see his improvement objectively. he’s better than he was in middle school, and he’s better than the guy who humiliated him and that guy improved too! that’s just how much akito has grown. he’s surpassed a lot of his limits, barriers that he once thought were impossible for him to overcome. he’s flying high above many, many people’s heads now. that is what akito started to realize that night. (and i say “started” since he kind of freaks out afterwards - because he’s not used to thinking of himself like that. he’s not used to being proud of himself. which breaks my heart but that’s getting off topic.)

the point is. akito is very, very close to overcoming this idea that he will always be the worst at everything he loves. or he’s hell of a lot closer to it than an is. and even if he’s not, he knows how to cope with those feelings and fight against them.

an doesn’t.

why? because like i said, she’s never been challenged. everything has almost always just been handed to her. i don’t mean that like she’s spoiled or something; i just mean... everyone has always looked at her and seen Shiraishi Ken’s daughter first and foremost.

“you want to learn to sing? hah! of course you do! you’re ken's daughter!”

“look at you go! of course you’re a natural at this! you’re ken's daughter!”

“you want to surpass RAD WEEKEND? well, if anyone’s got the abilities to do it, of course it’ll be ken’s daughter!”

this is the dialogue an has grown up hearing. just an endless mantra of: “you’re naturally talented / you’ll be fine / go and do your own thing / you don’t need any extra help / you don’t need any push or shove.”

“you’re ken’s daughter!”

think of it this way: what almost always happens to “gifted kids” in school? they start off miles ahead of their peers. they are separated from those peers. they are not given the same resources their peers are given because they don’t need them. inevitably, those children once praised for being so so so much smarter, so much more talented and special, fall behind as their peers begin to catch up. they weren’t given the tools they needed to continue growing, so they stagnate.

that’s close to what’s happening here with an. the rest of vbs has begun to grow beyond what she was able to achieve innately, and that scares her so fucking much. especially when it comes to kohane because there’s no way around it: an expected to always be better than her. not in a nasty, self-centered way, of course; that’s not the kind of person she is. this was just her subconscious expectation because that was how she was taught to think about herself. but now reality’s catching up to her, and she lacks the tools she needs to keep moving forward with everyone else.

she doesn’t need breathing exercises or extra warm-ups or anything like that. what she lacks is an emotional tool set. she doesn’t know how to cope with feeling inadequate and worthless and good lord it took her like an entire event to learn what jealousy is.

an is alone in her feelings right now. she can lean on her teammates - she can lean on akito especially. but she’s the only one that can free herself from these chains rusted over with fear. no one’s going to save her. no one can save her. as painful as it is, this is the push she needs. if she never learns to process and deal with these feelings, she’ll never be able to keep up with the people she loves.

but don’t take these somber words the wrong way. this is project sekai, after all! this is a game about love and friendship and growing up, and accepting your flaws and shortcomings and pushing yourself to be the best you can be - to always strive for a bright future.

an will be okay. vbs will be okay. it’ll sting for a bit, sure, but they’ll make it through.

#project sekai #an shiraishi #akito shinonome #vivid bad squad #vbs #twitter's going bonkers over this one rn so i GUESS i can cross-post it... #nudged some stuff around and revised my wording a tad but yeah. um have fun forever

[x-zho]

“alhaitham! look, it’s a padisarah! isn’t it pretty?”

“well done, you can see.”

“…seriously? would it kill you not to be such an ass all the time?”

“i don’t know, would it kill you not to comment on every single thing we pass by?”

“hey, it’s my first time here! i’m trying to enjoy myself,” you pout indignantly. subconsciously. “you’re so unnecessarily rude…”

alhaitham all but scoffs at your comment, bangs swaying from the curt shake of his head.

the majority of people in sumeru would describe him as such- rude, unapproachable. cold and calculating.

it’s not like your opinion of him and his… less than amicable personality mattered to the man. it wouldn’t change how he interacted with rambling fools.

“and you talk too much.”

“it’s called being sociable and nice. you should try it sometime.”

it’s your turn to scoff at his quick, deadpan jab but you quickly decide you don’t have the energy to continue bickering with the grouch.

with a less-than-gentle shove to his side, you briskly speed in front of alhaitham in an attempt to enjoy the scenery by yourself- without any of his negative remarks.

he doesn’t chase after you.

instead, he finds himself focusing on the pep in your step and the way the wind caresses the hair atop your head, and on the way your mood had seemingly brightened after finally gaining a moment of peace.

it’s odd- you’re nothing but a nuisance and a thorn to his backside, but he’d much rather have you to argue with than anybody else.

the realisation is tossed to the back of his mind before he could ponder it any further.

it’s just an observation. nothing more, nothing less.

another observation was the lone padisarah along the path you were both just walking through.

smoothly glancing to check that you were still happily strolling in front of him, alhaitham silently stoops to pluck the beautiful flower from its stem.

; — alhaitham m.list

#alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #i’m not gonna lie y’all #this was just a practice draft #since i haven’t written anything in over a month #but yes alhaitham i love you mamas #pls come home

[birgittesilverbae]

8. "Are you hurt?" for a character of your choice?

spideytorch-but-not-this-spideytorch au

//

Ava comes out of the building like a comet, flashing bright across the sky, crashing through multiple apartments and landing hard in an abandoned warehouse. She cracks her eyes open, finds a masked and costumed figure crouched across the room from her. He watches her through steady inhuman lenses as she rolls to her feet, tries to catch her balance against a nearby stack of pallets, but she's ash and char and smoke curls up from beneath her red-hot fingers as the dry wood bursts into flame. 

Spider-Man approaches her slow and careful, gloved hands out between them as though trying to soothe a wild animal. His voice is pitched low and even as he coaches her to breathe, to try to come back to herself. The fire subsides back beneath her skin as her chest steadies, until she's standing there muttering a thankful expletive when she glances down to find she's still in her hospital gown, the tiny black and red hourglasses on her socks peeking out beneath the hem, miraculously untouched. 

Until she's standing.

The tears come without her permission, and Spider-Man takes a step closer, opens his arms for her without hesitation. She stumbles forward on unsteady legs, a sob caught sharp in her throat, and presses her face into the costumed chest.

Whatever its source, the energy leaches from her legs soon enough. She answers the negative to Spider-Man's quiet "are you hurt?", the affirmative to his "would you like me to carry you?" and finds herself clutching to tight-muscled shoulders, wind whipping through her hair as they soar across the skyline.

They skid to a halt on an empty rooftop and Spider-Man sets her down so he can pull a duffle bag from behind an aircon unit. Ava watches in quiet fascination as he digs out a hoodie and stares at the logo on the chest for a long moment before sighing and passing it to Ava. It's a vinyl-printed ESU logo, she discovers, curling up away from the fabric at the edges. She pulls the hoodie over her head, the loose fabric of her hospital gown bunching strangely beneath it when she tugs it down over her chest. Spider-Man has donned a long-sleeve tee in the meantime, a tiny slice of pizza embroidered on the left breast, and stands watching her again, those dark lenses shifting and whirring as he takes her in. 

He sighs again, louder this time, and plucks at his costume pants. "Guess I could probably get away with pretending these are leggings," he says, half to himself, before passing Ava a pair of light-wash jeans. 

She stares at them for a moment before taking them from his hand, slumping down into the gravel so she can struggle into them. Her hands are clumsy on the button, the zipper, all those movements she hasn't been able to accomplish for herself in over a decade. 

If there's one mercy in this mess of a night it's that Spider-Man doesn't watch her, too busy turning that calculating stare back to his costume boots. He sighs a third time, the loudest yet, and toes them off, leaves himself standing in socked feet in the gravel. There's a quarter-sized hole in the toe of one sock, and he tucks it back behind his other ankle with a half-hearted laugh. Then he passes her the boots, watches her tug them on before reaching over to tug the hems of her borrowed jeans down over the reflective web pattern sprayed up the calves. "Good to go," he mumbles, hooking his foot in the strap of his duffle and dragging it towards them so he can fish a stained pair of chucks out and slip them on, double-knotting the laces once he's looped them back around his ankles and pulled them tight. 

He stands there above her, lenses blinking slowly in the half-shadow of the rooftop, and peels off his gloves. Touches bare fingers to the neckline of his mask. His last sigh is explosive against the fabric and it's a long moment before he shrugs a shoulder, mutters something that sounds distinctly like "fuck it", and hooks his fingers under the fabric.

Ava's not sure what she expected. It's been years of that jackass news anchor running his mouth about an unhinged vigilante, and she wonders if a part of her was braced for someone who matched that villification. Or a douchebag looking frat bro, maybe – after all, some of the insults Diego's quoted to her have been decidedly juvenile. 

She definitely hadn't anticipated the red-cheeked, sweat-streaked woman who grins back at her.

"Spider-Man?" she asks, hesitant now. There can't be that many masked vigilantes working their way through the city, can there?

She winks. "Nothing like getting misgendered by a newshound and having it stick."

"You sound–" Ava starts, thinks better of it, but Spider-Man's grin doesn't falter as she taps her mask where it's rolled up to her forehead.

"Voice modulator," she explains, then peels it the rest of the way off, stuffs it into the duffle with her gloves. 

"Oh," Ava says, for want of anything better, and "Wow." And, after a long, breathless moment, "Can you do Darth Vader?"

#ask #anon #myfic #mywn #warrior nun #ava silva #shannon masters #fic: suits

[praeluxius]

Special - LOONA Haseul

18+ Loona Haseul x Male reader smut

Masterlist

Word count: 5,351

Tonight is brutally cold, not just the negative temperatures outside or the frozen water falling from the sky. Enter ‌your apartment and accept the warmth. Embrace the heat on your cold flesh. Brush away the snow from your jacket and the disappointment from your feelings. If tonight had gone to plan, you either wouldn’t be home at all, or you wouldn’t be alone.

The apartment had been heated all evening—your roommate has minor considerations for energy costs. A problem you stressed to her countless times without reparation. But right now, you were grateful for the cosy atmosphere it created in contrast to what lay outside. The snow continues to descend past your living room windows on the far side of the room. Between the black curtains, the white barrage falls in front of the backdrop of nighttime Seoul.

“Haseul?!” you call out into the mysteriously ‌vacant apartment. When you left in the afternoon, she said she would be here all night, and all the lights are on, so where is she? You hang up your jacket and take off your shoes before calling out again, “ya! Haseul?” 

In search of your roommate, you check the tiny kitchen first. You peer your head into the doorway to find it empty. You often caught Haseul here when she was cooking food. Her fried rice, in particular, was one of her best dishes, as was her soup that she always made when you were feeling under the weather. Alas, maybe it was a little late for her to be here. 

You flick the light switch in the kitchen and then the living room as you walk past it to your bedroom. That’s when you hear it. It was a rare treat for your ears to be blessed by this sound. Haseul usually reserved her music practice for when you were out of the apartment. Of course, right now, Haseul had no idea you were home. 

Haseul took the translation of karaoke far too literally. An ‘empty orchestra’ was a strict requirement. No matter how often you asked her to sing for you, she refused. However, you can now seize the chance to hear her play and heal your broken pride with this minor victory. To listen as best as you can, you press your ear against the closed door of her room. Her delicate fingers pluck away at the six strings of her acoustic guitar. She provides her own supporting melody for the main event of the evening, her melancholic voice. 

Her low tones lull you into a dreamlike state. Her voice is as clear as spring water and soft as silk. Each syllable is delivered with precision. Each word is an emotion-filled arrow fired into your eardrum.

“... I feel all this tension

You show me no attention

Yeah, you’re selfish with your affection

You make my heart beat

Like it never has before

I stare down at my feet

As you walk—”

Haseul’s finger hits the wrong string and breaks her tune, cutting her off mid-verse.

“You were a little pitchy there, Seulie!” Silence answers your comments for a few tense seconds.

“YA!” Suddenly, the stomping of feet echoes through the apartment. Haseul marches to her door and swings it open. “You’re not supposed to be home!”

Haseul stands in the doorway of her room. Her face is a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Like traffic lights imploring you to stop, her cheeks burn red. Balled into fists, her hands hang by her side.

“I thought you had a date with a girl from that app? Why are you back so early?!”

“Well, I heard my favourite singer was performing here, so I came over. I can’t find her, though.” Pointing at Haseul, you tease, “All I can find is my annoying roommate, so where’s the singer?” You raise your hand to your face and place your forefinger onto one eyebrow and your thumb on the other—comically pretending to search, looking over and past Haseul.

“You’re such a goof and an unfunny one at that.” Haseul pouts and shakes her head while crossing her arms. 

“Ah, that hurts.” you clutch at your chest, then close your eyes and grimace to feign pain.

When your eyes open, you realise what Haseul is wearing, or rather, what she isn’t wearing. She is wearing a purple silk gown which hangs from her shoulders. The gown hangs open and creates a gap down the front of her body where she isn’t wearing clothes. There are no trousers or shorts in sight. She just wears her black lace underwear that hugs the flesh between her legs and extends over her hips. The opening also exposes the inside of her long legs down to her feet. Above her panties is her toned stomach, the faint outline of her toned abs on show. 

Haseul’s crossed arms present the principal attraction; they frame and push together her voluminous breasts. The low-cut lingerie barely covers her small nubs and offers a deep view of her cleavage. “Damn, Haseul, cover yourself up around the apartment. You’re going to give me a heart attack.” 

“Oh, come on, you’ve seen it all plenty of times before. Don’t overreact.”

“Well, in that case, how about a little tease?”

“Fuck you,” she says, waving dismissively and walking back into her room. Haseul takes the guitar on which her mistake ruined the song just moments ago and places it on the stand in her room. She then takes the little blue book from the bed and rounds the corner where you cannot see. After coming back into view, Haseul takes a seat on the bed. She pats her hand on the soft covers and says, “are you going to come in and take a seat or are you just going to ogle me from afar?”

“Ahem, right, yeah.” You step into the room, head towards the bed, and then take a cross-legged seat near the bed's centre.

“So, are you going to answer my question or not? Am I being too distracting for you to answer?” Haseul grabs the edges of her gown and pulls it over her body. 

“No, no.” To reverse her action, you place both your hands on hers. Haseul drops the gown back to her sides with a smirk on her lips.

“Well?”

“I got stood up.”

“So you didn’t even speak to her?” Haseul lets out an unfiltered belly laugh at your embarrassment.

“No, she never showed.”

“Maybe she did show, took one look at you and turned right around.” Haseul looks you up and down as she speaks, chuckling to herself as if mocking you.

“At least I go on dates. What about you?” 

Haseul’s smile disappears from her face, her lips now pursed, and her eyebrows furrowed. “Ya! That’s not funny. I’m just not… not—just don’t.” 

“Oh, but me getting stood up is hilarious?” 

She breaks out in a little giggle again and replies, “yes. Yes, it is. I thought you didn’t even like her much anyway? Why did you go?”

“She wasn’t fascinating, you're right, but she was hot.”

“There you go, thinking with your dick again. And if you want interesting women, you would stop using that app.”

“How else do I find someone?” Haseul drops her head and replies under her breath with words you can’t make out. “Huh?”

Haseul sighs and says, “maybe you should take a break to think about what you really want?”

“I suppose. My last four dates haven’t worked out at all. I can’t be that bad, right?” you ask quizzically.

“No, not at all,” she says with more sincerity. In an act of reassurance, Haseul places her hands on yours. “Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.” 

“I’m looking at the right places right now, though.” You tilt your head forward to make sure she knows that you’re looking between the gap in the gown at her perfectly weighted mounds.

“Oh, seriously? You get rejected, and now you’re acting like some pent-up pervert?”

“You just spent the last five minutes with your push-up bra forcing your tits into my face.”

“Well, that's a bit of an overreaction and hey, what the hell? This isn’t a push-up bra, you horny fuck.”

“I dunno, Haseul, they’re not normally that big.”

“It’s been a week since you’ve seen them. Your memory must be as bad as your flirting, Mr Four-Rejections.”

“If my flirting is so bad, does that make you easy? Because it’s worked on you plenty of times.”

Haseul grabs the pillow from behind her and strikes you on the side of the head with the soft bag of feathers.

“That’s for calling me a slut.” She winds up and strikes you again. “That’s for being a pervert.” Again. A third hit to the side of your head. “That’s for saying I’m wearing a push-up.” This time, on the other side of your head, she connects with hit number four. “That’s for not fucking me for over a week.” 

Haseul winds up a fifth strike, a huge overhead lunge that bears down on the top of your skull. You reach up and catch the pillow, holding it now above your head. Your faces are closer together now. “There it is. Now, who’s horny and pent-up?” 

“Well, before someone came home rejected, I was about to get my toys out and fuck myself senseless.”

“Sounds like I made it home just in time, then. Maybe you should call and thank her for standing me up.”

“Yeah, I’ll stick to my toys. Thank you.”

“What did you say last time?” You pull on the pillow, taking it from her hands and throwing it back where it belonged. “I think it was, ‘Oh my god, your cock is so big, I never want to use a toy again.’ Do I remember that right?” 

Haseul strikes your shoulder with an open palm. “Fuck you!” 

“Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder; then it was ‘I only want to fuck you, I want to fuck you all day.’” You let out a soft laugh at her reddening face as she hits you again.

“God damn it, I hate you,” Haseul says through grinning teeth. Despite her rosy cheeks, your renditions of her words clearly excited her.

“Really? Because I bet you’re dripping wet right now that I’m making you relive those memories. Hate me? You fucking love m—love fucking me.” Haseul turns away from you. Maybe your last comment was a little too personal and not as fun as your imitations of her. You decide it’s best to dial back on feelings and make fun of her again.

You continue, “I can still picture your face now, right there on the bed, looking up at me as I fuck you. ‘Oh! Oh! Oh my god, yes! Fuck me harder, fuck me faster! That’s it! Oh, Oh OHH!’” You exaggerate your imitation of her orgasm by almost shouting at the top of your lungs. 

“I do not sound like that!” she shouts as she turns to face you. Her face is burning, but not in embarrassment. The raging blaze of desire inside her is apparent on both her fiery face and lust-filled eyes. “Let’s see if you can actually make me orgasm, and I will remind you how I actually sound.” Haseul leaps forward into a new sitting position. Her long legs wrap around your waist, crossing behind you. On your lap rests her thick thighs and ass. The soft flesh of her thighs melts around your jeans as she rests down on your lap. You bury your fingers into her soft flesh, which feels much like the pillow you just threw away. That’s not the only similarity between her thighs and her pillows—you’ve slept on both of them before. 

The heat of her core radiates onto your crotch as she pushes her body against yours before engaging you in a passionate kiss. A week without your body must have been torture for her. It was rare she came at you so aggressively for sex, but it was also welcome. She is hungry for your lips, eating them like her final meal. Between hungry periods of making out, she pauses only to bite your lower lip. Her nibbles hurt a little due to her aggression. If she doesn’t stop soon, your mouth will be sore.

“I’m going to make you orgasm, Seulie, more than once, and I’m going to make you scream so loud the neighbours downstairs will write a formal complaint—again.” Your words make her breath hitch. 

“Oh my god, please!” Her ‘please’ came out barely as a recognisable word, more so as a moan. Her eyes roll back as she pushes herself further into your body. The thin layer of her soaked panties rubs against your trousers. Haseul takes pleasure in just the slightest friction. “Mmmm, that feels so nice.” Her hot breath hits your face as she moans softly from just not-so-dry-humping you. A wet patch forms on your trousers, right over your stiffening cock. During her furious mounting of your body, you push the silk gown from her shoulders down to her wrists. Haseul slips both of her hands out of the cloth and throws it to the floor.

You take hold of her juicy ass. One cheek fills each of your palms. With a hard squeeze of your hands, Haseul lets out a small whimper and closes her eyes. You pull her in by her ass and push your own crotch forward, your stiff cock pressing your wet trousers against her crotch with more friction than before. With all the strength in your arms, you pull her body back and forth over your crotch. Her entire body is now under the control of your hands, and you play with her like a puppet. 

Haseul throws her head over your shoulder and her arms around you. She buries her face into the crook of your neck, alternating the actions of her mouth between biting your skin and moaning loudly right below your ear. Her hands claw at your back, pulling at the fabric of your shirt and occasionally scratching the skin below. You continue to grind Haseul’s body against your own forcefully. With a repeated push and pull of her wide hips in your hands. 

Haseul’s moans become more pronounced—louder and sharper. Her breath has become erratic and rapid. Short blasts of hot air hit your neck in relentless succession. To draw air deep into her lungs, Haseul’s chest heaves, and her heart pounds against your chest. The pulsations travel through the soft mounds on her chest which press against you.

“Are you about to cum for me, Seulie? Just from a little grinding?”

“Shut… shut up. And make—make me cum.” She gasps out the words through sharp, swift breaths. 

“I have to shut my mouth, but you can jus—” Haseul’s palm plants itself squarely in your face and paws around to find your mouth. Once found, she traps your lips shut.

“Shut up,” she sternly whispers into your ear. Haseul’s grinding is now aggressive as she chases her high. Her soft moaning stops; she holds her breath as her high hits her before releasing her pleasure in a long moan. Much like her singing, the pitch is perfect. Melodic. Her whole body shakes on top of you as she rides out the last of her orgasm on your crotch. Her juices become too much for the lace barrier to hold back and soak through onto your trousers.

Haseul releases her hold on you, falling backwards onto the bed. Her glistening thighs still rest over your own legs, a delicious dish presented on a fleshy platter. She takes a series of deep breaths with her eyes closed. “Fuck, that was good. I needed that.”

“Wow, Seulie, how long have you been holding that back?” You say as you stroke your hand over her still twitching pussy.

“Too long.” Haseul opens her eyes and smiles with a mischievous look. “Well, thanks for that. You can leave now.”

You can’t find the right words to answer back and sit there stunned into silence.

“Haha! The look on your face, I should take a picture. Now I know what you looked like sitting at that table when your date didn’t show.” 

Incensed by her teasing, you intend to wipe the smirk from her face. In one fell swoop, you push her drenched panties to the side and slip two fingers into her drenched, hot pussy. 

“Oh my god!” Haseul shouts before biting her lip in anticipation, but your next move shocks her. With your other hand, you pinch the flesh of her thigh. “Ow! What the fuck! That hurt!”

“Well, it’s your choice: Be nice to me, and I’ll make you cum again, laugh at me, and I’ll pinch you until these thighs are red.”

“You wouldn’t do that to my thighs. You love them too much, especially around your head,” she says before letting out a chuckle. You pinch again, a little harder this time, and you leave a small red mark. “Ow! Okay! No more jokes. Now please take my panties off and claim what’s yours.”

“That’s more like it, Seulie.” Despite her wanting pussy clinging to your fingers, you extract them to pull down her panties. A small whimper can be heard from Haseul’s mouth. You reveal fully what hides beneath: her well-kempt pussy. The smooth skin of her lips just barely hid the pink flesh inside. Her slightly open hole slowly closes again in the absence of your fingers.

You spread her thighs almost split to one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. Her new workout has really helped her flexibility and, with it, your sex life. With just two fingers, you spread her folds and admire what lies between them. It really is yours, just like she said. You’ve never heard nor seen any other men visiting Haseul. You were her satisfaction, and she was yours. Small whimpers escape Haseul’s lips as the tension builds; she waits for you to spring to action.

You reposition and dip your head into your favourite meal. You never had a chance to eat dinner, but that doesn’t matter. Just like when you were younger, you’re happy to skip right to dessert. And what a special dessert it is. From the first taste of her sweet juices discarded on the exterior of her pussy, your hunger is appeased but not satiated. You collect everything on her thighs and lips like it was liquid gold. In anticipation, your platter squirms on the bed before outright begging. “Please, just eat my little cunt. I’ve been waiting so long.”

Underneath her outstretched thighs, you hook your arms. Your hands reach up and take hold of her waist. Haseul takes a deep breath in preparation, one that’s both audible and can be felt in the movement of her stomach. You connect your open lips around her sweet spot and apply a little suction. With the first slow swipe of her clit with your tongue, Haseul exhales via a moan.

You lavishly lick at her swelling clit. The replacement of the rough friction of fabric with your wet tongue created a fresh sensation for the girl spread before you. One that she is not shy about as she calls out into the room, “That’s it! Right there. Don’t stop. You know how I like it.” That you did. You know exactly how to make her cum in your mouth, but you also know how to make her orgasm as intense as possible; tease her a little. You move your securely attached lips down to right over her hole and leave her clit unattended, much to Haseul’s dismay. She lets out a disappointed whine.

She loves how you like to switch things up and pleasure her differently. You fully extend your tongue, punching it into Haseul’s hole. Back and forth, you tongue fuck her until she resumes her soft moaning. This always leads to a more intense orgasm for Haseul and a larger deposit of tasty cum for you. 

Down Haseul’s toned midriff, right above your head, snakes a hand. Not yours, but Haseul’s. Reaching for her clit to force herself to orgasm. Action denied. You run one of your hands over her stomach to intercept the invader of your alone time with Haseul’s pussy. She calls down to you in a shaky voice, “nooo, let me cum. I need it.” You slide your hungry tongue out from inside her and position your mouth back over her clit. With your head back where she wants it, Haseul closes her juicy thighs around your head and crosses her calves on your back to pull you into her warm pussy. You apply a series of rapid licks to Haseul’s swollen clit, at a constant speed, rhythm and pressure. Now you will make her cum. 

“YES! That’s it! Right there! Yes. Yes! YES!” If Haseul weren’t shouting, you wouldn’t be able to hear her through the juicy thighs covering your ears. You can barely make out her muffled moans through the fleshy obstructions as they get louder and louder. The pressure on your skull peaks as Haseul’s thighs clench around your head. Her lower back rises from the bed as she pushes her pussy into your face. With that final push, the fluids that had been held inside her came crashing down onto your mouth and chin. The liquid falls like monsoon season. You desperately try to catch as much as you can in your mouth and savour her sweet taste, but there’s too much. Her sheets join your trousers in being ruined by Haseul’s cum.

“Wow, that was amazing. I admit you really are better than every toy I have.” You can hear her clearly again, even though her voice is now softer than before. Unleashed from your prison, you can sit up as her powerful legs fall back to the bed. All the hard work has made you unfathomably hot, so you pull your shirt over your head. “Take off the rest too,” Haseul says with a renewed hunger in her tone. “I’m going to ride you until you cum for me.” 

With your shirt off, you lie on the bed next to Haseul. “About time. I’ve been desperate to cum since you opened the bedroom door.” 

Haseul sits up to unbuckle your trousers and then pulls both them and your underwear off together and says, “you don’t have to wait any longer. I’m going to hump you dry.” Now on her knees beside you, Haseul leans over and looks down at your stiff cock. “You need to stop making me wait a week between rides. A cock like this is going to waste if it isn’t fucking every day—fucking me every day.”

“You can fuck me every day, Haseul.”

“Don’t let your horny mind write cheques you can’t cash. I’m serious. I want to fuck you every day. Then you don’t have to go around dating bimbos. You can just be with—you can just fuck me.” Haseul looks away from your face and down at your cock. Her aqua hair falls to hide her face. From behind the wall of hair drops a ball of her spit, which she catches in her hand. She rubs her hand messily over your entire stiff cock, covering it in her saliva. This is the first time tonight Haseul’s soft skin touched your cock, and it felt amazing. But it would not stop there. Haseul intends to up the ante quickly as she swings one of her legs over yours.

With her full ass and wide hips facing you, you admire the form of her sculpted body. Above her thick ass—which hovers teasingly over your cock—her arched back presents her two dimples on her lower back; they punctuate the crevice that runs all the way up her spine. Haseul herself may be an artist, but you’d like to meet the artist who crafted her. She is a genuine work of art. 

With a hand between her legs, she guides you against her entrance. After a little rub around her folds, she sets you in position. In a swift move, Haseul lowers her body onto the end of your cock. She takes you exactly to the hilt before you reach the tightening end of her pussy. It clenches the end of your cock. Everything you had done up to this point had only built Haseul’s arousal, enabling you to slide right into her wanting pussy. As the only cock she had ever had, her pussy seemed to preset to your shape. Her walls hugged you tightly, but never enough to push you out. She is made for you.

There is very little build up in pace. Haseul is intent on doing exactly what she set out to do—to hump you dry. Her plump ass threatens to run away from you each time she pulls it forward before she slams it back against you. She causes a tremor in her voluptuous body with each hit against your crotch. “You like that?” she calls over her shoulder. “You like my ass bouncing in front of you as I fuck your amazing cock?”

“I love it Haseul.” You reach out and play with her bouncing ass. You squeeze and pull at her flesh, which moulds under your touch like soft dough. “Your ass is amazing. Your whole body is amazing.” 

Now settled into a rhythm, Haseul swings her head back, and her hair falls onto her upper back like waves invading a golden beach. Her moans echo in the room as she shouts out directly up into the air. “Your cock is amazing! It’s filling my little cunt! You’re so fucking fun to ride! So long, so thick, so special!” Haseul continues to shout superlatives into the air as she enjoys every moment of your cock impaling her right up to her womb.

“Haseul, I’m getting close. Face me.” She does as you wish, regretfully pulling herself off your cock and then turning to lie on top of you. Haseul arches her back and reaches behind her to direct your cock from resting between her ass cheeks and back inside her. This is one of Haseul’s favourite ways to fuck you. She gets to orgasm again face to face with you, before pulling you out and letting you cum all over her back and on her ass. Her eyes show ‌she is close to step one, and the feeling in your stomach means you’re close to step two.

Haseul rests her head against yours. Your noses and foreheads touch, exchanging sweat between the two. She tries her best to keep her eyes open and look into yours as she slams her pussy down onto you, but the pleasure keeps making her eyelids flutter. You take a hand on each hip and match her movements. You buck your hips up into her to meet every bounce on your cock. Each time you make sure to bury yourself deep inside her. 

“You’re so fucking hot, Haseul. Look at me when you cum. I want to see your pretty face while you cum on my cock.” Your words alone sent her over the edge, but the hard fucking you are giving her seals the deal. She attempts to kiss you as she cums, but her moans make it impossible. She forces her eyes to stay open, but they roll back as her pussy tightens around your cock. It took every manner of breathing technique and willpower not to cum inside her. 

You continue to buck up into her, just enough to let her ride out her orgasm but not enough to finish yourself. As her orgasm finishes, she locks eyes with you again. “You look so beautiful when you cum, Seulie.” She blushes and buries her head into your neck. “Seriously, it’s something special. You’re special.”

Haseul freezes with her head still buried in your neck. For a few seconds, her body is tense. Static on top of you, your cock is still planted to the hilt inside her. Haseul raises her mouth to your ear and whispers, “cum inside me.” 

“But you sai—”

“No questions. Just cum inside me. Fuck me and cum in me right now.” Haseul bites your earlobe softly and moans into your ear as she moves her hips again. There was a newfound hunger in the way she rode you. Her pussy almost refused to let you out, gripping onto you like it was the only thing that mattered. Haseul speaks again, urging you on. “Go on. Fuck me. Fuck me and fill me. Make me feel special.”

You give her everything you have, holding her hips and taking as much leverage as you can to pump your cock into her pussy, intending to fill it completely. It doesn’t take much longer of her curvy body bouncing on you to draw you to the edge of cumming.

“Are you su—”

“YES! Cum for me!”

You release shot after shot of hot liquid from your cock buried deep inside her. You paint the very back of her tight pussy white with cum. With little space left in her pussy, it pushes through right into her womb. 

“Oh, fuck yes! That’s it! I feel it all inside me. Fuck, there’s so much!” She was right. After several shots of cum, you had completely emptied your balls inside her. “Now I feel special…” 

Haseul rocks her wide hips slightly with slow, timid movements to make sure she has milked you dry. As your cock softens inside her, Haseul throws herself off to the side, lying beside you. She takes one hand down to touch her leaking pussy, catching some of the liquid that falls out of her twitching hole. She lifts her hand and looks at the cum that’s on it. “I can’t believe you just filled me up. It felt so good, so right.”

“Haseul, what was that? What came over you?”

“I—I—nothing. I just—I’m going to go clean up.” Haseul reaches down the side of the bed and grabs one of her spare towels, holding it between her legs as she sits, then stands, and then walks to the bathroom.

You relax for a moment and soak in the events of the night. What started in being painfully stood-up, then a cold walk through the snow-covered streets of Seoul, ended with you fucking your roommate—which was relatively normal. Then you cummed inside her—which was absolutely abnormal. 

You’re not sure why it had happened, but you didn’t want to dwell on curiosity. The intense sound of the gushing water inside the bathroom fills the apartment. You ‌look around the room as you regain your strength. 

Protruding from under the wardrobe is a little blue book. You recognise it from earlier, the one Haseul put away before inviting you in. It couldn’t hurt to have a look right. It was out in the open, after all. The cover of the book reads ‘Lyric Journal. You never knew she wrote her own songs; she really is talented. The ribbon marks a particular page in the middle of the book. You flick it open to that page and a verse to a song with various markings on the page.

And the title of that page? 

Your name.

#male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #idol x male reader #reader insert #smut #girl group #loona #loona haseul #jo haseul #haseul #loona x reader #haseul x reader #m reader

[chatonarya]

Gnosis Musings About The Manga

Original thread on twitter.

I think one of the things the manga makes clear is that Gnosis is Just Like That, and he's always been Like That even before BI. While focus is given to how Enciodes has not always been the smug chessmaster we know and love today but rather became that way through experience...

...we see that Gnosis by contrast has always been shameless, fearless, and committed. No shame faking drunk; no fear of radical actions; ready to do whatever it takes. It instantly hearkens back to his public "humiliation" in BI.

It also lends a whole new life to this line; I always thought it referred to the fact that he was blamed for the deaths of the Silverashes, but now I wonder if he meant it in a more literal sense, too.

We also get another view of Gnosis in general, and how he behaves around two of the people he arguably trusts most (though for half of it he doesn't fully trust Degen yet), and I find it absolutely fascinating, and how it demonstrates how tsundere he can be.

Ironically, despite his file emphasizing how he doesn’t have energy to spare for emotion, Gnosis is someone who’s very blunt and open with negative emotion: he displays displeasure and anger without hesitation, including towards Enciodes and Degenbrecher.

But Enciodes and Degenbrecher both are comfortable with this aspect of Gnosis: Enciodes doesn't bat an eye when he starts laying into him for some reason or another, probably because he's already used to it. (Look at child Gnosis in that flashback; he's always been Like That.)

While I'm sure we'll see more of this during RS, I feel like an argument can be made that Degenbrecher gets used to his squawking very quickly. She seems almost amused by him throughout the manga (consider as well that she's likely been living with them for 3 months).

Yet despite Gnosis being verbally dismissive or combative, there's a large emphasis placed on the fact that he'll do anything for Enciodes and Karlan Trade, but he'll never say so.

Even to himself in his module story, Gnosis insists that his loyalty is only to his own choices, but his choice is once again Karlan Trade, which is the company he co-founded with Enciodes and is the vehicle for their shared dream.

We also see Gnosis has always cared more about executing things perfectly than deep communication; he values things being understood and grasped wordlessly rather than explaining all, a rapport he shares with his partner. (Note that they likely had to improvise during their plan.)

It may be partly personal interpretation, but I feel like Gnosis bickers with people he cares about, almost in some way of showing affection. He may claim he doesn’t care, but his actions tell a different story. (And I love that Enciodes often bickers right back at him.)

I would also be remiss if I didn't mention his EP, which is absolutely bursting with emotion, love, and dedication. "Please don't leave" "The reason I fall, take my heart and save me from the end" "'Cause when we fall through dreams [...] we'll move beyond together"

Conclusion: Gnosis is a tsundere arson crane who probably has a literal crime record because he just doesn't care about what it takes because he's 110% committed (and doesn't think twice about plucking out his own feathers for brocade). I look forward to more of his antics in RS.

#arknights #arknights essay #my essays #gnosis

[cherry-vennom]

Some people are offended by raw natural beauty–by a woman being grounded in her body and undulating around life feeling beautiful without much effort or fuss. Since Ancient times, women have danced as a sign of belonging to Earth and made the world a more beautiful place for us all. Our ancestors were the ones who cultivated the superpower of natural beauty in the sacred feminine and it was used to defeat negative energy.  Therefore do not secretly hate the lighthearted, the innocent, the erotic, or the playful. Like a wildflower, admire and gaze upon, but don’t ruin things for everyone by plucking and pulling it out of the ground. The organs of humankind benefit from seeing more natural beauty emanate.

India Ame’ye Author (via eatmangoesnekkid)

#yin #perspective #awareness #higher consciousness #heart mind #sacred heart #flowers #love #self love #words

[tired-reader-writer]

And here we have Ranna, my OC!

They're Tahamenay's child, her lost daughter, and I picked her mother's distinctive palette for several reasons— one: to make it impossible to not clock her right away as Tahamenay's child, two: to metaphorically flip birds at Andragoras, and three: because I found it very pretty.

Her first outfit, I've been having this one in my head for a long long time, I think ever since I began this AU character design sheet thing— wait no it was actually when I was designing Kashi, weirdly enough. I already had a vague idea of the silhouette and layers involved by then, though it was still very plain and blank because I hadn't assigned all that much symbolism to her... yet.

For this one, I thought that I wanted a sort of dusk, sunset sort of vibe going on, I recently got to play the remake of my favorite game: Yotsume God. And the entire aesthetic of that game, set at dusk, as if the world was awash in flames, all the red hues, it stuck with me. So I plucked some colours off of the screenshots I took and stuck them on this one— plus the dark colours made me think of Hilmes.

There are accents of yellow/gold (though rather dull) to hint at their secret royal lineage, unbeknownst to themself. Those are scorpion tails on her coat— I was running out of energy that day and could not make myself draw the entire animal. So tail it is. As for why scorpion, Ranna likes bugs and what people would consider creepy crawlies a lot, plus the symbolism:

“The symbolism of the scorpion means so many things including intelligence, independence, solitude, passion, protection, and transformation, to different tribes.”

×

“It is widely known that scorpions have deadly venom that can kill humans.”

×

“The scorpion’s stinger is used as a weapon for hunting, defense, and protection. They also represent that one has the power to protect oneself.

Scorpion bites may be poisonous, but Scorpion symbolism acts as a spirit guide that teaches you to recognize your tendencies and know how to manage them to work in your favor. It also teaches us to be brave and stand up against failure, turn our weaknesses into strengths, learn from our past mistakes, transform our pain and negativity into positivity, and identify our true identity.”

×

Generally, scorpions represent the following:

• Ability to protect other people by chasing off negative impacts and influences.

• Ability to protect oneself through fighting oneself or others.

• Powerful transformation

• Success and dream

• Independence, personal drive, and rebirth

• Mastery and self-control

• A sharp mind and intelligence

• Solitude

• Determination and willpower

• Pent-up emotions

• Aggressive behavior or feeling

• Utmost self-confidence

Ranna is quite the independent sort of person, she has control issues that stem from being expected to conform to ridiculous standards by her former caretakers (in hopes that one day she might be allowed to return to the royal court, and even if not, land a good marriage)— from her perspective her parents were trying to make her walk this path (marriage) that she's not crazy about, and a path that produces much misery and traps victims, at that. Abusive spouses, women in general don't seem to have much power and independence in Pars as far as I know, this all fed into their rebellious and independent streak. On top of that, she's been witnessing the numerous injustices of society, namely the classism and the slavery. Even after she ran away and came to live with the clan at a very young age, the clan is made of runaway slaves, abuse victims, so on and so forth, people who have endured society's bullshit and like Ranna themself sought sanctuary and freedom. That definitely radicalized her so to speak, and gave rise to this... protectiveness of themself, their agency, the clan, and a collection of pent-up emotions, mostly negative, that she takes out on people she dislikes. Ranna is very brutal and aggressive with people they hate, they like to poke and prod and rile them up so that she can feel in-control. Hilmes does his utmost to avoid them as a result.

As for the identify [their] true identity part, Ranna sneaks off to Ecbatana to scratch the itch of the urge to find out what her birth parents are like and why they abandoned them, so yeah.

The necklace with the pistachio pendant is... gotta admit, it is kinda the stretch of the century but bear with me!!

We're going on a journey in this post too, and that's a... I don't have a name for this journey but let's— let's call this Aphrodite journey.

But Egg, you may exclaim, what's pistachios gotta do with Aphrodite of all things?

I know. That's why I said this is the stretch of the century.

Buckle up, buddies.

The first reason why I chose pistachios was this:

“Pistachio forests in the eastern, southern and southeastern districts – 26,000 km2 (10,000 sq mi)”

They're present in the Alborz mountain range too, of course, but why is the southeastern part of Iran (the country Pars is based on) significant in particular?

Well, look no further than this map. (EDIT: This fan map was made by tumblr user chatmant! Thank you @daryun for telling me!)

As ArSen fans will know, Tahamenay was originally from the Principality of Badakhshan, located southeast of Pars— before Osroes came in and conquered the area. I wanted to include a nod to her mother's origins and whatnot.

Pistachios are supposedly dubbed “green gold”, or just “the emerald”, and harvest if I am correct starts in September.

Tahamenay's child was born in the ninth month, which I know doesn't mean it corresponds to modern September but hush. I'm just gonna roll with it to retain my sanity for now.

Keep an eye on the emerald part. This is where the stretch begins.

“Emerald symbolism encompasses not only royalty but also wit, eloquence, and foresight. "The Jewel of Kings" also serves as the May birthstone. Whatever its supposed mystical properties, this gem has long been regarded as a superior jewel. Rare and beautiful, emerald's stunning green color has also brought it an honored status amongst cultures worldwide.”

Royalty for their lineage, and well, Ranna's quite very crafty and cunning.

“A revealer of truths, emerald reputedly could cut through all illusions and spells, including the truth or falsity of a lover's oath.”

The circumstances surrounding her identity, plus their brutal honesty with the people she dislikes. She is honest with people she likes too but... they take delight in tearing down the worldview and personal truths of the ones she hates.

“Western traditions connect emeralds more frequently with the planet Venus. Perhaps the story from Greek and Roman mythology of Venus emerging from the sea makes a difference here. For followers of Western astrology, the "sea green" color of emerald may make a better match with the goddess's namesake planet.”

I took one look at Venus and decided to think about Aphrodite instead, since that's the one I'm more familiar with.

“Aphrodite is an ancient Greek goddess associated with love, lust, beauty, pleasure, passion, and procreation.

Aphrodite has been featured in Western art as a symbol of female beauty and has appeared in numerous works of Western literature.”

Aphrodite is the goddess of love and beauty, and of seduction as well. While Ranna is squarely not interested in seducing anybody save a certain bandit girl (and their idea of “seducing” said bandit girl involves a lot less sexytimes, thank fuck, and a whole lot more bloody murder, adrenaline-charged heists, and general chaos and shenanigans anyways) but, as Ranna inherited Tahamenay's looks, and Tahamenay was met with a trauma conga line of misfortune no thanks to her beauty, and was accused of seducing many men.

Also Aphrodite, from what I know, is an agent of chaos lol, which Ranna also is.

Also also, Aphrodite's origin myth involves her washing ashore from the sea, and Badakhshan is in contact with the sea, and I headcanon that Tahamenay was from somewhere along the coastline.

Also, Aphrodite had a lot of epithets which range from Genetyllis meaning “Mother” (which I link with Tahamenay) to Areia meaning “warlike”:

“Across the Greek world, she was known under epithets such as Melainis "Black One", Skotia "Dark One", Androphonos "Killer of Men", Anosia "Unholy", and Tymborychos "Gravedigger", all of which indicate her darker, more violent nature.”

And as people who's seen me talk about Ranna, this girl is... a Terror™ among terrors.

And that's how I ended up linking pistachios to Aphrodite.

Onto the second outfit, I went for foxy colours since I ended up not putting actual foxes on her clothes.

Why foxes? Well...

“Fox symbolism and meaning include cleverness, independence, playfulness and mischievousness, beauty, protection, and good luck.”

×

“The animal is taken to be the incarnation of cunning, slyness, perfidy, and even wickedness.”

Characteristics that Ranna embodies, plus in the manga Tahamenay was referred to as “that sharp-eyed vixen”. Another nod to their mother!

Also, clawed gloves. Me likes.

What are the purple flowers on her clothes? Why the purple sash? Oh, this is one I've been holding for A VERY LONG TIME.

So a while ago, I had the idea of associating either Ranna or Arslan with saffron/saffron flowers— saffron is precious, and the flowers bloom in autumn. One would be associated with saffron, and the other would be associated with “autumn crocus/meadow saffron” which is actually not saffron at all and instead is poisonous, even.

Pretty neat plan, except I kept going back and forth on who would be which flower. Because on one hand Ranna is secret royalty and it'd make sense for her to be associated with the expensive and precious saffron, Arslan the fake saffron, but on the other hand I ended up linking venom/poison and Ranna (the scorpion, poisoned weaponry), and Arslan ended up embodying a lot of saffron symbolism...

So I decided, fuck it, imma just leave it ambiguous. Figure this shit out yourselves 😭 That's also why I left out the saffron threads/ the styles and stamens of this ambiguous flower, because true crocuses have three stamens and three styles, while colchicums have six stamens and one style. The meadow saffron I talked about? Iirc it's a colchicum, not a true crocus.

“Saffron is harvested from the saffron crocus, scientific name Crocus sativus. This is a different plant entirely from the autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale), also known somewhat confusingly as meadow saffron.

×

“Colchicum autumnale, commonly known as autumn crocus, meadow saffron, or naked ladies, is a toxic autumn-blooming flowering plant that resembles the true crocuses, but is a member of the plant family Colchicaceae, unlike the true crocuses, which belong to the family Iridaceae. The name "naked ladies" is because the flowers emerge from the ground long before the leaves appear. Despite the vernacular name of "meadow saffron", this plant is not the source of saffron, which is obtained from the saffron crocus, Crocus sativus – and that plant, too, is sometimes called "autumn crocus".”

×

“Crocus sativus, commonly known as saffron crocus or autumn crocus, is a species of flowering plant in the iris family Iridaceae. A cormous autumn-flowering cultivated perennial, unknown in the wild, it is best known for the culinary use of its floral stigmas as the spice saffron.”

×

“The sativus has a long history in the world, and as such has gathered much symbolism and meaning alongside itself. Some of the more common associations are feelings of happiness and joy, with a gift of saffron being a way to send positive vibes and energy to another. It is thought to relate to the emotions of youth as well, and childlike wonder. It was commonly used in roman households as a perfume for guests as they entered the abode. The name crocus sativus is thought to originate from the Greek god Krokus, who upon his death became the flower, as well as the Arabic word “zafaran,” which means yellow.”

×

And the symbolism of individual colours of crocuses (not limited to saffron crocuses):

“Purple, the traditional color of royalty, is tied to gracefulness, dignity, and personal success. It’s great for symbolize someone’s recent accomplishments or to celebrate their many years of service or partnership. Darker shades in particular have a strong association with the wisdom of experience. It represents success, pride and dignity. This flower color is also a symbol of royalty and nobility.

White, the purest and most versatile flower color of them all. A bouquet of Crocuses in this color can indicate a humble approach or wishes of condolences for someone in grief. This color is commonly associated with funerals in some cultures, but it’s also used for weddings due to its ties to purity and elegance in others. White Crocus flower is a symbol of purity, truth and innocence. This flower is usually used as wedding decoration.

The yellow Crocus flower is a symbol of cheerfulness and joy.”

Hold onto these crocus colour stuff. They'll become relevant again in Arslan's sheet. Or really, the entire crocus/saffron section of this post.

How long has this thing become?

“It is most commonly associated with spring, renewal, and rebirth due to its growth during the winter or early spring.

Autumn blooming Crocuses may inspire some artists and writers to use it as a symbol of hope in the face of loss or death instead. These varieties can be some of the last flowers to bloom, making them a reminder of the spring to come.”

×

“By the middle of October, saffron flowers begin to blossom, and this blooming lasts for about three weeks.

Crocus sativus are grown from bulbs known as corms. Crocus corms are best planted in September, then will flower a couple of months later

September is best for planting in warmer locations (zones 7-10). Saffron Crocus can be planting in the ground or in containers in these warmer zones. Saffron Crocus (Crocus sativus) blooms in fall.”

×

“Saffron flowers symbolize rebirth, joy, innocence and new beginnings. It is also a symbol of youthfulness as it is the first flower to bloom in the spring. In ancient Rome, the crocus was a symbol of love.”

×

“The Crocus flower generally represents youth, innocence, rebirth, cheerfulness, pleasure, gladness and joy.”

×

“While crocus do have that well-known association with being the first blooms of the new year, they aren’t necessarily just a spring flower. In fact, some croci (both croci and crocuses are acceptable plurals) bloom late in the autumn. So, while it’s true that the crocus is a symbol of rebirth from the darkest times, it’s also applicable as a symbol and omen of enduring and thriving life. You, like the crocus, can be renewed in spite in the coldness and darkness of the depths of winter.”

×

“Depending on the exact species and variety, Crocus plants can bloom in the spring, autumn, or winter.”

If you're seeing lots of snippets about how they bloom in different seasons, it's because I was getting very annoyed at the sheer confusion I suffered during research, people will just conflate saffron crocuses and regular-ass crocuses, leading to stuff that says “saffron flowers bloom in spring!” and the repeated information about spring-blooming crocuses.

I'm so tired. Get your facts straight, people!

Also, almost forgot to mention, her foxy colours here of course can be attributed to the saffron route as well, if you choose to associate her with saffron and not meadow saffron.

And Tahamenay is shown having purple on her:

And who can ignore the centipede?

“Centipedes are the ultimate "creepy crawlies." Their many-legged bodies are more often the subject of horror than fascination.”

She horrifies a lot of people. And they also cause fascination too, and of course they're absolutely smitten by centipedes.

“Centipedes and millipedes are multi-legged predatory arthropods which live in a variety of different terrestrial habitats. These bugs are found in almost every region of the planet, including, even, the Arctic Circle.”

×

“Centipedes live in soil, under rocks and dead wood, and inside logs. Because they live in dirt, centipedes are often associated with death and decay. Due to its preference for hidden places, the centipede is sometimes associated with the afterlife or the "Underworld." This association sometimes connects centipedes to occult forces and taboo subjects.”

Ranna rolls around in dirt, explores the woods and mountains and is not in the slightest afraid of getting dirty. They're “dead” to Andragoras and nonexistent to the rest of the court, and their existence or the talk about it or their identity can be regarded as “taboo”. It's not like Tahamenay can talk about this to anyone, after all.

“The centipede’s unusual anatomy connects it with speed and dexterity. The centipede’s venomous bite associates these fearsome arthropods with both sickness and medicine.”

×

“Both centipede and millipede are symbols of good luck, energy, and healing. In addition, it is said that centipedes are among the only things that dragons fear. So, centipedes represent the power and ferocity that even the smallest of creatures can embody. Finally, perhaps the strongest association with centipedes is fear itself. Centipedes represent anxieties, phobias both rational and irrational, and nightmares. Because of this, centipedes can also represent the courageous act of confronting one’s fears.”

×

“The Irish Banshee was often depicted as an older woman surrounded by creepy crawlers such as spiders and centipedes. The cry of the Banshee is thought to be a harbinger of death.”

Lots of scary ominous stuff going on here, and Ranna is the one who'd eventually cause Andragoras' death, but not without Tahamenay's contribution, of course :3

Then we have their ceremonial dance attire. Follows the general template, with a few tweaks.

Her sash is a warmer red than Kazai's.

The star symbols on the skirt part also resemble suns, hinting at her royal lineage.

Purple for Tahamenay.

A lot more yellow/gold, again for the royal lineage thing.

The necklace is a chaotic collection of colours, which yeah represents her own chaos.

They just seem like the type to frequently go barefoot regardless of the occasion.

Also, as you may have noticed, Ranna has one or both arms free of the sleeves of the outermost layer in two of the outfits, and that's to show how she cares little about decorum and stuff, such as wearing a garment “properly”.

That's all. It's 3:25am, I started drafting this thing immediately after I finished drawing a couple hours ago, which also I finished this tonight out of an adrenaline rush because I have to return to classes tomorrow.

I hate my life.

I'm gonna immediately head to sleep, I can already tell I won't get enough. Bye! Hope y'all enjoyed this!

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #ranna (oc) #arslan senki oc #rotten egg's shitty art #the character design sheet saga #me: gonna type this one up real quick and then I'll go to bed! #this post: you fool. you absolute buffoon. #Tahamenay #I almost don't want to know how long this post ended up being #I'M SORRY #long post #just in case

[santmat]

Finding Our Spiritual Oasis (Inner Peace, Rest, Tranquility) During This Life -

Escaping the Illusion and Turmoil of the World During This Kali Yuga Age -

Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast - Sant Mat Satsang Podcasts -

A Satsang Without Walls

By developing a spiritual practice, on demand we are able to find respite from the madness of the world, this turbulent ocean of samsara, gaining our freedom from serving as pawns of a demiurgical, kalistic culture of conflict and agitated minds.

"What our modern world has suffered from most of all is runaway ideology, the agitated attachment to ideas that thereby become the playthings of infrahuman energies. This is the great danger of all ideologies, whether political, religious, or academic." (Jacob Needleman expressing some thoughts about the Gospel of Thomas)

"Solitude is not something you must hope for in the future. Rather, it is a deepening of the present, and unless you look for it in the present you will never find it." (Thomas Merton)

Finding Our Spiritual Oasis (Inner Peace, Rest, Tranquility) During This Life - Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast @ YouTube: 

https://youtu.be/MOCLDsozAfc

Finding Our Spiritual Oasis (Inner Peace, Rest, Tranquility) - Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcast - Listen and/or Download @:

https://traffic.libsyn.com/spiritualawakeningradio/Finding_Our_Spiritual_Oasis.mp3

@ the Podcast Website With Buttons That Go To All the Popular Podcast APPS - Wherever You Follow Podcasts:

https://SpiritualAwakeningRadio.libsyn.com/finding-our-spiritual-oasis-inner-peace-rest-tranquility-during-this-life

@ Apple Podcasts:

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/finding-our-spiritual-oasis-inner-peace-rest-tranquility/id1477577384?i=1000631057171

@ Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/episode/1HkVKNQsgq4CnfnfuFIrRv

@ Google Podcasts:

https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly9mZWVkcy5saWJzeW4uY29tLzIwNzIzNi9yc3M/episode/M2UzN2QwMTEtMWRjOS00MTYyLTkyNDUtYjY2OGMzYzZkZTA0?sa=X&ved=0CCIQz4EHahcKEwj4mcK3---BAxUAAAAAHQAAAAAQAQ

& @ Wherever You Subscribe and Follow Podcasts (YouTube, Apple, Spotify, Google Podcasts, Amazon, Audible, PodBean, Overcast, Jio Saavan, iHeart Radio, Podcast Addict, Gaana, CastBox, etc...):

https://linktr.ee/SpiritualAwakeningRadio

The goal of this Sant Mat Satsang discourse is to shed more light on the meditation practices of the Sants which liberate the soul, provides a spiritual oasis for souls to be free from the agents of the negative power, ever-and-always agitating minds in this world, keeping them off-center so they never get around to going within, finding their true self and exploring the Divine Realms available inside during spiritual practice.

We must rise above during our meditations in order to ultimately return to the Ocean of Love and All-Consciousness known as God... above this bodily existence, above this material plane, above time or KAL, above mind, above maya or illusion and all these outer planes of creation. As it says in the Greek Gospel of Thomas "we enter into Rest." And as Rumi has written in his mystic poetry, To Him We Shall Return.

Meister Eckhart the German Mystic: "If the soul is to see God, then it must see no temporal thing, for as long as the soul is conscious of time or space, or of an idea, it cannot know God."

This discourse is also deliberately mindful of the lineage of Sant Mat Masters spanning many centuries, tracing this Path of the Masters back through time to Satguru Kabir.

References, Subjects, Sources and Segments Include: Rumi, Gospel of Thomas, The Empty Tomb of Satguru Kabir (The Story of Kabir's Body Turning Into Lotus Flowers), Plucking Flowers of Spirituality Within Your Body Through the Meditation Practice of the Sants, The Anurag Sagar (Ocean of Love) and Sant Dharam Das), the Prakash Mani Gita on Inner Sound Meditation, Sat Saheb and Sant Dariya Sahib of Bihar, Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras, Maharaj Girdhari Sahib of Lucknow, Swami Ji Maharaj of Agra (Sar Bachan Radhasoami Poetry), Sant Garib Das of the Radhaswami Satsang, Rohilla, Delhi (book of Anmol Vachan), Baba Jaimal Singh of Beas, Hazur Baba Sawan Singh, Baba Somanath, Sant Kirpal Singh, Sant Ji (The Light of Ajaib), and Baba Ram Singh's Satsang Discourse on Kabir and Sant Dharam Das - Anurag Sagar commentary: The Saints are Instructed by The Almighty to Fetch the Troubled Souls. "The Almighty has promised the souls who have left Him and into the world of Kal, that if they are in trouble, or if they remember Him, He shall come to fetch them." (Baba Ram Singh on the liberation of souls during this Kali Yuga age)

In Divine Love (Bhakti), Light, and Sound, At the Feet of the Masters, Radhasoami,

James Bean

Spiritual Awakening Radio Podcasts

Sant Mat Satsang Podcasts

Sant Mat Radhasoami

A Satsang Without Walls

https://www.SpiritualAwakeningRadio.com

#innerpeace #peace #tranquility #relax #breathe #relaxation #rest #spiritualrest #relaxationresponse #gowithinorgowithout #spiritualpodcast #Podcast #SpiritualAwakening #SpiritualAwakeningRadio #Spiritual #Spirituality #GoWithin #Meditate #Meditation #SpiritualPractice #Radhaswami #Radhasoamiji #Radha_Soami #AnuragSagar #Radhasoami #Santmat #Sant_Mat #Satsang #SuratShabdYoga #PathoftheMasters

#spirituality #meditation #spiritual #meditate #podcast #spiritual awakening #spiritual awakening radio #inner peace #peace #satsang #sant mat #radhasoami #consciousness #freedom #spiritual freedom #tranquility #go within

[buckysbabygorl]

Full Boyle

Summary: Y/N gets sappy about a TV show

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: relationship insecurity

~

Brooklyn Nine-Nine is a comedy. With that, it really shouldn’t have plucked at her heart strings as much as it did.

But here she was, stifling a sob as she curled up in her blanket on her balcony.

Lost in herself, she forgot that Bucky was coming by. She was startled by the rapt on the glass sliding door.

This wasn’t new for him, walking in to Y/N in the “sad times” as she put it, balled up in her duvet in the later hours of the night. She said the cold helped her think, calm her down. He understood it, he just didn’t like seeing her sad.

She turned, and he gave her a sad smile.

“What’s up, kid?”

She sighed, wiping under her nose with the back of her hand.

“I wanna go Full Boyle with someone.”

Bucky looked at her, odd. Usually, he never needed context. He was used to her declarations in times of intense emotions, whether it be positive or negative, but this time he was a little out of the loop.

“Okay…” he clambered out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him. “I don’t know what that means.”

He shuffled around the corners of her duvet, careful not to step on them, before sitting beside her.

“It’s from a TV show.”

Bucky nodded, “So “full Boyle"?"

He started with a question, asking is that the right thing without actually asking.

She hummed, and he continued.

“Full Boyle, is a good thing then—because you wanna go…there.”

She chuckled, sniffling as she shook her head.

“Technically it’s not. But it’s genuine.”

Bucky squinted.

“Y/N, sometimes I can follow but this time I’m gonna need you to talk it out.”

She purses her lips. “There’s a character in the show, this guy, when he gets in a relationship he gets all intense and is like—overwhelmingly himself that it scares relationships away.”

Bucky’s mouth hung in a small awe.

“Right—and you wanna be that because …”

She rolled her eyes, “Let me finish. He does this all the time, but the one time he does it it actually works out. The person he loves is all for it. They’re just… on the same page. They want the same things, they match each other’s energy.”

Bucky nodded, but let her continue.

“I know it’s not real, but something about that seems so nice. Just—getting to be fully myself. Everyone tells him not to be that way, but on a whim he found the person he was supposed to be with, and then did exactly what everyone said not to and was just—unapologetically him.”

She turned to face him. Bucky swallowed.

“I wanna do that Buck. I want to be me with the right person. Stupid, and dramatic, and open about my feelings and just into it without having to tiptoe about who I am. Someone that doesn’t run just because I showed them me. I don’t have to build it up or ween them into full me. I wanna go Full Y/N.”

Bucky held her eyes.

Hm.

Imagine being with someone like that.

Imagine someone willing to accept all parts of you, and respecting them, loving them. Imagine someone knowing what you’re like and just taking that as is, no questions asked.

Imagine they know when you’re sad by your habits, imagine they come into conversation with no judgement, imagine they love the quirks in your conversation even if it’s awkward that there’s no prologue to the main point of discussion.

Imagine your best friend being in love with you since the very start, and loving the Full Y/N.

Bucky bit his lip.

“I get it.”

She smiled softly, tears still in her eyes.

“I know you do.”

She leaned into him, head on his shoulder.

“And that’s a two way street—I’m not selfish. They can be Full Boyle with me too.”

Bucky chuckled.

“I’m sure they can.”

They listened to the night, crickets quietly accompanying the wind. The avengers compound, as modern and technological as it was, was surprisingly a very serene place to be. Surrounded by nature with no neighbors, it made for nice moments like this.

“I’m sure you’ll find your Boyle, Y/N. Someone’s gonna love every part of you and you’ll love every part of them.”

He shrugged his shoulder, bumping her head softly. He let himself sink into the night, he knew he wouldn’t say anything now. Maybe when her feelings weren’t so raw, or so new.

But he thought he should soon. After all, it’s what Full Boyle would do.

“Just gotta wait for the right one to come along.”

~

A/N: Look I don’t know what this is but I’m in my feelings so please accept me and it. Thank you.

Permanent Tag-list:

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @agni-l

@niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes @emmabarnes

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky #bucky barnes fanfic

[duckapunch]

Massive Lore Dump about the "God killers of my world"

The God-Killing man:

In the beginning of time only the externals existed, chaotic forces of nature that are in the present referred to as entities for a better understanding of them, the primal, shapeless world is a subproduct of their existence; from one of them came “the golden light” a semi-conscious manifestation of order that functioned as the cradle of the gods, “The Golden Gods” as they are known today were the first and most powerful batch of gods cradled by the light.

they gave shape to the world’s material plane and made the primal life evolve into the forests, rivers, oceans and such that form the lands, and in that process they made the original humans, but not as creations born of love and curiosity, but of greed and pride as they wanted to imitate that which came before them and its power, enslavers they were to the recently born humanity and their souls and there was nothing anyone could do, the few benevolent gods that also mated with humans although wanting to liberate them and their childs could not accomplish anything, even if they were strong enough; gods are immortal, even if their flesh is erased from existence they’ll just appear again in their now so twisted light.

But there was one, a human, not birthed from the benevolence of the few but the hatred of the many, a slave like any other…

The one who hated, the one who understood that hate and used it, a hatred so deep that their souls and its power bursted out of their flesh and bone, a desire so profound to end their light that his blood turned as black as tar, the first of the Lupo, The God-Killing man.

He led the legions of man accompanied by those birthed from the very gods, those of boiling blood, those of rock and stone, and of course, of men.

Even if the war was relentless, and no shimmer of hope for liberation they saw, as not mattering how many hearts they pierced, how many heads they cut, how many wings they plucked, they just kept raining like shooting stars from the light; when the moment came and he stood in front of the first and most powerful of gods, so high in the scale no other being in existence stood a chance… He fought.

Their battle was one that burned deep into the memories of everyone who saw it, mortals, and unfortunately for them, gods alike. It was brutal, bloody and terrifying; the god, whos skin was said to be impenetrable even by other members of the divine kept regenerating from the bestial damage done to them.

In the last moments of their battle when hope seemed lost to men, the god-killing man understood something about the world, death.

Although for a moment it embraced him, he forcefully took a hold of it and combining it with his own power of the soul he broke the body and soul of the god… A moment of silence, everyone waiting for the divine leader to fly down from the light again, but he never did, when the divine army realized this a couple seconds after the occurrence, they also understood something about the world, fear.

As you’d expect they ended up exiled from the very world they shaped, liberating humanity from them.

There's a catch tho, without the gods to control the souls of humans the negative and (for the moment less important) positive energy that they naturally emanate now was free to float through the land, because of how negative energy (Soul energy and power will from now on be referred to as Aurum) works that meant the conglomeration of it, and with that Execrations and Imprecations were born. (The group of the two types will now non lore accurately be referred to as Imprexecrations)

Beings made of evil that naturally seek to produce or commit more evil, The God-Killing man with his hatred now satiated and seeing the birth of these beings as partially his fault made a vow with his own blood to continue to use Aurum as a weapon and tool to express his soul to its limits and in the process killing Imprexecrations, and this vow being made with his tar-black blood was willingly inherited by his descendants, now named The Lupos.

And that was the story of the FIRST of TWO god killers, now into the one that is actually present in the fucking story. don’t worry I’ll be short with this one.

Ando Lupo, The Fatebreaker, The God Devourer:

Hundreds of thousands of years have passed, this is the present, we live in the second golden Era of the Lupo, and thats thanks to one woman alone, let me tell you her story.

Ando Lupo was a (In that point of her life) a young boy, who sadly had experienced the death of her Lupo father at the age of ten, who had to be separated from her beloved older brother as he for many years held the promise to kill her (fortunately resolved later in their life) and that past that held the desired to understand Aurum better, a scholar in the making.

Fortunately she knew how to fight, although not being born with the insane innate talent of her older sisters or her brother, she learned thanks to both herself being very good at self teaching, research and theory making and her sisters being incredible already-present examples.

Saving the details: When she was fifteen Andos city was attacked by an Imprexecration of the second highest level, being her, her grandpa, and first older sister the only Lupo present in the city they at first stood no chance, Ando Lupos mother (Part of the “Rock and stone people”), grandpa (Lupo) and Grandma (Lupo, but not at good shape to fight) being killed by the Imprexecration in the process.

Being so close to death psychologically in her life and through that day specially as the imprexecration stabbed her heart at one point almost killing her, she was almost not surprised when the blade of that monster went through her neck, she was fated to die at that moment, but as death embraced her, she understood something of the world.

Everyone in existence felt as the line of fate shattered that day, she rose up with her head over her shoulders and her neck now bearing a black scar as if it was filled with her blood.

That day Ando Lupo killed the Imprexecration and broke fate the first time.

(We are gonna skip over the second of three breaking of fate moment for the purpose of getting to the fucking point)

Ando Lupo at her 21 years was now facing the new strongest of the gods, which had forgotten the fear of death thanks to that overwhelming greed and pride so natural of them, although Ando Lupo wasn’t the strongest Lupo at that point in time she was the only one to be able to do it.

Through the fight she was able to explore more of the beautiful power of Aurum, but she still needed something, The new god at one point bashed her skull open with a fist; Ando Lupo, once again, was fated to die that day, but at that moment she found it, the last piece of the puzzle to finally open the gates to her masterpiece, she broke fate once again and with the power of death she continued to fight the ever-regenerating god, as he had now an immortal soul and the power of death would not function as it once did, maybe thats the reason they forgot that fear… The fear of the Lupo; How unlucky of them.

Ando Lupo revealed it, a technique of Aurum that reached pass death and the heavens, and devoured the immortality of that god, killing him soon after with her bare hands.

Ando Lupo, The Fatebreaker, the God-devourer.

She later in her life brought the second golden Era of the Lupo by sharing her findings about Aurum with her brethren and with the world, she rose as the strongest to have ever existed, she teached the young, to bring forth a generation filled with strength of body and soul.

At her 31 years she even got to liberate herself from the bindings of her body (transitioned)

and lived happily in the world of souls she gave life to.

THE END!

Thx for reading through that!. Opinions and questions are more than welcomed!

#lore dump #worldbuilding #writing

[im-sleeping-in]

#stim #asmr #visual stim #stimming #colorful #cool #crystals #glitter #asmr sounds #asmr tingles #youtube #instagram #gif #asmr triggers #pretty #makeup #asmr makeup #asmr whispering #asmr for sleep #makeup stims #ear asmr #doctor roleplay #asmr roleplay #Spotify

[ultimatedaywriter]

Gravedigger's Mania

Emily was about to commit a great sin, but it was the lesser one that she worried about. Her hands shook as she listened to the low clacking of a cane on cobblestones. No one knew her quarry was here; the dhampir liked to move quietly. It kept the assassins away. That was good; she could ill afford witnesses or black knights asking questions. Emily was about to commit a great sin and a lesser one.

 

She held up a picture blurred from the glare of a low lamplight. That was the problem with being a vampire; even the lowest light cast a horrible glare. Her brother was the only one she made out in the picture.

 

It was ok; she barely remembered her parents anymore. At 8, she was turned, and she only aged half the speed each year until she turned 16. That was her problem; she looked so young compared to her aging brother. He might have been 30, but she didn’t like to count. It was embarrassing, 30 years old, and classless. Vincent didn’t use a spell like false data to fool spies like she did. Her brother’s attributes were so low he couldn’t see much of her stats.

 

The clacking was growing closer. Resneck shouldn’t be here. They both knew he was responsible for her brother’s team of gravediggers. Something always went wrong, and it was up to a powerful Dhampir like Reseneck to handle it. Every day sleds of corpses were taken to be buried to purify the graveyard with negative energy. It was the only way her brother could make enough money to keep her alive.

 

Or that was what he thought. The fool thought Emily was helpless. By the time Emily was 15 in the new life, she had already fed off another turned. It was a practice considered forbidden.

 

The door to the room opened, and Resneck entered all smiles. The fool always appeared confident with his rapier at his hip and crossbow at his side. Of course, no one would fight a lvl50 dhampir. A vampire especially wouldn’t challenge them under the sun.

 

At Emily’s meager lvl20, she was no match for Resneck, especially under the sunlight. He was confident enough to come to her home on the poor side of town without bodyguards. Normally a dhampir of the family would have an endless entourage. Still, lately, Resnick had taken to radical claims about the godless theocracy. He had a view on humans that the true vampires didn’t like. But, as one of the voting powers of the republic, the Camazotz couldn’t afford to look weak. So they took their protections away. Someone would have pounced. Emily was only the first.

 

She poured him a cup of tea as the dhampir took his wide-brimmed hat off and placed it on a dusty wooden wrack.

 

“It has been some time since we met. I believe 20 years, by my guess.” Resneck said.

 

Emily sucked on her teeth. She should have expected an insult from the start. Her brother was her greatest pride and shame. It would be better if they parted ways, but the fool was too devoted for his own good. She didn’t need his help. He couldn’t see it. Vincent, the lvl0 classless gravedigger, was the talk of many as his sister; her status was lower than dirt.

 

“We are forever grateful for your magnanimity. Offering a boy of 10 a dangerous job like a gravedigger was quite daring. Some would say you did it more for amusement than charity.”

 

“It's hardly charity. Vincent does good work and hasn’t died in 20 years. If only the boy didn’t have such sticky fingers. Has he saved up enough to give you a hunting tag?”

 

Emily watched the man sip his tea and smirked on the inside. The poison was already taking effect. The purple petals lightly fell from a flower on the table half fallen. It really was amazing how gullible Resnick had been.

 

“Are you expecting something to happen? I noticed you haven’t touched your tea.” Resneck said.

 

Emily smiled and tapped her foot.

 

“How much do you think your original amulet sold for? My big brother has such sticky fingers.”

 

She plucked a violet petal from the rose in the center of the room. Resneck tried to stand but failed to move. His body shook as he tried to hoist himself up on the cane. Emily kicked it, snapping the stick the dhampir had once beaten her brother with until he couldn’t stand. The offending instrument collapsed with the man, never to harm anyone again.

 

“Do you smell that pollen? It's called Nina, after a long-dead princess of the night. It weakens the powers of those unused to its effects. Much like a vampire in the day, you are quite powerless. Fortunately, I developed an immunity to the pollen. It took nearly a decade to become immune.”

 

She approached the beautiful man with dark curls framing his face. Emily grabbed a great handful of Resneck’s luscious hair and yanked him up. She felt her fangs extend and bit the man’s neck. This was the sin Emily had longed to commit, an act of treason that would set her free. At last, she fed from a member of the Camazotz and gained power.

 

A large family like the Camazotz eventually isolated itself and let its prominent members wilt on the vine. It was glorious and terrible. She drank until the dhampir’s heart pittered out and stopped. The body didn’t turn to ash or something silly like that. No, it remained a very dead heavy body, but fortunately, as a vampire, her strength was immense. She took it to a preprepared room filled with rats.

 

She had taken her time and considered what she wanted to use to dispose of the body. Rats were the best she could come up with. So Emily tossed the body to the rats and watched them swarm the fresh meat.

 

The camazotz's blood empowered her more than ever, and she basked in the feeling of superiority. Then reality set in. She used the spell glamour and false data to transform her status page into a copy of Resneck Camazotz. For a decade, she had invited him to tea and studied the man. Every insult had been worth it; the man hadn’t suspected she would bypass his defenses. The idea of a weak turned like her below level 10 managing to harm him was laughable.

 

She unveiled her second sin from under the blanket on her bed. In her bed was a girl who looked like her, altered with a glamour and drained dry by Resnik’s fangs. This was the minor sin she had dreaded. To have a clean break and give both herself and her brother a chance to move on, she had to die for him. He would hate her and bang his fists on the ground, but at the end of the day, Vincent would move on and find happiness.

#gamelit #vampire #litrpg #fantasy #necromancer #centaurs #books #sexscenes #betrayal #tragedy #magicalcreatures #system

[shintin]

Forget Me Not: Chapter 34 (Lullaby)

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Description: Imagine that from the moment you opened your eyes into this world, you had no choice but to kill and shed the blood of others, that you had to fight alongside Toji Fushiguru and die with him

What would you do when they force you to do something you don’t like? When the torment of conscience presses on your throat, will you give up? Now think about a day that life gives you another chance; how would you use it?

This is the story of a murderer who seeks salvation. Will she find it in the arms of Satoru Gojo? Or will pain find her sooner than redemption and drive her out of heaven forever?

Genre: heavy angst, sad love story, maybe tragedy, violence, lonely hearts, broken souls, +18.

Author Note: It will take me a while to write the following chapters since they'll be the last ones.

After finishing "Forget Me Not," I'll start writing "Forget Me Too" the sequel :)

Tags/Warnings: Blood, blood, and blood.

Song Recommendation: HUSH LITTLE BABY Don't Say a Word Lullaby

Chapter index -> Next Chapter

Year: 2019

Here's a true story from the author. Eagles have the most extended lifespan and can live up to 70 years. But to get to this age, the eagle must make a tough decision. In its 40th year, its long and flexible talons can no longer grab prey, which serves as food, its long and sharp beak becomes bent, and its old-aged, and heavy wings, due to their thick feathers, stick to its chest and make it challenging to fly.

As a result, the eagle has only two options left at the end of this change process: to die or endure a painful process. The process requires that the eagle fly to a mountaintop and sit on its nest. The eagle knocks its beak against a rock until it plucks it out. Then the eagle waits for a brand-new beak to grow back.

It will pull out its talons, and the eagle starts plucking its aged feathers when the new talons grow back. After five months, the eagle takes its famous flight of rebirth and lives for 30 more years.

The so-called opportunity was not given to Y/N that rainy evening. Fate only granted her five days. Five fucking days and she woke up covered with sweat, feeling pain all the way to the bone marrow, but she didn't open her eyes. She begged it to be just another one of her nightmares, but deep down, she knew it was real.

An unsettling truth buzzed in the room as if it was always with her, but she couldn't see it. But now it seemed more obvious, nocturnal, and intense than she could ignore anymore.

The heaviness of her chest made her breathe hard, and the burning cold she felt didn't make it any easier. Something was taken away from her, something she longed for, something she was looking for, and it hurt. It hurt so much. It would have hurt less if she had pulled her heart out of her chest and squeezed it in her hand.

Her hand slowly shifted under the blanket, and that's when she realized there were needles attached to her hand. Now the sound of the beep penetrating her brain made more sense. Apparently, she was in a hospital-like room, but she still didn't dare open her eyes to confront reality. She was alive, contrary to her expectations, making the reality more bitter than it ought to be.

Y/N seized her stomach as pain ran through it. She covered her mouth with her hand, and her breath crushed her trembling fingers. She was no longer a mother, or perhaps she was a childless mother. Sadly, no word in dictionaries could be used for mothers who had lost their children before they were even born. Nobody thought a situation this painful required a word.

Y/N recalled how, as a last resort, she had attempted to absorb the negative energy of that curse, and now she knew she owed her life to her daughter's sacrifice.

Y/N never had a mother to learn maternity, but she knew it wasn't fair for a child who didn't even have a name to protect her mother. A hard-to-swallow lump formed in her throat as she tried to press her hands to the fabric of her clothes to hide her fear.

Everyone has the right to mourn the loss, but who says life gives a rat's ass about our rights? A wave of new pain came toward her, like a blade moving its sharp point upon her being. Her breath snagged in her throat. She was quick to open her eyes and sat. Her chest was barely moving back and forth.

She held the collar of her gown firmly because repeated coughs drained the air from her lungs. She had to get some air. Immediately. Her gaze soon found the window at the corner of the empty room. She had to get herself there.

With a panic gripping her throat, she grabbed the bedpost to get off, but her legs betrayed her. She screamed and shuddered and struck the floor, curled up into herself. The wires and syringes attached to her hands were suddenly removed. A small trickle of blood ran down her elbow, but she didn't care. She was fainting, and for sure, the continuous beeping of the machine was not helping her in this condition. She needed to stand up before collapsing again.

Y/N reached out to grab the nightstand, but her hand slid, and the small table rolled onto the floor. Napkins, a glass of water, and a vase full of Forget Me Not flowers fell on the floor and were broken into pieces. Her eyes were fixed on the blue petals of the flowers. Was that some stupid joke? He got her flowers? They lost their daughter, and he bought her a bunch of flowers? Did he presume foolishly that she would feel better after opening her eyes and seeing these flowers? In this sort of situation?

Suddenly, the world shifted out of focus. She was overcome by a hatred, an intensity, a resentment so forceful, she felt she was boiling with blind anger and disgust.

The ache in her heart was intact. She knew the flavor of every pain. After all, she was a half-curse, right? But the latter had a particular taste. The last time she felt it was months ago on a rainy day like today. About a year ago, when Sukuna ripped Yuji's heart out of his chest.

She was familiar with this sadness. The grief of loss, the dismay of the death of those she could have saved.

She could have saved her brothers, if she had been awake. It was like when a glass tumbled to the edge of the table, and she couldn't do anything but wait for it to fall to the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces.

Maybe if it were the old Y/N, she would have cried, screamed, and destroyed everything, but they say when pain exceeds a limit, silence prevails over everything. She took a deep breath, not paying attention to the broken glass on the floor. She grabbed the metal bed firmly with her hand and got up. Yes, her legs were shaking; her feet soles were bleeding, and her white garments were stained with blood, but she squeezed her jaw shut until the negative emotions scared away her pain.

After all, this was her true nature. His hands were built to be bloodstained, kill, and seek vengeance. It took her a while to finally accept herself as she was.

Y/N took a step, and the feathered petals were crushed under her feet while the sound of other shards of glass filled the room. Then, the door suddenly opened, and a woman in a white robe appeared in front of her. Shoko's widened eyes moved from broken pieces of glass to the bloodstained gown and then into the soulless eyes of Y/N. She had bent her head over her side and looked at her as if she didn't know her.

Cautiously, holding her hands in front of her, Shoko marched gently toward her. "Calm down, Y/N." She took a sharp look at the blood flowing from her elbow.

Y/N straightened her head and looked at the sorceress. Shoko was scared of her, and why would that make her feel right? Did being a curse feel this good? Had she known, she would have switched off her human half long ago.

"Y/N, listen to me. We thought..." Shoko didn't go on because Y/N approached her, and she had to retreat till her back hit the cold wall. Shoko glanced at the door, and the next thing she felt was a rush of blood hitting both of her arms and pinning her against the wall. She tried to release her hands, but it was a futile attempt. She looked up, and her eyes fell upon the sinister eyes of Y/N. She guessed this was the look her victims remembered a few seconds before they died.

"We thought," Y/N repeated under her breath. She was still in disbelief, with a face filled with anger, betrayal, and confusion. 'WE," she thought. So all of them had decided to kill her brothers, and only one had volunteered to finish the job. Such noble sorcerers! Why did this surprise her? Toji has been saying for years that sorcerers only care about their own fortunes, but she was so dumb that she never believed his words. "Why them?" Y/N asked. "Why now?"

Shoko didn't respond and just bowed her head. Y/N's bloody hand quickly caught her throat and started tightening. Now they were eye to eye. "I was loyal to you, sorcerers! I did all the filthy things you told me to do!" She shouted. Sadness poured from her hoarse voice. Unlike usual, Shoko could feel her pain this time, which was excruciating. "WHY?" She yelled and smashed her fist into the wall.

Shoko closed her eyes. Hearing the sounds of something breaking, she hurried here to check on her and was shocked by the scene she had encountered. However, she was aware that Y/N's anger was fully justified. Therefore, she couldn't find the words to comfort her. Is there even a proper sentence to calm down the one you have killed their family? No. It was one of those times when only blood washes blood. She raised her head and looked into her bloodshot eyes. How much pain had the world of jujutsu brought her? It was time for the sorcerers to acknowledge the consequences of their decisions. So she started with herself. "Curse users," she paused. Her voice was riddled with shame. Good. " They stole the cursed wombs: death paintings from school and—" A quick blow to Shoko's head knocked her unconscious.

There was no need to hear the rest of her words. Jujutsu society had kept her brothers' presence at school a secret, and when they were stolen, Higher Ups got rid of their threat without a second thought. Just what they wanted to do with her as well. They did not even wait to see whether her poor brothers had evil intentions. After all, they were wombs that the world had no place for.

This was the hardest part of being cursed wombs. They were strangers everywhere. Many considered them a curse. Others believed them to be ruthless murderers and curse users.

Despite the fainting, Shoko's body was still standing and glued to the wall due to the manipulation of Y/N's blood. Y/N released her throat and grasped Shoko's chin. She lifted her head and searched her face. Although Shoko was among the hundreds of sorcerers Y/N hated, she had saved her life and those she cared about on numerous occasions. She was the first person who approached her in prison, accepted her as a human being, and treated her as such. She was…she was her first friend. Y/N shook her head. No. She was never a friend because friends don't play a role in the murder of friends' loved ones.

Y/N unleashed her technique for Shoko to fall and made her way to the hallway. She was as guilty as anyone, but she was better alive than dead.

Blood was still running from Y/N's hand when her bare feet touched the dirt wet in the rain. Her hair was soaked with rain and her locks stuck to her forehead. She felt disconnected. Parts of her were moving without her mind even knowing what was happening. But she had to keep moving. There was no time for human deficiencies, and her legs seemed to have found their destination.

Flickering lights, a white door with a morgue panel, and dead bodies from two half-curses on cold, dissected beds. Her brothers. Siblings she had never met, but they were close enough to feel their pain.

With slow steps, shaking hands, she reached to the other side of the damp room and stood beside them. They lay there like broken dolls in sleep with painful holes in their chests. It was like whoever wanted to kill them tried to get the job done quickly, but knowing this didn't keep her from feeling a hole in her chest swallowing her inside.

Take a moment to think. Have you ever thought about someone in your family being ugly? Even if they were different from everybody else in the world? Was it possible for you to be literally disgusted with your family? No. There is a connection between the family members that still binds them together despite everything, which cannot be changed or denied.

Therefore, when Y/N leaned over their bodies and stroked their faces, she didn't care that, contrary to her, they had no human appearance. She was indifferent to the blotches of dried blood on their faces. They were dead, and she was on her own. The weight on her shoulders had doubled, and she felt even worse because she was unprepared. She stared at them and knew deep in her heart that her life would never be the same again.

She began whispering the lullaby she had sung to her daughter in the last few days. Her trembling fingers caressed their wounds.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

And if that mockingbird doesn't sing,

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring is brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass.

Maybe weeping would make her feel better, but she seemed to have lost that ability. All her tears had been used up. The only thing left in her was anger and a grudge that kept her knees from bending. With her eyes closed, she continued to hum her lullaby with a gravelly voice. She kept singing and didn't look back even when she sensed a considerable amount of cursed energy at the door.

And if that looking glass gets broken,

Mama's gonna buy you a billy goat.

And if that billy goat don't pull,

Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull.

Satoru had missed the delicate warmth of her voice. It had been so long since he had heard that tone that he had forgotten what it was supposed to sound like. He knew some days her sadness was a mild lisp. It barely scratched the surface of her voice, but today Melancholy had waged a full-scale assault on her vocal chords. Her current anguish had put deeper edges around her words. The phrases came out sharp like her favorite knives, as if her tongue had sharpened each end of her words before they were made.

And if that cart and bull turn over,

Mama's gonna buy you a dog called Rover.

And if that dog called Rover doesn't bark,

Mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart.

And if that horse and cart turn round,

You'll still be the sweetest little babe in town.

The lullaby swelled. The ache in her tone hit him, causing a cascade of memories and regrets. The melody told him everything she had gone through, everything she had experienced, was the terrible price she had paid just because she had opened her heart to him. Could he see the rage creeping up her neck?

The sound of rain and thunder could be heard from the room. "Eso and Kechizu (her brothers),  did they suffer?" The question came suddenly, causing Satoru to raise his head. He couldn't see her face, but undoubtedly her clenched fists spoke volumes. There seemed to be nothing left of happiness in her voice.

She knew something was coming, but she didn't know it would be Satoru. She didn't think he would be the one to hurt her, to kill her brothers, to make her wish for death more than she ever had before.

There was no handbook for teaching him how to tell the woman he desperately loves that, no, your brothers' death was swift and painless. He inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, but whatever words he had, died in his throat, and only a "No" could escape from the claws on his tongue.

And there it was. Every memory, every belief, everything she thought she knew about Satoru sank in. He admitted to murdering them. She squeezed her eyes shut. "You still have a bit of honor left in you." Her voice was so loud and thunderous that he couldn't concentrate on what she said. Irritation vibrated through her every word. There was no trace of that sweet Y/N whose voice had filled his ears a little while back.

She was gone. Everything was gone.

"I didn't want to do it," he mumbled. "But I had to." He knew from the beginning that what he wanted to do would win him nothing but Y/N's hatred. But he had to do it for the cost of awakening her and proving her innocence.

Her heart cracked. Her eyes flashed. She was so hurt, angry, horrified, humiliated, and burning with indignation so raw that it was like a fire raging within her. A wildfire of decimated hopes. She wanted to crush his spine in her hand. She wanted him to know what it was like to wound, to inflict such unbearable agony on others. She wanted him to know her pain. She wanted him to hurt. Because maybe Toji was right. Maybe some sorcerers did deserve it.

Unaware of the wrath thrummed through her veins, he wanted to go on and apologize, but what his eyes showed him made every effort meaningless.

"YOU HAD TO DO IT?" Anger curled hot and unstoppable in her gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn her from the inside out. She slammed her hand against the metal bed so loud that the sound resounded in the room. "NO!" An ear-piercing shout filled with terror rang through the damp room as the rotting, crumbling walls rattled. "ALL YOU HAD TO WAS TRUST ME!" She yelled and quickly spun around to send a blade-edged blast of blood to Satoru without even looking at him. "YOU HAD TO BELIEVE ME!" She struck him again with her blood no longer cared to spill. Fury had overpowered her. "YOU HAD TO STAY WITH ME!" Her pain traveled up and out of her chest, mixed with frustration, guilt, and despair. Another blood blade mixed with rage rippled through her. "YOU HAD TO BE THERE!" The next blow was weaker than the previous ones. She had lost much blood, and it seemed she didn't intend to bring it back into her body. What was she doing to herself? "YOU HAD TO BE A … GOOD FATHER!" Her voice cracked while saying it. She gave up and dropped to her knees. "You…had…to…be…a…good…father." Her voice trailed off as she sent one last blow.

Y/N was on her knees, her body cracking from the pain she had swallowed so many times, heaving with sobs she could no longer suppress. The agony of his past of the past weeks ripped her skin to shreds.

Satoru knew that these strokes could not hurt him, but what hurt him was the fact that Y/N had only targeted his heart. How much do you have to break a woman in love to turn her into your nemesis?

She looked paler and thinner than the last time he had seen her. His Six Eyes showed him her racing pulse and heavy breaths, almost as if she would burst. So he let her last shot, the weakest, cut off his palm. A reminder of the cruelty he had committed that even Reversed Cursed technique wouldn't cure.

There was blood all over the floor. Her once-white gown was now stained red and brown. His hair was still wet but sticky due to blood spatter. Her tears never spilled. She held them with deep breaths, focusing on the grinding pain in her knees and hands to distract her thoughts.

The sound of the strides reached her ears, and before she could retire, he knelt before her. She slowly lifted her head, and her eyes finally met him after weeks. Her blows had done him no harm. Just a little scratch off his hand. She didn't even realize she was shivering until her eyes caught a glace on her fingers. She was ashamed. She was ashamed of her weakness, but a part of her didn't care.

She was no longer the Y/N he knew. She had turned into a different person. Quite different than he remembered. It was as if she were an egg, cracked open and poured out, and all that was left were the tiny fragments of a hard shell.

Y/N had become stronger, and it was no surprise for Satoru. In the end, he aroused her hate on purpose to make her stronger, didn't he? But how come her wounds hadn't been healed? Or rather, why wouldn't she want her injuries cured? "I know you hate me, and you should. But we should get you to the infirmary."  Deep concern was embedded in his expression, hunched over and with a sense of loss so powerful that his muscles wouldn't respond to commands. Shoko's words kept repeating in his head. "Your love is fatal for her. You shouldn't even touch her!"

Nobody could understand how he would do anything, throw it all away just to save her.

"Get away from me!" Her eyes were dull and empty, yet they told a story of sadness. She held so much agony in her eyes that he could almost touch her soul's scars and cry. Her shoulders were slumped, and her breathing was slow, as if her heart barely wanted to beat.

He wanted to hold her tightly, squeezing her between his arms and kissing away all the pain in her eyes. He wanted to sit in this blood bath, and she let him kiss her, kiss her, and kiss her. He wanted to beg for her forgiveness, but a sudden certainty struck his chest like a cold fist. He knew he had caused so much pain that she probably wished she was fortunate never to know him, that she was one of the billions of people in the world who didn't know he existed.

He was sure that she wanted to turn back the clock, go to the beginning, to New Year's Day he kissed her for the first time. Maybe she wouldn't open the door for him and never fall in love. Plus, he couldn't even touch her. He dropped his raised hand to his knee, desperate. His body had no idea how to react in such a situation. So he lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Y/N." Words slid out of his mouth. "I let you down," he paused. The empty, emotionless expression swept over his face as the moment's realization gradually seeped in. It was as though a giant boulder had landed on him, and he couldn't straighten out.

Y/N could almost reach, and touch the guilt growing on his shoulders. She had to ball her fists to control the thrills tripping her heart. She was almost too distracted by the feel of his voice to understand the significance of what he was saying.

A heavy sigh. She felt him shift in the darkness, and soon his body was too close, so disarmingly close to hers.

"I let our daughter down," he said, his voice quiet. He hung his head and let the tears flow. He lost a child, too. He was also grieving. And even before he could lament or punish himself for being such a coward, he had to let go of his child's mother as well. He had to lose her forever. Silent tears spilled over and flowed down his face like a river escaping a dam.

When she saw him, broken with crying eyes, she wanted to rip her heart out and feed it to him because she knew he no longer had one of his own, but she was no different than him—a state of misery that had no end. No parent should experience the death of their child.

She remembered all the moments she missed his skin, his smell, his feet, his hands, her hands on him, his heart, his tenderness, his touch, his stubbornness, his bitchiness, his favorites, his insights, his outsights, his power, his force, his wait, his food, his smile, his muscles, his hair, his secret places, his closeness, his distance, his problems, his troubles, his sweat, his tears, his spit, his occupation, his protection his brutality, his dark, his light, his cock, his laughter, his moan, his curse, his walk, his move, his needs, his fun, his peace, his war, his gifts, his dreams, his desires, his sex, his attitude, his cockiness, his smirk, his strength, his weakness, his history, his past, his future, his beauty, his ugliness, his truth, his lies, and his eyes.

There was something in his eyes. Worry? Sorrow? Appeal? She wanted to forget that she was supposed to hate him, that he betrayed her, that he worked with the same people trying to destroy the very little that was left of her family. She wanted to wash her soul in the bottomless blue of his eyes.

BUT NO. She couldn't delude herself anymore. She had to be careful not to look at his eyes, not to let her imagination cripple her. Not here. Not now.

 If he hadn't done what he did, maybe she could have hugged him, and they would have cried together. But she didn't feel that way. He killed her family members, and now the scale of her anger was heavier than her forgiveness.

Her eyes remained upon him. Sometimes a look between two people can last so long that it shakes you and forces you to look the other way. Did he still have a place in her heart? It didn't matter! Satoru Gojo was nothing but a murderer. He was the hardest lesson she ever had to learn. Her nails dug into her palm. "Why did you kill them?" She looked at his injured hand.

He clenched his jaw, and his shoulders dropped in resignation. "Because I love you." That was one pathetic confession. He knew you don't get to say I love you after ruining someone's life. All the bridges behind them were destroyed, and there was no path back. He had no home.

Suddenly the sound of Y/N's laughter filled the cold room. She guffawed like this was the dumbest thing she had ever heard in her entire life. Did he think he could get away with this absurd emotional game? No! Not this time! Not today! Not when those two dead bodies were lying behind her! "You killed them because you love me?" She scoffed.

The sting of agony in her voice made him flinch internally, but he remained as stoic as possible. Her laugh once made him feel like everything was beautiful, but at this moment, it sent a shiver down his spine. Just as her hysteric laughter had started, it suddenly stopped. She drew her face close to his. He could feel her warm breath on his nose. "No, fuck, you don't!" She was looking right into his eyes. All six of them. "You love being loved!" She raised her index finger in front of his face and watched how his Adam's apple tightened. "You're a fucking greedy man-whore who just likes sucking the life out of people, and it fucking hurts!" Her voice quivered. Her knuckles turned white.

Now, now, do you remember the story about eagles? Well, it's a myth, a made-up story. Eagles do not live for 70 years, more like 30 in the wild; they do not lose their beak and never go through a rebirth stage. But let's accept that the story was so inspirational, right? It's as if you could survive great pain, you would be born again. It looks like Y/N had had enough too.

"I love you, Y/N."

She had realized love was too strong of a word to have used so soon. "NO, YOU DON'T!" The next thing Satoru felt was Y/N's fists landing on his chest. "STOP-SAYING-THAT!" She was hitting him with all her remaining strength. None of these strokes affected him but seeing his eyes hurt him more than a thousand punches. Sadness. A word that can be used to describe her eyes in various ways.

"YOU-DON'T-LOVE-ME!" She tapped again and again and again. Even the blood on her hands didn't rub off on his uniform. "YOU-FUCKING-LEFT-ME!" Her breaths became harder and harder to control, as if her lungs had stopped expanding, but this didn't stop her from hitting his chest. "WHEN-I-" she paused. "WHEN-I-NEEDED-YOU!"

Her shouts were tearing his heart apart. He wanted to grab her hands and stop her, not because of himself, but because he was worried about her, but on the other hand, he knew he deserved worse. So his hands remained as they stood beside him.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't catch the oxygen around her and be dry-heaving into her gown. She could feel it through her body, that feeling of tiredness and lethargy. It was like drowning in the air. She stopped tapping him, sucked in a rush of air, and brought her hand to the base of her throat.

There was still no tear in her eyes. Y/N was no different from a rock. She didn't know if she had officially lost her mind. "If someone loves you, wouldn't do some shit like that."

Satoru's hands clenched, but in a second, they unclenched. She was right. When you love someone, you protect them from the pain. You don't become the cause of it.

Y/N raised her head in a gasp. When he met her red-rimmed eyes, they were a reflection of his own. They were broken and lost and stared at him with a hatred that he never thought would fit in her heart.

"You're fucking dead to me." She pushed him back. "You sucked the life out of me, and there is nothing there anymore!"

Satoru shook his head in denial, but something grew inside him like her words sank and expanded in his chest. Instead of accepting, he preferred to be killed by her than to live and know that he planted such a grudge in her heart. But fate was a bitch, and even this option wasn't available. Because according to their Binding Vow, if Y/N killed him, she would die as well, and Satoru didn't want that for her. This world needed people like her. His students needed her. He needed her. She was the best anyone could have in their life, yet his actions had turned her into the woman he was facing.

Y/N held his gaze for a moment, but then her eyes dropped to her pale and cold hands, washed with blood.

"You know, I have a lot of regrets in my life; I had told you about them," she said and glanced behind to her brothers. Dead brothers. Then she turned and smiled maniacally. "But I got to tell you." She tapped her finger on his heart. "Not killing you in that bar is got to be at the top of my list!"

As she spoke those words, she realized her anger was not as furious as it had been a few moments ago. It felt different. It was slow and cold. As soon as she sensed it, she realized those words had been hidden within her for a long time and crystallized as a pond that slowly froze entirely on a long winter night.

And this was it. The last nail in the coffin. Now she could feel his anguish. She could feel the power pouring out of his body. She could hear his heart beating in her ear and her head spinning with the rush of adrenaline fortifying her being.

She wished it hurt her. She wanted it maimed her. She hoped it repulsed her. She wished she hated the potent cursed energy wrapping itself around her skeleton. But she didn't. Her skin was pulsing with her lover's sorrow, and she didn't hate it.

She hated herself for enjoying it.

His pain gave her a pleasure she had never asked for. But unlike what she expected, it didn't taste sweet, maybe because his pain was still hers too. Maybe because part of her still thought the whole thing was another one of her nightmares. Maybe because part of her still wanted to believe that the man she loved would never commit such cruelty to her. He was the one who brought light into her darkness so she would not be lost in the shadow of her past, but then he was also the one who squashed that light.

She didn't look at him to see his expression. She placed her hand on her chest. Her heart must be bleeding out of her chest, but when she looked down, she couldn't understand why there was no fresh blood on her gown, why this pain in her heart felt so real.

Her body had lost its strength. Her mind had shattered, and the rest of her followed suit. This hatred devoured her, but without it, she would die. There wasn't any part of her that felt anything else. Without it, she would be nothing, feel nothing, so why eat? Why sleep? Why continue to breathe? So she had to hate. It was the fuel that kept her heart pumping and brain ticking over. But she was weary, too. She could hardly hold herself together.

"Satoru," Y/N called his name for the first time. It took her a lot to call him by his name.    She looked at his face. Tears had gushed in his eyes, like storms agitating the oceans. This face once belonged to a boy who went to the brink of death to save a schoolgirl. A boy that had to burden weights so heavy for his shoulders. Then there was the regretful face of the man who had killed his friend. A man who never seemed to be truly happy. And now it was the face of a man who….

Satoru was just glad to hear his name out of her mouth, but that didn't last long. He watched as Y/N reached out and took his hand. He couldn't feel her touch.

Y/N was barely breathing, nervous and petrified but somehow counting the drops of tears tumbling over the hills and valleys of his mouth. She wanted to memorize the shape of his lips, the strong lines of his face, the eyelashes any girl would kill for, and the ocean blue of his eyes that she had learned to swim. She could almost feel his lips breathing before her lungs. She could almost taste him on her tongue.

He didn't resist when she raised his hand and folded her second and third fingers tightly. He couldn't understand. His mind wanted to reject all possibilities. She then looked at his face and carried his hand to her throat. Her world had grown so dark that she no longer wanted to live in it.

No. No. No. He would rather die than do that. He tried to pull his hand out of hers, but her grip tightened. Her nails would scrape his skin if it weren't for Infinity. "You took everything from me."

"No!" His voice was a fearful plea. He was a stone's throw away from going insane. He shook his head.

"You were supposed to kill me, remember? Think as if it's just a delayed execution." She didn't have the energy to come up with the right words. She just needed to be free, or her curse would follow her everywhere. It was like a scream that couldn't be stifled, a stinging numbness that would never go away. "Kill me too. There's a meaning to that."

"Stay away from my sister!" shouted Yuji, and he stood in between with inhuman speed. He picked her up and kept her behind him. He had heard the news and knew what his Sensei had done. Now seeing his hand on her throat, it was not surprising for him to be concerned for the life of someone he believed was his sister. How? It didn't matter at this point.

With wide eyes, Y/N stared at Yuji's hand, which had held hers firmly. Why didn't she feel any pain? Why were Yuji's hands so familiar? Her eyes moved and stayed fixed on the pink-haired boy standing in front of his Sensei, trying to protect her. Did her ears hear correctly? Did he call her his sister?

"Yuji, I would never harm her!"

"Like you didn't hurt my brothers?" He pointed at the corpses.

What was going on? But before she could conclude, she felt dizzy, and with a smile on her face, she fainted. Her body never touched the floor. Her little brother caught her. Maybe she still had something to lose.

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