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nameless-ken · 21 days

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Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

(Please reblog!!!)

Happy reading! Comment below to be added to taglist.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: attempted SA (sexual assault, Please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable!!), cursing, angst (what's new lol) but also some fluff

Masterlist

(song for this chapter <3)

As you huddle in the warmth of your cozy home, the chill of Thanksgiving break seeping through the windows, you absentmindedly wrap yourself tighter in your favorite blanket. The silence around you is palpable, the absence of familial chatter of Robin and the broodiness of Billy, a stark reminder of your solitude. Amidst it, a gentle knock on the door stirs you from your warmth.

Surprised, you rise from your spot on the couch, padding softly to the door. Your curiosity piqued, you swing it open to reveal a delivery person, holding a box adorned with a ribbon and a note. Confusion clouds your features momentarily until you notice the handwriting on the note—Robin's unmistakable scrawl.

The realization that you forgot your own birthday feels like a heavy weight pressing down on your chest, a fact that had momentarily slipped your mind in the whirlwind of the events that happened recently. A grin spreads across your face as you thank the delivery person, shutting your door and settling back onto the couch. You carefully untie the ribbon and open the box to reveal a dozen delectable cupcakes, each one a miniature work of art.

As you read Robin's note, you can’t help but miss her more. She may be miles away visiting family, but her thoughtful gesture bridges the distance, promising a girl's night upon her return. With newfound anticipation, you grab one of the cupcakes, placing the rest on the coffee table, the sweetness lifting your spirits.

As you sit there, surrounded by the aroma of freshly baked cupcakes, memories of birthdays past flood your mind like a cherished photo album. You recall the joyful chaos of childhood parties, the house brimming with laughter and the sound of wrapping paper being torn apart in excitement. Each year, your mom made sure your birthday was a day to remember, despite the holiday overlap every seven years. Her creativity knew no bounds, and she had a knack for making you feel like the most special little girl in the world.

A pang of longing tugs at your heartstrings as you wish, not for the first time, that she were here with you now. Perhaps your sister would surprise you with a visit, or your dad would remember and transform the house into a haven of celebration once more. You yearn for the warmth that used to permeate every corner of your home, for the simple joy of being surrounded by loved ones.

You long to reach out to Billy, to hear his comforting voice and feel the warmth of his presence, even if it's just over the phone. You know he's at home, probably looking after Max, just as he always does. But a barrier, of your own making, stands between you.

You've locked him out, shutting him off from your world, from the whirlwind of conflicting emotions that churn within you. Despite his efforts to reach out, his notes and attempts at communication remain unanswered, like prayers whispered into the void. Each morning that last three weeks, you found his messages waiting for you, tucked away in your locker, pleading for a response that you couldn’t bring yourself to give.

Even his calls to your home go unanswered, the phone ringing in the empty silence of your home as you sit in paralyzed stillness, unable to break free from the walls you've built around yourself. The thought of being vulnerable with him again, of exposing the raw truth of your feelings, fills you with a potent mixture of fear and longing.

As you stand in the kitchen, the rhythmic clatter of pots and pans providing a semblance of normalcy, the sound of the front door opening interrupts your thoughts. Your dad's arrival is accompanied by the heavy footsteps of his friend, John, a familiar presence that fills you with a sense of unease.

John's visits are a regular occurrence, and while you've grown accustomed to his company over time, there's always been an underlying discomfort that lingers there. His leering gaze and inappropriate comments never fail to send shivers down your spine, and you've learned to keep your distance whenever he's around.

With a resigned sigh, you continue preparing dinner, keeping your focus trained on the task at hand as your dad and John settle into the living room. The muffled sounds of their conversation drift through the walls, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of beer bottles.

You retreat to the safety of your room, barricading yourself behind closed doors to drown out the noise of their revelry and trying to remember the times when your dad didn’t forget your birthday.

The next morning arrives with a deceptive calmness, the remnants of yesterday’s solemn fading into the background as you tentatively step into the kitchen to make breakfast. The stale scent of alcohol lingers in the air. You assume both your dad and John have left, their presence no longer weighing heavily on the atmosphere.

As you begin to prepare breakfast, your fingers moving through the motions of routine, your heart skips a beat when John's voice cuts through the silence. Startled, you turn to find him lingering in the corner of the kitchen, his presence like a dark shadow cast over the room.

“Your dad went to pick up coffee. It’s out.” He points to the empty coffee pot in your hand.

“Thanks.” You say politely, even though your instincts are screaming at you to keep your guard up.

Your muscles tense as John inches closer, his predatory gaze roving over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“I’ve never seen a woman wake up looking so beautiful.” A knot forms in the pit of your stomach as he begins to shower you with compliments, his words dripping with insincerity.

“I have a boyfriend.” The false mention of a boyfriend falls from your lips like a feeble shield, but it's futile against his relentless advance.

Ignoring your attempt to establish boundaries, John leans in closer, invading your personal space. His breath, stale with the scent of cigarettes and alcohol, sends a shiver down your spine.

“Does he make you feel as desired as I could?” His voice is low, dripping with a mixture of arrogance and lust. He pins you against the counter. Panic rises within you as his hands close in, his touch sending waves of revulsion coursing through your body.

“Stop, please.” You recoil from his foul breath, his vulgar words twisting like knives in your ears.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he coaxes, his grip tightening slightly.

“I said no,” you say, your tone firm and resolute. There’s a flicker of something dark in John’s eyes, a flash of anger that sends a chill down your spine.

Your attempts to push him away are futile as he overpowers you, his grip like iron as he twists your arms and bends you over the counter. The weight of his body presses against you, suffocating you with its presence. Fear and desperation grip you in equal measure as you struggle against his advances, you shout but he covers your mouth with one hand.

“Screaming won’t help you, sweetie. I actually like that.”

Summoning every ounce of strength you possess, you lash out with a ferocity born of desperation, delivering a swift and decisive blow that catches him off guard. His grip falters, giving you the opening you need to break free.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you flee from the suffocating confines of the kitchen, your feet pounding against the floor as you race towards the door. Tears blur your vision as you stumble into the unforgiving embrace of the outside world, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

You slow your pace as you put distance between yourself and the nightmare that still haunts you, the weight of what just transpired settling heavily upon your shoulders. Collapsing to the ground, your body racked with sobs, you allow yourself a moment of vulnerability, the tears flowing freely as you confront the harrowing reality of what just occurred.

But even in the depths of despair, a glimmer of determination flickers within you. With trembling hands and a heart heavy with sorrow, you rise to your feet, drawing upon a reservoir of strength you didn't know you possessed. There's only one person you can turn to now, one beacon of hope in the darkness that threatens to consume you whole. And so, with tear-stained cheeks and a resolve born of desperation, you set off towards the one place where you know you'll find solace, the one person you miss more than anything in this world.

You notice Billy's dad's car parked in the driveway, signaling his presence in the house. With a mixture of relief and desperation, you carefully approach his bedroom window, your heart pounding in your chest. Peering inside, you catch sight of Billy, reclining on his bed with a magazine in hand, seemingly lost in thought.

A soft tap on the glass draws his attention, his gaze snapping to the window before settling on you. Without hesitation, he rises from his bed, a look of concern etched across his features as he lifts the glass pane, inviting you inside.

"Y/N, what's happened?" His voice is laced with worry as he takes in your disheveled appearance, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"Can I come in?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, your throat tight with emotion. Billy extends his hand, offering you support as you clamber over the window sill, his touch grounding you in the moment.

You stand before him, trembling with a mixture of fear and relief, unwilling to let go of him as if he's your lifeline in a sea of uncertainty. His gentle hands cup your face, his touch warm against your skin as he guides you closer.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he murmurs, his breath stirring the strands of hair that cling to your tear-stained cheeks. "Come here, you're freezing." With a tender gesture, he leads you to his bed, his comforting presence a source of solace in the midst of turmoil.

As he helps you into one of his sweaters, the fabric enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth, you instinctively lean into him, seeking refuge in his embrace. His steady heartbeat echoes in your ears as you bury your head against his chest, finding comfort in the rhythmic cadence of his breathing.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper against your ear. With a shaky breath, you gather the courage to voice the horrors that still haunt you, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of pain and fear.

"One of my dad's friends stayed over last night," you begin, your voice trembling with emotion. "H-He was still there this morning. My dad was g-gone and he tried...he tried to..." Your voice falters as tears stream down your face once more, the memory too painful to bear.

"I'll kill him," Billy's voice is a low growl, his body stiffening beneath you as anger courses through his veins. You meet his gaze, seeing the fierce determination in his eyes, the silent promise of protection that he offers without hesitation.

You hold onto Billy tighter, his warmth and protective embrace providing you comfort.

"Billy, please," your voice trembles with fear and vulnerability. "I don't want you to do anything. I just needed to be here, with you."

He takes a deep breath, his grip on you softening slightly as he tries to reign in his emotions. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I just... I hate seeing you hurt like this."

“Is it okay if I stay? Will your dad get mad?” You slip your small, cold hand into his large, warm one, warmth spread through your fingers at his touch.

Billy's eyes soften as he looks at you, his heart breaking at the thought of you enduring such pain. He squeezes your hand gently, offering you a reassuring smile despite the turmoil raging inside him.

"Of course, you can stay," he says tenderly. “I’ll deal with my dad if he finds out.”

Relief washes over you like a gentle wave as you settle against him, enveloped in the warmth of his embrace. His words offer solace, a reassurance that you're not alone in this tumultuous moment.

"Thank you, B," you whisper, glancing up at him. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Billy tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek.

"Thank you for coming to me," he murmurs, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions.

"I've missed you," you confess, the weight of unspoken words finally finding a voice. "I'm sorry for ignoring you. It was-"

"Don't apologize," Billy interrupts, his expression softening with understanding. "I understand why you did. I'm sorry for being such an asshole and ruining what we have between us. I understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore. I just want to make this right, with you."

"Billy, I've only ever felt such hurt once in my life, and that was when my mom died," you admit, vulnerability coloring your words. "I've never loved anyone else more besides my mom until you came along."

Billy's eyes widen at your confession, his own emotions swirling beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry if that’s weird for you but I’ve been feeling this for a while now and I just can’t hold it in anymore. You make me feel safe and-”

Before you can finish your sentence, Billy's lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a firestorm of emotions within you. You find yourself instinctively moving closer on his lap, your hands tangling in his hair and his hands taking place on your hips. When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Billy's gaze holds a mixture of adoration and desire.

"Don't hide your face, little mouse," he whispers, his thumb tracing your cheek gently.

"You make me flustered." You laugh softly, the tension melting away as Billy kisses you through those words and mumble against your lips.

"You fluster me more, sweetheart." He trails kisses against your neck. “You take up a part of my heart that no one else will ever fill.”

You shiver at the sensation of his lips on your skin, feeling every word he speaks reverberate through your body. It's as if each touch is etching his declaration into your very soul.

"I never knew love could feel like this," you murmur, your fingers tracing patterns along the back of his neck as you nestle closer to him, wanting to memorize every contour of his body.

Billy's arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer until there's no space left between you. "Me neither," he admits, his voice husky with emotion. "But I'm glad we found it together."

In that moment, you realize that despite the pain and hardships you've faced, love has a way of healing even the deepest wounds. And as you melt into each other's embrace, you know that this love will carry you through.

When morning comes, you wake to the soft light filtering through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. Stretching lazily, you turn to find Billy still asleep beside you, his features relaxed in the gentle embrace of sleep.

With a tender smile, you brush a strand of hair away from his face, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The events of the previous night still linger in your mind, you shake the nauseous feeling rising in your throat as you cuddle closer to Billy.

"Morning," Billy's hoarse voice breaks the silence of the morning, and you lift your head from his chest, a smile lighting up your face as you meet his gaze.

"Morning," you mumble softly, the warmth of his sleepy eyes soothing your soul.

“That was probably one of the best sleeps I’ve had in a long time.” A yawn escapes Billy as he stretches, his muscles flexing beneath the sheets.

“For me too. I’d love to stay here with you all day but I don’t think your dad would approve.” You joke, sitting up slightly, staring down at him.

“You’re so pretty.” He speaks before he even realizes what he said. You can’t help the smile that takes over your lips.

“I could say the same about you.” You whisper, pressing a kiss against his lips, melting into his warmth again.

Billy deepens the kiss, pulling you closer underneath his blanket. Your heartbeat fills the silence of his bedroom as you continue making out until you hear a door close down the hall.

“I should get going.” You pull away, breathless.

"Let me make an appearance for my dad to see, and I'll meet you out front," Billy offers, rising from the bed and holding his hand out to you. You take it, standing tall as he pulls you into a warm embrace, showering you with more kisses.

He helps you out his window and you quietly make your way around to the front of the house, the morning air crisp and refreshing. Billy's sleek sports car sits waiting, and you slide into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a soft click.

As Billy rushes out of the front door, keys jingling in his hand. He smiles as he notices you in the car, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine. With a smooth maneuver, he backs out of the driveway, the familiar rumble of the engine a comforting sound.

"Can we stop at my place? I really need to change my clothes," you can't help but feel a surge of nerves at the thought of going back to your own place. But with Billy by your side, the fear eases, replaced by a sense of reassurance.

“Sure but if that asshole is there, I can’t promise what I’ll do.” Billy lights a cigarette, rolling down his window so the smoke doesn’t get trapped in since he knows you hate when he smokes.

Billy pulls into your drive and you swallow the lump in your throat but it settles since the driveway is clear of any other cars. Billy grabs your hand as you make your way to the front door, keeping you close to him.

As you unlock and open the door, silence is all you hear from inside.

“Noone’s here.” You inform Billy, hurriedly going to your bedroom to change.

“What’s up with the full box of cupcakes?” Billy questions as you walk back out to the living room.

“Oh, those were from Robin,” you pause, remembering your birthday. “She sent them to me for my birthday since she’s out of town.”

“It’s your birthday?” Billy looks at you concerned.

“Two days ago.”

“Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He walks over, capturing you in a hug, kissing the top of your head.

“Not your fault. I don’t think I ever told you, so no need to apologize.” You step back and grab his hand, pulling him out the front door again.

“Now, please, let’s get some food. I’m starving!” Billy revs his Camaro and speeds off fast.

As you arrive at the restaurant where you work and are greeted warmly by Mary.

"Hello there, darling! Belated birthday wishes to you!" Mary exclaims, enveloping you in a hug as she leads you and Billy towards a cozy booth.

"Thank you, Mary," you reply with a genuine smile, taking a seat while Billy settles in beside you.

"And who might this handsome fellow be?" Mary raises an eyebrow with an amused expression.

"This is Billy, my..." you start to say.

"Boyfriend, ma'am," Billy interjects, extending his hand to shake Mary's.

"Well, isn't that lovely," Mary chuckles softly. "Just know, Billy, if you ever hurt her, I'll have to come after you." She adds the threat in a playful tone.

"No worries, ma'am. I'll make sure she's safe," Billy assures with a glance at you, eliciting a smile and a flutter in your stomach as his hand gently squeezes your thigh.

"Excellent! Now, what can I get you two? It's on the house," Mary offers.

You place your orders and settle against the booth. You rest your head against Billy’s shoulder as he grabs the ashtray on the table, lighting another cigarette. You can tell by the way he’s fidgeting and biting at his lip, that something is bothering him.

"Is everything alright?" you whisper.

He looks down at you, his eyes searching. "Can you tell me the guy's name?" he asks quietly.

You sigh, relenting. "John Bellmore. He works at the steel factory where my dad used to work."

Billy nods, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I understand what you're feeling, but promise me you won't do anything reckless," you plead.

Billy takes a moment to exhale a puff of smoke before meeting your gaze with a determined look. "I can’t promise that but I will promise to keep you safe," he says solemnly, reaching for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You nod but are still worried about what might happen if Billy confronts John. The tension in the air feels palpable as you both sit in silence, lost in your own thoughts.

Mary returns with your orders, breaking the heavy atmosphere with her cheerful demeanor. "Here you go, dears. Enjoy your meal," she says, placing the plates on the table with a smile.

"Thank you, Mary," you say, mustering a smile despite the unease lingering in your mind.

As Mary walks away, you turn back to Billy, noticing the intensity in his eyes as he stares off into the distance. "Promise me you won't do anything rash," you repeat, hoping to ease the tension between you.

"I won't let anyone hurt you." Billy reassures you again, his voice softening as he reaches over, hand resting on your cheek, leaning in for a kiss. “I will do everything in my power to not let anyone hurt you in any way ever again. Please just take that as my promise.”

You nod, grateful for his protectiveness but also worried about the consequences it might bring. Deep down, you know that confronting John could escalate the situation, but you also can't shake the fear of it happening again.

You finish dinner, thanking Mary again, before heading out of the restaurant.

“How about I make it up to you for not knowing it was your birthday and take you to get some ice cream?” Billy opens the passenger door for you, helping you in.

"Now that's the way to win me over. You're catching on, Hargrove," you playfully tease as he settles into the driver's seat.

Billy chuckles as he starts the car, glancing over at you with a playful smirk. "There’s more to come," he winks, before pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the nearest ice cream shop.

Hawkins High bustles with the excited chatter of students sharing tales of their holiday break. You enter, feeling a knot of nerves in your stomach, uncertain how Billy will act around you after referring to himself as your boyfriend.

“Y/N!” Suddenly, Robin crashes into you with a hug, nearly sending you tumbling.

“Robin! I've missed you,” you exclaim, returning the embrace, a smile instantly lighting up your face.

“I can’t believe my parents made me miss your birthday this year. I feel terrible,” Robin says as you both walk together towards her locker.

“It's okay, really. And thanks again for the cupcakes. They were amazing!” you reply gratefully.

“We're still on for our girls' night tonight, right? I hope you didn’t forget,” Robin reminds you.

“Actually, I have something to tell you,” you begin, but before you can finish, Billy appears, casually draping his arm around your waist and leaning his chin on your shoulder. “Hey there, little mouse,” he says in a teasing tone.

"OMG! There’s no way!" Robin gasps, her eyes widening in disbelief.

You exchange a sheepish glance with Robin, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks. Billy's sudden display of affection catches you off guard, and you struggle to find the right words to explain the situation.

"Uh, yeah, um..." You stammer, unsure how to address Robin's obvious surprise.

Billy chuckles softly, giving you a reassuring squeeze before addressing Robin with a smirk. "Surprise, surprise," he says, his tone laced with amusement.

"I thought we despised him?" Robin crosses her arms, recalling the fallout from the incident involving him and Heather.

"Listen," Billy straightens up, his hand still gently resting on your waist as he addresses Robin directly. "I know I messed up big time with our friend, but I swear I'll never hurt her again."

Robin's gaze shifts between the two of you, seeking reassurance in your eyes. You offer a small smile and a nod, silently confirming Billy's words. Robin sighs, a sense of resignation washing over her.

"Fine, but just know that if you ever break that promise, I won't hesitate to kick your ass," she warns, her tone firm but laced with a hint of underlying concern.

The bell for first period rings and you say goodbye to Robin as she walks in the opposite direction. You can’t help but glance around at all the eyes on you as Billy hasn’t removed his hands from you, sliding his hand in the back pocket of your jeans.

“Don’t mind them, little mouse.” He moves plants a kiss to your head, smirking as the various students whisper and gasp.

“What’s up Hargrove?” Tommy and Carol intercept your path before you make it to class. “Slumming it now?”

You shoot a withering glare at Tommy and Carol, but Billy steps forward, his posture exuding confidence.

"Watch your mouth, Tommy," Billy warns, his voice low and threatening. "Or you'll regret it."

Tommy scoffs, but Carol pulls at his arm, urging him to back down. "Come on, Tommy, let's not start anything."

“I’m so tired of that shithead.” Billy lets out a frustrated sigh as he guides you towards your first class.

“Why do you put up with them anyway?”

“They were just there. Never really thought about who I hang with until you came along.” Billy reflects, pausing by the classroom door.

“Now you’re stuck with me.” You smile jokingly.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Billy leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The hallway fades into the background as his touch ignites a warmth within you. Without hesitation, you close the distance, meeting his lips in a tender kiss.

For a moment, everything else melts away—the whispers, the stares, the drama of Hawkins High. It's just you and Billy, lost in the sweet embrace of each other's lips.

“I don’t want anything else.” Billy says as you pull away, a soft smile dances on his lips, his gaze fixed on you with a newfound fondness. “I’ll see you later, little mouse.”

You detach, unwillingly heading into the classroom with every pair of eyes practically burning holes into you but all you can do is smile the whole way to your seat.

Taglist:@msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @ghostcastaway @missingbillyhargrove @lotionlamp @billys-pretty-babe @isimpfortoomanypeople @rosey96 @girlwifteef @miheartsedthings @empathyroad @notzoey @iletmytittiestitty-russ @the-ch0sen-on3 @coral021 @fossface @vicurious28

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bonobonoyaatheart · 10 months

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I failed - Kim Namjoon

Summary: The BTS comeback is approaching and Namjoon is extremely busy. You are struggling emotionally but have nowhere to go and find solace. You find a way to escape this: Self harm. It is all hidden until Namjoon comes home early to surprise you.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Iddol Namjoon x gn Reader

Word count: 2178

Warning: Mention of Self harm. Don't read if this is triggering for you.

Never ever suppress your feelings if you are going through this. You are not alone and you deserve all the love.

As the countdown to Namjoon's highly anticipated solo. began, the atmosphere was filled with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. You, as his devoted fan and loving partner, understood the immense pressure he was under to deliver his best. Determined not to add to his already heavy load, you chose to keep your own struggles hidden, not wanting to burden him further.

Every day, you witnessed Namjoon pouring his heart and soul into his work, tirelessly perfecting his craft. You saw the sleepless nights, the countless hours spent in the studio, and the weight of expectations resting upon his shoulders. Your admiration for him only deepened as you witnessed his dedication and passion.

Yet, amidst the chaos of his comeback preparations, your own personal battles raged on silently. The mounting stress, the unrelenting anxiety, and the unspoken worries began to wear you down. But each time you considered confiding in Namjoon, you pushed the thoughts aside, fearing that revealing your struggles might distract or burden him.

You convinced yourself that he had enough on his plate already, and it became your mission to support him wholeheartedly. You became an expert at masking your own pain, wearing a smile that hid the turmoil within. But with each passing day, the weight of your own emotions became harder to bear, and the line between supporting Namjoon and neglecting your own well-being blurred.

In the midst of the frenzy, you found solace in quietly caring for Namjoon, making sure he ate properly, offering words of encouragement, and being his unwavering source of love and support. Yet, as you silently carried the weight of your own struggles, the void within you grew, and the need for release became unbearable.

Days turned into weeks, and the pressure continued to build. The weight of your unspoken pain and buried emotions grew heavier with each passing moment. You felt like you were walking on a tightrope, trying to maintain your composure while the inner demons clawed at your sanity.

One day, unable to bear the burden any longer, you decided to visit Namjoon's recording session with the hope of discussing your feelings. As you made your way to the studio, your heart pounded with anticipation and nervousness. You knew Namjoon was stressed, but you believed that sharing your struggles might help alleviate some of your own pain.

Arriving at the studio, you noticed the controlled chaos that surrounded Namjoon and his team. They were fully immersed in the creative process, focused on making every detail perfect. Your admiration for Namjoon's dedication swelled within you, but you couldn't shake off the lingering doubt of whether he would have time for your concerns.

Summoning your courage, you approached Namjoon during a break between takes. The anxiety twisted in your stomach, but you were determined to speak your truth.

"Joon, can we talk for a moment? I've been struggling lately, and I really need someone to listen," you said, your voice wavering slightly.

Namjoon glanced at you, his face etched with exhaustion, but the weight of his responsibilities seemed to consume him.

"Can it wait, babe? I'm swamped right now," Namjoon replied, his tone exasperated. "We're running against the clock for this album and I can't afford any distractions."

The words struck you like a blow. The dismissive tone and lack of understanding pierced through your heart, leaving you feeling invalidated and unseen. Silence hung heavy in the air, and you found yourself at a loss for words. With a heavy heart, you turned away and started making your way back, feeling the weight of his indifference pressing down on you.

As you retreated from the studio, a wave of emotions crashed over you. Disappointment mingled with hurt, and the tears you had held back threatened to spill forth. Doubt and loneliness swirled in your mind as you questioned whether you could find solace within yourself, whether you could continue carrying your burdens in silence. The once unbreakable bond between you and Namjoon now seemed fragile, and you wondered if there was a way to bridge the growing gap between you.

The days stretched into weeks, and the weight of your unspoken pain continued to bear down on you. The inner demons grew stronger with each passing moment, their whispers becoming louder, urging you towards self-destructive habits that offered temporary relief from the overwhelming emotions. But beneath the numbness, the darkness within you continued to fester.

Meanwhile, Namjoon carried on with his hectic schedule, oblivious to the storm brewing within your soul. The demands of his album consumed his every waking moment, leaving little room for anything else. He was blind to the cracks forming in your facade, unaware of the battles you fought silently in the depths of your despair.

One evening, Namjoon managed to wrap up his work a little earlier than usual. A flicker of worry had nestled itself in the back of his mind, prompting him to return home and check on you. He entered the apartment, his heart pounding in his chest, his steps heavy with apprehension.

As he walked into the living room, his breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes widened in horror. There you were, curled up on the couch, a blade held tightly in your hand, your trembling body reflecting the pain in your heart. Blood stained your skin. Fear gripped Namjoon's heart, his mind racing to comprehend the depths of your anguish.

"No! Please, don't do this!" Namjoon's voice broke, his words choked with tears. He rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he tried to gently pry the blade from your grasp. His own tears flowed freely down his face, his voice a raw mixture of panic and guilt.

"I… I can't… I can't believe I let it come to this," Namjoon stammered, his voice cracking with each word. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so, so sorry. I've failed you. I've failed to see your pain, your struggles. How could I have been so blind?" He traced your cuts gently, noticing how deep they were.

Namjoon's shoulders shook uncontrollably, his sobs echoing through the room. He held you tightly, seeking solace and support, his words filled with a mixture of desperation and self-loathing. "You deserve so much better than me. You deserve someone who can protect you, who can be there for you. I'm an idiot for not realizing how much you were hurting. I don't deserve you."

You wanted to say something and calm him down so bad, but you had gotten numb, mind gone blank. You struggled to find the right words to tell him you were sorry and he didn't need to blame himself for everything. But Namjoon took your silence as a sign of you being disappointed and mad at him.

Tears streamed down his face as he continued to pour out his emotions. "I'm unworthy of the love you've given me. I've taken you for granted, and I hate myself for it. You're the most incredible person I know, and I failed to be there when you needed me the most."

Namjoon's voice cracked with vulnerability as he clung to you, his apologies pouring out like a torrent. "Please forgive me. Please know that I love you more than words can express. We'll find a way through this together. I promise, I'll do everything in my power to support you, to be the person you need me to be. But just forgive me. I'm so sorry, beyond my words can express."

You gently wiped away the tears streaming down Namjoon's face, your touch soft and comforting. You needed to say something or he was gonna be even harsh on himself. "Namjoon, listen to me," you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness. "I don't blame you for everything. We've both made mistakes, and we've both been struggling silently. This isn't about placing blame; it's about healing and growing together."

Namjoon's breath hitched as he looked into your eyes, his voice choked with emotion. "But I feel like I've failed you, like I've failed to protect you. I should have noticed your pain sooner, and I'm so sorry. You deserve better than this."

You shook your head gently, cupping Namjoon's face in your hands. "No, my love. You haven't failed me. We're in this together, remember? We can't change the past, but we can learn from it. Our love is stronger than our mistakes, and we have the power to build something beautiful from the broken pieces." "But I couldn't help you. I feel so miserable." Namjoon said, trying to control his sobs

"I'm sorry too Joonie. I shouldn't have chosen this way. I am truly sorry. It's not entirely your fault baby." You spoke softly, caressing his cheeks. "Promise me you will never do this again, I'll be there for you at every step, but please don't hurt yourself like this." Namjoon said, his voice tender and soft.

As Namjoon held you tightly in his embrace, his arms wrapped around you protectively, a sense of peace and reassurance washed over you. The weight of the past slowly lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and love.

In that tender moment, Namjoon pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips conveying warmth and comfort. It was a simple gesture, yet it held a thousand unspoken words of love and devotion.

A soft smile graced your lips as you suddenly remembered that you hadn't cooked dinner yet, but the thought was quickly dismissed when Namjoon spoke up, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

"Let's not worry about cooking tonight," Namjoon whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "I want to make up for the lost time and show you just how much you mean to me. Let's go to your favorite restaurant and have a special evening together."

Your heart swelled with affection as you nodded, feeling the warmth of his words seep into your being. With his unwavering support and the promise of cherished moments, you knew that healing and happiness awaited you.

Namjoon reached for his phone, dialing his manager's number with a renewed sense of purpose. "Hey, I need to take a day off tomorrow," he spoke into the phone, his voice filled with determination. "There's something more important that needs my attention. Don't worry, I'll make sure everything is taken care of."

As he hung up the phone, a sense of freedom washed over you both. Tomorrow would be a day dedicated to nurturing your love and strengthening your bond.

Hand in hand, you walked out into the evening, the weight of the past fading into the background. With each step, you could feel the anticipation of a brighter future, of shared laughter, and of moments that would help you build new memories together.

At the restaurant, as you sat across from each other, smiles playing on your lips, Namjoon reached out to hold your hand. His eyes sparkled with affection as he spoke softly, "I want tonight to be a reminder of our love, a celebration of how far we've come. You mean the world to me, and I'm grateful for every moment we share."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a mixture of love and happiness filling your being. "Namjoon, I'm so grateful to have you by my side. Tonight feels like a fresh start, a chance to create new memories and let our love bloom."

As the evening unfolded, laughter and sweet conversations filled the air. You reveled in each other's company, sharing stories, dreams, and aspirations. The worries of the world melted away, replaced by the warmth of love that enveloped you both.

With each passing moment, you felt the wounds of the past slowly healing, replaced by a renewed sense of joy and hope. The connection between you grew stronger, and the love that had brought you together shone brighter than ever.

As the night drew to a close, Namjoon leaned in, his voice a soft whisper against your ear. "Thank you for giving me another chance, for trusting in our love. I promise to cherish you every day, to be the partner you deserve. Let's build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless support."

Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your voice filled with emotion. "Namjoon, I believe in us. Together, we can conquer anything that comes our way. Our love is resilient, and with you by my side, I know we can create a beautiful life together."

As you left the restaurant hand in hand, a sense of excitement and contentment filled the air. The road ahead might still have its challenges, but you were ready to face them together, knowing that your love had the power to overcome any obstacle.

With the promise of a day dedicated to nurturing your love, you both looked forward to tomorrow, where you would continue to write the story of your lives, one chapter at a time, with love, resilience, and a shared commitment to building a future filled with happiness and fulfillment.

A/N: Reblog and share if you like, and let me know what you think about this!

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts #rm x reader #rm bts #namjoon #namjoon angst #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x y/n #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #bts angst #bts fic #rm x you #bts namjoon #namjoon fanfic #rm imagine

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ondaspectrum93 · 1 year

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Do you have a diagnosis of ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) & love to paint/draw/sketch/collage/sculpt/collect various visually pleasing objects/create online visual media/mixed media/sing/dance/write/participate in any medium of creative expression as a means to communicate as a person with an intellectual disability? WELL I DO & YOU WILL DEFINITELY ENJOY IT AS MUCH AS I DO FOR I AM LEARNING TO BE PROUD OF THE BEAUTIFUL CREATIONS, CONTENT, PHOTOGRAPHY & THE PROCESS OF REPETITIONS INVOLVED IN MY TRANSFORMATIONS FROM RAW PAPER OR BLANK PIXEL SLATES TO WHICH I AMPLIFY THE BEST SENSATIONS OF COMPLETING THE SELF STARTED AND CHOSEN TASKS TO WHICH I COMPILE AND SHARE WITH MY STRANGERS WHO STUMBLE ACCORDINGLY TO MY TAGS ACROSS MY PAGE. I want to discover other humans, specifically people above the age of 18 who are either intellectually or learning disabled or co-morbid the way I am, at this point in their life, I’d love to hear about their experiences & struggles & random thoughts that pop to mind as shared along with their own thoughts about how they relate to each other’s creations… what circumstances led to this artwork being made & published & what is your name/handle/identity in your own words as the artist? I’m hoping for this page to be a place to make friends, especially even if you don’t create any art or writing or videography for yourself by yourself just yet, but plan on doing so in the first opportunity coming up with something inspiring you to go ahead and bite the bullet & stop letting people/places/things/because/but/fear driven overwhelming thoughts setting fear inside & preventing the accessible pathway from dipping your toes in the water & making a mess of mistakes bc they are so much more important to make than it is to be practiced in perfectionism’s which nobody succeeds at in this universe with or without the idiosyncrasies known to our community! This is a judgemental free space which has been made possible by the low functioning highly sensitive empath named Jacqueline Mae Gutwilik who has been going through worst heartbreak of her life post missed miscarriage12/22 & subsequent trauma caustic to her husband who is afflicted with opioid & crystal meth addiction which is now the scariest thing she is grieving on a daily basis for the past two years now (when she noticed his soul was not compatible with hers any longer for she started slowly catching up to the social cues, anxiety and pressure driven by her partner to make decisions about life that were harmful to her poor health problems in retrospect causing her Wilson Disease to deteriorate & displacing her from her comfort zone/stability by moving back to her childhood abuse/abandonment home & wound up w/o anyone b/c she had been living in an isolated domestic abusive cycle for 7 years before aware of it & her environment is NOT safe STILL to date; No matter how much she is a positive helpful, healthy, supportive to others around her, she cannot seem to make any progress or difference in her own life as per she is broken from her entire life lived trusting in the monsters who took/take advantage of her [as they victim shame her & cry wolf & dictate her life by making false reports to the police against her to try & control her or make her forced into homelessness] so she has no choice but to make her own artwork as she is doing the best she can to cope with the tremor from Wilson Disease symptoms that truly makes her feel unable to tolerate living alone in suffering while being unable to be as productive or professional or socially responsible for her own needs because she has changed exponentially from her trauma & ptsd & day to day problems that she cannot control anyone but herself & do her best to make better choices, which involves creating as much mixed/multi media prompts & writing snippets for sparking ideas for other people to join in & share their projects & play along with me, as well as hopefully find comrades with similar experiences in life through the process of learning w/their ASD diagnosis as transitioning from childhood to adulthood).

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treelightcitystory · 6 months

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Character Chart

Character’s full name: Brittany Elle Ambers

Reason or meaning of name: Strong

Character’s nickname: Britt, Bri

Reason for nickname: short for Brittany

Birthdate: 4/21/96

Physical appearance

Age: 18

How old does he/she appear: 19

Weight: 108 lbs

Height: 5’7 ft

Body build: Slim

Shape of face: Diamond

Eye color: Cloudy Grey

Glasses or contacts: None

Skin tone: Porcelain

Distinguishing marks: Her hair color

Predominant features: Her grey eyes

Hair color: Platinum Blonde

Type of hair: Bangs swept to left side

Hairstyle: Short

Voice: Honeyed

Overall attractiveness: Her smirk

Physical disabilities: None

Usual fashion of dress: Light pink shirt-skirt, blue compris, blue-gray shoes

Favorite outfit: Biege sweater, white undershirt, jeans, boots

Jewelry or accessories: None

Personality

Good personality traits: Intelligent, Passionate, Creative, Devoted, Integrity

Bad personality traits: Bossy, Defiant, Whiny

Mood character is most often in: Bright

Sense of humor: Yes

Character’s greatest joy in life: Being herself without her parents around

Character’s greatest fear: Her family discovering her secret

Why? They’re all kinds of phobic

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Treelight City getting discovered; her parents finding out her biggest secret

Character is most at ease when: Being herself; around the people who truly love her as she is

Most ill at ease when: Being around her parents; trapped under pressure

Enraged when: someone (mainly Michael) insults the people who had helped her when she least expected it

Depressed or sad when: her parents putting so much pressure on her to be the perfect daughter

Priorities: Her mental health; her friends’ safety

Life philosophy:

“Focus on making yourself better, not on thinking that you are better.”

― Bohdi Sanders, The Secrets of Worldly Wisdom: Your Key to Unlocking Success

If granted one wish, it would be: To get away from her home the moment she graduates high school

Why? Her parents had made her miserable under their roof

Character’s soft spot: For Ginger (months after story)

Is this soft spot obvious to others? Yes; to her friends

Greatest strength: Her friends

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Pressure to be the perfect daughter

Biggest regret: Letting her parents ruin her childhood

Minor regret: Standing up to them when confronted

Biggest accomplishment: Winning her first science fair

Minor accomplishment: Gaining the Daleville Gang’s trust after standing up to Michael

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: None

Why? She’s always pressured to impress her family

Character’s darkest secret: Has a lesbian sexuality

Does anyone else know? No

Goals

Drives and motivations: Be Acknowledged

Immediate goals: Prove her loyalty to the Daleville Gang (during story)

Long term goals: Excel in science/biology career

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Study as far away from her home and parents as possible

How other characters will be affected: Parents will not approve, but unable to stop her; friends will support her

Past

Hometown: New York City, New York

Type of childhood: Full of pressure

Pets: None

First memory: Her parents’ faces

Most important childhood memory: watching Bill Nye's show

Why: Where her love for science and technology came from

Childhood hero: Bill Nye

Dream job: Biologist/technologist

Education: NYC Kindergarten

Religion: Christian

Finances: None

Present

Current location: Daleville, Alabama

Currently living with: Her family

Pets: None

Religion: Christian (formerly)

Occupation: High School Student

Finances: College fund (building on her own)

Family

Mother: Bryce Ambers

Relationship with her: Biological

Father: Adrien Ambers

Relationship with him: Biological

Siblings: Juliette Ambers

Relationship with them: Biological

Spouse: N/A

Relationship with him/her: N/A

Children: N/A

Relationship with them: N/A

Other important family members: strained relationship with both her father’s and mother’s sides

Favorites

Color: Purple

Least favorite color: Black

Music: Pop

Food: Meringue

Literature: Sci-Fi, Thriller

Form of entertainment: Movies

Expressions: “What the WHAT?!”

Mode of transportation: Mercedes

Most prized possession: Her chemistry and technology tools

Habits

Hobbies: Chemistry, Computer Tech

Plays a musical instrument? No

Plays a sport? No

How he/she would spend a rainy day: Practice computer tech

Spending habits: Mild

Smokes: No

Drinks: No

Other drugs: N/A

What does he/she do too much of? Trying to please people

What does he/she do too little of? Standing up for herself

Extremely skilled at: Chemisty, technology, science (all forms)

Extremely unskilled at: Gardening

Nervous tics: Tapping foot

Usual body posture: Back straight, head held high

Mannerisms: Her family’s wealthy lifestyle

Peculiarities: Her love for chemistry and tech science

Traits

Optimist or pessimist? Optimist

Introvert or extrovert? Extrovert

Daredevil or cautious? Cautious

Logical or emotional? Logical

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Methodical and neat

Prefers working or relaxing? Prefers working

Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Confident of herself (although a bit unsure)

Animal lover? Yes

Self-perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself: Feels like she has a purpose to please everyone to keep her hobbies a secret

One word the character would use to describe self: Intelligent

One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: With a hidden secret and a wealthy, yet suffocating life, Brittany is not the type of mean girl people would imagine.

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? Her intelligence

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? Her insecurity

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Her blonde hair

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? Her grey eyes

How does the character think others perceive him/her: As a rich daughter of an influential tycoon

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: Her tendency to please her parents

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: No matter how much wealth they have, the purity of their soul is what matters

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Only from her parents

Person character most hates: Michael James

Best friend(s): Daleville Gang (progressing later on in story)

Love interest(s): Ginger (months after story ends)

Person character goes to for advice: School counselor (has free passes because of family’s class status)

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Juliette, her younger sister

Person character feels shy or awkward around: Ginger (during first time in Treelight City)

Person character openly admires: Ginger (upon first meeting)

Person character secretly admires: Ginger (only Daleville Gang and Treelightains know)

Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Juliette

After story starts: Juliette, Daleville Gang, and Treelight City

#treelight city #original art #original content #original fiction #original character #oc #character sheet #art

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hillarysss · 3 years

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- ASTRO LYRICS 🕊

placements & their true melodies 🤍

do not repost, plagiarize, “reword” my work.🕊 my work only @hillarysss do not touch.

- 🤍 Scorpio placements & Capricorn Placements & Heavy Saturn & Pluto & Pluto - Ascendant & Pluto in 1st

When you become untouchable, you're unable to touch Is there a real me? Pop the champagne It hurts me just to think and I don't do pain

- The Living Tombstone (My Ordinary Life)

- 🤍🕊 You display what you want to display but you keep a part of you quite untouchable because of what you experienced you don't wanna experience pain and despair ever again, you put up this image that is intense and admirable because you put a lot of effort and dedications to things... you find it hard not to get obsessed with what you love.. you learnt this the hard didn't you? When you put so much love into things you loose yourself and your dignity in the process and you loose yourself in the intense reactions other people have made of you thus making you question your worth. Don't you know how much power you have? The jealousy you've experienced.. people projecting on you because of your burning desire to do things you lost who you were in expectations that you made of yourself and that others have made of you.. say no to that and own your power.

- 🤍 Virgo placements & Aquarius placements & 6th house & 11th house placements & Uranus Dominance

Perfection is so quick to bore You are my beautiful, by far Our flaws are who we really are

- I hear a symphony (Cody Fry)

- 🤍🕊You've always been somewhat different in the ways you think and act since a young age.. you were analytical and saw through things no one else could because of your innovative mind. At such young age you've had to dim your ways of thinking because of other's expectations and the duty you've had to serve since young may have taken a toll on who you are today and you constantly feel what would happen if you were to just break free from society and the cruel world. You have a beautiful heart that humankind doesn't deserve. You've always been that person to give a hand out when needed but were those favors retreated? Tell me.. how many times you've tried to fit in? You don't have to please anyone and loving yourself is a mission for you. How many times people have stolen what you've done and taken credit for it? Embrace yourself and say fuck you to anyone else and only do things for you. Embrace your "weird" side"

- 🤍 Leo placements & 5th house placements & Sun dominants & Sagittarius placements & 9th house placements & Jupiter dominants & Sagittarius dominants

I've been catching planes for the fun of it Then I'll be watching fame turn to punishment The weather's only sunny when I'm under it And I haven't really changed, yeah I'm just confident I'm just fucking lucky I was born with it

Into it - (Chase Atlantic)

🤍🕊You have learned that running from responsibilities isn't any fun and you have to fear the dark side at times and the dark side can come from when you least expect it. You are most secretive than given credit for, you put up this pretty image with amazing charisma and you display wisdom and knowledge.. it's hard not to look up to you.. but eventually you create this standard that you always have to shine bright and that negative emotions aren't welcomed.. you repress emotions.. you have learned that you shouldn't always follow what the crowd wants. Sometimes you wish you could just go unnoticed but it's hard not to pay attention to you.. you've always felt like escaping huh? Wishing you were someone else.. while everyone wants to be you.. most people misunderstand your life and think it's all luxury because of that pretty image you put up.. it couldn't be farther from the truth.. you were gifted with wisdom and creative talents from youth.. use them

-🤍 Cancer Placements & Major 4th house placements & Pisces placements & 12th house placements & Moon - Pluto

You can hold my hand If no one's home Do you like it when I'm away? If I went and hurt my body, baby Would you love me the same?

Line without a hook- (By Ricky Montgomery)

🤍🕊 You have been gifted with the ability to love so much that your own persona becomes a blur and you loose yourselves in the ones you love you'd dare sacrifice yourself for them.. but have your ways of love always been given back? Perhaps.. you've found yourself staying a bit longer than you should in situations where you were giving too much? Does that hit a bell? Oh.. this is why you've built up walls because you're afraid you'd be used for your love again.. yes? You've always provided a home for people even if you yourself didn't have a stable home emotionally and mentally.. you always dared to care and love and nourish.. you were always watering dead plants.. you have had to learn so early on that not everyone has such big heart like you.. have you went so far for people who didn't really like you the way you thought? Use your ways of loving and your intuitive abilities for what's best and don't water dead plants.

-🤍 Libra placements & Venus dominance & Taurus placements & Moon in 7th & Venus in 7th

Kisses on the foreheads of the lovers Wrapped in your arms You've been hiding them in Hollowed out pianos left in the dark

Apocalypse - (By Cigarettes After Sex)

- 🤍🕊 You are naturally loved and liked that would be an understament of who you are.. You've always desired a beautiful connection when there was equal give and taken.. Your heart is beautiful your entire soul is.. who was the one who made you hide it all away? You still remember your first heartbreak don't you? Are you concerned for how others perceive you too much? Have you yet learned that love only comes within you the most? People tend to confide in you the most but who do you confide in? You were gifted with the abilities of art and aesthetics you've always tried to see everything in a better light until the darkness over took once and all you think is anxious thoughts.

- 🤍 Earth placements & 2nd house placements & 6th house placements & 10th house placements

But so broken on when you can't stop choosing To sleep through your alarms Man, you're losing your head

Sleep thru Ur Alarms (By Lontalius)

- 🤍🕊 You just need a break..you need a break from reality.. no even that sounds too little.. you need to take it slow.. all those sleepless you've spent working so hard repressing tears.. did it all start from early school years and that perfectionism to get those grades? Or maybe it's your parent's expectations.. Sure you're "grounded' but who knows when you're not? who hide it so well just for the sake of not burdening anyone.. you suffer alone aiming for the price.. the high achiever.

- 🤍 Air placements & 11th house placements & 3rd house placements & 7th house placements

Do the wires in your mind get sewn together..

Rubbed and severed by the heat

Not allowed - TV girl

- 🤍🕊 Sure you can be seen as the friend who is funny and always up to chat.. but who really knows what's going on in your mind? All those thoughts racing.. do you know how fascinating your mind is and how it works? But let's talk about the uglier side.. you are more anxious than you let on and you can't help but analyze every little thing, you may at times questioned your sanity because of what you've noticed so early on that others haven't.. At such young age, you've been on this mission to feed on knowledge but what about your emotional nourishment? You can't just feed your emotional needs with your mind.. take time to yourself...

- 🤍 Fire placements & 1st house placements & 5th house placements & 9th house placements & Mars dominance & Sun dominance

All things come to pass With time But I want everything now To be all mine

Young - (By Vacations)

- 🤍🕊 With that burning desire you've had throughout your life to accomplish so many things.. you are a true child at heart with so many dreams.. ignoring the people who have told you your dreams are unrealistic and that you'll never make it.. but you'll make it there one day.. faith is what keeps you even if it's inconsistent faith has always been your friend. The burning loyalty you give to those who dare stand by your side and how much you're willing to give. You're not the easiest but that's for a reason you want everything and you'll give everything, all because of the intense love inside you.

- 🤍 Water placements & 12th house placements & 8th house placements & 4th house placements & Neptune dominance

But the rain never came So I made with the sun The shade Always comes at the worst time

Daddy Issues - (By The Neighborhood)

- 🤍🕊 The ability to feel the environment around has it side effects doesn't it? You easily get overwhelmed and because of your kind nature you take more than what you should've taken, you struggle making time for you at times. You escape the rain and despair by sleeping or ignoring the obvious. You become foggy to those around you because you are scared of letting people in on what you really go through. Your intuition has never failed you especially with people.. so why do you still doubt it? Is it because of what you think it could be? But it isn't right? Reality can be despair, you run and run until you run out of time and you have no choice but to face the dark truths.

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astrologyfactzzz · 3 years

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🌙 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸𝑆 🌙

The Moon in the houses can reveal where and how we go about seeking emotional satisfaction.

Important clues to the reason for perpetual emotional unrest can be found through the study of the house position of the Moon, and these take the form of constant changes or ups and downs in the areas of life rules by the house. It is in these areas in that we should aim to make deep attachments rather than superficial and temporary emotional thrills if we are seeking out a true feeling of belonging and emotional fulfillment.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝑅𝑆𝑇 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

Your feelings are right out there for everyone to see, and you can come across as emotional and impatient, or nurturing and caring (or both). Your first reaction is emotional, especially if the Moon is in close proximity (within 10 degrees) of the Ascendent degree. You need emotional stimulation, movement and freedom to express yourself in order to feel happy and fulfilled.

Your moods are very changeable, and this can be quite obvious to others. Because of your emotional sensitivity, you might often take things too personally, and react too quickly. Developing an awareness that others‘ emotions are just as important, even if they are not as overt and immediate as yours, will be important.

You have a soft exterior and tend to relate very personally and sympathetically to other people. However, you sometimes let your emotions overpower your reasoning and logic, and consequently, you are sometimes biased in your opinions. You are impressionable and rather gentle, or at least that is the way you appear. Your feelings are on the surface and you can not hide your emotions.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐸𝐶𝑂𝑁𝐷 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

When it comes to money, you can be generous and frivolous in your spending habits one day, and frugal the next. You can be quite afraid of being in debt, and you need to feel secure and safe. This is likely also true of savings, as you fear being without.

Still, there are times when you can spend impulsively, on a whim, and this is likely when you are feeling emotionally frustrated. You might also hold onto people quite tightly. Vanity can be an issue. You are often looking for admiration, and you can be quite dependent on others for positive feedback until you learn to develop your own feelings of self-worth. You’re not as emotionally responsive as most people. You tend to hold back and wait before expressing yourself, and when you do it is with deliberation.

You are likely to be a great collector of things - a real pack rat in fact - for your belongings give you a sense of security and continuity with the past, which is important to you. Antiques or things with sentimental value from your past are especially dear to you.

You may also cling rather tightly to both money and possessions, keeping them "in the family" rather then sharing freely with those outside of your immediate circle.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑅𝐷 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

You are very responsive, communicative and curious. You can have a talent for imitating others and/or for picking up languages. You might either intellectualize your emotions rather than truly feel them and deal with them, or you communicate with excessive emotion. Some of you may do both at different times, and as you mature and develop, you learn to find balance.

Your opinions and ideas change often, and you might find that sometimes you adopt others’ points of view and express their ideas as if they were your own. This is not necessarily because you are a copy-cat, but because you sometimes fail to own your own thoughts, and you are so sensitive to others’ opinions. You might be quite nervous and restless, requiring frequent changes of scenery, even if the moment or travel takes place locally.

You often make decisions solely for emotional or personal reasons, because something “feels right” or because you’ve always done it a certain way and you are uncomfortable changing it. Even when you think you’re being rational, your prejudices, intuitions, and feelings influence your thoughts a great deal. You are comfortable talking about feelings and personal subjects, and sharing confidences, which enables others to express their own inner feelings with you as well. You have good psychological insight into others.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

You long for a sense of true belonging, but may be quite restless in your search. You might change residence frequently, or simply feel the need to make many changes in your home.

Moving frequently may be a healthy thing if it keeps you emotionally stimulated, but if you find that you do so on whims and later regret the changes, you might want to treat it as a symptom of emotional unrest - as a sign that you are in a constant search for the perfect mood setting, when in fact a feeling of belonging should be worked on from the inside out, not the outside in! Some of you might remain rather immature on an emotional level, never wanting to truly grow up and take care of yourself. Attachments to your past, traditions and family are strong.

You have strong attachments to your past, the places where you grew up, your heritage and family traditions. In fact, you may be unable to step out of the habits and roles you learned as a child. Your tie to your mother is very strong and you also seek mothering and protection from your spouse and other family members as well.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐹𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

You love to share emotional experiences with loved ones and have a flair for the dramatic. Love affairs are magnetic and intense, and you don’t take them lightly by any means, although you may go through much change with regard to your romance. You are attached to children, wether they’re your own or not. Your creative hobbies are subject to relatively frequent changes, and you have innate artistic talent. You have a vivid imagination and are given to daydreaming often. There is a sense that you, are always in touch, or trying to get in touch, with your inner child.

If the Moon is challenged, you may have problems with impulsive shopping or gambling or with frequent love affairs that never fully satisfy you. In any of these cases, you are more attached to the game than the player, and this is something to work on if you are looking to find true fulfillment. You might take risks just for the fun of it, but in the process, you are being irresponsible to others and yourself.

You are emotionally expressive and often dramatize your feelings, acting them out or blowing them out of proportion. You can not hide your instinctive emotional reactions to people or situations, and you don’t make any pretenses about your personal sympathies or antipathies.

You have a childlike openness and playfulness which is very appealing to others, but which sometimes gets you into trouble, as you take risks on impulse or whim.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐼𝑋𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

You have an emotional need to be useful, to work productively, to be organized and on top of things, and to lead a healthy life. If these matters are chaotic in your life, it’s a symptom of emotional unrest. You need a lot of variety on the job–to be stimulated and engaged in order to feel happy. Some of you might seem to change jobs often, forever in search of the “perfect fit” job. Acceptance that any job requires some level of routine is hard for you.

You are very sensitive, and especially aware of minor health annoyances or body aches and pains. Some of you have hypochondriac symptoms. Some attempt to get out of things they don’t want to do by emphasizing health problems or even exaggerate illnesses in order to gain sympathy. At your best, however, you’re a person who always helps out and shows your affection for others in practical ways in order to help them solve problems and improve their lives.

You have a sympathetic nature and instinctively reach out to people in need of help. You also have a deeply ingrained tendency to want to improve or “fix” other people’s lives, which can be annoying to the person who has no desire to be changed or “helped” in this way. For you, affection and caring must be expressed in tangible acts or service of some kind.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

You are drawn to partnerships and prefer to have a companion for emotional support. You are not a person who would happily take in a movie by yourself, or dine alone, for example. A partner awakens feelings in you that you may never know you had, and you seem to need a partner to learn about your own needs and feelings.

You seek emotional fulfillment through relationships, but you may have many relationships one after another, each time believing that this is “the one.” Taking time between relationships is something that is hard for you to do, but quite necessary, as you tend to jump into relationships out of fear of being alone.

You are very adaptable to others’ needs, and usually quite likeable as a result. Be careful that you don’t become overly dependent on a partner, or assume that a partner is going to treat you the same way as you do them.

You depend a great deal upon other people for emotional support and you have a large “family” of friends that care about you and treat you as kin. The women in your life are particularly important to you, and your relationship with them powerfully influences your sense of security and happiness. You may be overly dependent and unsure of yourself without a close partner.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

While you have a strong need for emotional security, you are also a person who is drawn to pushing your own limits, and many lifestyle changes can be the result of this need to challenge, or reinvent, yourself emotionally. You are always fascinated with how people work, taboos, secrets, and all that is forbidden or hidden. Sexual unrest, or an apparent need to constantly change sexual partners or to challenge yourself sexually, may be a symptom of emotional insecurity.

Connecting with another person intimately is an emotional need, but your changeable emotions might often get in the way of your goal. Jealousy and possessiveness might also be qualities you struggle with. At your best, however, you are a person who is intimate, deep, and intensely loyal to a partner.

Though you want closeness very much, you often close yourself off and do not really trust others who may wish to get to know you. You are very wholehearted in your feelings and responses to people, and you want all or nothing from the people you care for.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑁𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

This is a position that can indicate a deep longing for stimulation above and beyond the everyday, mundane routine. You are a philosophical sort, interested and curious about the world, other people, and perhaps different cultures. You can be extremely restless and discontented if you don’t have a definite goal in mind.

You might find yourself longing to be somewhere else when you are unhappy, imagining that if you were to move or travel, you would be much happier. However, this attitude can only keep you from enjoying and improving upon the situation you are now in, only serving to make you feel more unhappy in the present and with your current circumstances.

Trying to avoid the attitude that “the grass is greener on the other side” will be important, while attending to your needs to get away from time to time will help scratch the seemingly incurable itch for something more.

You may have done extensive traveling in your early years, or in some way had a background which enables you to understand and identify with many different types of people or cultures.

You have a craving for things which are far away and foreign or for things you have never experienced before. You want to completely immerse yourself in the feelings and tastes of a new place, rather than simply have facts or an intellectual appreciation. Emotionally, too, you are restless and something of a wanderer.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑇𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

This position of the Moon indicates an emotional need for recognition, popularity, acknowledgement, and achievement. You can be quite charismatic. You are at your emotional best when you lead a structured and responsible life, but it can take time to get there.

You may change your goals and ambitions, and/or your profession frequently in an attempt to find the perfect fit. You may worry about living up to your image, or the expectations of your family. Decisions may be too emotionally biased, or you might act on emotional whims far too often. Learning to set your own heartfelt goals is the challenge here, as it is unlikely you will find true happiness if you follow or adopt the expectations of others, which you are especially sensitive to.

You work well with the public and have an instinct for what the public wants and will respond to. Having a “nest” is not especially important to you, and you may invest more of your emotional energy into your career or public life than in your private life. Providing for and caring for others in a professional capacity is very likely.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐸𝐿𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

This position of the Moon indicates an emotional need for a feeling of belonging with, and support from, friends and associations with groups. You look to acquaintances for support, and offer the same in return. A changeable or unstable social life might be a reflection of inner emotional unrest. Waxing and waning feelings for others can cause problems in your relationships.

You are a person who is filled with many dreams, wishes, and hopes for your future, and most of these are altruistic and good-hearted desires. However, you might change your aspirations frequently, with your changing moods, and have a hard time settling on goals to work towards as a result.

You get a lot of emotional fulfillment through your involvement in groups, clubs, organizations, community activities, or a network of close friends who support and care for you. You make friends your family, and feel a close kinship with people who share some ideals or beliefs that you hold dear. You need people outside of your physical family to relate to and belong to.

🌙 𝑀𝑂𝑂𝑁 𝐼𝑁 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑇𝑊𝐸𝐿𝑇𝐻 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸 🌙

This position of the Moon indicates an emotional attachment and sensitivity to all that is ethereal, groundless, and eternal. As sensitive as you are, you often have delayed reactions to your own emotional experiences. You need frequent moments of solitude in order to recharge yourself emotionally, and this need, while strong, can also lead to feelings of isolation and of being misunderstood.

While you are a perceptive person, you are often either flooded with emotions that are hard to define, or completely out of touch with what you are feeling. Either extreme keeps you from truly discovering your emotional needs. Negative expressions of this position are avoidance of responsibility, using hypersensitivity as an excuse to oneself (and perhaps to others) for not participating, or emotional immaturity. You are sympathetic to others’ suffering, but not always emotionally available to help.

Your own feelings and emotions are something of an enigma to you, and it is often difficult for you to share with others what you are feeling. You frequently withdraw from contact with the world, and need a healing, peaceful environment in order to blossom and come out of yourself. You identify with the oppressed, disenfranchised or underdog in any situation and want to help them or care for them in some way.

#moon in the houses #moon in 1st house #moon in 2nd house #moon in 3rd house #moon in 4th house #moon in 5th house #moon in 7th house #moon in 8th #moon in 9th house #moon in 8th house #moon in 6th house #moon in 10th house #moon in 11th house #moon in 12th house #aesthetic #positivity #spirituality #astrology

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leakyrocktarot · 3 years

Text

🐞 🎀 𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓇 𝐵𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒮𝓊𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒴♡𝓊? 🎀 🐞

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚎. 𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙿𝙰𝙲 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑. 𝙸𝚏 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

🍰 🎀 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘯𝘦 🎀 🍰

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘶𝘯, 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘹, 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘔𝘢𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘑𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘬.

I get the feeling that this pile may be geared towards people who want to work in the medical field or the judicial system. This pile would make great leaders, storytellers, outdoor workers, caretaker for people with disabilities, acupuncturists, forensic reseachers, pharmacists, government workers, or political leaders. This pile may be the pile to work with children, or be stay at home parents. I get the sense that some of you need to bring more joy into your lives. Some of you may be holding onto the past, lacking forward planning, growth, and adventure. Some of you may be doubting yourselves and your abilities, perhaps being unhappy with your decisions. This may leave you feeling as if you are pinned down, unable to move or go forward. Some of you may be afraid to deal with the hurt you are feeling, afraid that removing the swords will cause more pain, but how can you close and heal the wound if what made it is still there? I have the feeling that some of you are meant to be severing ties with some people in your life, not everyone is meant to follow us throughout our journey, it is ok to let go. Some of you may be feeling bitter towards failures, you may be afraid to take the next step out of fear of failing once more. And some of you may be focused more on being upset at the world around you rather than fixing what needs to be fixed. A lot of you may be feeling exhausted, unable to move forward, as if the universe has beaten the will out of you. I get the feeling that so many of you are feeling as if you are trapped, confined, that things are too uncertain. A lot of you are trapping yourselves with self limiting beliefs, I need for this pile to let go, let go of all that do not serve you. You have so many good things coming to you, it is not worth giving up, it is not worth missing it because you are limiting yourself and living within the past. You have to move forward and grasp what is yours. Your guides are pleading with you to find the strength and heal, find the motivation you need and take the next steps forward. Do not let your blessings pass you. You will have success, you will achieve your goals, you will be accomplished, there will be completions and fulfilments, there will be a sense of belonging as well. Your guides want to give you the messages and tools that you need to achieve this success, all you need to do is reach out to grab it. You are meant to be here, you belong here, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Some of you will be needing to travel for this career path while others will be traveling for this career path. This pile is needing to do a lot of self evaluation, some are needing to have another awakening, and others are needing to make a decision. Some of you are needing to do something entirely new, while others need to practice composure. As a recap, this pile is geared towards the medical and judicial fields.

🍰 🎀 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘰 🎀 🍰

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘬.

I get the sense that the people in this pile would enjoy being in an industry involving planning and negotiations, perhaps the beauty industry, traveling, social working, wedding planning, retail trade, owning a business, being a manager, and perhaps being a police officer. I'm seeing management being repeated here. This may be a pile of business owners, potential models, makeup artists, or retailers and fashion designers. I get the sense that the people in this pile may be stuck between two choices, Some of you guys see the grass is greener on the other side, while others are experiencing wanderlust. I'm getting the sense that some of you will be suddenly leaving your current place of employment, or the current area you are living in. I have a feeling that this will be of personal accord rather than force. I'm getting the sense that there are a lot of people here feeling restless, wanting to do something but not being able to. I get the sense that some of you are being called overseas. I have a feeling that in your career, some of you will be reuniting with past friends. There will be an abundance of celebrations in this pile, a lot of socializing, a lot of gatherings as well. Please be careful of over indulgence. I get the sense that some of you will be meeting your forever partner through career, I'm seeing a lot of weddings and engagement parties. I get the sense that this pile will be rather successful, you guys won't have to worry about finances. I'm seeing that some of you will be receiving a large inheritance, some people here will be marrying into money,and others will be receiving an unexpected financial windfall. This pile is going to be receiving a lot of happiness and a lot of good times. I am seeing a lot of pregnancies in this pile, if that is not what you want please wrap it up! I get the sense that this pile will definitely be spending a lot of time with their loved ones. I'm getting the sense of creative ventures here, some people may take up sculpting. There is a lot of abundance and happy memories here. I'm getting the message that this pile is being warned against over competitiveness, be wary of any pent up energy, tempers, egos, potential conflicts. Take the time to step back and see the situations from other perspectives. I think this pile is being warned against having too much of an inflated sense of self, to be careful of how you view yourself and others in less fortunate circumstances. With the Chariot at the bottom of the deck, I get the feeling that the people in this deck knows exactly what they must do, I think there are some people who are still stalling, and some people who aren't relinquishing control to spirit. Take this as a sign and confirmation that you are on the right path, it is time to do the thing. Go ahead and do the thing.

🍰 🎀 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 🎀 🍰

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘒𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘒𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘶𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘬.

This pile feels like the artistic pile. This pile might like to do night work, competitive work, jobs with a lot of activities, jobs that require high security, public speaking, investing, historians, or working with children. I get the feeling that this pile feels as though their dreams are only an illusion, as if the things you aspire are only imagination. Some of you may be afraid to take the next step, spirit may have made your path too vague, leaving you unsure and insecure about the security of your journey. Some of you may be facing some misconceptions about your journey, perhaps a misunderstanding of signs leading to deception of the self. Some of you may be making hasty decisions, you are needing to slow down and really think through the choices you make. Many of you may be seeking adventure, some of you are going to be traveling or moving soon, while other may be needing to travel or move in a career. A lot of you are needing to take a risk, be a brave, free spirited person. A lot of you are needing to be more confident, to have more excitement to life. I feel like most of you guys need to step up and accept the challenge. There are going to be some big opportunities coming, I need the people reading this pile to seize the moment and grab it. You are needing to mind your impulsivity, really think about your next course of action, use your intellect to the best of it's abilities. Many of you are going to have to rebel against others, go against the flow, be focused on your goals. There may be some people in this pile that are experiencing manipulation. A lot of you are needing to reevaluate the connections you have, not everyone is meant to be on the same path as you throughout your life, it's ok to let go. Some of you may be caught up in risky behaviours, I would suggest not to. There may be some cheating and lies going on around some people, some scheming, enemies spying, a lot of evil eyes prying. I would suggest that this pile do some protection spells, perhaps get some evil eye pendants 🧿 Many of you are needing to be resourceful and really protect yourself. The wheel is in your favor, many of you need to continue moving forward, others are needing to start moving. Allow fate to do what it needs to and relinquish control onto spirit. Some of you are needing to address the past, past connections, or questionable childhood experiences. Once you release the past and all that do not serve you, things will begin to move rather quickly.

🍰 🎀 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳 🎀 🍰

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘦. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘍𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳, 𝘒𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘹, 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴, ��𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘰𝘰𝘭, 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘗𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘶𝘱𝘴, 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘶𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘶𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘬.

I get the feeling that this is the most picked pile, we have 12 cards here, a lot of careers but also a lot of confusion. This pile may work as psychologist, endocrinologists, psychics, librarians, designers, florists, gardners, hostesses, music or film industry workers, entertainment industry workers, travelers, drivers, business owners, work with technology or electricity, social media workers, ceo's, doctors, singers, poets, artists, beauty industry, creative workers, scientists, and there are some people who are jacks of all trades. For this pile, there are so many things hidden, a lot of you guys aren't meant to know your full path as it may affect the outcome of said path. I see a lot of stability coming to this pile, a lot of wish fulfilment. I see that there may be some people slowly losing hope but please know spirit has a plan for you, you are being divinely guided, please do not worry. A lot of you may be stalling your own abundance, some of you are being rather arrogant, hyper, overly confident. Some of you are living within jealousy, my heart is feeling rather heavy, as if there is a hole here, some of you really need to work on your heart chakra. There is a lot of extremely hasty decisions being made, a lot of people here are lacking self discipline, lacking enthusiasm and ambition. There may be a lot of fearful energy within some of you. I get the feeling that many of you are needing to release all of this to spirit, the heart chakra and crown chakra are in desperate need of repair for this pile. Many of you are needing to abandon old ideals, I feel that some of you may be experiencing anxiety from the idea of jumping right in. You are needing to trust that spirit will carry you over to the end of the road safely. Many of you will be meeting your future partners through career, there will be a lot of courting, sending messages, passing notes, and it seems like this will be a new person. There will be a lot of celebrations here, a lot of new friends being made, many of you will be finding your soul tribe and family. I get the sense that these blessings are being blocked because some of you are refusing to move, refusing to address the problems at hand, some of you are refusing to heal as well. Many of you really need to stand your ground, many of you are being held back by trying to match the expectations of others. A lot of you need to rock the boat to release the negative energy around you. A lot of you are going to be facing major decisions here, many of you may be afraid to make a choice. I would suggest thinking through everything, pay attention to want your heart wants and follow it. Do not worry about the outcome, right now many of you need to just do.

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alicee1 · 3 years

Text

One more

Platonic! Phil x Teenager! Winged! GN! Reader

Warnings: injuries, mentions of being hunted, preening

Word count: 2.6K

Synopsis: After living outside on your own for two years without any proper knowledge on survival you set up camp in a forest beside a tundra. Crows find you when you’re hiding away from mobs in a tree and alert Phil that there is an injured winged child abandoned in the forest. After meeting you he takes you back to his cabin to teach you how to properly care for your wings and nurse you back to health. He may have promised himself no more children, but what was one more?

A/n: This was mostly written in a sleep deprived 4 AM haze of creativity but i’ve proofread it in a more consious state of mind and all so it should be fine now. Despite that i still believe that sleep deprived nights where half of the words that get written down are incomprehensible are the best nights to write creativity wise. By the way, I told y’all i write for other people except Techno, this is the proof.

Rules, Masterlist

The running water was cold but fresh against your skin, it gave you the opportunity to refill your water supply and the area allowed for a temporary camp.

You had been wandering the lands for a year or two now, but without any proper teaching on how to defend yourself and survive, you had to figure things out yourself.

It had been the hardest in the beginning, you struggled to provide food for yourself and without the knowledge on how to start a fire you were often too cold as well.

Since then things had gotten better, you survived mostly on berries, not being able to stay in one place long enough to start a proper farm and not skilled enough to hunt proper animals.

The reason why you hadn't settled down permanently was directly tied to your fear of people, you had been chased out of your home by hunters. Besides that, your stubborn nature insisted you would be fine on your own like you had been for the past two years.

Reality however differed despite your unwillingness to believe it.

The wings that sprouted from your back were coated in a layer of dirt, the feathers ruffled and out of place. Loose feathers still weaved through the others, some blocking the way for new feathers to appear creating a constant itching feeling between the feathers.

You had never been properly taught how to take care of your wings, two messy cuts in the back of your clothing spared barely enough space for them to sprout out. For over two years they had stayed unintentionally neglected, pressed against your back as you were unable to fly with them in their current state.

Besides that your diet of berries had left you starving, bones portruding from your skin as your unhealthy diet was unable to provide the nutrition you needed as a teenager.

Messy scars littered your body after countless of nights of close calls with various mobs. Lack of proper care for the wounds made them form into messy scars. Bruises and small cuts coated your skin although you had grown numb from the constant ache it resulted in.

The sun was setting now, forcing you to hurry as you cupped your hands in the small stream and splashed the cool water into your face.

It grew darker quickly in the forest as you looked around, trying to find some place, any place, high up where you could avoid the arrows of skeletons and the reach of zombies and other mobs.

A tall tree caught your eye as you hurried over. You climbed it expertly, many nights trees had been your safe haven to hide out in which had given you the necessary experience.

Finding a strong and sturdy branch to sit on, you watched the night sky. Dark bat like creatures circled in the air as their glowing eyes scanned the surroundings.

It made you press yourself further to the stem of the tree, hoping to stay out of view of the creatures as you sat hidden behind the leaves.

Your eyes met the beady black eyes of what you thought was a raven, or maybe it was a crow, you couldn't tell them apart. It sat on the branch to your side, another similar bird by its side.

It watched you curiously, cocking it's head as a loud screech left it's beak. More of its kind seemed to approach at the noise, joining the first on the branch as they looked curiously at you.

If you weren't stuck in the tree to avoid the mobs that crawled on the ground, you would've ran from the black birds. They were starting to freak you out a little in the way they all silently watched your every move.

The loud twang of an arrow breaching wood could be heard as your eyes widened, temporarily forgetting the birds as you glanced down.

An arrow pierced the wood barely besides the branch you sat on, making you scramble up higher as you climbed to the thinner branches.

With your movement the crows flew off, loudly screeching as they reached the close by tundra, pecking against the window of the cabin loudly.

Phil's eyes narrowed as he watched the creatures gather in large quantities, they screeched towards one another, filling them in on what they had seen in the forest.

Some flew off to check out the sight for themselves, others asked questions loudly to the ones that had seen it for themselves. It was a flock of birds that continued growing and therefore continued growing wilder with the second.

"Quiet" Phil spoke, silencing the horde as he continued, "what is going on?"

Immediately the birds started squeaking over one another once more, forcing him to silence them again before picking out one of the calmer birds of the flock and asked them to explain.

"So there is a child in the forest?" He asked as the bird ruffled it's feathers, fluffing up in defiance as it squeaked, "an injured child."

"An injured winged child!" Another from the flock squawked up, a silencing gaze from Phil quickly shutting them up once more.

He looked at the one crow he that sat perched on his windowsill, "is this true?"

"Yes."

It has been decades since he had seen another person with wings. Often they were chased down and hunted for their wings, using the wings for artificial gliders. He wondered if that was why you were alone out in a forest at night.

"I'll finish this first, then I'll check it out." Phil looked to the brewing stand that stood perched upon his desk, different ingredients strewn around and a book with his findings laid on the side.

"Keep an eye on them in the meantime." He side eyed Chat as he closed his windows against the chilling tundra winds once more, returning to his desk to continue his brewing activities.

Minutes turned into hours as the man got caught up in his work, brewing up enough potions to restock his chests as the morning rays of sun started to peek through the windows.

You had made it out of the night relatively alright, an arrow had found itself scratching your arm somewhere through the night. Although despite that you had stayed unseen by the phantoms that circled the night sky, which you considered a win.

Climbing down the tree once the ground had been cleared, you bid goodbye to the black birds that had stayed by your side throughout the night.

They however, followed your every step, making you grow more conscious of them as you sped up, hoping to shake them off subtly.

Their wings however proved more than capable to keep up with you, forcing you to break out in a sprint.

You had reached a small clearing, stopping in your tracks as a male stood in the middle of it. Crows similar to the ones that followed you crowded around him, some pulling at his green robe to pull him into a certain direction before getting swatted away by his hands.

His eyes found yours as you stepped back, instinctively retreating from the stranger cautiously.

The black wings that grew from his back put you at ease, knowing he was one of your kind. Despite that however he was still a stranger to you and you had never once met another winged person.

Your family hadn't been winged either, although they had kept you hidden from the world for the most of your childhood knowing the target your wings would make you.

When people had learned of your existence your house wasn't safe anymore and you had ran. On your travels you had heard of a place called L'manburg where hybrids of any kind were accepted amongst the normal people. It had been the reason you travelled in this direction in the first place.

He could easily see the fear in your eyes, as well as the mess of feathers that involuntarily fluffed up behind you. It only made the itching of the misplaced feathers worse, making you unconsciously swat at the limbs with your hand.

"Who are you?" Your voice was raspy, dark circles evident under your eyes as Phil seemed to realize the state you were in.

He offered you a small reassuring smile, cautious of his every movement so he wouldn't send you running. Lord knows you wouldn't be able to fly with the state your wings were currently in.

"I am Phil, it's been a long time since I've seen anyone with wings such as myself." He spoke, calmly spreading what was left of his black wings out behind him to show you what he meant.

Even to your untrained eyes it was obvious something had happened to his wings, although you didn't dare ask. The parts of his wings that had stayed untouched by the damage of the explosion however was well taken care off.

Carefully preened to a smooth and soft blanket of feathers that coated the muscled limbs.

They were everything your wings weren't, and immediately the idea of fixing your wings sparked a hope inside you. You hadn't flown often before but you had missed the feeling of the wind under them over the years.

You had known something was wrong with your wings but your lack of basic knowledge of the limbs hindered any proper care you could've given them.

"Are they yours?" You asked the older male, nodding to the birds that littered the small clearing of trees. His presence was comforting in a unfamiliar way, but it was nice nonetheless. It allowed him to take a careful step towards you as he turned to the small army of crows that had gathered around him.

"You could say that," he side glanced at the animals as their beady eyes watched the interaction carefully, "they showed me to you."

His words made your eyes narrow as you took a step back, "why were you looking for me?" The distrust in your voice was obvious as Phil tried to gain your trust once more.

"I wasn't looking for you specifically," one of the crows that had watched the ordeal from your side carefully hopped in front of you towards Phil, turning around to watch you as if asking you to follow them.

"they spoke of an injured winged child in the forest." Your hand found your upper arm where the skeletons arrow had pierced your skin unconsciously, the sting of the injury still present in the back of your head.

The male pulled a bottled red solution from his cloak, stepping closer to hand it to you as you allowed him.

Phil offered you a small smile, considering it a victory as he uncorked the bottle, swirling the deep red liquid inside for a moment before handing it to you, "it's a potion of health, it will help with your wounds."

"What do you want for it?" You asked questioningly as you held the bottle in your hands, looking at the older male now that he was closer to you.

A comforting smile formed on his features, "nothing mate, I'd hope to take you to the cabin where I and a closer friend of mine live. He's a hybrid as well, and I wish to help you."

Your eyes narrowed as you took a careful sip of the potion. The sweet flavorful taste was unlike anything you had tasted in years. A satisfied sigh left your lips involuntarily as the taste invaded your mouth and brought immediate relief to the ache you had forgotten existed and the pain from your recent arm injury.

It didn't take long for you to finish the potion, some of the color returning to your cheeks as Phil turned away from you, extending his hand in invitation to join him.

When you did he wrapped his sky blue cape around your shoulders, protecting you against the cold tundra as he guided you over the lands, back to his cabin.

The warmth of a fireplace hit your skin as you stepped inside the cabin, the comforting feeling of warmth had grown unfamiliar over the two years you had spent alone but was a welcome change.

Phil guided you to the couch, taking the cape from you before hanging it besides the door. He knew the health potion would be enough to help against the cut on your arm, what he was more concerned about were your wings.

"How long as it been since you preened them, kid?" The nickname rolled of his tongue without him noticing.

The clueless look you gave him should've said enough, yet you still chose to answer as you cocked your head, "what is preening?"

Instantly Phil realized what was the problem. You hadn't been unable to care for your wings, you just didn't know how to.

He sat down beside you, stretching out his right wing which had been relatively spared from the blasts of TnT. He showed the smooth feathers to you as you carefully traced your hand along it. He could barely feel your gentle touch as he explained what preening was.

He could see the light of curiosity in your eyes shine in your eyes as you had officially chosen to put your trust in him.

Moving to his small kitchen, he prepared a cup of hot chocolate milk. It would give you something to focus on if the preening felt uncomfortable, besides that, the warmth and nutrition would be good for you.

You carefully sipped the sweet liquid as Phil sat behind you, his touches feather light on your wings as he gently stretched them out to observe their state more appropriately.

A small shudder shut up your spine at the foreign contact, but it was a nice type of contact, something you could get used to.

His fingers started to rearrange the feathers, pulling the loose ones out and creating space for new ones to pop out. He found some childhood fluffy feathers amongst their larger and smoother counterparts. It made him question how long they had been there as he combed his fingers through the different layers of feathers, wondering if you had ever been properly preened before.

Where your back met your wings he could see the small fluffier childhood feathers that puffed up from underneath the slits in your shirt. They probably would never get replaced by the adult feathers and mark the transition between skin and feathers.

His touch was comforting, combined with the sweet liquid in the mug and the warmth that hung in the cabin, you closed your eyes in bliss as you settled into the soft couch. You sunk in between the mess of pillows, your eyelids softly dropping closed as you sipped the remainder of your drink from the mug.

Phil could see the way your body seemed to slack in the soft material of the couch, his hands continuing their work as he gently pulled the now empty cup from your hands and put it on the small table.

He knew that last night, especially in combination with Chat, must have been exhausting for you. You looked blissfully and comfortable in your sleep.

Phil only took a quick break from preening your feathers to drape a blanket over the rest of your form.

He had promised himself no more. After everything that had happened with Wilbur, Tommy and Techno he had promised himself that Tommy was his last.

But the way you laid so peaceful in your sleep on his couch, he knew he couldn't just send you away after nursing you back to health. It was obvious you had no one to return to and you were still a child. Whether teenager or not, a child is a child.

Maybe one more wouldn't be so bad?

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astrologyandlife · 3 years

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jupiter and saturn together in the natal chart

i have noticed that, in many of my readings, people have both jupiter and saturn sitting in the same house of their natal chart. this makes sense because a conjunction between the two occurs every 20 years. and to me, this signals an important theme: the need to overcome struggle to unlock the opportunities of that house.

first house - there's difficulty expressing yourself fully. it's like you want to be optimistic and have faith in yourself, but something is holding you back from that. you are almost afraid of being let down. as a result, you carry around this fear and caution about everything. you doubt yourself. when people first meet you, these struggles can be visible to them. the important thing here is that you are the cultivator of your experience, and when you can work through your feelings about yourself and your environment, you will notice that you attract good luck and opportunity. you have the power to consciously change how you approach the world around you through a smile, a little bit of faith, and a more positive attitude. second house - growing up, you lacked some form of security in your life. this could have been in the form of coming from a poorer background, or having a parent(s) that did not consistently care for you in some way. and because you were not valued by those in your early environment, you struggle to ascribe value to yourself. you may develop habits of holding onto things out of fear that you will never have them again. the lesson from this placement is to understand your own worth, and to know that you are entitled to a comfortable, happy, satisfying life. using this framework you will attract wealth and opportunity. third house - the hardest part about this placement is that you feel as though you are somehow "stupid" or your ideas aren't worthwhile. you could have struggled in your early school years for various reasons ranging from not understanding the material to being in an environment that refused to accommodate your needs. you rarely share your own ideas, and you fear being rejected, wrong, or made fun of by others. you must let go of this hesitation and remind yourself that you have valuable ideas to share with the world. you have the power to persuade, to motivate, and to invigorate. in fact, once you stop second-guessing yourself, you will notice that your genius shines proudly. fourth house - your early childhood experiences were, and still are, challenging for you. you could have experienced hardship as a result of being treated poorly by your parents or even going through some trauma in the home, especially if saturn makes aspects to mars or pluto. you have fears stemming from your childhood that hold you back. what is going to be important for you is building a home for yourself that is safe, secure, and stable. in doing so, your chosen family will grow and provide you with the support you need to flourish. fifth house - you have artistic and creative talents, but it is possible that when you were younger, you received heavy messaging that these talents were in some way invaluable or unimportant. As a result, relaxation and self-expression on a creative level is severely restricted. you feel like you always have to justify the things you love. however, you are allowed to simply exist and enjoy things for their sake. once you allow yourself to be creative to the extent you are capable, you will find that it will bring opportunity and happiness to you. sixth house - i definitely get the sense that you have had to be responsible from a very young age, taking care of the chores around the house, watching over yourself, etc. perhaps your parents were particularly strict with you and imposed a lot of restrictions on your daily life. these lessons instilled within you have lead you to desire routine and organization, because you fear chaos. you also tend to put too much on yourself, leading to burnout and extreme stress. here you must unlearn any negative habits or routines you have created for yourself, including overworking yourself. in doing so, you will feel much more calm and collected, which will help you physically and mentally. seventh house - there is a lot of stress and anxiety that comes from long-term relationships. the biggest fear here is the fear that you will never find someone who can fully love and commit to you. though you have a lot to offer, you feel completely

inexperienced or as though you are nothing special. there can be a tendency to downplay your own gifts and strengths. as a result, you feel very lonely in your early life and may be distrustful of love. you are afraid of opening yourself up to rejection and pain, so you avoid forming strong attachments or giving too much of yourself. having faith in yourself and what you have to offer, as well as being confident, will attract people who have an abundance of love and affection to give to you. eighth house - this placement can be heavily indicative of one or more life-changing, traumatic experiences, namely when pluto is involved. this experience has transformed you in some major way, likely inducing a fear of change or the unknown within you. you hold on to these memories and this pain in your heart, which stunts your growth as a person. the second half of the healing must be a conscious act by you, wherein you decide that you have what it takes to continue surviving. there is definitely a need for complete rebirth here. once you have come out on the other side, the magic of life itself will be revealed to yourself. you will become resilient in ways you could never imagine, and you will have the strength to overcome anything. ninth house - i have the feeling that your early life was extremely narrow and did not allow you to explore the world around you properly. perhaps your parents were extremely overprotective of you, or overbearing in sharing their opinions with you, and this was a very suffocating feeling. your own opinions and ideas were not welcome by the people in your life, and often they were even shut down. so you must start anew with your independence. remain open and take time to immerse yourself in anything you can, especially ideas radically different from your own. by opening your mind, jupiter will reward you with a wealth of knowledge and experience from which you can draw. tenth house - early on in your life, ideas of what it means to be successful, accomplished, and a productive member of society were heavily pushed on you by the people in your life. you almost feel as though you aren't meant to have agency in your own future, because you are trying to do what you are "supposed" to do. your parents could have been a bit overbearing in trying to prepare you for the future. trusting yourself and forming your own ideas of success and fulfillment will lead to you experiencing much more opportunity within your career. you must overcome a fear of failure here. eleventh house - on a deep level, you feel completely alone in the world. you feel as though it is impossible for anyone to truly understand you, or that they would even want to try. you are a deeply lonely person at times. i could see this placement as indicating that you were a social outcast or somehow distanced from others in your youth, leading to you believing there is something fundamentally wrong with you that prevents you from forming meaningful relationships. you doubt yourself, thinking, am i boring? am i too plain? am i unlikeable? here, you must cast these thoughts away and put forth effort anyways. twelfth house - the biggest struggle with this is that you feel unable to let go of the past and to forgive yourself. the biggest obstacle here is yourself. you have these feelings like you have done too much bad, or something you have done in the past is irredeemable. you may find that, in times of particular stress, you have nightmares or trouble sleeping. the twelfth house challenges you to let go of all of these things, to forgive yourself. you have to look at your pain and grief and allow yourself to feel it, then to let it go. in some way, you have to completely allow yourself to dissolve. after you do these things, you will find that your life as a whole improves, and you can handle anything much better.

some notes as well:

the closer to conjunction the two are, the more intensely this is felt by the native

if they aspect the sun, moon, or angles, these lessons will come up in the individual's day-to-day life

if jupiter is closer to the beginning of the house, it can lessen the impact of saturn

#astrology #saturn #jupiter #first house #second house #third house #fourth house #fifth house #sixth house #seventh house #eighth house #ninth house #tenth house #eleventh house #twelfth house

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wrathandgreed · 3 years

Text

His Worst Sin

Simeon - Angst - 1.5K

TW: mild swearing, hints of abusive parents if you squint.

Was it so wrong to want more?

Of course, being an angel, Simeon knew the answer was yes. Yes, it was wrong to want more, because Father provided everything you needed. If you didn’t have it, you didn’t need it, and it’s very absence was important to your life or your growth. Wanting more meant you didn’t value what you already had.

But every time you sat next to him in class, every time you came over to bake with Luke, to learn spells with Solomon, every time you stayed for dinner or simply sat with him and read a book while he wrote, Simeon couldn’t help wanting more. Stay, he wanted to say so many times. Just stay.

But every time, he watched your demon come and pick you up from Purgatory Hall. A greeting with a kiss, your fingers laced together, a quick laugh at something he said as he walked you away from the angel and back to the House of Lamentation.

Simeon knew he wasn’t a very good angel. He had problems with his anger, problems he stuffed down with smiles and let slip with pointed statements. After the fact, he was always ashamed of himself, ashamed of his loss of control, ashamed of his temper, ashamed and afraid of what Father would think, afraid of where his anger would lead him in the end.

Lately, his anger, his worst sin, had begun to shift a little, and he felt himself on edge almost constantly. The fight to keep control, not to let go with irritated statements or annoyed observations, began to consume him. Meditation and prayer did little, and he was deeply confused by the worsening of his own weakness. Eventually he realized the only time he felt peaceful anymore was with you. But the moment you left, the minute your lover’s arm circled around your shoulder or waist, the anger would hit him so hard it sometimes left him breathless.

It was only after a period of introspection that he realized he’d succumbed to another sin: jealousy.

Heaven help him, he tried to control it. More prayer, more meditation, journaling, turning his feelings into fiction, he even started avoiding you in an attempt to bring his angelic nature back in line. Only when your confused texts and voicemails became hurt and bewildered did he give in.

Two sins to control now? Two? Wasn’t wrath enough, Father?

Love, this type of love, was forbidden to him.

I won’t fall. I won’t. Murmured to himself, over and over. Repeated like a mantra. Like a prayer.

His life in the Celestial Realm always felt like skating on thin ice (Father help me if I ever use such a cliché in my own writing!). He knew the other angels thought he was, well, strange. His anger, no matter how well hidden, was only part of the equation. His humor was never understood. He spoke about things best forgotten, voiced opinions better left silenced. He knew his creativity, his writing, was considered unusual and borderline wrong by the others.

His only saving grace, in their eyes, was the patience and care he showed the young angels.

He was pretty sure his shaky status was one reason he had been sent down to the Devildom on this exchange program. Not as an ambassador, but as a lesson. Look, Simeon, look at what could happen to you if you get any worse.

What they didn’t know was how good it felt to be understood, down here among the devils. To be praised for his cooking, to be helped with technology. To not only give, but to be able to take as well. The brothers didn’t exactly trust him (and the bangle incident hadn’t exactly helped with trust. He’d been so enraged at being used to essentially torture them - even if it had been an accident - that he’d had to hole up in Purgatory Hall for a few days to make sure he was fit to be around people) but neither did they shun him.

And you . . . You laughed with him, you read his latest writings with praise and gentle critique, you sat in silence with him, profound and welcome silence, until that comfortable silence felt more like home than home. You used your good heart to help counsel Luke, curtail the worst traits of the demons, and, somehow, heal all those around you.

You did so much already, cared for him so much already. Perhaps it wasn’t the way he wanted you to love him, but you loved him. So why did he want more?

And why did this bring out all of his worst traits? Why did he want to be petty - and worse, manipulative? He got chocolate all over his gloves the last time you baked together just so he had an excuse to remove them, an excuse to brush the skin of his bare hand against yours as you shared the beignets. Hours of his writing time disappeared as he dreamed about - and occasionally wrote about - ways to drive a wedge between you and your demon lover.

You were happy. Why couldn’t he be happy for you?

Why did he hate himself so much just for loving you?

Why was this love forbidden to him?

Perhaps he’d be better off just waiting. You were a truly good person; the odds of you ascending after death were far better than average. Perhaps he could approach you then, when you were alone . . .

What is wrong with you, Simeon? Get a hold of yourself.

You’d missed a step outside of RAD today and before you could do more than recognize that you were falling, he’d caught you. Hugging you to his chest until you regained your balance, he’d been unable to breath. Partly out of fear for you, but partly at how you pressed your hands to the skin of his arms, wrapped your hands around his biceps to steady yourself. And then, steady on your feet again, you’d looked up at him with bright eyes and laughed at your own clumsiness until he’d laughed with you.

And as he woke that night, sharply, from a dream full of forbidden ecstasy, he realized he’d slipped into lust as well.

Sliding out of bed, he padded, barefoot, to the communal bathroom. Locked the door. And instead of doing what a human or demon might do, he gripped the edges of the sink with both hands and stared, hard, angry, into the reflection of his own eyes.

He began, at last, to understand Belphegor. He couldn’t feel hatred towards humanity, he loved them too much, but he could (and did, if he was honest) feel anger and jealousy. They were given everything. Everything. Not just the ability to love, but the autonomy to love freely.

It was the last realization that almost broke him. Even if you came to him with words of love on your lips, he wouldn’t be able to accept them.

I won’t fall. I won’t. I won’t, I won’t, I won’tIwon’tIWON’T!

He broke eye contact with himself, lowering his head, gripping the sink so tightly his hands hurt, until he feared he might snap the porcelain. He wanted the pain to ground him, to focus his mind. How futile.

Could he? Could he accept you if you came to him?

He was so afraid that he couldn’t.

He was so afraid that he could.

He was so afraid of falling, and so, so afraid of Father . . .

His eyes snapped back up to meet his own gaze. Was he? Was he afraid of Father?

A long moment, a searching gaze, trying to read the answer in his own countenance.

Was he afraid of Father?

He was so afraid the answer was yes.

Why am I always so damned afraid??

A loud noise and his reflection shattered to pieces in front of him. Slowly, slowly, he looked down at his bleeding hand. He hadn’t meant to . . .

Whirling away from the remains of the mirror, Simeon walked over the shards on the floor, ignoring how they bit into his bare feet. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he slumped over, his head in his hands.

This was his worst sin, wasn’t it? Not wrath . . .but cowardice.

Why hadn’t he made a move on you before any of the demons? Cowardice.

Why hadn’t he stood up with Lucifer and the others during the war? He’d believed in them, believed in Lilith, believed in love. Why hadn’t he stood with his brothers? Pure cowardice.

He hadn’t even had the courage to stand and face them in battle, to face his former brothers with honor.

And where was he now? Where had his cowardice brought him?

Alone, afraid, riddled with sin.

His own face, fractured, made of shards on the floor.

He felt himself too much of a coward to grasp what was available right in front of him. Was it wrong of him to want more anyway?

Would he have to fall to have the courage to grab for what he wanted?

And…..would it be so bad, in the end, if he did?

He was so afraid of the answer.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me fic #my fic #simeon #angst #obey me angst #obey me mc #obey me fanfic #fanfic

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cheelduh · 3 years

Note

hi!! can i request childe fluff with a reader who has a very strong fear of heights? like, they want to confront it and fail, and are down about it? sorry if i missed anything!

The Fall

Pairing: Childe x gn!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: A shitton of typos prolly. Pls ignore any mistakes

Synopsis: You've been afraid of heights for as long as you can remember, avoiding dangerous mountainsides completely. However, you can't quite stifle the yearning for wind gliding, wishing to experience the enjoyment of it yourself.

Note: Thank you so much for the request. Sorry I took so long, I hope you enjoy it! :)

It starts as a mellow gnawing, the fear, sometime around your early teen-hood when your adventurous cousin lugs you around mountaintops, away from the safety of your village that you're accustomed to. Then it matures, slowly but surely condemning every crevice in your body to the same paralyzingly fate.

"Isn't it beautiful?" She says in awe, clamping hand around your wrist, ensnaring you towards the edge. Her eyes are widened in amazement, brimming with wonder.

Your anxiety blinds your from said beauty. All you can see is the fall, the danger, how all it takes is one uncoordinated step or a joking push from someone to fall to your impeding doom. You don't see the beauty at all, because it's corrupted by dread.

The longer you look down, the deeper the fear manifests, deep within the pit of your stomach, becoming a never-ending inferno that threatens to consume you whole.

You scramble away from the mountainside, your cousin, staggering back until your back hits the grass beneath you, and you're trembling, shaking, unable to breath.

After that day, you never venture too close to the edge of cliffs, preferring to stay grounded, safe, away from the risk. And it works out for you, for a while.

You follow designated pathways up mountains to gather flowers and ore you need, forgoing the climbing part completely in dangerous areas. If there's no way to get somewhere without climbing too high, you just move on to another area, avoiding it completely. It works. Your system may not be the best, but it isn't supposed to be. It gets the job done, and that's all you really care about.

Although every time you catch someone wind gliding from afar, or couples enjoying the view from higher altitudes, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy, a deep rooted dejection.

Your boyfriend, Childe, doesn't really let you sulk in the misery that stems from your fear of heights, finding much more fun date ideas that involve your feet safely on the ground.

His creativity never once ceases to amaze you, every single outing with him being far more enthralling than the last.

He doesn't ask. He doesn't really need to. Being the eleventh harbinger, he has a knack for observing things that people won't admit. He's patient, caring, and loving, has all the best qualities in a person (except for his penchant for violence, which you easily bypass). To be frank, he's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

One day, in the midst of your cuddling session, you confess that you'd like to get over your deathly fear of heights.

Childe reassures you, peppering your cheeks with his loud kisses. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I'm perfectly fine with enjoying everything Liyue Harbor has to offer."

"But I want to." You pout, nuzzling your head deeper into the side his neck. "I want to appreciate more viewpoints and scenery. I want to be able to wind glide, like super super high."

He chuckles at that, finally agreeing and setting a date, but lets you know that if you wish to back out he has a number of other activities planned.

The morning comes in minutes it seems like, your jumpy nerves not allowing you a wink of sleep. You don't mourn much for the lost hours, because it gives you more than enough time to observe the adorable way your boyfriend snores.

It's not like you have a choice either, because Childe refuses to let you go—that too subconsciously. He's trapped you in a fixed position, front to front, legs tangled for the entirety of the night.

When Childe wakes up, he isn't an idiot to know you've been up all night, but doesn't seem to push it. He has a penchant for sniffing out haywire-nerves, oftentimes pointing them out in himself or his soldiers before an upcoming battle.

After you two finish with your morning routine, he takes you out. Specifically, you're headed towards Luhua pool, and it takes half the day to get there from your home back at the harbour. Once you finally reach the location, you realize why he chose it. Luhua pool is an easy place to glide, closer to shallow waters, and all the while breathtaking to behold.

"Come on," Childe outstretches a gloved hand, gently easing you in close proximity to the border of the ruin you two have climbed. "I got you."

Getting up here wasn't so bad, not when Childe was behind you, telling you to focus on each step and to take your time.

Side stepping the scattered paint brushes and random sketches that someone was in the middle of prior to this day, you clasp his hand tightly, and he weaves his fingers within your own. With a guiding tug, your face meets his chest.

"Turn around," He brushes your hair away gently. "Come on, you don't want to miss this."

Apprehensively, you peek an eye out from the safety of your boyfriend's hold, moving around so you're semi-facing the breathtaking view in front of you. When your eyes are blessed with the delicate hues of the scenery beyond you, your jaw begins to hang. Seeing everything from a distance, from high up, even if you aren't as high up as you'd one day like to be, makes everything look all the more breathtaking.

Childe's right, you don't want to miss this. You don't want to miss this ever again.

But then you look down, the intrusive rhythms of your brain forcing you to peer at the drop, the fall, inches away from where your feet are standing.

The fall. It's always the fall. You aren't even too far up, but the agitation that overtakes your entire body, numbing you completely, branching off in your heart, makes it seem as though you're hundreds of feet away from the ground.

You turn to him, to tell him about your seconds thoughts. The I'm not ready weighs down on your tongue, but the stars in his eyes as he basks in the warm casts of the setting sun terminate the words before they are even born.

So when he finally snaps out of his momentary daze, shrugging off the remaining inertia to grin at you, you doubtlessly agree to what he says next.

"Ready to try the wind glider?"

—

You failed with the wind glider. Panicked last second like a complete moron, caught your leg on the edge of a rock and then fell to your death.

Thankfully your impeccably-adept-at-flying fatui boyfriend launched himself into a free fall not even a millisecond later. With expertise like no other, he dodged your flailing hands and seized your body close to his, swiftly opening up his gliders with an experienced motion.

Even when Childe's feet landed on the ground, arms around you, safe, secure, you couldn't stop screaming, clinging onto him like you'd die if you let go. Took him a solid five minutes to calm you down, wiping at your tears and soothing you with loving words of consolation.

"Hey, are you still thinking about today?" Childe's voice draws you out of your momentary trance. "You haven't even touched your crystal shrimp yet."

"Oh," You blink, pushing them around with the chopsticks. Poking, but not eating. "Thanks."

The harbinger sighs, neatly placing his chopsticks down—not like he was using them right anyways. His hand snakes across the table, finding yours with the sole intention to relieve your unpleasant brooding.

"I'm sorry," You squeeze his hand, unable to meet his eyes yet. "It's so stupid. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't have wasted our day—"

"Stop it." For the first time, he's provoked in your presence, words holding more weight in them than they usually do on his end. "You're not stupid. It's perfectly valid to want to get over your fears, in fact, I think it's admirable. I just—I don't understand why you can't see that, why you can't see how much progress you've made today. Just because you had one slip up doesn't mean anything, it doesn't erase the fact that you faced another challenge and came out of it stronger."

"What if I..." You murmur, timid when you look up to meet his piercing gaze. "What if I don't want to anymore?"

Childe smiles at that, thumb circling around your knuckle, familiar in motion. "Then that's that. Perfectly fine. We don't talk about it ever again unless you bring it up. But if you decide you want to continue, then I'll be there to catch you. Always."

"Thank you." Your beam is small, but doesn't go unnoticed by the other.

"Of course," He lets go, scooting his chair so that it's right next to yours. "And as for compensation, you can feed me. Better feed me dessert too, us fatui are clear-cut with our dealings. To the T."

You roll your eyes, soaking a jade parcel in the broth before picking it up with your chopsticks. "Fatui scum, so hellbent on collecting debts."

#childe tartaglia #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia #tartagalia x reader #childe genshin impact #childe x gn!reader #genshin impact #genshin oneshot

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : calming the waters

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : rick grimes x reader

— summary : the switch from surviving on the road to living in a cookie cut neighbourhood hasn’t been easy on anyone, especially the leader of your group, you leave it to yourself to remind him it’s not all on his shoulders

— warnings : only brief descriptions of blood and violence .. usual stuff for twd

note: only at the end did i realise i left the opportunity for smut but im too tired to continue damn

Life in Alexandria has so far been strange to adjust to, you continue to find yourself waking up regularly through the night. Your body has relied so long on a broken sleep cycle it simply cannot switch off the switch as easily as you wish for it, and wish for it you do every night before bed. However, life refuses to heed to your desires, preferring to disregard them completely. Your family finds it amusing to tease you about the dark circles under your eyes, that is after you have had anything with caffeine in to rattle your system into a state of alertness.

How the residents have made it this far agitates you to no end, while you and your family have suffered tragedy and loss at the hands of people like the Governor, to the people at Terminus while they sat sheltered and safe from the horrors of this new world crawls under your skin. The thought scratching inside of you, they’ve never known pain as you have, the realisation comes as one of the sons of the Monroe family accosted you the moment you set out of the door.

“ ⏤ she keeps going on about this pasta maker. I’m telling you, she never stops. “

“ she never stops, huh? “ you ask, placing yourself on the porch step with your head lazily resting in your hands. You felt as soon as he began speaking to you it was going to be a conversation you would not be interested in.

The you from twenty five minutes ago happens to be correct.

This all began because Rick thought it appropriate to let you sleep a while longer, and while you do feel more rested than you have in the longest time you can remember, you can feel irritation tickling the back of your neck intensely. Oh, I’m going to kill him when I see him. A silent thought interrupts you rudely, you almost shake your head to be rid of it and focus back on Spencer.

“ yeah, she’s not someone you wanna be caught right now by. She can talk your ears off for days. “ he informs with a chuckle, completely unaware of your blasé attitude or uncaring for it.

“ you know, I can really imagine that. “

Every inch of you is buzzing with an uncomfortable energy, you don’t want to integrate with their community just yet, preferring to feel around and understand the dynamics of how everything works. When society fell into the flames from humanity’s last fight with the walkers, you were lucky enough to have been able to seek safety with your group back in Atlanta at the quarry, and these have been the same people you have spent time with, shared your meals with, everything done has been with them. Quiet town life has been a memory of a past life that has faded into nothing more than a grey blur, shrouded in fog. To live here? It’s like learning how to ride a bicycle after many years of letting it gather dust. Your ways are not perfect, but they’re perfect for you. For your own pace and peace of mind.

“ has my mom given you a job yet? “

“ uh, yeah actually she has. I used to be a preschool teacher before everything went to hell. “ you explain to him, your memories of the children you used to teach had been painful until Judith. The little girl had been what you needed to confront your past that you had been so quick to push away in order to survive. You can’t count how many times you’d come close to thinking about their little faces, and if they’d survived the initial chaos, refusing to even put a face to a possible death. You’d spent many days and many hours getting to know their audacious and bold personalities, it cut you deep to even imagine the days they were supposed to have, the lives they should have been promised extinguished so prematurely as if they had been no more than a flame of a candle burning in the night.

“ well, those classes are really small. You won’t have your hands full. I suppose you’ll probably be helping with the afternoon classes, we’ve got more teenagers here. “

“ mhm, I thought as much. “ your words are a small acknowledgement, though it deterred him little.

Spencer keeps talking and talking, every once in a while you mutter an ‘ yeah ‘ or an ‘ mhm ‘ and even at points humming in response. It’s obvious he means well and is trying to get to know you all but it’s just a simple clash of cultures, it’s why you’re unable to cut the conversation short so rudely. Even during the apocalypse being respectful hasn’t been wiped away.

Yet.

“ hi, Spencer! “ the sugary sweet tone of Carol interrupted the interaction as she greets Spencer and yourself, the broad smile ignites her features.

Although, you know her better to know this is not one born of genuine emotion to see the man.

“ I was hoping to borrow my friend here. Rick’s looking for them. “

Recognition lights his features up, his eyes widen in understanding her words. Never have you been more thankful for the older woman than currently, if there’s one thing Carol can be, is a miracle maker. Spencer backs away with little to say, bidding a goodbye to both of you.

“ Carol, thank you. “ you breathe, your hands move up to scratch your scalp as tension eased away into the open air. “ I thought he was never going to leave. “

“ yeah, I thought you were in trouble. I thought you were ready to kill him. “

“ believe me, if he spoke for two more minutes I was coming close to getting very creative with one of those blunt dinner knives in there. “ you speak, a short giggle plummeting from your lips at the thought.

“ he’s at the gate ⏤ Rick, that is. If you want him. “

A few more words of light hearted humour are exchanged between you, just little things. You have known Carol for a long time, one of the few people to continue to see her as a human after losing Sophia, yes she was in mourning, but she was still human. You never tiptoed around her, you offered her support as best you could and for that she continues to be grateful. Even in the prison, you became closer, as time passed on she took up something of a parental role in your life. Though you were old enough at the time to not need one, you accepted it. A slice of normality granted to you for what reason you have never found out, but one you wouldn’t seek out either, for some things happen without cause or reason, a mystery of life.

Turning around a corner, you’d realised you took a wrong turn around one of the houses, your sense of direction would have been your downfall had you not found the people you now call your family. Admittedly, you’d not spent much time exploring the vast environment that is home to these large homes, you still dedicated some time to mapping all the twists and turns. However, not even that has aided you. Despite this, you find a silver lining to getting lost.. you have been able to shake off whatever blades of irritation that sorely wished to cling to your being for longer, you wanted nothing more than to approach Rick without anything that could set him off.

Though few words have been shared between you both about how you all feel about being in Alexandria, it doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed a tension building its blocks within Rick. Knowing all he has been through, you’re worried that he will reduce himself to being no more than a caged animal, biding his time to break free. It’s why you’re searching him out, a discussion is sorely needed before anything should happen, chaos has a way of trailing your family like a puppy following its master.

“ there you are. “

Rick lays his sights on you in the distance, waiting for you to move closer before saying a word. You would go so far as to say it has been one of the few instances of genuine contentment as his features relax from the lines of strain it held not even a few moments previously. Your hands move straight to your hips, standing a few metres away from him.

“ oh, you were actually looking for me? “ eyebrows raise ever so slightly, you thought Carol had been simply nudging you in his direction.

“ just to check the perimeter. “

“ and you need me for that ? “ you question him as your hands move to rest on your hips, a knowing smile lifting your expression as you observe him.

“ ‘course I do. “ Rick’s tone matches yours, it’s been a while since you’ve heard even the faintest hint of amusement associated with the intense male. It’s alien in a sense, though you’re welcoming of it.

Few words are exchanged with the Alexandrian who has been tasked with guarding the gate, exchanging the barest of information you realise as you watch Rick. You hope that even an hour outside the walls of the town is enough to soothe even the slightest of the negative energy that surrounds his being. Your situation is not perfect, and it’s inverted to what you had been experiencing previously, but you believe in your heart that this has to work. The thought of your family not being able to survive yet another bout of the outside world terrifies you to your core, the ice that is your fear erupting from your centre at the idea.

“ is there a real reason why you wanted me out here? “

“ it’s been a while since it was just us, gettin’ hard to breathe in there. “

“ Rick, you know I’m always here if you need it. I hate to see you carry everything on your shoulders the way you do. “

The hardness that had embedded itself into his face slowly eases at your words and thanks you for your support, he reaches out in between the distance that separates you to slip his fingers between yours. A comfort warms you in a way that no heat could at the action, you’re unable to stop the laugh that bursts free with a splutter. Even back on the road, and he was at his wits end, he was never this affectionate. It’s not something you hold against him though, there were many more things on his mind that required more attention.

“ somethin’ funny? “ he questions you immediately.

“ seeing this side of you, it’s just a bit weird. A good kind of weird, though. “ you assure, continuing to walk over the overgrown branches. “ you’re doing okay? Like, really? “

“ just hard to get used to. These people have just been lucky. “

You nod in understanding, it’s been your first thought every morning since walking through that gate with months of dirt and grime that had accumulated, clinging to every inch of your skin. While blood from the dead dried into your skin, becoming part of you, they lathered themselves in floral perfumes and sprays. As much as you want to allow the venom to pool within you, to form a monster born of hate ⏤ you can’t.

In this world you can’t be driven by such emotions, to aim them at innocent people. Had you been in their position, would it be such an easy position to leave this protected bubble? A piece of the previous world left untouched by the cold, ghostly grip of the dead.

“ we can’t hold it against them. “

“ they’re weak, they could get one of ours killed. “ he quietly grumbles in response, his head shaking at the thought. They’d lost too much already, and he would be damned if he lost any more members of his family, especially now they’d reached an element of safety.

“ or they might not? “ you counter his statement, your eyes pleading as you stop where you stand, your hands still connected.

“ we can’t deal in maybes, we deal in certainties. “

“ what are you suggesting, Rick? That we take over? “ you ask, your brows dropping lower. You’d seen enough death and violence to last you a lifetime, you’d had enough for now. You can’t confirm if you have enough energy for another fight. Too much has been lost.

“ if it comes to it. “

“ this is their home now, our home. They’re not bad people. “ you argue lightly, not wishing for a heated disagreement out there. Any walker around would be attracted by the noise and then the smell of the living, you’ve begun to get used to not having to slaughter walkers every day.

“ no, but they’re unprepared. “

“ so were we at some point! “ inch by inch, you close the distance. You rest your grip on his forearms, trying to calm him no matter how useless it may or may not be. “ Rick, you’re trying to create a problem. I get this is an adjustment and if anything does happen, we’ll have you back. We will fight, but for the sake of safety.. we have somewhere to actually live. “

Against his better judgement he nods, just to put a stop to the conversation. He’d wanted to spend some time alone with you that held no prying eyes from Alexandrians, nor the entertained gazes of your group.

“ let’s just see how things go, and try not to keep things bottled up. It never works out. “

“ I’m not sure you want me to share my deep, dark secrets. “ he asserts with a playful inkling hidden poorly within his words.

A smirk lines itself into your features, you’re feeling the energy from Rick and you can’t deny that it feels good. You lift your chin higher, inching your lips closer to his, the warm glow beginning to burn brighter ⏤ a silent dare in the form of a quiet whisper on your tongue. “ try me. “

#twd imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes oneshot #twd oneshot #twd fic

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astrowithkaro · 3 years

Note

Hi hi 🦷

I love your birthday series, and I was wondering if you could do June 30 when you have time?

It’s a super cool series to read!

~rue

Language Of Birthdays: June 30 - Cancer

[You can find the rest of the series here; or check out my masterlist]

The Day Of Motivation

It is extremely difficult to get June 30 people to do something toward which they are not personally motivated. Those born on this day are usually of two types, introvert or extrovert, both of whom have highly personal goals. Their world is indeed a private one to which few are admitted. More introverted June 30 people will most often manifest a lifestyle in which they stick close to home (often working out of their own house). Their lives are so well circumscribed that favorite haunts are basically just an extension of the home situation safe, secure, known. More extroverted June 30 people may appear to be mild-mannered until they reveal themselves in a performance situation. Here they must be careful that their flamboyance does not get out of control.

Almost all June 30 people have highly developed technical talents, even to the point of virtuosity. They make formidable opponents, rarely at a loss to defend themselves; this ability, however, is most often exclusively either mental or physical. More introverted June 30 people must beware of a tendency to repress their aggressions. Often those born on this day are unable to express these feelings out of a fear that they will injure themselves or someone else.

A more extroverted June 30 person expresses his/her aggression, being extremely competitive, but runs the risk of becoming violent; such a person is a fascinating but dangerous adversary. Paradoxically, however, when these extroverts are alone with those they are comfortable with, or publicly engaged in discussion, they can give the appearance of passivity, even docility.

Both types of June 30 people frequently appear to be other than what they really are, depending on the situation, who is present, and their moods, which are generally more severe in men than women born on this day. This quality may make them somewhat mysterious. Because those born on this day are often unknown even to themselves, they will benefit from self-examination.

June 30 people have an undeniable talent for handling money, whether their own or others'. Their astute financial sense often attracts others to them and puts them in a position to give helpful advice. They are extremely sharp in making cost calculations, thus maximizing profit while minimizing expense.

The personal motivation at work in June 30 people often manifests in a hobby or out-of- the-way pursuit which interests them still more than their profession, and they will not hesitate to pour unlimited energy into this area. When, however, they are in touch with their environment and the wishes of others, they can also be valuable contributors to society at large. Those born on this day should actively seek out activities involving trust, give-and-take and social exchange. Because June 30 people will only let very few into their private world, being chosen as their friend can be a true compliment.

Strengths:

Technically proficient

Money wise

Motivated

Weaknesses:

Moody

Repressed

Negative

Advice

June 30 people must beware of hypochondria based on a host of minor complaints. Upsets of the digestive system, lungs and psyche are most common. As far as diet is concerned, those born on this day must beware of a tendency not to eat during times of depression. Balance is the key for them and they should avoid or control food binges, cravings or obsessions if possible. Some June 30 people will only eat food cooked by someone they love and trust; they should, of course, know how to cook for themselves and at the same time treat themselves a bit more gently. Moderate exercise, such as walking or swimming, is recommended for those born on this day.

Learn to like yourself more

See what you can do for others

Channel your aggressions into creative pursuits if possible

Uncover your fears and work on them

Don't allow yourself to retreat into a shell

#cancer horoscope #cancer life #cancer sign #cancer women #cancer sun #cancer #cancer tarot reading #cancer monthly horoscope

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capsized-heart · 4 years

Text

l’ incendie

Pairing: Hal x Reader

Summary: You grew up as witness to the atrocities committed under the British crown. Lord Grey is your father and newly pledged councilman of the royal court. Now, England has a new boy king, one who is set on keeping peace in Europe. You are determined to see England burn, even if it means corrupting the lionhearted boy of Eastcheap.

Word count: 10k+

Warnings: explicit smut, strong violence, sacrilegious imagery a blowjob in a chapel lmao

A/N: l’ incendie ; French translation for fire

..so..I watched The King back in November and have had this idea in my brain for the past 2 months now?? It literally consumed me. All throughout my last few weeks of classes and final papers, this is honestly all I could think about, like I’ve been bumping the soundtrack and rewatching the film to plan this, I looked at Lord Grey’s true lineage (he aint Scottish btw I made that up..but he really was related to King Edward lol).......I’ve just had to get this out of me for so. long. and I’m so happy that I finally have! It feels like this huge weight is gone, but I’ve enjoyed this creative process so much, like it’s so exciting when you hyper-fixate find a new piece of media that you enjoy so much that you dive completely and utterly into everything about it that you can get your hands on, and this is my piece for this!

And my boy Timmy?? Had no fucking clue who this guy was before I saw the film, now I’m writing fics about him a;sdkfjskj but you’re here reading this so. we’re both guilty.

I love story arcs like this where you see a character’s slow descent into corruption and having it revealed that someone was talking in their ear the whole time....i eat that shit right up. Reader’s character is heavily inspired by Lady Macbeth. Using wiles, using sex, etc. Ooh baby. I had fun with this.

gif credit to @michonnegrimes

Scotland was once your true home. Moors, lochs, rugged mountains, biting cold, all. You remember the endless mist and gloom, the wet winters of your childhood that made the creaking wood of your cottage whistle and moan. Summers were warm and mild and the highlands bursting with rich green and sunlight, running through fragrant fields of heathers, bluebells, myrtle with your skirts damp with dew, shrieking and choking on laughter as your older brother, Callum, chased you all throughout your little village of Kirkcaldy. Laughing himself, grabbing at you and wrestling you down into the mud, blossoms, and river water.

“Yield! Yield to the English crown or perish, wretched witch!” Callum would boom in mock play, tickling your sides until you’re gasping for air and tears stung your eyes.

“Aye! I yield!”

“What? You mad girl! Take it back! We are Scots!”

And then Callum would descend on you with all the wrath of England and you’d be howling with giggles and screams.

Returning home at nightfall smelling of wind and rain with vibrant wildflowers tangled in your hair and dirt streaking the skin of your cheeks, still plump with baby fat. Scarce food, but stomach full of adventure and blissful naivete. You were happy.

Your father would scold you promptly before his voice would soften a touch, smoothing back your hair from your face. Round, curious eyes and missing teeth. A feral, untamed child.

Daughter of Lord Thomas Grey. His precious girl. So much of your mother in you, the same fight, the same spark and love for life. Until you had ripped her body from the inside out and she had lost too much blood, the wet nurses unable to stop the bleeding and she had given her last breath cradling you lovingly against her naked chest.

You had killed your own mother.

In your early years, Callum and your father gave you nothing but warmth and protection, the sole surviving daughter of Grey lineage. But a child can only be sheltered for so long. Your world is a man’s world. Your country is no stranger to bloodshed.

The Anglo-Scottish Wars have endured for as long as you can remember, rebel leaders beaten down by English captains and more Christian blood staining the lush lowlands with every day. Robert the Bruce. Percy Hotspur. Blood all the same.

You are bleak, wild, uncivilized in the eyes of the English.

It’s all your people have ever known. Weary, resilient Scotland.

You have no memory of your mother, your earliest memory being the image of William Wallace’s torso strung up in the village square and the ensuing riots that had truly put the fear of God in you, mounted soldiers and civilians clashing in a fury of slick, gory steel, longswords and blacksmith daggers, a fear so raw and primal it struck you frozen and you’d soiled yourself in the midst of chaos. Callum had grabbed you and raced the four miles home as you bellowed atop his back with great, ugly heaves, snot and tears dribbling down your chin.

You didn’t need to understand the politics of rebellion or Wallace’s stake in it all to understand a massacre.

You have no memory of your mother, only murder in the name of the English king.

But you’ve learned to nurture that little glowing kernel of survival, of the fighting spirit and grit inside you that had evidently cost your mother her life. You’ve kindled it, watched it ignite with every passing year of war, your body flourishing into the figure of a young woman with embers in her soul. A stable simmering of flushed coals beneath your skin, glistening in the pools of your irises, ready to flare up and burn all you touch should you choose to.

You feel it now as a jostling carriage takes you to Northumberland, England. You sit quietly, watching the hills of Scotland tremble by, eyes hungrily drinking up as much of its strong landscape as you can.

Your father and brother have already gone ahead to England to make arrangements for Callum’s recent engagement to Isabel, Countess of Essex and only daughter of the Earl of Cambridge. You are reuniting after a lonely week, perhaps your last, to ever see your homeland.

Callum’s betrothal didn’t come as much of a surprise, rather, you’ve been counting down the days until your village lifestyle was doomed for inevitable change; for years, your father has been preparing the two of you for noble life outside of Scotland. Son and daughter subjected to the arts of chivalry, proper etiquette, gentility. The best that your little village could accommodate.

Your father and his maternal ancestry have interestingly long influenced the English courts, as his title of Lord would suggest. Through his grandmother’s side, you are distant descendants of Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk.

King Edward himself. Now cold and buried in London’s Westminster Abbey.

The coals jump, flames twisting at the idea of relatives long dead sitting idly on the opportunity and resources for a coup d'etat, instead choosing to line their own pockets and watch your country crumble from the comfort of their English estates.

The carnage and murder of monarchy feel that much more personal to you.

With your brother’s new marriage, Callum will acquire lordship and be gifted property in Essex. Your father will be secured a seat in the king’s council. You will be given rooms and hospitality in the castle as a noblewoman available for marriage. As Lady Grey.

A lick of fire coils up your throat.

God save the king.

The switch cracks so hard against the skin of your knuckles that your lip draws blood when you bite back a scream. Pain diffuses up your arm in fractured, ringing jolts and your eyes flood with hot tears. You hazard a look at where an angry welt has already started to flush, red and pulsing on the back of your hand.

“Again.” Says Miss Hunt.

Your gaze falls to the open manuscript in front of you, to the passage that you’ve rehearsed aloud for the past two hours. Your tongue works nervously in your mouth, swallowing. Sweat glistens your brow. You think you may even be trembling.

You draw in a quick breath and begin again:

“Time and tide wait for no man.

The life so short, the crafts so long to learn.

People can die of mere imagination.

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche-”

Another crack and this time you can’t restrain the cry that leaves you. You blink back the heat blurring your vision, set your jaw when Miss Hunt clasps her hands coldly behind her back and looks down at you over her hooked nose.

“Your voiced consonants are absolutely horrid, girl. Don’t close up your mouth. If you are to perfect the King’s English, you are to completely forget that savage dialect before I cut out your tongue. Am I understood?”

Miss Hunt gives you a smart swat to your cheek.

You nod quickly.

Another stinging swat.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Miss Hunt.”

Satisfied, she turns on her heel, granting you a few precious moments of quiet, of rest. Afternoon light filters into the chamber in dusty, silvered shafts, hueing the book’s pages in a drab of diluted grey. The inked words of Chaucer bleed back up at you as you settle your breathing.

This English sits like gravel in your mouth, low and rough and choking up your throat. Sharply iambic, as if everyone is talking down to the other.

England’s English sounds slow and stupid.

You wonder if Callum had this much trouble mastering the accent. You wonder if Callum, as a Lord, has ever been slashed with a switch.

Since your arrival to England and for the better part of a year, Miss Hunt has dissected every syllable of your speech through bodily punishment and repetition, ripped out any trace of Gaelic, any remaining trace of Scotland on your tongue and sutured it back together with mouthfuls of Chaucer and pompous, exaggerated vowels.

But pain, degradation, and humiliation are wonderful motivators. And to your horror, it has worked.

Your father recently introduced you to a few councilmen out of courtesy and as the sister of the soon to be Lord Grey of Essex. You politely discussed politics, entertained banter and jests of marriage proposals. None questioned your status as an English noblewoman.

Masquerading with voice and poise.

But that hasn’t stopped your secret, unseen resistance.

Miss Hunt may have taken your language and cadence, but her practices have only shown you the true powers of speech, knowledge, shown you just how intimidated and afraid all of England is of the bold north, of any European empire threatening its legitimacy.

A cowering dog with raised hackles and snapping teeth, but only so out of mad fear.

The harder Miss Hunt pushes, the deeper you dig into your own studies. By day, you are her sole pupil. By night, by candlelight, you are the pupil of Cicero, studying rhetoric and the power of spoken influence. You’ve also begun to study French as a means to bolster your wiles and mental arsenal.

You are already a so-called savage by blood. Learning the language of England’s arch rival will do nothing to hurt your reputation.

You feel a bead of sweat slide down the base of your spine as the switch swishes impatiently in Miss Hunt’s clutches. Oral recitation and the simultaneous reduction of your accent demands every ounce of your concentration. You know already that if you are hit again, the skin will break and you’ll only be reprimanded harder. Miss Hunt is sadistic and cold with her beady eyes and that ugly high starched collar.

“Again.” Her voice clips evenly.

So, you inhale a strong, supportive breath and begin again, pushing down the smolder in your chest.

The day of the wedding is cloudless and full of sunshine, a rarity for England. Callum has been bustling about the chapel’s back rooms in nervous energy all morning, fixing his hair and dress shirt over and over. You send your father to go and calm him down as you tend to Isabel, shooing him away quickly so your father’s mirrored jitters won’t affect her before the start of the ceremony. She gives you a small smile of thanks.

Isabel looks beautiful sitting in front of the mirror as her maids finish arranging her hair. Back straight as a board, plump lips and cheeks the color of a rosy, coral pink. You help to pull the veil over her face and the thin fabric does nothing to mute her radiance.

You see the flickering range of emotions in her eyes as she sees her own reflection. The life that all women are fated to live. Her last moments of true freedom, uncertainty for the future, and that small, significant trickle of vanity at having a perfect day of her own.

You see it all. After all, you are a woman.

She relaxes a bit when you lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her gaze finds yours in the mirror.

“You and I will soon be sisters,” she laughs softly. You give her a pleasant smile.

“I would want nothing more.”

Her throat works as she swallows tears, gives you another radiant laugh. “Someday, you will be sitting here, too.”

The truth of her words causes your smile to weaken, but you quickly hide it by busying yourself with her skirts and lace. Your world is a man’s world, even outside of war-torn Scotland. One man’s world, to be exact.

King Henry IV.

“And I expect you, my dear Isabel, to be at my side when that day comes.” You say to her. She nods kindly.

Your brother and Isabel are married a few hours later beneath the rainbowed, iridescent wash of stained glass and chiming church bells. And as the newly wed couple beam at you and their close company of friends and family, as you see Callum hold his wife proudly on his arm, you think that the bride and groom may truly love each other despite their arranged marriage. The possibility of such a happiness makes you grin wide and the familiar coals to simmer down ever so slightly.

The reception then moves to the chapel’s outdoor gardens. Ornately trimmed hedges, chirping birdsong, bubbling marble fountains, and the sweet fragrance of daisies and roses perfume the budding spring air.

The sun is warm on your skin, the air brisk and comfortable. You keep your fur lined mantle draped around your shoulders, your embroidered sleeves catching hints of daylight, the jeweled metalwork glittering about your waist. And with your hair twisted with ribbon and pinned back with a light linen caul, even Isabel herself murmurs that you look as refreshing and incandescent as the flowers surrounding you. You smile back teasingly, whisper that no one could possibly compare to the blushing bride.

As sister of the groom, you mingle politely, accepting congratulations and kind regards.

You see familiar faces, lords and fellow council members alike, and some of those not yet well acquainted. You meet Cambridge, Isabel’s father and a bird of a man. Gangly limbs and a flittering that accompanies his quick movements, but cordial and gentle. He tells you the union of your families will be prosperous, benign. You agree.

Then, Cambridge is pulled aside by a young man. Cambridge seems to recognize him instantly and clasps him into an embrace, chuckling heartily.

“Hal! You made it!” he exclaims. The two talk together briefly before the young man turns to you.

He’s tall and lean, broad chested with sloping shoulders. The angular planes of his face are undeniably handsome, a strong nose, full dark lashes and brows that frame his bold complexion. Black, unkempt curls and soft, hooded green eyes that hold an undertone of vigor, like his very gaze has commanded attention his entire life. They flicker over you quickly, as if you’d imagined it yourself, a trick of the light.

You don’t miss the way they linger at the exposed dip of your neckline, however.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He then asks of Cambridge, his voice a soft murmur and his eyes never leave you.

Cambridge looks quickly between the two of you, as if acknowledging your presence again for the first time since this young man’s interruption. He burns bright red, stammering, then gestures to the stranger beside him.

“Of course. My lady, may I present my cousin, Henry. Prince of Wales.”

The suddenness and sheer absurdity of it all almost makes you burst out in laughter.

Cousin? King Henry IV’s eldest son is the cousin of your father-in-law?

With this marriage, you realize your family is now tied to the most powerful family in all of Britain. Yet, no one in the wedding party seems to have even acknowledged the presence of the boy prince dressed simply in dark cloak and tunic.

And then you remember. Prince Hal is a drunk, a dangerous playboy from Eastcheap. His claim to the throne is as illegitimate as the probable dozens of children from his bedded girls.

And asking for a formal introduction from his cousin? It’s utterly laughable, pathetic even.

Hal’s gaze is unwanted, skin prickling from where his eyes trace the curve of your chest in a way that makes you feel vile.

So, you wet your lips, pretend to wordlessly accept his flirtations and give him a slow flutter of your lashes. The reaction he so craves from you as his chin tilts back in delight, hungry to see more.

“Your reputation precedes you, my lord.” Your words drip with venom. Flowery girl with a serpent’s sharp tongue.

The barb makes Hal’s features tick in surprise, shock before settling back into a cool demeanor.

“Then you’ve heard of me.”

Your mask of amour stays firmly in place.

“It is hard to be deaf against such defamatory gossip.”

Hal hums softly with a hint of a smile, breaking his gaze to look out over the reception, ego obviously bruised. Cambridge goes pale as a sheet.

Isabel suddenly swoops in with the apology of wanting to introduce her father to a newly arrived guest and excuses him, hauling him away by the arm. Cambridge looks relieved to go.

And then it’s just the two of you beneath the halo of rose-tinted light.

“Beautiful ceremony.” He says simply. Hal is incredibly soft spoken for a prince and you find yourself unconsciously leaning in to hear him speak. Part of the intimate charm that makes him so alluring to women, you think. A whispered promise only for you.

“I thank you, sire.”

He takes a step forward. It startles you, enough for him to crowd you against the garden trellis wall. Ivy and lavender press into your back, dancing in the same breeze that peppers goosebumps down your spine. You shiver softly. Hal steps closer.

“I pray this is not the last of today’s festivities?” His words ghost over your throat, tickling the shell of your ear.

“No, sire. There will be a dinner tonight,” you reply just as quietly. You understand the game perfectly because it is the same one you have been playing your whole life. You indulge him, fire sparkling behind your fluttering eyelashes. “Surely your cousin will be expecting your attendance.”

Hal leans over you, hair tickling your face, green eyes glimmering. Up close, you see that freckles and beauty marks dot his skin. “I’m sure he will.”

You think you see him incline his head as though to kiss you. For a moment, you’re frozen, entranced.

You turn your cheek and his lips brush your temple. He hesitates with a low chuckle, keeping his close proximity.

“Then, I will see you tonight, my lord.” You whisper. Your fingers graze his arms as you sidle out of his reach. You can feel his eyes on you as you go and rejoin the other guests.

You leave him burning.

The tavern teems with merriment and the sound of fiddle, fife, and drum. You feast on broiled meats, roasted potatoes, greens, sweet breads and cakes until your stomach is full to bursting.

The glow of candlelight is lush and sensual, throwing shadows over the faces that only hours before you had shared with in prayer and communion in the church of God. Now, every attendant indulges in debauchery.

You’re drunk, blood pounding with mulled wine and spiced ale and cider. Pleasantly warm and head swimming, watching Callum and Isabel and friends and family dance about the room as if possessed, twirling in swirls of colored fabric that make you laugh and clap along in breathless euphoria.

You catch a glance of a figure standing in the doorway. You see the motion of a glass moving to lips, throat working to swallow drink. When the glass falls, you lock eyes with Hal.

You beckon him forth with a crooked finger. He grins wickedly and sets down his cup.

Despite the obvious wine in him, his steps towards you are sure and true and his hands feel good against you when they caress your waist, pull you against him.

You play coy and twist out of his arms. He groans.

He follows you like a dog until you’re in the midst of spinning bodies and then you turn to him. Giving him the permission to finally touch you.

His eyes ignite. He splays a hand on the middle of your back, perfect pressure, authoritative, the other gripping you tight and then you’re both cackling with drunken mischief as he guides the two of you across the creaking wooden floor.

You let him support you, lean against his chest, enjoying the sensation of being held so close. The thrill of feeling wanted.

Even if it is all a charade.

The strings and beat of thumping drums careen to a crescendo that has the entire tavern whooping and hollering in delight. You break apart from Hal to join in as the music flows through your limbs, absolutely enchanted, throwing back your head like that feral child from girlhood.

Hal looks just as wild, the rumored wayward prince. Long, dark locks falling in his eyes, tunic unbuttoned and disheveled. Light and shadow dancing across his face in a manner that makes him look devilish.

He pushes a glittering goblet into your hands, eases his strong fingers around your own to help bring it to your lips. You see the unmistakable red slosh of wine and wordlessly drink. He watches you tip back the goblet, watches rubied jewels of crimson spill down the sides of your mouth and down the skin of your throat.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl.” He cooes.

The flames feel desperately hot, flushing your skin and cheeks, burning bright behind your lips. Or perhaps it's the alcohol? Or the prince’s wandering touch that now seems to be cupping your breast, tongue lapping at the trails of wine…

The heat is suddenly too much and you push away to a secluded corner filled with empty tables to catch your breath. Hal slumps beside you. His head lolls, dipping to press another whisper of a kiss to your jaw and his weight feels comfortable against your side.

You don’t know what comes over you. Perhaps you truly are possessed.

You turn into him and then your hand is reaching between his thighs.

Hal exhales sharply in your ear. You harden your touch, feel him widen his stance to accommodate you. He braces an arm behind the small of your back, supporting himself on the space of the wooden bench as your fingers slip below the waistband of his trousers.

He gives a strangled sigh when you grip him tight and begin to coil your hand. His head lolls once more, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, panting, bursts of hot breath fanning over your throat. You feel your own breath quicken, feel yourself getting excited.

You mesh your other hand into his curls and pull him closer, press your body flush against his. Hal moans, keening, his arm now around your waist. You shush him quietly, tightening the hold in his hair.

To any patron, you look as though you’re only consoling a drunken boy, simply talking in the muted light. The shadows hide you both but the flames shine in your eyes.

“Enjoying the festivities, my lord?” You sigh into his cheek.

“Please don’t stop..” Hal whimpers.

You chuckle through a half-lidded gaze and work him harder. It’s delicious, erotic.

You hold all power, all of England in your delicate grip.

You watch his mouth fall open, dark brows furrowing, feel him tense against you before the eldest son to the crown spills himself onto your fevered palm with a sharp gasp, chest heaving.

“Good boy..” you murmur with a cheshire smile, running your fingers soothingly down the line of his jaw. Hal shudders with aftershocks, eyes closed, forehead glistening with sweat.

Before he can attempt to try and reciprocate the favor, you wipe your hand on his cloak and stand to fetch another drink.

You avoid Hal afterwards and don’t see him again for the remainder of the night. You think he must have gone home with another girl to satisfy himself and it makes you smile knowing you are responsible for laying that trap, for letting him taste pleasure, driving his desperation and taking it all away just as easily.

Your brother and Isabel spend their honeymoon in London before returning to her home in Essex. They write to you, informing of their safe arrival at the new estate and that you will have to come visit in the very near future. It warms your heart. You already miss them terribly.

Soon after, your father is awarded the scarlet, fur-trimmed peerage robes of the House of Lords and with your new rank, you experience the privilege of wealth for the first time.

Rich foods, dresses and flowing silk skirts, cosmetics, more books and manuscripts than you can imagine. You glow with health, beauty, pride, and sharpened wit.

But you have not forgotten your burning flame. Aided by money and status, your little light only grows stronger.

King Henry IV dies of sickness on a warm March morning. It had only been a matter of time, the stubborn man had been calling your father and the other lords to his bedside for the past several months to continue to discuss the politics of his own wars. In his dying breath, Henry IV saw that his empire had fallen to civil strife.

Court and kingdom are called to witness the coronation procession and as you stand with the lords and ladies of the crown inside Westminster Abbey, inside the church containing the tomb of your distant descendant King Edward and the generations of his forefathers, the same Gothic abbey where British monarchs have turned men into rulers and tyrants, you watch the archbishop anoint Prince Henry of Wales with holy oil.

His curls have been trimmed clean, his bare skin and body presented to be blessed with the sign of the cross. All old ritual, old prayer and Latin incantations that have been performed for over a thousand years.

So what is a new boy to wear the crown?

Beneath the arched stone cloisters, baptized in the sunlit streams of stained glass, you watch that same ceremony unfold again with burning heart. And harmonized by the tolling of bells, Hal is dressed in royal robes, regalia, scepter and all, shedding the title of prince as you all pledge homage to your new King of England.

“All hail King Henry.” The archbishop calls out to clergy, God, and country.

“King Henry!”

Neither you nor Hal feel the heat of embarrassment when the court is ushered into the dining chamber and you meet again in candle and firelight. The feast is an intimate setting, shared by the company of Hal’s new council, clergymen, and close family. Your father is seated alongside Cambridge, Chief Justice William Gascoigne, and the archbishop; even his sister, Queen Phillipa of Denmark, is in attendance.

Hal’s appearance and demeanor is surprising to you.

He looks striking, handsome as ever in his new robes and you can sense that familiar aire of charisma and confidence you remember from the wedding as Lord Chamberlain presents gifts from the monarchs of the world. A jeweled vase from King Wenceslas of Bohemia, a trinket of a mechanical bird from the Doge of Venice. Hal is jovial, good humored and merry.

The presence of his cousin and sister seems to comfort him greatly. And rightfully so, considering he now sits on the throne of his dead father. Dead as well is the alter ego of the delinquent prince.

Like a spoilt child opening wrapped packages at Christmas. The privilege of royal blood.

When the final trunk is presented, a gift from the Dauphin, you quite nearly let out a low snicker.

A ball for the boy king.

You see Hal hesitate before picking it up and the silence throughout the chamber is long, uncomfortable. The entire court seems to be holding its breath. Yet, you know there is an aspect of truth to the Dauphin’s gesture.

A boy indeed. You recall Hal’s touch and him gasping into your neck, his muffled begging, how quickly he had finished in your hand…

Then, the cool magnetism returns to his features. He locks eyes with you and you wonder if he is thinking of the same moment. You are both proud challengers, wielders of personal charm.

You wonder how long it will take to break him completely.

There’s a glimmer in his gaze you think to be from the blazing hearth as he tosses the ball once against the chamber’s stone wall, then catches it deftly with youthful poise.

After the coronation dinner, the court is dismissed and you find yourself to be one of the last remaining patrons as guests trickle out into the adjacent hallways and disperse through the rest of the castle. You deliberately hang back, watching your father, Cambridge, Phillipa, and William slip through the doors, slowing your step so that Hal can catch sight of you.

“Lady Grey,” you hear. His voice is galant, hushed with that same temptation of seductive promise. With your back still facing him, you can’t help but smirk.

You feign surprise and turn.

“Yes, my lord?”

Hal beckons to where he stands by the fireside. You gather your skirts and join him in the welcoming nimbus of light and warmth. When you bend to curtesy, his fingers find your chin, tilting your eyes to his own and forcing you to rise to your feet.

“None of that is necessary, my dear,” he whispers. He keeps your face cradled between thumb and forefinger, a delicate pressure, one that makes you feel precious as he holds you close. “Tell me, did you enjoy tonight?”

“Immensely.” You smile. Indeed, you have. The Dauphin might as well have spoken on your own behalf.

Hal hums, pleased. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, then eases in between the petals of your pink lips. You purse them ever so slightly and watch his self-control start to simmer. The candles burn low around the two of you, the only source of light emanating from the hearth itself. You are reminded of how the shadows flickered on the planes of his face the night of the wedding. Now, you see the same shadows again, but as king.

“I want you to have something.” He says finally.

He looks reluctant to break his touch from you, but you see his hand disappear within the folds of his robes. He then produces a glittering pendant with a golden chain, a necklace that looks ablaze.

Amber, you realize.

The surprise that crosses your features is genuine. Baltic amber set into teardrop sterling silver and gold, a gift from Rupert of the Palatinate and the kingdom of Germany. An extraordinary piece.

Hal’s hand finds your waist and you turn to offer him your bare neck, pulse pounding. You have no say, no power to even deny this token of affection.

His caresses against your skin as he fastens the chain are soft and featherlike and you can feel his breath on the top of your spine. The pendant is heavy, rich with precious stone and gilded metal, settling between the valley of your breasts. It feels cold, but shines like an inferno.

He lingers, tracing your shoulders when his mouth presses to your ear.

“Turn. Let me look at you properly.”

When you do, the weight of Germany itself, of foreign and fallen kingdoms and countries, conquered and pillaged and burned, simultaneously settles between the tender skin of your sternum.

Hal’s eyes cloud with dark delight when he sees the flaming amber. He takes your chin back in hand, angling your face every which way, studying how the firelight glints off the pendant with a sensual curiosity.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs.

Your body begins to react on its own accord, chest rising and falling with faster breaths, your cheeks blooming.

“I thank you, my lord.”

Still cradling your jaw, he brings himself closer with only a whisper between the two of you. His crimson robes seem to swallow you completely, like the gaping maw of Britain’s lion, a mantle of blood. He speaks into the gap between your mouths, yet you feel every word upon your lips.

“With this gift, I expect to see you more around my court, Lady Grey. Am I understood?”

The tension he commands is unbearable. He watches you carefully, dark eyelashes fluttering. Trapped like a pinned butterfly. Then, you understand he’s waiting for a verbal response.

“Yes, my lord.”

He releases you.

The pendant suddenly feels more like a collar.

You’ve underestimated Hal. He is just as much the player as you.

You keep your promise. You see Hal daily in passing, often dressed in full regal attire as he comes from the council chambers, your father, William, and the rest of his train tailing close behind. The twinkle in his eye when he sees you is discreet, reserved only for you. The amber pendant remains fastened around your neck at all hours of the day, even while you sleep and bathe, like fire and ice between your breasts. A piece of Hal always with you.

The two of you are a queer, twisted pair of sweethearts. You’ve yet to be fully intimate since that wedding night, but the pressure that ripples with every fleeting glance, every grazing touch of lips and skin is enough to prove your attraction for each other. Or rather, the attraction to the game.

You keep Hal on his toes, never fully give in even when he invites you out for evening strolls in the palace gardens and the safety of darkness envelops you both. It is your nightly ritual to walk the grounds together amongst hushed breezes and chirping crickets, you as a means to unwind before bed, and a way for Hal to clear his mind of the day’s tolling demands.

And tolling they are. Despite his bravado, he is easily irritable, tense. You listen when he speaks to you plainly about his frustrations for the court and archbishop, how they all expect from him the same swift retaliation of his father.

You find Hal’s consciousness of this want to break tyranny quite curious. Sons are typical to idolize their fathers and see past faults. It is why you know how cruel kingship has endured in Britain for generations; learned behaviors become expected and change more difficult. You’ve even seen that same behavior in your own brother.

And Hal’s trust in disclosing even this to you is telling. The thread to unravel the boy king.

Tonight, you dare to pull at it, heighten your girlish wiles and offer him a lingering kiss and soft words. You tell him that Christendom is damned and tease that it’s his own fault his council is made up entirely of old, graying men, your father included, when he could have anyone else.

Hal’s spirits seem to lift a little with a ghost of a smile, understanding you perfectly as his arm snakes around your waist. He pulls you into a secluded labyrinth and settles into the stone seat of a fountain, pulls you atop his lap. The kiss he returns is fierce.

Without the burn of alcohol to subdue your senses, every touch is intensified tenfold. Hal feels it too, his breath coming ragged as he breaks the kiss to mouth down the skin of your neck, the dip of your collarbone, your chest. His hands wander beneath your skirts.

“It is only polite that I return the favor..” You hear him say.

Your mind is reeling. You knew this moment would eventually come, yet you feel ill-prepared when his fingers brush your core, his other hand gripping the back of your neck. You gasp, finding his lips in another tangled kiss, straddle him completely.

It’s strange, exhilarating to be on the receiving end of your little game.

If you are to truly break Hal, you are to first make him believe that he holds any sort of power over you, to reverse that dynamic you had set the night of your brother’s wedding.

You are to let him touch you.

And like the flaming sword of Raphael, Hal’s pendant, it is time to finally draw upon your fire.

You hate how good Hal is at this. He knows just where to caress inside you, the right amount of pressure, the weak spots at your throat and just below your ear. Your competitiveness takes over and you push him back against the fountain, start to circle your hips, grind yourself down on his hand and grip at the rich fabric of his tunic to better anchor yourself.

His eyes pool with lust with every sigh from your lips, watching you closely. He rolls his thumb, picks up the tempo of his fingers, relishing the sight of you slowly falling apart on top of him.

But it isn’t enough. You lean in and wrap your arms around his neck. He responds in tandem, gathering you close as you rock against him, the friction of his thighs sending you closer and closer to that threshold of pleasure.

“Please..I need t-to…” you whisper into his neck, into his mouth.

Words of magic. Hal’s expression flares with masculine pride, the delight of pleasing a woman.

The last of the day’s golden hour spills over you both in glowing, peached splendor and with the sound of the fountain’s rushing water as your only witness, you muffle your final moan with a desperate kiss, bliss pulsing behind your eyelids. Hal keeps his fingers where they are, coaxing the last waves of your orgasm out of you, cradling your chin with his other hand as his lips part yours, slipping tongue as you come floating back down to earth.

You’re dazed, flushed, lazily kissing when he removes his fingers. Slick when you suck them into your mouth and taste yourself. The velvet of your tongue makes him shiver.

“Now, what ever are we going to do about your council, my lord?” You murmur once you catch your breath. You gently kiss his fingertips.

Hal only smirks and pulls you to him.

Your plan begins to take motion. With each passing month, you worm your way deeper into Hal’s heart with honeyed words and empty promises. He confides in you more and more as he grows wary of his councilmen, trusting only the pretty face he sees in the privacy of his bedchamber each night. Graced against silk pillows.

You sense the crushing pressure upon him, his own doubts and fears. You slowly leech away his magnetism, his charisma, and take it for yourself. His eyes dim, harden with resolve. Gone is the assurance for peace. Hal instead grows cold, timid, questioning his every move.

You only burn brighter.

There is talk that a French assassin has breached the castle.

You hear the conversation for yourself when your father and William are called down to the dungeons, hear Hal speaking directly to this assassin as you linger at the top of the stone staircase.

“Qui êtes vous?”

“J'ai été envoyé par le roi de France pour vous assassiner.”

Hal’s voice is cool, calm as he pries for details. The assassin’s responses are noticeably vague. You infer it to be out of his own self interest.

Then, nothing. Days go by with no direct action from Hal.

You grind your teeth. War with France would be the perfect fruition of your schemes, the final act in a tragedy deemed to be an epic of British monarchy. War with France would show Europe and the rest of the world the extortion and murder of the English crown; not that these neighboring countries needed such a reminder. But England and her king have been blind for too long.

Previous attempts at quelling war had caused Percy Hotspur to rebel, Prince Thomas of Lancaster to push on and die alone on foreign soil.

Is Hal not trying to prove himself in this same way? Proving he is not like his father? Just as Thomas had wished for his peers to see him as a commander and better equipped to bear the crown despite being the youngest son, is Hal not guilty of this same charge of public approval?

And having the privilege to sit idly atop a throne amidst all this makes your blood boil. Idleness is instability, you’ve learned this years ago.

You will be the one to push Hal to war.

You are sewing one afternoon in an empty chamber when the strained voices of your father, Cambridge, and William reach your ears. Hushed and argumentative, it draws you to your feet, possesses you to lean against the frame of the door and just out of sight.

You hear the disgust in your father’s tone when he speaks of the king. The weakness in forgiving France, the lunacy of Hal’s ascension. It amazes you, grips you tight at hearing such passion and loathing; you’ve never heard your father speak this way about anyone, let alone the head of England’s monarchy. Slander and defamation carry swift punishment.

You learn that he and Cambridge have been approached by French agents. The three men debate quietly as you stand against the door, nearly panting. A coup d'etat? The idea excites you more than it should. But you perish the thought quickly before you can get ahead of yourself.

Why only approach the two of them? Surely to turn England’s people against their ruler, a greater number of conspirators would prove to be more efficient? You know distrust is not uncommon among Hal’s council, so possible traitors would not be hard to find.

This approach means your father and Cambridge have been judged weak in character by the French. Insecure, lacking, most likely to bend at the knee for candied prospects in exchange for loyalty.

And now as you eavesdrop on your own father, you know Lord Grey does not have faith behind his king and is too afraid to do anything with it. You know that if you had not gathered this knowledge for yourself, you would never have been told so, unseen as all women are expected to be.

These French agents and councilmen think they hold all power with their debates and their meetings in private, oblivious to the fact that it is women who move the world. Women like you, wielding their very sex to push these men as pawns.

Are men not born into this world by women? Do men not seek a woman’s tender embrace for love and comfort and to carry on long, unbroken lineages of royal blood?

Your own father, as all his peers, are blind to the influence you bear over Hal. Even Hal himself.

You find yourself in the king’s private quarters one cold night, sitting in front of the hearth and watching the crackling, shimmering flames that warm the room. The soft silence is comforting to you as you sit bathed in orange glow, wrapped in furs and waiting for Hal’s return.

Your mind wanders. You think of the French assassin still held captive in the dungeons beneath your feet, how the man had been granted asylum in exchange for a confession.

“Quel était le l'ordre?”

“Que je devrais tuer le roi d'Angleterre.”

And with the French approaching Cambridge and your father, it is certain, undeniable that tension is thick and stakes high for all of England.

You are standing on the very brink of war, standing flush at the edge of a swallowing cliffside with dragging winds and dark, inky waters swirling beneath you down below. Waiting to embrace you, like the jagged shores of St Kilda, the northern shores of Scotland. Calling you home like a siren’s song.

And Hal only needs one final pull before you both fall together.

The chamber door opens and the king steps inside. His presence is stormy, like a cold wind blowing into the room.

He’s dressed handsomely in a navy tunic and dress shirt, a mantle that drapes over his burdened shoulders. Yet, his hair is mussed and disheveled and you can see the tightness around his eyes. His once youthful glow now gone, but a sharpness to him that you think resembles a pike; diligent, wary, and still capable of hurting you if you’re not careful.

You pretend to quickly wipe away tears before you stand to greet him. Hal sees this and his brows draw together in concern, further contorting his expression into one of pain. He comes to the fireside.

“Good evening, my king,” you say as he takes your hands.

“What upsets you so?” he asks you directly. His voice is strained, sets your pulse aflutter more than it should. You give a small, breathless smile, a shake of your head.

“Nothing of your concern, just innocuous thoughts, my lord. Let us go to bed.”

But you do not move in the direction of the luxurious canopied bed, one you have grown intimately familiar with. You stay exactly where you are and let Hal’s mind race.

His fingers grip your chin and when you meet his eyes, they’re bold and smoldering, the first touch of life in them you’ve seen for sometime. His grasp is strong and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

“Speak freely to me. Please,” he whispers. “Of all people. My dear, speak true.” The last word falls like a plea from his lips. You suppose it is one as he pulls you closer. A boy desperate for truth, constricted and poisoned by a council of vipers.

Unknowingly turning to the girl with the pretty mouth as she pours poison into his ear.

At this, you bite your lips and summon tears that spill forth, pool your vision. You let the familiar sensations take over, the shortness of breath, the depleted posture, and pretty soon you’re trembling, weeping in Hal’s arms.

“This assassin. It frightens me,” you say finally, broken. “If he had fulfilled his order and taken you from me, left me here all alone…oh, Hal. I’m so afraid.”

His thumb circles your cheek, silent. You sense that dangerous cocktail of anger and darkness simmering just beneath his skin. Anger at the world, anger reserved for his dead father.

“France means to have you killed, Hal. Then what of us?”

Us? England?

Tears drip down your neck and onto your rising chest. Where you’ve left the first clasp of your blouse carefully unbuttoned. You press yourself to him ever so slightly, look up through tear-soaked eyelashes and embered iresis.

“Then what of me?” you whisper.

Hal’s lips are crushing against yours. You feel every ounce of his anguish, every bit of tension wound tight in his frame, every doubt, every fear. You feel the restraint as he cradles the back of your neck, his other hand finding your waist as he pushes you flush against him. The dichotomy to feel love, to feel comfort and safety and to relieve and dispel just a hint of the pressure building inside him. The dichotomy to conquer, the urge to channel this animosity in a way he must be familiar, to ravish you completely.

With your bosom rising and falling so sweetly, eyes glittering with tears, looking almost divine with firelight circling the shine of your hair in a golden halo, you watch Hal’s walls collapse. You let him succumb to that mirage of safety and warmth, to ease his conscience. You will both get what you want, eventually.

You break apart to kiss the line of his throat, his pulsepoint, where you know he’s weakest. Hal gasps as you thread your fingers through his curls, bring your lips to his ear in a soft lull.

“May I have you tonight, my king? Completely?”

His response is immediate, yet wordless when he tilts back his head and feels your mouth against his jugular, the hand at your waist tightening.

At last, you lead him to the bed with the intent of christening it.

He pulls you atop him, helps you unthread the bodice of your nightgown. Despite the blazing fire behind you, the air chills your shoulders, your chest as you slowly expose more and more skin, finally letting the thin fabric pool around your waist. The feel of his bare hands cupping your body fuels you, act as your catalyst. Soft, firm.

The amber necklace swings like a golden pendulum when you stoop to kiss him again, his fingers ghosting over the skin of your back. Hal’s desires are plainly stated as you feel him harden against your inner thigh.

There is no time for coy deception tonight. You make quick work of his tunic, leave his trousers and instead unfasten and pull him through, positioning where he wants you most. Hal is already nearly panting.

You arch as he settles inside you, a biting stretch that has both of you sighing when you bury yourself into the crook of his neck. Something long-awaited. You stomach the discomforting pressure and set a rhythm, one that has Hal cursing into your hair.

“You must protect the women of England, my lord,” you whisper. “Who will do so if you are gone?” You punctuate your point with a well-timed swivel of your hips and Hal moans low and guttural. “Your wives and children. Can you protect me?”

Hal’s arms wrap around you, nearly choking on pleasure. “I will. Anything for you. Please...”

Unseen by him, you grin. You can practically hear the crashing ocean waves, to feel the quench of water at long last! You think you could make him do anything in this moment with how enthralled he is in bliss.

You sit back and Hal’s hands glide over the smooth expanse of your stomach, watching his eyes grow dark, the amber pendant swinging between the two of you. The discomfort in your belly is gone and you start to mirror Hal’s pleasure, head falling back, sighs growing louder.

And as the two of you finally fall from the cliffside and towards the waiting waters, Hal gives a soft cry, vision rolling and you feel his heat spill onto your inner thigh. You kiss him until the strength drains from his body, a true succubus as Hal at last descends into sleep, relaxed.

You have the king’s word.

You awaken the next morning to find the bed empty and cold. Surprised, you dress alone and return to your chambers to call for your breakfast. When you send for your father to share his company, the servant returns and tells you Lord Grey is currently engaged and his presence cannot be requested.

“A meeting, you mean?” You ask the servant rather crossly. Why must everyone speak to you in riddles? You obviously did not sleep much the night before and had trouble long after Hal had finished, like a slumbering babe beside you. Typical.

Your mood sours further in that you won’t be able to share this meal with your father. You despise spending mornings in solitude. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other in private, with no councilmen lurking about.

“No, my lady,” the servant stammers slightly, the words stumbling out of his mouth. “Lord Grey is condemned and is forbidden from taking meals before tomorrow morning.”

“What?” You growl at his vagueness. Your anger and irritation rise hot and fast and you’re tempted to hurl the glass cup of strawberries at this blubbering young fool.

“Lord Grey and Cambridge await execution tomorrow morning for treason, by order of the king.”

Your world stops. You send the servant away with a ghost of a whisper.

When the door snaps shut, you laugh mournfully. So the gossip had come to naught. Hal had indeed kept his word. Your stomach turns in nausea. Food is suddenly the last thing on your mind.

You rush to your writing desk, overturning bottles of ink, hands shaking when you retrieve quill and parchment, attempt to pen a desperate letter to Callum with a fevered hand. But before you can draft a single sentence, your blood turns cold.

You have not heard from your brother, from Isabelle in weeks. Have your worst fears already come true?

Glass and fruit explode against the far wall.

You tear out of the room like a bloodied banshee in search of Hal, fingers tinted crimson from cut glass and mashed berries.

And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and

cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee

that one of thy members should perish, and not

that thy whole body should be cast into hell.

One of Miss Hunt’s chosen passages from the book of Matthew comes crashing into your mind. You are like Eve, you think. Bearing the burden of Original Sin with lust and curiosity. You have tasted the fruit and have seen the evils of mankind. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined your plan backfiring so horribly.

Now, hellfire awaits your father, for you when you draw your final breath your last day on this earth. Suddenly seeming to loom that much closer.

You approach Hal like Samuel’s ghost did to King Saul on the eve of war, the Philistines instead of the French. Interchangeable, cycles of warfare that have dawned for milenia and will continue until the end of time.

He looks terrifying, colder and more severe than you’ve ever seen, outfitted in those horrible blood red robes that one coronation dinner long ago you had once thought he looked becoming.

You know with one wrong word you could be joining the two men to die at first light. Your mind races.

“My lord, to think my own father had been plotting against you sickens me,” you speak slowly. The sentence stings like venom in your mouth, damning your father. Hellfire burns brighter. But it is the only way you can protect yourself. Your grisly appearance, your quick breaths, it is all to sell your story. “May I accompany you tomorrow morning as witness?”

Hal’s lips twist into a hint of a smile, the shadow of his former self. “Of course, my dear. Lord Grey may have failed his fatherly duties as protector, but I will not.”

And so, with your hands wrapped in fresh bandages and stitchings, you stand in a courtyard with wind whipping around you, the only Christian woman among councilmen and knights as you watch your father lay his head upon the chopping block. His hair has been shaved off to ensure the killing blow will be swift and true. Shivering, pale, and damp with sweat, he looks like a ghost. Soon, he will be one. You want him to see you in these final moments, for him to know that you will utterly destroy this king, but you cannot risk the danger.

Like the coronation, Latin prayers are recited, only this time they are prayers for your father and father-in-law to find peace in the afterlife. The last time you, Hal, Cambridge, and your father had shared company like this had been at the wedding. You know now that Callum and Isabel are truly dead. In the blink of an eye, Hal has slaughtered your entire family.

Weary, resilient Scotland.

You do not cry. You must show your loyalty.

“Requiescat in pace.”

Weak, fragile as Lord Grey starts to whimper aloud. No daughter should see their father, their protector through girlhood, like this.

The axe glimmers in the sunlight and is brought down with deadly precision. Your father’s head rolls grotesquely off of his shoulders in a wet gurgle. His body is shoved aside and Cambridge is pushed onto the block next, now slick with fresh blood.

Neither you nor Hal flinch.

You are now fatherless, Hal, kinless when you enter the neighboring chapel alone. You sit in the first pew respectfully, head bowed as Hal crosses himself and kneels before the altar. With his back to you, you study the firm line of his spine, his clasped hands with the beaded rosary held firmly between. Unmoving, statuesque. He prays for a long time.

Thou shalt not kill.

You wonder if God is so forgiving.

The images of angels, of Mary and Joseph and flawless purity are what drive you to march up to Hal and kiss him hard. He hums in surprise, brows furrowed, the pressure behind his mouth mirroring yours when you grip the back of his head.

You want to kill him the same way he had murdered your father. But you settle with digging your fingers into the back of his neck and relishing in the way he hisses against your lips. You fumble blindly with the fastening of his trousers.

“What are you doing?” he growls.

“Shut up.” You bite back.

You’ve never been afraid of Hal before today, you’ve had no reason to be. You’ve been so careful to build the reputation and the facade he sees, using words and sex to push him like the chesspiece you had thought him to be. And he’d pushed right back.

You want to hurt him in the only way you can.

He cries out when you suck him into your mouth with teeth and harsh pressure. You’re anything but gentle, taking him as far as you can so that you’re choking and Hal is grunting and pulling at your hair and the lewd sounds of your lips and tongue echo to the tops of the vaulted ceiling.

You’ve both lost family today. You are both selfish and full of quiet rage. The consequence of Hal’s choice is evident in how hard and wet you mold your mouth around him, how his hand tightens and pushes you farther down, wordlessly ordering you to finish him off in this holy church.

Like Christ Himself with bandaged hands, you twist and work at whatever you cannot fit between your lips. His hips snap forward, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes with burning throat, your scalp stinging from where he yanks back your hair, your linen caul disheveled. Saliva dribbles out of your mouth.

When his moans grow high and desperate, you take him out of your mouth and Hal’s release splatters white on the skin of your cheek, mouth still agape. He slumps forward on his knees, panting, as if still in prayer. The rosary dangles between his fingers.

Thou shalt not commit adultery.

The cross looms before you, silhouetted by candlelight. It is too much and you turn away.

If the change in Hal’s nature had not already been felt by all, it is seen in his dress. No longer does he donn the regalia of red cape and sceptre, but dark tunics and jackets that fit snug over the expanse of his chest. No more are the billowing robes, now replaced with tight military clothing and jackboots. A captain preparing for battle.

Hal recruits John Falstaff and countless other marshals for his campaign. It’s truly happening, you think. France will soon feel the wrath of England as your homeland and countless other countries have.

The amber necklace sparkles.

Tomorrow, Hal sets sail across the English Channel. Another crusade to add to the Hundred Years’ War. You wonder if French women are just as lustrous as the rumors suggest.

This is the last night you will be together like this for some time. The thought of Hal with another woman makes you quicken the hand you have around him and he gasps into your chest, spilling onto your thigh like that wedding night centuries ago. You’ve already made love countless times tonight, your bodies fitting together because it is only natural for two corrupt souls to find solace in the other.

Masquerading with voice and poise. A boy from Eastcheap and a Scottish girl.

As Hal shudders against you, kissing your throat and twining his fingers into your hair, he tells you he loves you.

You think you may love him too, in that twisted way of how fire craves oxygen. You need each other to fuel chaos.

You understand better than anyone the burden of a child forced to grow up, the weight of decisions and the toll it takes. Only the strong can endure such hardship, only the strong can triumph and come out on top. It has been so forever, a law as old as the world.

The speed at which Hal is already hard again makes you chuckle darkly. He pins you to the bed, hovering, eyes bearing into you before he enters you just the same.

��You were made to be beneath me,” he rasps, gripping your face with a single hand. His eyes glitter in the low light. The double entendre of his words make you rake your fingernails down his back in angry lines of red. He sucks a bite into the skin of your collarbone.

You know that when Hal returns from France, he will no longer be yours. He will be changed, most likely to marry a foreign princess to ensure peace. You think of Isabel and how she had evidently been the one to put you in this position of status, how a marriage is a man’s means to gain power. A law as old as the world.

Do you want him to be yours? The same way the English crown has raped and pillaged for the thrill of conquering the barbaric? A trophy? A prized kill? Still, the thought makes you bitter.

You say you love him back when he finds the spot below your ear, pushes your legs apart to drive into you that much harder.

There’s a bit of you that prays he will be victorious, that he will return to England and be yours again. But even if your paths do not cross in the future, you know you will see him again where the flames grow hot. Be that in his chambers or down below.

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