#words cannot describe how beautiful I find this picture

[daughterofsekhmet-bast]

Bastet’s daughter looks down upon her shrine

#dua sekhmet-bast #dua bastet #kemetic #pagan #paganism #bastet #kemetism #words cannot describe how beautiful I find this picture

[sharlsworld]

birthday girl - f1 grid

⍟ charles leclerc x fem!wolff!reader

⍟ it’s an f1 holiday, y/n wolff’s birthday. a series of birthday posts made by a bunch of people involved with f1.

fc: various girls from pinterest

warnings: none really tbh just a age gap (it’s my fathers fault for making me like this)

authors note: idk what i’m doing i’m bored out of my mind and have nothing better to do. lmk if i should keep doing these or not, p.s there’s google translated french and spanish 😭

-

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55 and 6,938,012 others

charles_leclerc Mon cœur, mon amour, mon trésor, there truly aren’t enough words in the human vocabulary to describe my love for you. I’ve had my eye on you before we even spoke to each other, there’s no doubt in my mind that we will spend eternity together. Here’s to another year around the sun, happy 22nd birthday chérie, my love for you is infinite. ♥️

yn thank you honey, i love you bigger then the sky 💘

↳ charles_leclerc My love for you is everlasting chérie ♥️

landonorris you two make me sick

↳ yn good stay stick

scuderiaferrari Happy birthday y/n! Wishing you a year full of happiness and health beautiful girl! ❤️🥳

♥︎ by author & yn

sharls_lerklerk “there’s no doubt in my mind that we will spend eternity together” the highways lookin real cozy 🥰🥰

charlotte2304 Happy birthday beautiful y/n I love you to the moon and back 💞

♥︎ by author & yn

yn you really like those faceless pictures huh? 😭

↳ charles_leclerc I just love your hair so much chérie

arthur_leclerc and to think that 4 years ago you were blushing at the fact she even looked at you

↳ lorenzotl He still does

lordperceval him not responding to anyone’s comment accept hers 😭

_

lewishamilton

liked by glenpowell and 5,182,732 others

lewishamilton My honorary sister, i’ve known you since you were 10 years old and it’s been so amazing watching you grow into such a good person. Thank you for always supporting me, baking me sweets and making sure I don’t get growled at for eating so much sugar, celebrating with me, watching roscoe, and always being there for me no matter what. Happy birthday y/n, I couldn’t have asked for a better honorary sister than you. I love you to the moon and back ❤️

yn thank you so much lew, your the big brother i never got. i love you so so much 💞

♥︎ by author

beloved.hamilton i hold there sibling duo so close to my heart 🥹

mercedesamgf1 Our paddock princess!! Wishing you the happiest birthday sweetheart 🥰💙

♥︎ by author & yn

futurewag822 i love how everyone loves y/n cause same 😭

georgerussell63 Awh you old sap, happy birthday y/n i love you lots thank you for always being so sweet and supportive 💙

♥︎ by author & yn

↳ yn thank you george i love you 💞

-

carlossainz55

liked by olliebearman and 1,092,566 others

carlossainz55 Mi querida amiga, feliz cumpleaños! I wish you nothing but the best in life, i’ve never met someone as sweet, welcoming, caring, and funny as you. I will always cherish our friendship, I cannot wait to make more memories with you in the years to come. Te quiero mucho mi querida amiga ❤️

yn thank you carlito i love you bunches ❤️

♥︎ by author

hoeforsainzzz i want to be like y/n when i grow up no cappy 😭

charles_leclerc Why do you have so many pictures of me and y/n?

↳ carlossainz55 It’s my job as the third wheel mate

↳ yn your the best third wheel carlito

landonorris all i got for my birthday was a “happy birthday lando!” 😐 but she gets a WHOLE PARAGRAPH

↳ yn just say your jealous

carlossainzoficial Feliz cumpleaños y/n! Enjoy your special day ❤️

↳ yn thank you better carlos ❤️

↳ carlossainz55 wow.

_

landonorris

liked by tomholland2013 and 1,223,704 others

landonorris happy birthday short stack, your one rude but funny, mean but pretty, ruthless but kind hearted girl. thank you for making me feel tall, if you ever find yourself single one day, you have my number 😉 i love you bunches y/n ❤️

charles_leclerc thats not funny 😐 no one’s laughing.

yn thank you norizz 🥹 i love you many bunches more ❤️

↳ charles_leclerc don’t make me lock you in the room all day

mclaren Happy birthday to our favorite guest! Your welcome anytime y/n 😉🧡

↳ scuderiaferrari No. She’s not aloud to leave us ever.

↳ mercedesamgf1 Are we forgetting who raised her? 🤣

↳ yn guys stop there’s enough of me for everyone 🤗

↳ charles_leclerc N O.

alex_albon she makes charles look tall

↳ charles_leclerc My ego is hurt

landolove all the admins fighting over y/n made my week 😭

oscarpiastri Happy birthday y/n 🧡

↳ yn thank you osc ❤️

-

lilymhe

liked by alex_albon and 907,125 others

lilymhe wishing my best friend an amazing birthday, i’m forever grateful for f1 bringing us together. i’ve never had such an amazing friend like you, i hold our friendship so close to my heart. i love you past the moon and beyond the stars ❤️

yn i love you lily ❤️

↳ lilymhe i love you more 😘❤️

alex_albon happy birthday ig, your pretty funny ig. your a good friend ig and amazing baker ig. I GUESS i love you. ❤️🙄

↳ yn i guess i love you 🙄 thank you ig ❤️

charles_leclerc lily you are not invited to dinner tonight. i would like to spend the night with my girlfriend and not watch her spend the whole night with you and kika

↳ lilymhe just mad your girl loves me & kika more then you 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

↳ francisca.cgomes bro thinks that’s his girlfriend 🤣🤣🤣🤣

↳ yn can’t wait to see you lovely ladies tonight 😉

↳ charles_leclerc PLEASE stop

↳ pierregasly we’re BEGGING

↳ alex_albon on our KNEES

_

francisca.cgomes

liked by pierregasly and 920,104 others

francisca.cgomes my dearest friend, you’ve helped me more in more ways then you’ll ever know. i’ve been so lucky to call you my best friend since we were little girls, i love you so so so much y/n. happy birthday big booty judy ❤️

yn i love you for infinity kika ❤️

♥︎ by author

↳ francisca.cgomes i love you more then infinity ❤️

pierregasly happy birthday to the biggest pain in my ass i love you ❤️

♥︎ by author & yn

↳ yn thanks for always distributing my beauty sleep pear i love you more ❤️

landosfootfungus i want to be y/n

↳ danielricciardo me too 😔

charles_leclerc big booty indeed

♥︎ by author

lilymhe our little girl is growing up on us 🥹

↳ francisca.cgomes times flying 😔

iheartyn big booty judy 😭

-

f1

liked by maxverstappen1 and 20,077,284

f1 Before the day is over we would love to wish our paddock princess a very happy 22nd birthday! We hope your day was filled with nothing but love and happiness, we hope your day was as perfect as you are! 🤍

yn thank you admin 🥹❤️

♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 Happy birthday to the biggest pain in my ass. I love you more then you know y/n ❤️

♥︎ by author

↳ yn max…this is the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me 🥹❤️

olliebearman Happy birthday y/n, thank you for being so kind and baking me so much sweets i’ll definitely get a talking to about 😂❤️

♥︎ by author

↳ yn don’t worry ollie i won’t let your trainer growl at you 😭

fernandoalo_oficial Happy birthday to my favorite girl ever ❤️

♥︎ by author

↳ yn nando stop 🥹 I LOVE YOU

↳ fernandoalo_oficial I LOVE YOU MORE Y/N 😂❤️

danielricciardo Happy birthday sunshine, i love you lots. Pretty glad to know someone like you 🌞

♥︎ by author

↳ yn i love you more danny ❤️

yukitsunoda0511 Happy birthday y/n thank you for always making me laugh ❤️

♥︎ by author

↳ yn thank you yuki ❤️

~

i got lazy towards the end 😭 lmk what you think.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smau #f1 x reader #fernando alonso #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #lando norris #yuki tsunoda #pierre gasly #f1 smau #alex albon #carlos sainz #charles leclerc imagine

[tendergraphite]

What Led To Henry Winters Death

For many upon their first reading of The Secret History, they cannot accept the reality of Henry's passing; This I believe is due to Richard being unable to do so himself—He'd been attracted to Francis sure, wanted to marry Charles even, but he'd been utterly infatuated by Henry.

The book hints at this bitter reality threw it's discussion of ghosts, Francis saying in the epilogue that: ''There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious.''

We reject the second half of the statement, after all psychology is such a clinical word, reality simply is too monstrous. Isn't it so much more sultry and theatrical to believe Henry could've lived on whether in the shadow behind your footsteps, or in some far off land where it's simply a matter of sorting out a passport? Or folded in dreams, where all you must do is turn a page to find him in the seam.

''The dead appear to us in dreams said Julian, because that's the only way they can make us see them; what we see is only a projection, beamed from a great distance, light shining at us from a dead star ''

Richard compared himself to Julian in the aspect of neither of them being capable of seeing people for who they truly are, only their utmost qualities; This aspect I agree on—It's how we get so drawn in, causing us to be unable to pull away and see the full picture.

It's how we mistake Henry's qualities as otherworldly, his brittleness and condescension, the way he dresses and what he reads—We see it's beauty, but not it's second face: Henry carry's an umbrella during sunny days due to his debilitating injuries caused by abuse, and dresses in such a manner because his Father was likely his only exposure to fashion he could reference. Not to mention, it was only another example of how the old distanced him from others—And then even his personality?

He grew up with no friends, completely isolated with only tutors and his Mother for company—From what I can surmise, Henry wouldn't have actually known how to make friends; He had no idea how to interact with the real world nor it's social bounds. This is how Bunny's and Henry's odd dynamic developed. Bunny is friendly with all sorts and is highly socially aware, and would've noticed Henry's lack of friends quite quickly—Meaning, Bunny likely was Henrys first actual friend at Hampton, maybe even his first in years.

Bunny although flawed, was the only one who understood Henry on an important fundamental level, and saw him as an equal.

And then there is the matter of our cowardly cult leader Julian—Who I entirely believe is at fault for Henry's passing, as he'd been searching desperately for a Father figure whom would give him approval. The very first thing we learn about Henry even is that he easily would sway his own views to fit Julian's own, when Bunny had made jabs at Henry for buying a pen he had previously utterly dismissed.

Julian knew what would happen when he introduced Henry with the idea of a Bacchanal—Of escapism and ascending; However where as Julian always described it as a rebirth, Henry had described it as not being you anymore ''After all. the appeal to stop being yourself, even for a little while, is very great'' And the further he went on, the more it sounded like a suicide note.

When Julian whipped his hands clean of the group, as now they had become too unpredictable for him to feel the same godly control as he had before—Henry cried. The characters do not cry often, but when they do it's a pivotal moment in the book: In these moments, truly they've hit rock bottom.

Henry hadn't even cried once during his predicament. No, it was once Julian his only source of assurance and value had disappeared and completely abandoned him.

Henry's death ultimately had been spurred on by all sorts of sources; already underlining mental illness, the death of his best friend: And the final straw, Julian's abandonment.

Henry no longer saw a way out from his suffering threw Julian, so he had tried the last thing he could think of—Which was to die in a way he hopped Julian would see as noble, that would mean praise he wouldn't even be around to receive. I believe that's why he held onto life for so long when he was dying, he hoped for Julian to come and praise his actions.

....Fuck sake this stupid tumblr account was supposed to be a small ramble side blog, how the hell did I fucking get here.

#the secret history #henry winter #julian morrow #richard papen #tsh analysis

[lilith-incarnate]

⋆𝕹𝖔𝖈𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝕽𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊: 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

✧Not intended for minors!✧

𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔒𝔫𝔢࿐

I believe this is the pile of the Ancients. The old souls. You choose the picture of two lit candles. Imagery of the Twin Flame love. Higher than soulmates because this relationship was ordained and protected by the spirit realm. I know you’re wondering why the spirit world would care about someone’s love life. This is because this relationship will cause a positive ripple effect in the world. This is a testament to the Spirit worlds active, but oh so subtle, hand. I hope those who have chosen this pile are aware they have lived other lives before this one because both you and your significant person have done this before… but it didn’t go right last incarnation. Karma is at play… Big 8th house, Scorpio, Taurus, Libra Venusian energy here. The center card, Primal is numbered 13, which is the number of the divine feminine. Accessing this energy requires you to be fully connected to your body. This relationship is centered around the feminine’s self confidence. Primal doesn’t mean to be aggressive… here primal means being yourself without restraint. You’re a wild one, ancient and through the joy of simply existing, you express the natural beauty of yourself. It’s a long winded way to describe being authentic, lol but I want you to understand that though we live in an edited and filtered social era, we still very much need those who would rather dance to the beat of their own drum. This is what sets you apart. Your significant person will find you untamed, mysterious and extremely attractive when you meet. There’s an emphasis on balance so I know this is something orchestrated by the universe. There could be a work connection or you could start a business venture together. And you know, I wouldn’t be surprised if that business were a metaphysical one :)

✩𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔗𝔴𝔬

You are not mistaken. You’ve had glimpses of your future all your life. You’ve seen things. You’ve had premonitions and dreams that have come true. You may have seen spirits. You cannot ignore the subtle realms, you cannot un-see. You need not share this information with others, if it makes you uncomfortable. Having that type of knowledge can make you feel isolated from most of society. Even with “witchcraft” becoming extremely mainstream, seeing spirits and making spells are not the same thing… anyone can make a spell candle, but not everyone is spiritually gifted like you. The Ace of Grails is related to self expression and artistic communication of our feelings. There’s a pain in you that need to transform into something beautiful. Turn your pain into passion. At this time, the universe wants you to focus on the secret of love…You. So, you gotta learn how incredible you are before someone deserving can rise to meet you. If you don’t know your worth, you’ll continue to select the lowest options for yourself. This relationship will bring a lot of emotional healing, whilst being a spiritual lesson for you about the process of change. This pile is very watery… Scorpio, cancer, Pisces… pay attention to your dreams. Your intuition is strong, don’t doubt yourself. Soft and kind. Sensual as a languid stream…. Your future lover will be gentle with you. There will be so much romantic communication! They have words down to a science. With you, they seem to know what to say to make you blush.

୨୧𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

With judgement here, this could be someone from your past and if not, this tells of a choice being made that leads to the starts of happiness. It could even mean that there’s a personal transformation (ex. an ego death) and that’s how it begins. Basically, the card is about weighing the actions and events of the past in order to put them to rest, allowing us to experience new beginnings, ideas, and horizons. It is the call to a new age and a final decision! Don’t let the past hold you back! This lover is bringing you a beginning that creates itself from the end of whatever has gone before. The Six of Skulls is a symbol of luck, wishes, and magic charms! In this reading, it depicts a financially secure person who is very capable of giving! Acts of kindness, the giving and receiving of gifts, charity, and generosity. This is a very respectful person with great empathy. Their archetype is that of the Samaritan. This person will offer you help and inspiration, directly or indirectly. Now, onto your Amor cards. Hm! A game of cat and mouse in the game of love, uh oh. Love is treated very seriously by most, but in its essence, is free and playful. Love isn’t always a hill to climb! Have fun with it! Whether you play a childhood game or take a little trip, do it with joy and lightness, away from pain's grip. There is no need to stress. Love is a game and this person is choosing to play with you. You will be pursued and for a while, you likely won’t know it until the person makes themselves known. Because what is modern romance without social media stalking lol. There’s a few animals here so maybe someone has pets or like animals. I’m looking at the Love’s Embrace card and I see that the lovers depicted here are very different. The man is a warrior and the woman is a priestess. Classic case of (seemingly) opposites attracting! Need I say more? Well, I should say someone (or both) is a bit of a Casanova… popular. I think both of you are adept lovers.

❀𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔉𝔬𝔲𝔯

Two 10s here. The ten of knives and the ten of specters. Both of these cards are about a final conclusion and the end of a cycle. On the picture of the ten of knives, a succubus lies staked to a bed. You’ve been through a lot, but your task is to not internalize what we perceive as negative experiences. Through every experience, there’s an opportunity for change. You may have had people around you who were jealous or you may have been jealous of others who seemed to have better fortune than you. Either way, the key is to overcome spite and envy, no matter the source. Bitterness and the refusal to forgive can create a bitter life. Beware those who are bitter, the ones who bring up a moment or person that hurt them, over and over. They want you to inherit their emotional burden. It’s not yours to take on. They are making the choice to carry the pain they complain of. Queen Lamia of Greece is shown on the card Jealousy, she was turned into a serpent from the waist down by Hera, who was jealous over her relationship with Zeus. Lamia suffered Hera’s spite and was cursed to hunger for blood. She is now a vampire, just like the succubus from the ten of knives card. Both are depictions of the dark feminine. Maybe your sex life has been the subject of gossip and shaming. Maybe you have been receiving blessings that has drawn ire and envy out. You might be feeling fear and guilt feeling these eyes on you. The Ten of Scepters represents phases in our life when we are overwhelmed and can find no time to relax. It’s a sign that we are pushing ourselves way too hard. This card is also about taking a last grand stand against oppressive forces. Are you fighting against peoples opinions of you? Such an exhausting endeavor. Where I’m from we say, “People will talk about you beyond the day you die.” We can’t control how we are perceived, so what does it matter what another person thinks? You need not accept what people say about you and you don’t need to live up to their expectations. If you are dealing with a time of drama, remember it will pass. Your Amor cards speak of peace and unbridled joy which is what you will come to when you allow these conclusions to transpire. You’re being asked to rest and refresh your spirit. Reconnect with your self and what you love to do. When's the last time you dared to live a little? Make a little extra time in your schedule to do something wild~

♡𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔳𝔢

Wowowow I am definitely going to have to not recommend this reading for minors. This pile is the most erotic of them all, so congratulations! The main card is Faith… The belief that something will take place, or is right, or is a particular way, can be called faith.

Do you believe you will have a deep, sensual love in this life?

A lot can be described here… Capricorn stands out. Masculine energy is very dominantly portrayed (remember it doesn’t matter how you identify, it’s just the energetic description). If for you this is another individual, this person is seductive and their goal is to help you open up your sexual expression. They have a lot of endurance in the bedroom and honestly they have an interest in sex outdoors. Not public, but in nature. Sex is something they really enjoy, but it doesn’t just serve the basic carnal needs for them. There’s a craving for pure connection of the soul, exposed and unbound. Beyond the physical. Beyond the mental. Beyond the earth and the sky and all the stars. For them, sex has been experienced well enough. Now, intimacy is the focus. So, the Devil here is not the biblical one. He is the archetype of the ancient primeval forest god- sometimes known as the Horned God or as the Lord of the Forest. He is a representation of the god Pan, impetuous, beautifully carefree, hearty, deeply sexual, and earthy… His true nature has been misrepresented in the past and reduced to evil by the wicked, the self-deluded, and the self-righteous, either out of fear or religious politics in order to gain power. Is someone into bondage? This lover wants your complete trust in the bedroom. They want your body open up in ways it never has before. What an intense person! Outside of sexual matters, when the eight of swords appears, we are usually keeping ourselves mentally bound. Don’t allow anyone to force a choice on you or hold you back from making one. On the inside, you could be holding back your own fire/creative energy with negative self beliefs. This is your call to release yourself from your own inhibitions. Let go, unleash your desires, and dive headfirst into excess. Seize your joy. Connect deeply. Connect spiritually. Connect intimately… whatever that means to you. 💗

⋆𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔖𝔦𝔵⋆

Alrightttttt. A lot of fire energy. Zeroing in on the energy of Leo. The Hunter card speaks for itself here and honestly, this pile might have a relation to pile 3. If you feel inclined, look at that set of cards as well! This person has high standards and their appearance means a lot to them. I shouldn’t stop there… their appearance, their possessions, their partner must reach their high standards. If that intimidates you, you should pick another pile. This person is fiery and it’s either set the world ablaze with them or get out of the way! This is luxury, passion and adventure! The fire between you will never die down. I love how the panther appears twice lol. Your sex life together appears to be enhanced by now much you love yourselves, respectively. Your lover immensely enjoys the glow you get from practicing self care. Lavishing your body in nourishing lotions, indulging in gorgeous perfumes and expressing your fashion taste are some examples of what this fancy person likes. All of that appeals to their keen senses! They are a provider and they want to see you enjoy what they give you, too. Expect the love language to be surprise gifts. This person is not selfish at all. It pleases them to be able to provide for themselves, too. Very proud of their financial stability! As they become mature of age, they would likely want a family in the future. Did you notice I didn’t mention anything about perfection? This person is not looking for total perfection in a person, because it doesn’t exist. In the simplest of terms, they want someone who knows their worth and knows what they want. A person that knows that life is for living! Don’t deny your nobility, you deserve your highest ideal, ok? The Five of Scepters also represents the awakening of the sexual drive and becoming conscious of our unique sexual energy. Basically, this relationship will open you up to the deeper aspects of sexuality. Honestly, they will revere you. I see them worshipping your body. They probably would enjoy seeing you pleasure yourself. So, now that you know this relationship is coming in your future… you have at this time a wonderful opportunity to do the very best you can, for your self. This will shift your vibration, and attract wonderful new opportunities with kindred spirits like you.

Because it is October at the time of creation, I decided to do a vampire-themed love reading. Remember you are so loved by this conscious universe. It never works against you. I hope you enjoyed your message. Thank you for being here with me. Until next time♡

༺lilith-incarnate༻

꒰ Pick a card readings are always consisting of collective energy so only take what resonates with you and always remember to trust yourself before any tarot reader/psychic/healer. Don't forget: Spirit speaks in symbolism. ꒱

#tarot #pick a card #tarot reading #divination #spirituality #pick a card readings

[unaesthetic-writer]

HEYYYY THIS IS PT. 2 TO THE JEGULUS BALLET AU FIC HOPE U ENJOY THIS TOOOO @ashshmee

Sirius and I are still waiting in the hall of the theater by the time the whole place is almost empty. It's quiet and serene, but it does nothing to quell the excitement coursing through my veins. I'm actually going to get to meet him. The picture of him on stage still lingers in my mind. It was as if until now I was living in a universe without stars, and I can't fathom how I've survived until now. Sirius is still staring at me like I'll combust at any given moment, worried and scared at the same time. "So... You wanna tell me why you want to see my little brother so badly James?" I freeze slightly, my mind racing a million times a minute—even more than it usually does— trying to figure out a coherent way to describe this to his older brother of all people. "I- I just thought he was really good. He danced beautifully." That wasn't a complete lie, but the way Regulus danced... I couldn't truly do it any justice with any words I knew. Beautiful didn't cut it; And neither did spectacular, amazing, graceful, or even surreal.

When Regulus comes out, he is just as graceful as on stage. The poise he has, the way he carries himself, commands respect and awe. But he looked completely different to how he was on stage somehow. He still has this quietness to his steps that speak so loud somehow, and it just keeps your attention on him. But differently, he now seems more sad, like a part of him was left on the stage. He hides it well, but there's less of a shine in his eyes than there was on stage that wasn't just performance. And through all of this, he still manages to look scarily similar to his brother, yet still so different. His black hair and his eyes both match his brother's, but where Sirius' features came off more roguish and angular, Regulus was less rugged and slightly softer. That wasn't to say he didn't have the same pointyness all Black's seemed to possess, whether in personality or looks, he was just more... Ethereal. As if a dream. Sirius walks up to Regulus, pulling him into a hug and whispering into his ear, making Regulus raise his eyes to stare at me. A small smirk dances on his lips and I feel like I might faint. The breath I had been taking in was gone. He quite literally breathtaking. Not knowing what to do, I try to feign some type of confidence and strut over to Regulus. "You were wonderful in the show. It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm James Potter." I try not to stumble over my words as I talk to him as if he's not some godly incarnate. His words are just as melodical as he is, "Regulus A. Black. Thank you very much for convincing my brother to come see me. He's always hated ballet—too boring he says." Regulus chuckles the slightest bit, and it takes everything in me to stay grounded. "You make me sound like a child Reggie." Sirius huffs, fake pouting at his brother. "I won't make you sound like one when you start not acting like one," Regulus replies unfazed. The two brothers go back and forth for a bit longer, but I can't contain the one thought that's been running through my head.

"Will you dance in one of our music videos?" I ask Regulus, taking one small step closer to him, basking in his radiance.

Regulus raises an eyebrow. "I'm a classically trained dancer, Potter, not your random street dancer. So while thank you for the offer, I don't dance to the type of music you create.* His rejection is just as poised and swift as he is.

I nod, knowing that this answer was a possibility. "I'll make a song you can dance to then. Something worthy of someone of your training and caliber." Sirius stares at me incredulously, in shock of what I've just asked. Regulus shakes his head once more. "I find it hard to believe that you could. You do realize that my type of music is a complete and utter inverse from what you usually make? So once again, no I cannot I'm afraid." Challenge rises in my chest at this moment. I need him to dance in our video, and the song I make would be just for him. Especially for him, made with only him and his dance in mind. Regulus turns to go back to talking go his brother when I declare,

"I'll do it. I'll prove it to you I can create a song just for you to dance to, only for you. And if I do, please be in our video."

Regulus with no hesitation puts on a devilish smirk and counters, "I'd like to see you try, Potter."

AAAAAAND THAT'S PART 2 FOLKS, PT.3 WILL COME VERY SOON(sorry I have to keep splitting them up 🙏🙏😭 plz be patient with meeee)

#writing #my writing #marauders fic #marauders fanfic #jegulus #james fleamont potter #james potter #james x regulus #jegulus au #jegulus fic #regulus black #james loves regulus #marauders era #marauders #the marauders

[ravenyenn19]

OKAY HERE IT IS:

So!!! Results from my poll indicated that some of you don’t want to see “face inspo/casts” for my OG “Dealing With Our Demons” characters (totally respect that!! I sometimes prefer my image not tainted while reading, too!🖤)

SOoo… here’s what we’re going to do. I will be posting the images BELOW the cut, so that way if you would rather not see, you don’t have to!🖤 no offense whatsoever taken.

Before you continue, a note: NONE of these pictures are exactly how I picture my characters. These are simply the closest I could get/who I took inspo from when describing them. 🖤 Please do not feel like you need to agree w me. That is the beauty of reading, is it not? Love you. ALSo. This is long, but I wanted to include my notes for clarification if you wanted them. This was fun, getting to have a lil in depth convo w you guys.🥹

PS- IF YOU HAVE NOT READ MY FANFIC “Dealing With Our Demons” on ao3 (by ravenyenn19) & are planning to do so (thx in advance ily) THIS POST WILL HAVE SPOILERSISH. I say this bc while no plot will be ruined, you will see faces you are not meant to yet. 🖤

First up we have: Khalid Runa (Inej’s childhood best friend) & Rahul Runa (Inej’s older cousin) *these two are married, hence the shared surname*

Notes: Khalid is pretty close, actually. In DWOD, he has aquamarine/green eyes due to his partially Kaelish heritage & I do picture his skin tone to be a tad lighter due to this. ALSO: Khalid does have burn scars across most of his hands, though I was unable to find such an image to include that piece of “DWOD lore”. (The burns are from his years mastering ‘flame eating/fire dancing’ in the caravans.

Rahul: This image is mostly chosen for his facial structure, however I do picture Rahul to have close cropped hair (a sort of subversion upon the suli culture that makes his training as a medic easier. I do picture him also remaining clean-shaven with a skin tone that is very similar to his cousin, Inej Ghafa.)

Next: Nani (Mitra) Ghafa (Inej’s maternal grandmother)

Notes: This actress is actually Iranian, for note. SO: I do want to make it very clear that I picture Nani’s skin tone to be darker like Inej (though also I do think this photo was filtered bc the actress does seem to have slightly darker skin in other pics, I chose this one bc of her face & HOW SHE HOLDS HERSELF SO MUCH LIKE NANI.) All this being said, this one is pretttttty dang similar to how I pictured Nani while writing her. Facial features specifically. What a queen. What more is there to say? She could divine my tea leaves any time.

Sharya & Kahir Ghafa, Inej’s parents (technically not OG characters, but never named in canon)

Notes: Sharya is pretty dang close to how I imagined her, which is super cool considering I never used an inspo pic for either of the Ghafas when writing them (I found them for this purpose!). It probably sounds a bit weird, but like… I just knew how Sharya & Kahir looked. They were just…BAM. Full formed people in my head. This is ultimately SUCH A FLEX ON LEIGH BARDUGO’s PART. Like, we only really experienced glimpses of Inej’s parents through the few memories in her POVs but they absolutely stuck with me & formed wonderful characters as my fic progressed. (Of course this is my opinion, but I do hope ya’ll agree.🥹)

Kahir: So…. This pic is the closest I could get, & similar to Nani, I chose it based more on facial structure/in this case facial hair. HOWEVER, Kahir is very special to me. I wrote some of his scenes in moments after I had lost my godfather, (whom was the truest father I had. He meant everything to me, being my actual dad’s best friend, he helped raise me after my dad passed when I was 4.), hence, I feel the need to clarify- as I feel a bit of my own dad is in Kahir, if only in the love.)This pic is missing a smile that I imagine near permanent on Kahir Ghafa’s face, and eyes that I cannot explain in any other word but kind. Similar to Inej’s. Sparkly. Idk. ALSO: I do picture true black hair & less gray. Maybe a sprinkle of pepper in his beard, but not much. I just imagine Inej’s parents aging like fine wine. Idk.

Next….*drum roll*…. Dr. Lily Arbor (I waited so long to bring this girl to life.)

NOTES: Ok. So. Two pics here for our Darling Death Defier Mortician. 🫶🏻 So, the one on the left is more youthful to me, a bit closer (although not the right age) to how I imagine the Lily of Kaz’s childhood. The right being far closer to how I imagine 24 year old Lily. Yet, neither of these are exactly right. But they are close. The changes that are distinct within my mind are as follows: the eyes. I distinctly see them like 2 shades darker. Navy. It’s a rare eye color, but not that different. Next, the hair. In the left image, the curls are just right, but I imagine she keeps her hair slightly longer than that- both in girlhood & adulthood. Not nearly the length of Inej’s, but you feel me. Also I do imagine her hair a bit darker, like that sort of red with hints of almost brown in it? Maroon? Gosh I can’t explain but I am certain you guys probably get it. Less like Wylan’s orangish red. Lastly: this girl has more freckles. I don’t make the rules. (Actually I do since she’s a daughter of my mind, but no I don’t.)

Bonus heartbreak:

Jordie.🥹💔 (obviously aged up to if he were alive.) notes: NO ONE. I REPEAT. NO ONE looks exactly how I imagine the elder Rietveld son. The actor here is in fact Jess from Gilmore Girls. Milo is the closest I’ve come to finding an older Jordie face cast, based more on book Kaz in relation. His hair would obviously not be styled like the early 00’s. Obviously dark eyes like his brother. In a way, like Kahir, I imagine Jordie’s eyes would have a permanent sparkle of amusement that one would sometimes see mirrored in Kaz. I can’t explain it. I love Jordie & I’m about to have a fit all over again. 🫡

Next…. Bram Rietveld (technically not OG character, but he is not named nor described whatsoever in the canon material. Kaz only says that he and his brother missed their Da.🥹)

Notes: DO NOT COME FOR ME. I AM DEFENDING MYSELF. Not to sound cringe, but from the moment I put Kaz’s Da into DWOD, back in memories at the very very early stages of the story, I pictured Pedro. This was before the internet craze (I mean obvs he was famous but iykyk), & I know that sounds cringe but it’s true. Pedro Pascal IS Bram Rietveld. Like, I would change next to nothing. Obviously his voice would have a “southern” ring. Maybe he’d have slightly lighter skin naturally being of Kerch descent, but actually I imagine him quite tan at most points of the year from running the Rietveld farm & harvesting the wheat fields. Obviously, you can picture him differently, but this is damn near exact for me. Also, Last of Us only solidified that belief for me. Gosh dangit, look at this treasure! Bram loved his kids so much.

Are you ready? (I’d say I saved the best for last, but… Actually, no. I certainly did.) I present…

Emilia Winstrad, The Butcher of Belendt🪡

Notes: I love her. I love Emilia as much as I love the protagonists from my actual novel. She means so much to me. 🥹 I don’t think I can quite explain how excited I was (& how long I waited) to introduce you guys to Emilia. I hope you love her as much as I do in DWOD. As far as technical notes: Rachel McAdams (this actress) has quite honestly the exact facial features I pictured on Emilia. Like Bram, I feel like this is Em. However, there are a few minor changes: dark eyes like Kaz rather than hazel (it’s hard to tell here), & also the same dark hair as Kaz. True black. Tbh, I was shocked when I stumbled upon images of McAdams randomly (after already describing Emilia in the story)- it felt like seeing a picture of an online friend you’ve never actually met but they somehow appear exactly as you thought they would? Make sense?

Bonus pics that show the darker hair I imagine on another actress. Also the pipe picture just for funsies (iykyk)🫶🏻🪓

She is my pride & joy. Not only that, but I think she and Kaz were meant to be family. I am not Leigh & have no canon voice, but I swear somewhere in the multiverse she is canon & I say that with fear because it’s not meant to sound precocious. She just feels so real to me, but I’m sure that’s silly bc I wrote her. Idk. Take my ramblings 🖤

Oops my hand slipped, have more pain: Elena Rietveld (I consider Elena an OG character of mine as Kaz’s mother is never mentioned in canon despite that he obviously had one. Technically, it is never said whether she lived or died.)

Sorry I killed her.

Notes: OBVIOUSLY these are pics of the same actress because Em & Elle are identical twins. However, I did choose an image of McAdams from earlier in her acting career as she did pass away younger than when Emilia appears in the story. The same notes apply here as to Em, dark hair & dark eyes would be the changes. Though, I do love this pic representing Elena as there is something a bit softer about her over her sister. Where Emilia applies blood red lipstick, Elle is a petal pink. I think that metaphor fits best, but undoubtedly I wanted Elena to have her own strength in the memories where we get to glimpse her. A woman who chose her baby son, Kaz’s life over her own. The type of mother who would have run into a burning building for her kids. A fierce little sun ray who deserved a yellow kitchen. 🥹

I actually have images & notes completed for Pim & Anika as well, plus a bonus lil one that I doubt ya’ll were expecting, but alas, there is a limit of 10 images on a post 🫠 So… let me know if you want them.

This was so long. I’m long winded, but ya’ll knew that. I love you all so much. Thank you for being here. 🖤🐦‍⬛

#six of crows #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #grishaverse #kaz x inej #soc #leigh bardugo #dealing with our demons #soc fanfic #dwod #ao3 author #six of crows fanfic #ao3 #original character #jordie rietveld #emilia winstrad #fanfic #six of crows spin off #the dregs #the battles of before #ketterdam

[paramounticebound]

~ Character Info Sheet

name: Sibahl Khan Noonien Singh

name meaning: 'Khan', often a surname, is derived from the historic title khan, referring to a military chief or royalty. Ruler, leader, king. / 'Noonien' is of Chinese origin and means "gifted one". The story goes that Gene Roddenberry, in the midst of the Cold War, was attempting to find a friend with this name and hoped seeing it on the big screen would enable them to connect again. / 'Singh' is a Punjabi/Sikh surname, derived from the Sanskrit word सिंह (IAST: siṃha) meaning "lion", and is used in the sense of "hero" or "eminent person". ['Sibahl' is rooted from two different sanskrit words: 'singh' which means lion and 'bal' which means strength.]

tl;dr his name is an amalgamation of different cultural roots, while the general meanings remain consistent.

alias/es: The Augmented Prince, The Augmented Tyrant, John Harrison, Captain, Popsicle, KHAAAAN

ethnicity: indian british now ig thanks section 31 ┐('～`；)┌

one picture you like best of your chara:

and his alternate fc b/c i have no chill:

three h/cs you've never told anyone:

His name, I suppose. Learning that 'Khan Noonien Singh' was not the original name for the character sort of set me off, along with the moment in the comic where he took on a new moniker. Sibahl is the name that Sarina gave him, and sometimes he still tastes it in the back of his throat; yet when he'd realized what he must become to lead his people, he shed it in favor of KHAN.

While he fears failure and loss, Khan does not fear death. Truthfully, he finds the concept comforting in a way that words can barely describe. To return to the earth, to stardust, is so unfathomably beautiful-- to continue the cycle of life until it dissipates in entirety. His body will feed the soil, bacteria and carrion consuming all that he has to offer, and so he will live on and on in a way that the soul cannot. He's absolutely written poetry about it, and you'll never get to read it.

When he was a child, he was gifted a khanda by a close friend of Sarina's-- a historian and antique dealer. While it was originally ornamental in design, Khan sharpened and modified it to become a functional weapon.

While I generally consider him unable to scar, a wound from a previous rp partner yet transcends many of his verses. It's a scar just under his rib cage on the left side, vaguely in the shape of a sunburst.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

Calligraphy-- he misses paper and ink, how his hands long to create instead of destroy.

Playing chess-- a way to destress while keeping the mind sharp.

Whittling-- he has occasionally been known to gift woodwork he's created. Not as often in his current timeline.

eight people your character likes / loves:

Marla McGivers (@sweetbitterbitten): A mad widower does not a worth leader make. Without her, insanity is the best comfort that can be had. With her-- oh, with her, Persephone to his Hades, he is fit to rule in hell. He is fit to drag it wherever he needs it to be.

Fox Alkaev (@vuulpecula): After writing him for so long, Fox has become interwoven into his story, in some way or another. In every verse, he is somehow connected to her.

Sarina Kaur: Mother is God in the eyes of a child.

Joachim: What is a king without an advisor? This is his right hand man and greatest confidant.

Kati: Much like Joachim, he relies on her wisdom, either as a dampener to his righteous fury, or a kindling when blood must be shed.

Liesel Ivanov (@noblehcart ): Who else can dance only to melody of humming stars and thrumming hearts?

His unnamed child from Wrath of Khan/Ender (@middaysandmidnights): His child, his legacy, his lifeblood. The one whom he hopes will endure despite him.

The rest of his crew: without them, he is nothing, a dead end king, a freedom fighter without a cause.

Multiple muses that have melted his icy heart over the years. I'd make a giant post if you'd let me.

two things your character regrets:

Terran exile, and how long it has taken to regain a rightful throne. He wishes that he hadn't relied on the unknown to save them.

Letting any of his people die. Those that have still haunt him, ghosts ever present, continually chanting, "Our captain has left us behind."

two phobias your character has:

Claustrommetaphobia - fear of suffocation in an enclosed space.

Atychiphobia - an extreme fear of failure.

Tagged by : @ssolessurvivor <333

Tagging: @gcldenratio @asteritm @jundlcndwastes (juni!) @hcxcd @noblehcart (liesel!) @lastsurvivor @sweetbitterbitten (whomever you're feeling the most; or marla!) @vulku / @greatprotector @admiralchristopherpike @godresembled (rey!) @whydotheykeeptakingmine @learnedlucidity @hiislegacy @weavefcrged @primitiveside @dethqveen and YOU!

#x: MY NAME IS KHAN (about.) #headcanon. #it's difficult to remember thing i haven't already talked about a million times before #x: YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME SLEEP (queue.) #*things

[mostlikelythedevil]

Haunted. | [Chapter Four]

Pairing(s): Kevin Owens x Fem!Zayn!Reader, Solo Sikoa x Fem!Zayn!Reader

Warning(s): Explicit Language, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood

Word Count: 2,740

Chapter Summary: The awful events of the night must be put behind The Reader as she takes on Liv Morgan for an opportunity at the Smackdown Women’s Championship.

Link(s): AO3, Masterlist 

Note(s): This is my first time writing the wrestling part of wrestling fan-fiction, so I hope that you all can enjoy it despite the short length of the action! As always, please let me know what you think!

Tag(s): @crowleysqueenofhell @raeluvshammett

Panic settles into your stomach in the same way that a child settles into the chair at the dentist: wriggling and uncomfortable and begging to be let out. It’s the kind of panic that, as a child, would cause you to stay up before a big test and fail it the next morning due to the lack of sleep. You can not allow this to be the night that you fail; you have to overcome.

 There is a deep ache in your legs as you come to a stop at guerrilla.

 Once upon a time, Kevin and Sami would have been here — together but separate, to wish you the best of luck on your match. They would have offered you advise, and they would have calmed your storm of emotions. Yet, here you are, alone and a complete mess.

 On one of the monitors, Liv, in her all of her love and beauty, flaunts to a small group of women in the front row. Her tongue, like old times, is colored —  blue. The group of women scream in delight. Each one of them does something back to Liv in exchange; one of them sticks her tongue out, one of them records with a shaking hand, one of them points at her as if she is the sun.

 Fans could be so endearing —  and Liv deserved the loving attention and adoration; yet, watching such a display of joy in such a dark moment in your own life is little more than infuriating. None of the fans had ever shown you as much love as this small group had shown Liv. The thought of it brings on a hot that encompasses your entire being; it’s unlike anything that you have ever felt before — a constant, hot, pulsating feeling. You can only hear the sound of your desperate, angry heartbeat in your head; around you, everything else seems to be white noise.

 A hand comes into your view, blocking off the show that Liv continues to put on for her group of admirers. It waves angrily, occasionally motioning toward the curtain. You blink, taking a step back to find the entire picture. One of the crew members, presumably some kind of technician, seems to be yelling at you — though he does not understand that you are one with your emotions, even in your completely disheveled state.

 “Get out there! Now!” The technician begs through another holler.

 On auto-pilot, you make your way through the curtain to the ramp; it takes everything out of you to not raise your hands to protect your eyes from the harsh light set upon you. You look around, scanning the crowd aimlessly. They’re certainly making noise, and some of them seem happy to see you, but you cannot hear anything being said. Given your state, maybe it’s for the best that everything is white noise.

 Unwillingly, you try to put on your best smile — though you’re not entirely sure how you look with smeared make-up and a horrid smile. You make your way down the ramp, doing your usual entrance with such little energy that, through the white noise, you can hear the distant displeasure of the crowd. Another wave of pulsating heat tears through you — newfound energy.

 You find yourself into the farthest corner of the ring, not making eye-contact with Liv. You can feel her eyes on you, scanning you with what you can only describe as pity; it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that Kevin had told her about the events prior given their friendship. God, he is the last thing that you need to be thinking about right now.

 From the titantron, there are voices — loud and full of hurt.

 All at once, the sound of the crowd and the commentary team and everything else fills your ears. Your eyes scan the screen in front of you, fixated on the scene of Kevin leaving you behind in the corridor. His face is so red, and the hurt in his eyes is so very palpable. The camera cuts to you screaming, a mess of tears and make-up running down your cheeks as you throw a chair in anger.

 “Tonight has been an awfully long night for Miss Zayn,” Michael Cole comments as the video package shifts to you confronting The Bloodline in the middle of the corridor.

 The pain in the eyes of your brother just before you slap him is enough to make your stomach twist — and his tearful eyes after the smack are enough to make you look away in shame. The pulsating blood in your veins returns, though, at the sound of Roman Reigns speaking down to you as if you are a stupid, insolent child.

 “Why would you play that?” You holler down at Michael Cole and Wade Barrett on commentary, knowing that they had nothing to do with it. “Why would you play that?”

 Barrett makes eye contact with you. “Will Miss Zayn be able to focus through this match?”

 The bell rings.

 Liv does not attack you while your back is turned despite the immense reward for winning. In fact, she goes out of her way to stand in the middle of the ring, waiting patiently.

 “Are you okay?” Asks Liv as you do turn to face her.

 Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, and the heartbeat in your head is so deafening that you can scarcely hear Liv speak at all. In that moment, before you can consciously make the decision to attempt a response, you’re on top of her. Tears flow down your cheeks as your fists pound down onto Liv, aiming for her face yet happy to land anywhere.

 You deserve the love that Liv has from the fans; you deserve love from Kevin, at least in the way of friendship, after everything you’ve done for him; you deserve a brother that will care for you and not betray you for some people that don’t genuinely care for him; you deserve the Smackdown Women’s Championship and more.

 “It looks like Miss Zayn has snapped,” Cole comments, voice high-pitched.

 After a moment, the referee in the ring pulls you off of Liv, shoving you backwards. You come to rest on the ropes, a bit stunned from the unexpected interference. On the mat, Liv writhes in pain, holding her face in the palm of one of her hands. At brief glances, you can see the betrayal in her eyes — and a small piece of you aches inside. She does not deserve to be abused.

 Still leaning against the ropes, you allow Liv to stand. She looks at you with anger and hurt in her eyes — and before you can manage an apology, she lunges. Her fists come in hard against your own temple. You throw up your hands to protect what you can, but she continues her relentless flurry of blows. Between her and the ropes, you have nowhere to escape.

 “Liv’s not gonna take that sitting down,” Barrett laughs, enjoying the mayhem.

 As she had with you, the referee yanks Liv off of you.

 The two of you stare at one another as you push yourself from the ropes; you circle one another, dancing delicately along the tension between you. Liv lunges, and you lunge with her, and the two of you entangle in a contest for dominance. Liv pulls your head to her side. You grip her waist, pushing her off of you and toward the ropes. You remain leaned down, waiting for her return so that you can flip her using her own momentum.

 Liv seamlessly hops over your form, feet thumping against the ring. You turn, not expecting her to react so quickly. Her forearm flies wildly at your face. You grab it, twisting your body around her own, and you throw your foot toward her head. She hits the mat, clutching her chest. It appears you missed the mark, but it had the desired effect nonetheless.

 You pull Liv off of the mat, and you attempt to throw her into the nearest corner. She’s stronger than she looks, though, and stops you in your place; instead, you go running into the corner. You use your momentum to grab the top rope, jumping over Liv — who is running to attack you with another forearm. Her head bounces off of the turnbuckle.

 With all of your strength, you lift Liv onto the middle rope with her back facing you. She panics, wiggling around in the ropes. You nail her in the back of the head with a nasty forearm, settling her for the time-being.

 Slowly, you exit the ring and climb the top rope. You often try to avoid using the ropes in a springboard or high-flying fashion out of fear of being injured, but tonight is different. Crouching on the top rope, you kick Liv in the head; she falls back, holding onto the middle rope with her stomach exposed.

 You stand on the top rope, deaf to the roar of the crowd. Beneath you, your feet follow their own path, sending you tumbling onto Liv’s stomach. You dig into her, sending her straight into the mat — but you follow, landing awkwardly on your knees. A surge of heat flows through your knees. Teeth gritted, you force yourself over to Liv and cover her body with your own.

 1... 2…!

 Liv kicks out.

 Frustrated, you grab Liv by the head and repeatedly slam her into the mat. She yelps, hands trying to push your own off of her. If you continue the assault on her head, you’re bound to injure her. Part of you doesn’t care if you injure her; maybe, somewhere deep down, you know you need her injured so she doesn’t come back looking for more. Yet, with that thought, you push yourself to stand.

 “Miss Zayn is clearly caught up in her emotions tonight,” Cole comments, “we’ve never seen her act this careless for an opponent before.”

 “She has every reason to be ruthless, Cole!” Barrett argues.

 Wade Barrett, though rarely so, is more than right. You should be ruthless, especially tonight with such a prestigious match on the line. The championship, though, is not fueling you in the way that you had initially hoped; no, the deep pulsating beat of your heart in your ears is more than enough to keep propelling you to demolishing Liv. Still, though, you didn’t want to hurt her too bad.

 Liv struggles to get to her feet, staggering. Without hesitation, you nail her in the head with yet another kick. Blood trickles from her nose as she hits the mat once again. Hesitation creeps in as you stare down at her, chest heaving, gaze hateful despite the thoughts of mercy in your head. You’re not going to win by waiting for her to recover. You don’t want to injure her head, though, and you seem extremely focused on that particular body part tonight.

 Shaking the thoughts from your head, you stomp over to Liv and put her into a Boston Crab submission. She yells out in pain, clawing desperately at the mat to get to the ropes. Your feet slip beneath you, forcing you closer and closer to Liv’s freedom from your submission; you throw her legs to the mat, stomping down on her head.

 Why drag this out anymore?

 You walk to the corner of the ring nearest to the ramp, leaning against the ropes. Up and down, your chest heaves as you wait. As soon as Liv can make it to a standing position, you are going to run through her as a warning to Roman Reigns; you bet that you can manage a spear better than he can, anyways.

 Liv remains near lifeless on the mat, moaning and scarcely able to hold her pounding head. Still, with a patience akin to a predator with prey, you continue to lean against the ropes and watch her. Tonight is going to be your night — no matter what you have to do to secure the win, whether it be beating Liv down until she can no longer move or forcing her to give into you.

 The thundering boom of a guitar and drums echoes through the arena.

 The hair on your arms and neck raise as you turn to face the ramp, eyes wide and full of shock. On the titantron, the entrance video for Kevin Owens plays with malicious intent. Anger and hurt begin to bubble up as you watch your former friend on the screen, anxiously awaiting his appearance. How could he do this to you? He knew how much this meant — what this meant.

“Come on, Kevin!” You holler, tired of waiting for Kevin to appear on the stage.

 For another moment, you stare at the ramp with no appearance from Kevin. An angry, heavy huff leaves your body as the music fades to nothing, and you turn back around to finish the match with Liv. Kevin could be addressed after the fact; something you should have come to the conclusion of far sooner.

 Briefly, you see Liv running at you full-speed — and then everything is black.

 Pain surges through your head, throbbing the most around your nose. A weight falls onto you, warm and almost a comfort through the intense throbbing in your temple, but you cannot bring yourself to move. In the distance, you can hear the muffled sounds of the crowd; muffled screaming of the commentary team; muffled counting of the referee. Without warning, the weight leaves you — all alone in the darkness and pain.

 Though as heavy as stone, you manage to move your hand to your face, trying to somehow ease the immense pain by clutching it in your palm. Wet fills your hand, startling your body into trying to move; you groan at the sensation, managing to find yourself into a half-sitting position. The lights in the arena, as your eyes open, are painfully blinding.

 Pulling your hand away from your face, after your eyes adjust to the harsh lighting around you, you guffaw. Bright crimson fills your palm, leaking freely from your nose; with this much blood, you’re sure that your nose must have been cracked by the impact of whatever it was that Liv did — probably her finisher, but you cannot be certain.

 “I think Kevin Owens just cost Miss Zayn her opportunity at the Smackdown Women’s Championship,” the voice of Michael Cole states.

 Tears fill your eyes at the confirmation you were too afraid to confront on your own. How could Kevin do this to you, even after all of that stupid fucking arguing? This meant everything — and he knew that, he knew that this was everything. To cost you the biggest opportunity that you had been given at this point in your career, could he have ever even truly cared for you as a friend?

 Blood stains your custom-made attire as you roll out of the ring, tears mixing with blood and make-up to further ruin your face. Heaving is your chest as the crowd chants something that you cannot bring yourself to acknowledge; deep inside of you, beneath the complex ocean of anger and hurt and everything else that you cannot bring yourself to acknowledge — or, perhaps you cannot acknowledge with the growing numbness inside, there is a troubling bout of nausea that you need to address.

 The sight of the backstage crew as you hobble through the curtain is that of people shocked, though none of the technicians or otherwise move to say anything meaningful. You don’t want to hear it, anyways. You need to be left to your thoughts. You need to be alone right now.

 “My God, are you alright?” Sami comes running from somewhere beyond guerrilla, nearly toppling over you as you continue by. His hands come to rest on your shoulders, forcing you to a stop so that he can examine you. “We have to get you to medical.”

 You stare through your brother. “Get off of me.”

 “Look, I know you’re upset with me, and I understand, but you—”

 Defiant, you push through your brother, and you walk around Solo without so much as a second glance. To your surprise—and relief, Sami does not chase after you as you sulk off to your locker room to lick your wounds, nor does Solo.

#WWE #WWE Imagine #Roman Reigns #Jey Uso #Jimmy Uso #The Usos #Solo Sikoa #Solo Sikoa x Reader #Solo Sikoa Imagine #Sami Zayn #Kevin Owens #Kevin Owens x Reader #Kevin Owens Imagine #Liv Morgan #Also on AO3 #Haunted: Chapter 4 #Haunted: Chapter Four

[earl-grey-love]

He gets his own shelf now 😍🥰

Every single piece I just got is so stunning and I love them all so much 😭 I'm gonna spend every day admiring them!

Some close ups below + merch not on my shelf + hardcore gushing!

These have got to be some of my new ultimate favourites. I really wanted the cat butler ones, they're the ones I've been hunting for for a while. But the cold weather one is so cute too 😭

I really love these too! Finally got a chibi version of his favourite food one. I actually now own two of the larger sized version of it (as you can see on my shelf pic), but I usually have that one on my desk anyway so idm having two. More to love 💕

And these 💕 I need to get a frame for that picture, and I'm not sure what to do with the owl one. I need to find a way to display it safely too. And ofc my plush 💖 (i still have his jacket he just doesn't wear it cus I don't like the texture).

And 😍words cannot describe how BEAUTIFUL this one is!!!😍 I genuinely think this might be my favourite of all....

#yeah um my collection didn't double it tripled 🤭 #I don't think I'll ever need to buy more lol #but I'd still like some Sim merch cus I only have that one keychain 😔 #sunny speaks #ship: anything for you dear

[marcescet]

all i see every time i open my social media accounts is pictures and videos of murdered, wounded, terrified innocent children of Palestine.

but i can log out and forget about it, i have the luxury to do so, but they can’t. this is the reality they live in. kids in Gaza are writing their names on their arms in case something happens to them so that they can be identified. do you realize how bad it has to be for kids to do this?

50,000 pregnant women in Gaza cannot access health services what with the hospitals being bombed & evacuated because they’re going to get bombed, 5,500 of them are due to give birth, are they not worth fighting for, marching for, because they’re arab?

Palestinian men are heroes, pulling dead bodies from under the rubble, helping the wounded, treating them, documenting everything so we can see the truth with our own eyes, and still they’re being dehumanised at every turn. imagine if it were you, pulling your cousin, your niece, your nephew, your kid, your sibling, your parents from under the rubble of your own home, or masjid (mosque), or church, or hospital, a place you turned to because you thought it was safe, only to wake up to the smell of death and chaos? and although this man’s feet are bare, he’s giving his shirt for a woman to use as hijab (something most muslim women use, we are not forced to wear it but it is the teachings of our beautiful religion) https://x.com/yamarhaba_/status/1716031379174203737?s=46

i speak arabic, i live in an arabic country, i urge you if you see any video that’s in arabic to go and ask anyone who’s arab to translate it to you, there are many accents in arabic, some are hard for non-arabs to understand, i’ve seen a virla video of Hamas taking hostages, and although i am against doing this, but they’re turning a girl back and the translation is literally “she’s a young girl, do not take her” but of course the israelis have translated it as “this is not a prisoner, this is for rape.” which is a lie, a complete lie. so if you see any videos that’s in arabic, although i have not stumbled upon many, as they’re trying to use english as much as possible so their struggle can be understood by majority of people, go on and ask any arab person you know, they’ll tell you the truth, do not trust any israel claim. this is the video i am talking about. https://x.com/davidpgoldman/status/1716068086649139340?s=46

also, asking for the freedom of Palestine from the terrorist occupation of Israel is in no way against Jewish people, it does not mean we wish death upon Jewish people at all. we are simply asking for the freedom of Palestine and Palestinians whose land got stolen, who are being bombed essentially for as long as i could remember. and you’ll find that some Jewish people are actually pro-Palestine.

i urge you to watch this, even though it’s vile and i had to physically force myself to keep watching until the end, and by the end of it maybe you’ll understand why israel is terrorist, why your tax money should not be given for them to keep bombing the innocent, see how he is smiling throughout the video while he’s describing what they’re doing to innocent people, i don’t even want you to imagine if it was you, i just need you to realize that this has been done to an actual human being, with hopes and dreams, with so much love to give out to the world. https://x.com/one_dawah/status/1710765784765485446?s=46

i can shut up about this and go on about my day, but i will not. because i’ll have failed them, and i can’t live with myself if my words could help even if it’s so little, i’ll keep writing about them, and spreading what’s happening to them, i’ll keep help expose the lies of israel and its’ propaganda. what more proof do you need to realize that what’s happening in Gaza is genocide, they’re wiping them out, ethnic cleansing. https://x.com/timesofgaza/status/1715783997358293378?s=46

#israel is a terrorist state #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #gaza #gazagenocide #save gaza #save palestine #text post #text

[tervaneula]

First of i wanna deeply thank you and your friend for making such a great one-shot (idc if it's little or big it- still a fic and i will shower it with love)

Firstly i got smashed by your beautiful art of F!leo and damn it's gonna be a lie if i said it doesn't make me feel comfy right away 🩷

I didn't know it was snow day which it made me super confused as for why bbg would feel slight of cold even after getting buried under all those blankets!

I love how even tho Leo's buried under the blankets like a gremlin he open his non existing ears to listen if kids are there, remind me of radar xD

Leo smelling coffee and wanting a cup but fighting wither to leave his comfy bed and walk to get one is such a mood!! I feel him! Especially when he doesn't give a rat ass for wearing identical socks!!

Now am gonna be honest here i NEVER had pop tart nor any toaster pastries type so i don't know if it's good with coffee or nah.

But i bet the moment f!mikey & lil mikey are now the 'Mom' who take care of certain stubborn family members *cough* *cough* Donnie and leos *cough*

100% bet that f!leo is watching " family feud "

CJ sneaking in and hide under F!leo's blankets makes my heart melt especially thinking he couldn't get to do this often in the bad timeline future 😢

And the part where he sneak his feet into f!leo made it so hard for me to imagine it happens because F!LEO'S FEET'S SO BIG!! HE'S LIKE LITTLE BIG FOOT. OGZGOZGODOXG

Again, CJ talking ab his day of building snowman, snow horse - i didn't know this's a thing - and did they even play snow fight? Because my money is on future boy, he'll DESTROY THEM!!

It makes me happy seeing F!leo getting less burdens and his guilt is slowly melting away, he's on his path of healing and everybody are helping in, his brother, his dad... Everyone🩵

This one-shot is something i didn't know i needed, truly thank you very much!✨

Words just cannot describe the mere size of the grin that appears on my face every time I see a review from you THANK YOU SO MUCHHHH HAHGFD I LOVE READING YOUR THOUGHTS SM

The "waking up to a chill even though you're buried under a mountain of blankets" is based on real life events XD My apartment is drafty and because I can't keep my face under the blankets, some winter mornings I wake up with a cold-to-the-touch nose and it doesn't even have to be snowing outside!

I've tasted pop-tarts once and they were sweet so they pair up with coffee very well 😎

Family Feud omg yeah it's probably that one, it sounds perfect sdjfshf

THE SOCKS ARE LOOSE they're on the bigger side even on Leonardo so Casey's feet fit in there just fine!! XD I'm a woollen sock connoisseur and lemme tell you if the socks are too tight they feel horrible and aren't even that warm, so loose is the way to go 🙌

And yes a snow horse!!! We built those all the time as children and hey here's a picture of a famous Finnish snow horse 😏

You're so right about the snow fight!!! Casey and April teamed up and they were unbeatable >:D

Last but not least, yes oh my god it's so important to me to let Leonardo heal and rest and learn TO JUST EXIST ;_; Thank you for finding joy in it, too, and again thank you sm for reading and commenting I'M SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED THIS LITTLE FIC <3

#asks #cold feet adjacent

[hlizr50]

Capri Sun Girl - ACOTAR Writing Circle

Words cannot adequately describe how excited I am to be able to bring to you the third and final installment of Capri Sun Girl for the ACOTAR Writing Circle, organized by @azrielshadowssing. It has been the most fun and I really hope we don it again!

This story was originated by the lovely @ofduskanddreams

Read Part 1 here

Part 2 can be found here, and was written by the amazing @headcanonheadcase

To catch up with the other works, and to read all the final parts as they are finally posted, check out the ACOTAR Writing Circle Masterlist.

And now, without further ado, I present to you part 3 of Capri Sun Girl

TW for brief descriptions of captivity and violence

Azriel pulled the lightweight frames from his face and rubbed at his eyes. A glance to his watch reminded him that it was nearly two in the morning, and his relentless leafing through pictures and legal documents had still produced nearly nothing. So little to act upon in the three weeks since he and Gwyn had taken that fateful call, sitting on the couch just across the room. It seemed like a fucking lifetime ago.

She’d spilled everything to him after he’d hung up with Cass. The tears in her eyes had broken his heart, but not nearly as much as her story had. Azriel had held her hands and thumbed away her tears and gathered her into his arms, determined to make her feel comforted and safe.

And as he’d sat there with this incredibly strong and resilient and glorious woman in his embrace, he’d begun planning. He almost felt insulted that Cass had even felt the need to call him and ask for his help, as if he wasn’t already falling head over heels for Gwyn. But his brother had no idea that his blind date had gone… well, it had gone infinitely better than he had ever expected. The blue-eyed redhead had seated herself firmly in his heart, and nothing would keep him from protecting her from this. 

And Cass had known that if anyone could do it, it was Azriel.

Without being too cliche, Azriel possessed a very particular skill set - one that had allowed him to retire with a generous government stipend for the rest of his life. But idleness had never suited him, so he utilized the intelligence gathering talents that he possessed to offer consults and guidance to police departments and private investigators throughout the country. And now he would use the skills that his superiors had called ‘extraordinary’ to find the bastard that had killed Gwyn’s sister and had made her life a waking nightmare in the years that had followed.

“Az?”

He turned toward his name and found her in the doorway to his room, rubbing her eyes. The movement caused her t-shirt to ride up, exposing a thin sliver of the softest pale skin above the pink and teal stripes of her sleep shorts. He couldn’t help but grin. She was a vision, even then, the oceans in her eyes darkened with sleep.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, opening his arms to her. “Everything okay?” Her lips pouted adorably as she padded toward him.

“I woke up and you weren’t there,” she muttered, those lips turning down. But that didn’t keep her from placing herself in his lap and tucking her head under his chin. He took a moment to press a kiss to her hair before leaning his chin on her again, his hands stroking idly over her back and exposed thigh.

“I’m sorry, baby. Just been doing some work,” he sighed, glancing over the papers and photos scattered across the desk. Photos of the two of them playing pool that first night, one of them sharing a kiss outside of her apartment building, and multiple pictures staring straight at her apartment window. As soon as those had arrived in her mailbox, Azriel had insisted that she stay with him. Her roommates had shipped out, as well, both staying with their significant others. He had recommended it - this asshat wasn’t above going after Gwyn’s friends to get to her. But if they weren’t easy targets, he would likely keep his focus squarely on the object of his sordid affections. A speckled hand reached out to the picture closest to them and turned it over, hiding the image of the two of them.

“Words can’t describe how grateful I am that you’re so dedicated to finding him, Az.” Gwyn’s soft words vibrated against his chest. “But you need to rest.” His arms tightened around her involuntarily, as if the moment he let her go she would disappear.

“I can’t let him hurt you, Gwyn. I–”

“But you can’t do it all on your own. It’s 2am, and I can tell you’re exhausted.” She’d lifted her head, and his eyes met hers. They were wide with concern, pleading with him. And, Gods, how could he tell her no? “Please, Az. Come to bed. The others will be here in the morning, and they can help.”

She was wrong. He could do it on his own. He’d done it so many times before, had immersed himself so deeply into cases that he’d barely eaten or slept. It had bordered on obsession, and it was the reason that his brothers had convinced him to retire. Azriel couldn’t stand the thought of returning to that dark place, especially now that Gwyn had entered his life. He wouldn’t allow himself to fuck this up, and this was a vital crossroads.

Azriel stood, sweeping her up in his arms bridal style, and carried her back to his bedroom. It might as well be their bedroom now, and the thought sent a shiver of satisfaction down his spine. Wordlessly, he set her down upon the mattress, only taking enough time to remove his t-shirt before climbing into bed with her and pulling the comforter over them.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he offered, pulling her close. The apology was genuine - it felt like a failure, in a way, to not be there for her. Even if it was just that she’d opened her eyes and found herself alone, when she should have been wrapped in his embrace.

“It’s okay,” she answered breathily, snuggling into his chest. Her warm breaths puffed against his bare flesh, thawing the cold determination that had fueled his ceaseless search for answers.

“But it’s not.” Her eyes met his, shining even in the dark. “It’s not okay, Gwyn. I used to become so obsessed, so rabid. I wouldn’t eat or sleep, I would lash out at my family. I never want you to see that side of me. I don’t want that person to exist ever again.” He felt her long, elegant fingers trace over his cheek.

“I know who you are, Az,” she whispered. “And I know you’re worried, and determined. But I feel safest when you’re right here.” His heart swelled at her words, and he captured her lips in a tender kiss.

“Then I will be right here, Gwyn,” he promised. He pondered on that as she tucked her head under his chin. They were words that he meant, with all of his heart. He wanted to be by her side for as long as she would have him. Until she couldn’t stand him anymore. Hopefully that would be forever, and the notion hit him like a brick wall. Had his heart been so claimed by this woman that, after just a few weeks, he was ready to promise the rest of his life? 

And was it so surprising, honestly, that the answer was already yes? He’d been thinking of her since that first night, when she’d shoved a red solo cup into his hand and bravely - recklessly - confronted the man who had made her life hell. Azriel might have been in love with her since that moment, and their blind date had only sealed the deal. And as he drifted off he wondered just how soon was too soon to declare his love, and if she would offer her own heart in return.

~~~

Nesta groaned as she fell into the hard metal chair, the bustle of the dining court echoing around them. Gwyn snickered, joining her friend.

“My feet are killing me,” the redhead moaned, tilting her head back as she stretched her legs in front of her. “But it feels so nice to do something so… normal.” Her friend hummed her agreement.

She’d been living with Azriel for nearly two months, ever since she’d found the first photos in her mailbox. There had been nary a peep from him since then, and nobody had been able to track him down. Not even Azriel, though he worked tirelessly, spending far too much time poring over the same documents and photos and keeping long hours. His determination to find her stalker fascinated her, and made her feel all warm and treasured inside. But it also worried her, and nothing had thrilled her more than when she, Nesta, and Cassian had finally convinced him to take a day off and rest.

When she had left with Nesta, a shopping trip in order, the unfairly attractive man had tried to make her promise to text him throughout the day - when they arrived, what she’d bought, what stores they were going to. But Gwyn had laid down the law, ensuring him that he would not be receiving any texts under any circumstances. She’d left him with a kiss and a command to sleep, and her vow that she would see him when they got back.

“Is there anywhere else we need to stop?” Nesta murmured. Her eyes were closed, her body also unused to walking so far and trying on so many outfits. Gwyn peeked at her, chewing on her lower lip before answering.

“I want to get something for Azriel. For everything he’s done. Just as a little thank you, you know?” she replied, still unsure about what she could possibly get him. He wasn’t exactly hurting for anything, and she wasn’t sure just how heartfelt she could go. Would it freak him out that she was pretty sure she loved him? That he’d claimed her heart the morning he’d held her, after learning that Blake had been released? She wasn’t sure, but it seemed that he might feel the same.

“Sure, but can we eat first?”

With a giggle, the redhead agreed.

After the best mall Chinese food money could buy, the two young women were slouched in their chairs, lunch settling in their stomachs while they planned their next stop.

“Hey, I’m going to hit the restroom really quick,” Gwyn chimed. “Watch my bags?” Her sharp-eyed friend nodded, and she made her way down the long hallway while checking her phone. 

Gwyn hummed to herself as she washed her hands, looking forward to the end of their shopping trip and returning home. Home. Her heart did backflips in her chest when she thought of it - of Azriel’s penthouse apartment being home. And it had nothing to do with the immaculate design or the incredible view, but everything to do with the man who had become her safety. Her love. She pushed through the door, still lost in thought, eyes focused straight ahead to the opening of the corridor that led to the dining court.

It was a mistake. All of it. The contentment, the lowered defenses, the hope that this could be the beginning of normal.

And she knew it as soon as the rag covered her nose and mouth, sending her plummeting into darkness.

~~~

Azriel awoke to incessant buzzing, so continuous he could no longer ignore it. Who the hell was calling him, when everyone had told him he might as well turn his phone off and sleep all damned day? He reached for the offending device, squinting his eyes against sleep as he looked at the screen.

Nesta.

Nesta.

Why was Nesta calling him, over and over and over again? His stomach lurched and twisted.

Nesta was with Gwyn.

Why was she calling him when Gwyn could be calling him?

“Hello? Nesta?” he answered, the anxiety squeezing his lungs.

“Az.” Her voice sounded all wrong. Shaky. Thick and rough. Wrong. “I’m so sorry, Az. I don’t know what happened! She just went to the bathroom!” Nesta rambled, and his alarm only grew.

“Nesta, I need you to slow down. What happened?” He swallowed the panic rising in his own throat. “Where is Gwyn?”

“She’s gone. She went to the bathroom, and she never came back.”

Azriel launched himself out of bed, doing his best to keep his phone to his ear as he pulled on a pair of track pants and a t-shirt, all the while barking questions at Nesta. His phone gave a short vibration in his palm, and he looked at the notification.

A text.

From Gwyn.

He opened it, heart leaping that she might be okay. Maybe this was all just an honest mistake, and she was on her way to find Nesta now. But when he read it, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Special Delivery

Then another message came through.

A special gift has been left at your door.

Azriel barely registered Nesta’s voice calling through the speaker on his phone, but his attention was singularly focused on his door. He reached into the drawer of the small end table he’d placed inside the entrance to his apartment, pulling out the handgun he kept there. He stared out the peephole, seeing nothing, and swung the door open, pistol cocked and ready.

But the hall was empty.

He looked everywhere before his gaze drifted down, landing on a manila envelope. He tucked the gun inside his waistband and picked it up, holding his breath as he opened it and removed the contents.

Three photos. The most devastating, enraging images he’d ever seen.

Gwyneth Berdara - his Gwyn - on her side on a wood floor. Wrists bound behind her back, coppery hair mussed where the blindfold and gag were tied behind her head. She didn’t appear to be injured, but it was hard to tell. Her eyes were closed, and Azriel prayed she was just asleep or unconscious.

Somewhere, back in the apartment, Nesta was still calling to him. He only managed to shout for her to get Cass and get to the apartment as soon as she could, before he fell to his knees and let himself fall apart.

Cassian, Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, Mor, and Emerie were all stationed in different areas of the living room and dining room, combing over every photo and document, text message, email. Everything that they’d had on Blake Henderson and everything that had connected him to Gwyn. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the unspoken statistics looming over everyone, Azriel most of all.

It was very, very possible that Gwyn was already dead.

But he couldn’t even fathom it, couldn’t give that thought any room to plant itself in his chest and grow into desperation and fear. If that happened, he would never be able to put himself back together.

“What about the locations we scoped out last month?” Cassian offered. Azriel just shook his head.

“Those were warehouse spaces. Concrete floors. The floors in the picture are hardwood. They look old, but well-maintained.”

“You know,” Nesta began, “the house Gwyn lived in with her sister and her parents had wood floors throughout. It’s out in the country. Isolated. But not far from here.”

Azriel pursed his lips. “And Henderson would know where it is?” he asked, thinking it was a stretch. But it was better than what they currently had, which was nothing.

“It’s where he killed Catrin,” Nesta answered softly. “That’s why Gwyn sold it after her parents passed away. She couldn’t stand the thought of stepping foot there again.” The puzzle pieces started connecting in his mind. His gaze flicked from person to person, friend to friend.

“Do we have that documentation? From the sale of the house?” The shuffling of papers seemed to swallow him, precious seconds and minutes ticking away.

“Here!” Feyre called, reading through the packet with the listing information and buyer offers. She read the names of agents and clients, and Azriel’s hope began to fizzle. “Oh, my God,” she breathed. His eyes widened, begging her for something - anything - that would give him a lead. She spoke the agent’s name before turning the packet of paperwork so he could see. There, scrawled in bold black letters, was a name and an offer - $10,000 over asking price.

Blake Henderson.

Cassian spewed a string of colorful curses as Nesta and Em fell onto the couch, expressions crestfallen.

“Did she not know that she was selling her house to the man that murdered her sister?” Rhys asked the question that had begun banging around in Azriel’s head after this revelation. How could someone so intelligent and no-nonsense like Gwyn have allowed that to happen?

“She had no involvement. Once her parents were gone she didn’t even want to step foot in the house,” Nesta answered. “She basically handed it off to an agent and told her to do whatever she could to get it sold as soon as possible.” Soft hums of acknowledgement sounded from all around him. That made far more sense.

Azriel pushed down the devastation, the bone-rattling guilt that he hadn’t figured out that it was her fucking house that Henderson had been using. But none of that mattered, not when he knew. Not when he had an address.

She had to be alive. She would be. Blake would not be toying with him if she weren’t. And so Azriel grabbed his keys, beckoned to his brothers, and stalked out the door to rescue the woman he loved.

~~~

Gwyn hadn’t stopped trembling since she woke up, her lashes fluttering open just to find more darkness. Coarse fabric covered her eyes and cut through her mouth, her inability to move from the chair she was in only ratcheting her panic to a nearly unbearable plane. She cursed herself and the universe for allowing her to be so helpless. Again.

Crying and screaming had done nothing but exhaust her, and the gag had made any of her pleas indiscernible. Her wrists and ankles were raw where she’d pulled and jerked against the abrasive rope that secured her to her seat. Her shoulders were forced behind her uncomfortably, arching her back. She had no hope of hiding her body from whatever he wanted to do.

It had to be him that had brought her here. Surely there wasn’t another terrifying stalker out there whose sights had landed on her.

Wood creaked, and she jerked her head toward the noise. She thought to demand who was there, before remembering the gag in her mouth, but the haughty, chilling voice that drifted to her made it quite clear that her captor was exactly who she assumed it was.

“Gwyneth Berdara. I’ve waited so long to see you again.” The sentiment skittered down her spine, her entire body freezing as the wood creaked again. A staircase? An old one. Her eyes pricked with burning pressure, and she knew she was a moment away from crying. That was okay. How many times had her therapist told her that crying did not make her weak? “I was disappointed not to see you at my parole hearing. But I’d been such a good boy in prison that they let me go, and then I got the chance to find you myself.”

The scuff of boots against the hard floor circled her, echoing around her along with his taunts. It was silent except for that and the hissing of air as Gwyn desperately tried to control her breathing. When she felt his breath burning the shell of her ear the tears started, her body tremoring at his nearness. He could do anything he wanted, and she had no means to prevent it.

“I must admit, little bird. Finding you myself has definitely been quite–” he ran his nose up the length of her neck, inhaling deeply over where her pulse hammered with terror “--exhilarating.” The whimper that escaped her was nothing short of pitiful and desperate as her fear trailed down her cheeks. Roughened fingertips brushed over her jaw and followed the fabric of the gag to the back of her head. Much to her surprise, those fingers worked at the knot until they could pull the material away from her mouth.

“Please,” Gwyn begged, too panicked to worry about sounding so weak. “Just let me go. I won’t say anything. They’ll be looking for me. Azriel will be looking for me. He used to work for the FBI. You won’t get away with this.”

“You always were a chatty one,” he crooned. “You think your new little boyfriend will be able to find you? Do you think he cares enough to go through the trouble? We’re not in the city, little bird. I didn’t get to take my time with you before, and that is something I intend to correct.”

There was a sickening sound of her t-shirt ripping up the front, those broad, rough hands spreading the thin cotton apart to expose her skin to the damp, chilly air. Her legs exploded in goosebumps. Then the fingers were at the back of her head again, untying the blindfold and pulling it away.

The eyes that met her teal gaze were nearly black. Lustful. Deranged. Blake Henderson hadn’t been an unattractive man, but he had felt entitled to Gwyn and her sister, just because he was a man and they were beautiful. Her bleary eyes bore into him, willing all of her hatred and stubbornness and will to survive into that glare.

But he just grinned, crooked yellowing teeth revealed behind thin lips, and held up a glinting switchblade in his hand. “Such a brave face, little bird,” he snickered as he ran the flat edge of the ice-cold blade down her cheek. He flipped the knife over in his fingers and leaned in close, his lips tracing where the metal had just kissed her flesh. “Don’t hold back, now. We’re going to see how well you sing for me.”

And when the blade dug into her stomach, dragging across her unmarred skin, there was no hope of keeping the scream from erupting from her lips. All that was left was a fleeting, desperate hope, a prayer that Azriel would find her before there was nothing left to find.

~~~

The enormous, blacked-out Escalade practically crawled to a stop at the end of the driveway, each foot feeling like hours in Azriel’s frantic mind. The scene outside the passenger side window was near idyllic: a sprawling three-story farmhouse with a wrap-around porch becoming silhouetted in the golden afternoon sunlight, a white picket fence that had become faded with chipping paint and the dust from passing cars.

A number of laws had been broken to get him here in half an hour - a drive that should have taken at least 45 minutes. On the way, Rhys and Cass had helped him work through his plan, which included parking on the road so the crunching of SUV tires over the gravel driveway would not give away the impending fury that Blake Henderson was about to face.

Assuming he was here.

Azriel shook his head, banishing the threatening mental spiral. He was here. He had to be. The pictures from the listing had matched the floors in the photos of Gwyn, and it was far enough out of the city that Henderson would likely think that he would have plenty of time.

Spoiler alert: he didn’t.

And if he had laid a single finger on his Capri Sun girl, there would be nothing stopping the former FBI agent from putting a bullet through his fucking skull.

The door barely made a sound as he slid out, grunting instructions to his brothers as he checked the safety on his pistol and ran his fingers over the knife on his belt.

“Rhys, I want you in the driver’s seat as soon as I leave. We need to be ready to move as soon as I get her out.”

“Hey!” Cassian interjected, a crazed, feral grin lighting his features. “Why does he get to be the getaway driver?”

Azriel’s head tilted back as he heaved a great sigh, begging the universe for patience. “Because as much as I don’t give a fuck about this car as long as Gwyn is okay, I trust Rhys far more to drive it going 90 down a dirt road.” He fixed a hazel gaze on the more burly of his brothers, who groaned in response.

“Oh, come on. I wrecked your car one time. And that was, like, twelve years ago!” he argued.

“You totaled my brand new Maserati, you buffoon,” Azriel growled. With a pout his brother folded his arms and slumped back into his seat.

“Fine,” he grumbled. But then he dipped his chin, eyes darkening. “Good luck, Az.” Azriel looked toward Rhys, whose violet eyes simmered with cool ire.

“We’ll be here, brother,” he murmured, voice smooth and menacing. “And whatever happens, we’ve got your back.”

With a nod, the black-clad former agent gripped his gun and made his way silently up the drive. He cursed every crunch the gravel made beneath his feet, but it was still unlikely that he would be heard. There were so many rooms in the house, including a basement, which was where he surmised Gwyn would be. The closest entrance would be the front door, but that felt too easy and obvious. So Azriel jogged around the porch, gun at the ready, grateful with each silent gulp of air that he’d kept up on his cardio.

When he reached the back door and turned the handle, the door swung open, and he couldn’t contain the eye roll that followed. What a fucking cocky, amateur piece of shit. To just assume that a country home with a basement would be enough to keep retribution from coming to claim him–

A shriek pierced the air, muffled by a door or two, and Azriel’s heart plummeted into his stomach. All thoughts retreated from his head as his focus narrowed to one solitary truth.

That bastard was hurting her. Hurting his Gwyn.

Blood rushed in his ears, the roar of rage drowning out everything around him. Swiftly, he found the door he knew would lead down a set of wooden stairs, just as the real estate listing had shown him. As he descended into the partially finished basement the din in his brain quieted, giving way to the tearful panting and jagged breaths that belonged to someone in pain. Azriel lifted the gun, preparing for what he might find when Gwyn and her captor came into view. Henderson had his back to him - another rookie mistake - but it was the scene that was partially obscured by the murderer and stalker that boiled his blood.

Gwyn - the girl he’d never stopped thinking about for years - was tied to a chair, a gash painting her stomach with blood. Another cut over her thigh. They weren’t terribly deep, he could tell, but they promised to be painful. And as the light glinted off the silver blade in Henderson’s hand, Azriel didn’t even have to think. In a blink he’d raised his gun and fired.

Gwyn’s captor fell to the ground, his miserable, worthless life draining from the hole in the back of his head.

Azriel was before her in an instant, gun holstered, her wide eyes trained on the body at her feet. He winced inwardly at the blood that had spattered her cheek, mixing with her freckles. He wanted to touch her, to grab her and hold her and never let go. But he couldn’t even tell if she knew he was there, so he lifted his hands and spoke as soothingly as he could.

“Gwyn? Gwyn, look at me.” Her head jerked toward him with a sharp inhale, and the surprise and panic glimmering in the churning seas of her eyes nearly broke his heart. Gingerly - oh so softly - he touched his fingertips to her cheek. 

“Az?” she rasped.

“Yes, baby. It’s me. I’m here.” His whispered words were harsh and jagged, his needy hands finally gully gripping her face. “I’m right here, baby,” he breathed, their gazes locking over scant inches.

“Y-y-you… you c-came for me.” Her body was trembling so violently as tears streamed down her cheeks. His thumbs brushed at them as he leaned in, his brow against hers.

“Of course I came for you, Gwyn. I could never let you go. I love you too much.” Azriel pressed his lips lightly to hers before releasing her face and sliding the knife from its sheath, his focus shifting to the ropes at her ankles, then her wrists behind the back of the chair. “Move your arms slowly, baby. Your shoulders are probably extremely stiff.” Rounding to her front he ripped off his jacket first, then pulled his black t-shirt up over his back. Gwyn winced, trying to flex her shoulders as he used the black fabric to rub away the blood on her face. He turned, then, to the wounds on her stomach and thigh, pushing his crumpled shirt against the injuries. “I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he cooed when she hissed against the contact.

When he was satisfied that he’d staunched the worst of the bleeding, he wrapped his leather jacket around her and scooped her up into his arms, tucking her head against his neck. Azriel took a moment to note the body on the floor with a grimace, already planning for the cleanup required. Then he started up the stairs, his long legs skipping every other step in his haste to get her out. He paused at the front door to murmur into her hair.

“Let’s get out of here, baby. Let’s go home.”

She nodded weakly against him and he pressed a kiss to her head, before pushing out into the waning evening sunlight and fresh country air, freedom on the breeze.

~~~

Three months later

Azriel’s grin was exasperated as the women argued, loudly and enthusiastically, about which “book boyfriend” was the best. He’d been a bit alarmed to hear about the one who had apparently punched his mate in the face and called her worthless early in their so-called relationship, but had given a satisfied, silent ‘that’s my girl’ when Gwyn balked and practically gave a fully researched presentation on how there were clearly many much better choices. Complete with citations from the text.

Apparently he had more competition than he realized. Maybe the private penthouse library for her had been a bad idea. 

“Okay, I’m headed out to the pool.” Nesta’s voice floated to where he sat on the patio, just outside the open sliding door. “You better be out soon, Berdara.” His soon-to-be sister-in-law gave him a grin as she passed, before moving straight to scolding Cassian for even thinking of splashing her. Azriel waited a couple minutes, lips tilting down when his Capri Sun girl didn’t emerge from the bedroom. He didn’t give himself a chance to overthink as he quickly stood and made his way into the room, calling her name softly to warn of his approach.

Gwyn stood before the mirror, and Azriel lost every thought and feeling in his body… except for a near-painful hardening below the waistband of his trunks, the lining of which would likely not be particularly successful in hiding his reaction to seeing her in that fucking swimsuit that she’d kept hidden from him.

Cobalt blue with silly, useless ruffled straps that she wore off the shoulders. Her toned stomach and back on display between the swell of her breasts and the low rise of the scant bikini bottoms. The muscular swell of her thighs started right below a little peek of a perfect, grabbable ass that he wanted to palm. So much tempting, freckle-flecked flesh on display, Azriel had half a mind to throw a robe over her and not allow her to walk out the door, lest anyone else realize just how fucking sexy she truly was.

But his desire cooled as he watched her, seemingly unaware that he was even there. Those sunlit ocean pools were focused on where her hand passed over a stripe of uneven skin, slicing almost all the way across her body just a few inches above her navel. Her lips quirked down, a fingertip tracing the line before moving to its twin on the outer curve of her left thigh.

Scars.

A constant reminder of what she’d endured. As if she needed it. As if the nightmares that pulled her screaming from her sleep - and some of his own - were not enough. Losing her sister so traumatically, and the ensuing years of being terrorized by the man who had done it… his Gwyn had already been through more than enough before he’d ever truly known her.

But now she had physical scars to match the emotional ones. And though nothing about her could ever be less than stunning, he hated them. Hated that she had to bear the marks of his failure to keep her safe, the marks of a system that continually failed to serve the people it was made to protect.

Gwyn had scolded him enough for his guilt, and he did try his best to overcome those feelings. The first time he’d frowned at the sight of her scars - his perceived failure igniting him with self-loathing - her reaction had nearly broken him. He was so thankful that she was the straightforward, no-bullshit woman that she was. That she had initiated the conversation, even in her vulnerable state. He could have torn his heart out when she confessed that she feared his response was one of disgust for her, that looking at her now would be different than what they’d shared before Blake fucking Henderson had carved into her flesh. He’d kissed and caressed the offending marks, reassuring her that his expression had been solely due to his own incompetence - that he had not been able to save her from wearing the bastard’s violence forever. They’d had a good cry about it, and he was grateful that they could speak their truths and their fears to each other so openly.

Suddenly, Gwyn swiped at the bottle on the vanity next to her, taking a big swig before her eyes found his through the reflective glass. She gulped, having been caught, and returned the bottle to the wooden surface with a dull clink.

“You okay, baby?” Azriel stepped up behind her and ran his hands from her shoulders to her elbows, up and down, up and down, as he tilted his head to press a kiss to her temple. All the while his focus never strayed from the reflection of those expressive teal eyes.

“Yeah,” she started, voice hoarse for a moment, laced with emotion. He gave a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth, gentle encouragement for her to continue. “I don’t… have a problem with the scars. I just don’t want that to be the first thing people see. I don’t want them to become my… identity? I don’t know if that makes sense.” Azriel’s chest squeezed at the admission, the corners of his eyes tightening as emotion swelled. The woman in the mirror - in his arms - had been so strong for so long. It was amazing, awe-inspiring. But there was no small part of him that was nearly devastated with gratitude and satisfaction that she knew that she didn’t have to be so tough with him. She let him see her uncertainties, her cracks, and he filled them with love and understanding and encouragement.

He dipped his chin, lips brushing the smattering of freckles on her shoulder. “They are not who you are, Gwyn. Everyone here - everyone that matters - knows that, without a doubt.” One arm circled her, his broad palm falling over the line of paler, recently healed skin and pulling her close. With his other hand he brushed her hair over her left shoulder, so he could kiss below her ear and whisper his convictions straight into her mind and soul. “They are a part of you, and that alone makes them exquisite.” He felt her face flush, a delicious heat against his lips. Her body shivered against him.

“But, more than that, they are not reminders of pain or weakness. Or guilt,” he added, knowing that she hated the way he felt like a failed protector. He’d saved her, after all. “They are simply testaments to your incredible fortitude, your strength in the face of so much shit that you should have never been forced to endure. But you did, and the fact that you are still the most compassionate, thoughtful, generous person on the face of the planet is just even more proof. These marks aren’t your identity. They’re just another way for you to show the world that you take no shit. And I love them for that.”

Gwyn turned to face him, his arm still wound around her, his palm now against her lower back. Her delicate fingertips left a trail of smoldering flames as they crawled up his bare chest and neck before finally landing, her hands cupping his sharp jaw. She lifted herself to her toes, her face turning up to him, and he met her with a searing kiss, a promise and a prayer, pouring everything he said - and everything he couldn’t - into where they joined. A heated melding of lips and tongues, until she pulled away, her lungs heaving beneath his hand.

“I love you, Az,” she murmured, a small smile painting her face. Even though it was small and gentle, it lit parts of him that nobody had ever been able to reach before. That tiny grin was brighter than the scorching summer rays that beat down right outside, where their family and friends were lounging by the pool. Azriel had always loved spending time with his family, quiet and broody as he’d always been, but it had never been truly right. Not until her. Not until a sassy little redhead had pushed a solo cup into his chest and went marching after a sociopath, a warpath that he never could have known would lead him to where he was now. The former FBI agent grinned back.

“I–”

“Gwyneth Berdara, if you don’t get your pasty ass out here right now I’m going to spoil the end of House of Sky and Breath! Emerie will hold your hands behind your back so you can’t cover your ears as I read you the last page!” Nesta’s threat burst in through the open bedroom and patio doors, and Azriel couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped as his Capri Sun girl’s eyes grew wide, lips pursing in adorable fury.

“Don’t you dare, Nesta Archeron!” she screeched back over his shoulder. In a blink, Gwyn swiped the glass bottle from the table and pushed it into his chest, his skin erupting in goosebumps from the chill.

“Hold my beer,” she demanded, lips curling into something mischievous and sexy as fuck. His hand covered hers, the beverage beneath, and he leaned in for another taste of her. It was quick, over too soon, but it was full of lustful promises for later. Then, just like that first night, she stalked away from him like a warrior goddess, intent on righting this wrong. He smiled to himself, something settling within him, knowing that this time he would find her after. Every time. Forever.

Tag list: @headcanonheadcase @ofduskanddreams @damedechance @mystical-blaise @daevastanner @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @imsointobooks @booknerd87 @houseofhurricane @vikingmagic33 @live-the-fangirl-life @secretlovelybeauty @positivewitch @meher-sumedha @flora-shadowshine @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @shisingh @sagureads @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @writing-spaces @onemorenightdreamer @feyretale @almosttenaciousmoon @live-the-fangirl-life @silverflameataraxia @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @kimstclair @mercarimari @romancebooksandshit

#gwynriel supremacy #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #acotar #gwyn x azriel #azriel shadowsinger #fanfiction #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel fanfiction #fanfic #acotar writing circle #acosf #my writing #my fanfiction #gwynriel collab

[taegularities]

So. Monochrome. If I was put up against it in a fight I’d lose in five seconds flat.

I already made notes about the fic itself, but I need to take a moment to try and put my admiration and love for your writing in words that actually make sense and aren’t just mindless keysmashes which hardly anyone knows how to pronounce. 😭✋🏻

I’ve always loved your prose because it’s really fucking well put. The way you manage to get into characters heads amazes me and inspires me to try and do the same, because the end result is always (and I mean always) phenomenal. I obviously consume your work as a reader, but there are times where I’ll find myself rereading sentences or phrases or lines of dialogue (hell, sometimes I reread entire paragraphs), because, as a writer, there’s something so beautiful about being able to find the beauties and intricacies in someone else’s work.

Your use of literary devices (metaphors, similes, personification, formatting, sentence length, word structure—the list goes on forever, basically) astonishes me. Seriously. I’ve never encountered an author, published or otherwise, who’s been able to do uniquely and vividly describe emotions and feelings in a way that makes me immediately understand and feel. It’s beyond words. And even when you’re not describing emotions, you somehow manage to paint pictures directly into the meat of my brain, and it’s such a wonderful feeling—as someone with an active imagination but horrible visualization skills, it’s hard to describe the joy (and, truthfully, envy) I feel when I read one of your scenes and find myself easily picturing the environment you put your characters in.

Your dialogue very rarely feels forced or unnatural (and even when it does, it’s mostly due to differences in writing style [because I struggle to switch my writer brain off sometimes]), and your character interaction feels so free and organic I sometimes find myself forgetting that these people (as they are written, obviously) aren’t real. Like. What? How do you do that??

You’re an inspiration to me and probably a lot of others like me, and I really cannot put into words how excited I am to continue reading cmi (which I’ll have to do tomorrow when my phone isn’t about to die 🥹🥹)

Thank you so much for sharing your work with us, and I hope you’re doing well!!

Much love,

from an avid fan

- <3

you're making me fall in love with you more with each interaction, kate. like, i don't even know what exactly to point out here, bc it'd be a message only consisting of constant "thank you thank you thank you"s :') nevertheless. thank you for perceiving my writing in such a way and finding inspiration and comfort in it.

i so get what you mean when you say you read from a writer's pov sometimes, it's honestly such a motivating thing to do. and 🦋 the literary devices 🥺 so beyond grateful that you feel like i'm able to convey emotions and surroundings well. i really do try my best and it's incredibly nice knowing that, in the end, it's worth the effort 🥺

also the dialogue?! when i tell you i used to struggle with it for literal ages 😭 like, i've only started loving them this year – before that, i was more of a descriptive writer rather than focusing on convos. i found a lot of joy in dialogues this year, and it's so cool to hear it's mostly natural!! (i also sometimes forget they're not real bc i love them so much sjfkhksdfa) i am so freaking excited for you to read on as well, kate. and to see your reactions!! so much to come. thank you and i hope you've been happy and healthy, too 🤍

#no my heart is bursting this is the loveliest message ever sniff #notes for rid 🌹 #kate <3 #fic: colour me in

[yaoogui]

"Nothing. Aoko is an ordinary girl, the kind of haunting, beautiful ordinary that you just can't leave alone. like an angel from the underworld. Or a devil from paradise." Oh how much he has despised these words. Or perhaps, he despised them, hated them even more coming from the mouth of a man who knew nothing about beauty, a pretender, a thief who only does what he does to satisfy his ego : Goto Shoji. The words of the retired photogtapher, they echo in Sen's mind, like a pendulum banging against the back and the front of his skull as his eyes linger on her, from the distance. It has been five days now, that the shoot have started on this floor of the building : a casual, mundane, almost boring one : twelve models hired for a compaign of low exposure and a decent paycheck. Sen wasn't on the project no, he is assigned to a different one on the floor above. But he saw her in the morning, her long floating in her back, disappearing at the corner of a corridor. He followed her, tracked her to found his steps leading him every single day to here, on this set. There were a billion of souls in the room : make up artists, artistic directors, stylists, assistants, interns. He simply was hidding in the crowd, obsessed the idea of finally witnessing the object of his obsessions before his eyes : she is real. Their eyes meet sometimes, as he cannot take them off her. A shame it is he thinks, watching the other models occupying a space that should only be hers. Hers, and hers only. This ridiculous shoot is below her beauty. The first time he landed his eyes on Serizawa Aoko happened online, months ago, through a scandal of the leaked pictures, intimate ones that traveled the entire web and the tabloids. Serizawa was described as a nobody to everyone's eyes, all their attention was on Goto Shoji, the infamous, the grand, the master. Sen spent hours, days, fascinated with her image, dissecting Goto's work, its flaws, its weaknesses. In all pictures taken of her, there was the Goto's annoying signature, His pretencious technique, his obnoxious style, his disgusting print - objectively speaking, the pictures were good but Sen hated them all. If only it could have been him behind the lens, close to her, close to her skin, Sen would have unravelled, peeled her core for it to govern every single frame of her, for his presence to be fully forgotten through hers, for it to be an ode to Her. It lived in his head, for her to become her muse, for him to dive into her as deep as possible, to show her like no other did before, to make of her the face everyone would recognize in the streets. A fantasy.

       for @ssachiko707

Mishima. What's up ? Done with your day already? Would question one of his colleagues. "Yeah. So I got free time. I just come to watch. Spend time. How's the shoot going?" Comments Sen. A lie obviously, standing next to the other man, behind the scenes, their eyes on the models from the distance.

He finally hears her voice. By the last day of the shoot, a get together is organized at the izakaya at the other side of the street, here in Shibuya. A private room with paper walls in a complex, everyone sitting down around a gigantic wood table while he, is sitting accross from her. They are all introducting themselves, even though he knew already. It is interesting that night, to watch the other models completely fade into oblivion to his eyes as he is finding it hard not to just stare at her. Sen would have never come in the first place, he is not truly social, not one who would want to waste his time with a bunch of animals. The alcohol, the laughters, the jokes change the atmosphere then, into these blurry lines of seductive models and the all mighty coked up photographers. Of arms around their shoulders, hands down thighs under the table, and games and games of power plays. For models, it is the perfect time to catch the eye of the most influantial ones and make sure they remember their names, meanwhile for the photographers well, a pretty and drunk model in their bed sounds perfect to end the week. She stands up at some point, Aoko, and disappears for a bit. To the bathroom perhaps, to catch some air, for a smoke, to leave? He has no idea what crosses her mind, if she is having fun or not. He believes the Aoko he built in his imagination is better than them, better than all of them, that they are unworthy of her presence. It only takes five minutes before he stands up, too, leaving the room, aimelessly wandering through the narrow corridors. It is a maze in here, he turns right and left and left, and right, dogding whoever stands on his path. Is she she is gone already, what if it was the last time he would ever see her? He fears. And there she is, meters away, her back turned on him. He stops. Perhaps the light intoxication makes him feel like it is an hallucination, an angel visiting him down this disgusting earth. He seizes his camera, the one he always has hanging by his shoulder, catching this frame of her. Her long black hair cascading down her fragile back, her thin figure caught in between these walls. The sound of the picture being taken could only catch her attention. A silence follows. A silcence that seems to last an eternity.

"I couldn't help myself."

Are the words he replies to his action, his camera lowered now, his eyes still on her. "I see canvases. Sometimes. Pieces of art before my eyes and I get greedy, I must capture them before they're gone."

He means Her.

His voice is steady, deep, slow.

"Are you leaving?"

#変 : 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐧. / the photographer. #変 : 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐧. / interactions. #:) #Mkay that's either creepy or poetic you decide #Can't wait for her to marry him in his head

[somekindofpoet]

have you ever heard of Ulysses, my dear?

A man who desired the Sirens' song - even if hearing it would render him incapable of relational thought.

right now I can tell you: I do understand this man; for I am Ulysses and you are my Siren. I would come back, be it for the pleasure of having your presence or the pain of craving for you.

I apologize for staying away for such a long time, my muse. Unfortunately, college has been keeping me grounded - but you called, so here I am, ready to appreciate your work the way I should.

I missed you! truly. deeply.

shall we talk about everything you have gifted us with?

Kissing Lessons. it made me fall in love with Vada like it was my first time seeing her.

it's just so...natural. the characterization, the scenarios, everything. I have just read it for the second time and, oh dear, each and every paragraph made me want to watch The Fallout all over again. I don't usually pick this word to describe smut, but, yeah, it was adorable.

I am a little tired right now, so finishing that one draft I have left for that little ball of sunshine wasn't exactly the plan...but, oh, you make me want to write like a mad man.

Is it a risk to say I am obsessed?

Nevermore Ground. it dug a hole in my heart twice as wide as I could imagine and now it lives there.

it will always live there.

as hard as it is to believe - I write mostly naughty things... - fluff is my favorite thing to read. and your fluff? it goes to another level. NG is everything that I needed to heal my mind, from the cozy atmosphere to the funny characters.

(Raven, Phill, Billy...I am talking about all of you.

and you, my dear writer? you do know how to woo a lady. I find myself falling deeper and deeper.

just like Alice, remember?)

let me tell you: you surprise me every time with how fluid your writing style is. there are little changes depending on the genre you write and it fascinates me. it's not the language nor the word...I have no idea; it's just so different?

tasty. addicting even.

keep up with the great work!

FilthX. I love it when people toy with the title. cannot say if it was your true intention, but I will believe so.

this one kept me in a chokehold. we have not only one, but two spicy scenes? oh, gods. I might faint if you do so another time without the previous warning.

(it's Bobby-Lynne, alright? the woman is just divine.

it stands next to the ice cream scene for me.

yet another must that you provided me with.)

oh, Lorraine. the church mouse does know what she wants - and she is going to take it for sure.

I can't wait to see what things come next.

How To: Be The Perfect Partner - A Lecture. the request was written right after the end of the movie; it's a little rough, changed many times to fit the general idea of what I pictured it to be.

and yet, you handled everything perfectly.

Phoebe's personality is palpable, just like her sarcastic comments are. you filled up all the gaps, made it your own story and brought up the funny, dangerous and hot aspects all at once. reading it was a pleasure, just like reading everything else was.

my favorite part? the heart shaped glasses. I first intended to mention throughout the request, but couldn't find a way to do so.

it's like you've read my mind, friend.

oh, no. I did it again.

another long comment came in your way.

I cannot promise to make them shorter though. in Greece we appreciate showing as much love for the artists as possible, so you could say it's a bad habit I was born with.

we breath good stories and desire to talk about them all the time.

who am I to go against my nature?

alright, I am letting you rest now.

allow me to tell you one last time how ardently incredible you truly are. you always shine bright, my beautiful star, and that's why I will always find my way back to you.

thank you very much for having me.

eternally yours,

Horny Angel Anon.

I….am at a loss for words? Which never happens. I’m a writer and a smart ass I have words for everything. Am I being wooed? What is happening right now? 😍 the flattery

Also YES thank you bby FilthX is a play on Filthy and should be pronounced that way I’m so glad you understood this!

I’ll be anxiously awaiting that Vada prompt, but take your time! No rush! Until next time bb 🖤🖤

#crush answers #😇 anon

[porcelxinfemme]

being a lesbian is such an intrinsic part of who i am that words almost cannot begin to describe how i feel. coming to this realization was so liberating but so terrifying at the same time; to have to forget everything i’ve been taught about myself and abandon the things i’ve been told i want feels impossible sometimes. but i was able to do it. and i’m proud of myself for that.

my lesbianism is a part of my gender identity. being a femme is part of my gender identity. when i ask myself what i am, how i identify, i draw blanks. i don’t have a name for it but i have feelings. i feel in my very core that i am a lesbian, just as people are agender or genderfluid or trans or cis, but it isn’t what i want to call myself as it is only where my feelings stem from and not the full picture. i am feminine without being female. i am not a woman, but i find comfort in womanhood through being femme.

when i say i am a lesbian, i mean that it is the entirety of my being. this one word represents so much of who i am- it is deeper than personality, it is deeper than gender, it is deeper than sexuality. my personhood is defined by my lesbianism. and that discovery, that realization, that moment of clarity, is one of the most beautiful and cherished memories i have.

#i know i wax poetic about being femme but i love all lesbians #being butch is just as wonderful and just as beautiful #i actually don’t think butches get enough love so <3 #thoughts on lesbianism #lesbian #femme lesbian #violet prose