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actually-safer-to-kiss · 4 months

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Secretly Mine

Summary: Spencer and Reader have been seeing each other for a while without the team's knowledge

Category: Fluff

Couple: Spencer/BAU Fem!Reader

Content warnings: None

Word count: 1.5k

Eight months have passed since your arrival at the BAU. You’re an integral part of the team. Hotch has been sure to let you know. You’ve stood out with your eye for detail at certain crime scenes, outshining even some of the team’s more seasoned members. Luckily, the academy’s rumors about the Quantico team’s bond have rang true time and time again, so competition and jealousy never became an issue. It only made them respect you and even open up to you.

One person who has particularly opened up to you is the genius of the group, Spencer Reid. The secret you learned: he’s a gentle kisser. Almost childishly chaste, but nothing seemed more fitting for his personality. What was surprising was the setting of your first kiss.

New York City police invited the team to investigate the terrorist cell killing random people across the city. Their attacks grew more volatile by the time you all arrived, placing bombs on government vehicles. One of these bombs hurt Hotch, and SSA Joyner did not survive the same blast. The results could have been worse, considering.

Your team faced the problem of uncertainty regarding who (if anyone) had been injured at that moment. Spencer was with Rossi at the police station while the rest of you were on the ground. That damn terrorist organization interfered with signals and transmissions all the time, and this was no different. You, by your luck, were the most difficult to get in contact with, despite being safe at Federal Plaza. You met with the team when it was safe to do so and all targeted areas were cleared. Most of you sighed in relief. Garcia even held your face, as if to make sure you were real, alive and, breathing.

Spencer held your face too, but not in the same way. You both took refuge by the water cooler, surprisingly where no one was present in a once-crowded New York City police station. You talked about what happened, Hotch’s current condition, and how long to expect these nerves to last. Your nerves didn’t settle, though, when Spencer’s knuckles brushed your cheek as he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You didn’t blame these nerves, though, when you leaned into the touch, looking up at him with a smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Spencer was cute, obviously, but workplace relationships are highly unprofessional and even a liability, if the case they just survived wasn’t enough proof of that. You’d think (well, you knew actually) Spencer of all people would know this. He knows everything. When you had a case in Baltimore involving the Ravens, he told you their name came from Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poem. Then he explained the detailed theories surrounding his untimely death. Spencer believes it has something to do with cooping, whatever that means, you dared not to ask. There’s nothing he doesn’t consider.

So, Spencer must have considered all the odds of professional behavior in that moment by the water cooler since his lips delicately brushed yours. It was barely a kiss at first, until he leaned in for another, to where you could feel the warmth of his mouth and felt that he could do with some lip exfoliant. The last part you didn’t care about because it was practically over before it began. Neither of you said anything about it. Instead, you stayed there for a while, not touching or talking. Then Morgan told the team to pack up and get ready to go home.

Throughout the past month, you and Spencer have shared many kissing sessions. Not at work, though, because you both still have some sense. Kissing Spencer, though, tends to not leave you with much sense. His gentleness is not a front. His touches are tender and he’s never pushed you beyond your limits. It’s a good thing then that he’s a gentleman, so he earned kisses through dinners, movies, and day trips. It was something to look forward to in between grueling cases.

And it wasn’t even off work when Spencer would bring joy to you. There was a case recently in North Carolina that shook you more than you cared to admit. You didn’t want to mention what specifically, as it’s something you haven’t spoken about in a long time, but the team picked up on it quickly. They checked on you and even asked if you needed to sit out. You powered through and came to a satisfactory (for lack of a better word) conclusion. Afterward, Spencer invited you to ice cream. It was a welcoming change of scenery, despite the ice cream place being called Jack the Dipper. It was hilariously fitting, so it really wasn’t an issue. Spencer didn’t ask about what happened or what made you feel so disturbed. Throughout the night, he just made sure to ask if you were okay.

You haven’t been okay for a while. Not because of that case, but because it’s been three months now and you are still running around with Spencer without the team’s knowledge. The team might feel cheated (and Hotch might be pissed) because they are not aware of this information, but the uneasiness of all this was starting to settle in. The fear, the worry that this might just be all for nothing. Outside of the office, he shows that he cares. He knows things about you that you haven't revealed in some time. And apparently he has done the same. Bruises from harsh kisses around your bodies linger under work clothes from a weekend in, and the team has been none the wiser. And you’re not sure if you’re as okay with it as you thought you were.

The team went out to the bar on a Thursday, celebrating a government holiday the night before (i.e. a three-day weekend). The team took shots, bet money, threw darts, and Emily ended up with the most by closing. You would’ve coughed up more cash throughout the night if you were confident in your bets.

Spencer barely looked at you. Didn’t brush your hand or even stand near you for too long, like you had the plague or whatever Poe died from. It didn’t help the feeling in your core, and neither did the walk home. Morgan drove Garcia home, Hotch with Rossi, and J.J. with Emily. And of course, Spencer with you. When J.J. drove away after boasting about avoiding a ticket on an expired meter, Spencer didn’t hesitate to reach for your hand. It was nice, and as the weather grew colder, it was a welcomed warmth. But how could it not feel at least a little sour?

His apartment wasn’t far from here, so you walked. Your hands were laced the entire time, but he didn’t breathe a word and you couldn’t tell if that should make you feel better or worse.

It wasn’t until you climbed the steps to his door that he asked, “Are you staying the night?”

You swallowed. Unlike Emily, Garcia, and Rossi, you were on the side of tipsy rather than in dire need of a toilet to bury your head into. “Sure.” You said. “If you want me to.”

“Yeah,” He said, fiddling with his key and lock. “Of course I want you to.”

He finally opens the door and turns on the living room light. You barely had time to put your purse down before his lips were on yours. They were still chapped like the first time, except you could forgive that because of the growing cold outside. His hands hold your waist, they creep to your back. You couldn’t help but lean in, away from the door he pressed you into. It was when Spencer moaned in your mouth that you broke away. Catching your breath, you try putting together a sentence. But breathing is difficult right now for both of you. Spencer’s eyes are lazy and his breath still lingers with a scent of the mint gum he spit out when he showed up to the bar.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you think it’s the start to an actual apology. “I was trying to stay patient.” He kisses you again, softly. And you kiss him back still. He moans again. “I want you.”

You swallow again. Your throat is so dry. “Spencer, I—”

“I want to tell them.” He interrupts.

You blink, it quickens as you take in the words. “What?”

His hands cup your face. He brushes the messy bangs from your forehead. “I want to tell them. About this. About us. I just…” He trails off. That is not something you’re used to seeing. “I want more time with you.”

As Spencer’s words sank in, you felt a mix of apprehension and longing, wondering just what could go wrong. A lot, in fact. But you have to believe he’s being honest. Why wouldn’t he be?

And with a soft smile, you reached for his hand and met his gaze. “I want that too,” you said, feeling the weight of it finally being lifted off your chest. “I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you about it earlier. I was being selfish.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But I would. Because it’s true. But that changes now.” The look on his face, the fully sober look on his face. He’s all in. “I will tell them you’re my girlfriend.”

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virtualreader · 10 months

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a moment to bond

rickgrimesxfem!reader

summary: you fail in your attempt of hiding your injury from Rick, but you soon regret not to have failed sooner.

word count: 2,1k

genre: angsty fluff (?)

warnings: blood, wounds, passionate kiss (is that even a warning?), angry Rick.

a/n: English is not my first language, so my writing may not be the best. this is also not proof read, so don't be surprised if you find any mistakes. enjoy!

two months had passed since you first crossed the gates of alexandria, and two months since the last time you’d been face-to-face with a walker. or so it was until this morning.

despite your best efforts, you could not relax; your restlessness was not something you could easily shake off. as someone who has suffered from anxiety all their life, you knew exactly what it felt like to be overrun by frightful thoughts, even though they had never felt as distressing as they felt today.

it was comforting to sleep in a real bed and to have tall walls shielding you and your group from the alarming risks of the new world, but what if becoming accustomed to this pleasant sense of security was only making you weaker? what if your people were forced to live in the outside again? the fear this potential outcome caused was too much for you to bear and your friends’ efforts to console you were unsuccessful.

that's when you chose to take matters into your own hands. your original plan was to leave the walled area, take out a few roamers for practice, and then return to Alexandria. however, destiny seemed to have different plans for you. what was initially thought to be a few walkers quickly became a dozen. a dozen walkers you were now attempting to flee from.

suddenly, a rock blocked your way and you tumbled to the ground, scraping your exposed forearm on the sharp edge of the stone you landed on.

blood poured from your freshly-cut gash, making you even more anxious than before. you clenched your teeth in pain, hoping that the dead would not hear your groans. after the walkers had disappeared from your view, you rummaged through your bag to see if you could find anything to use as a bandage. however, to your dismay, all you found was a water bottle and a spare knife.

you looked around for any other resources, but the barren landscape provided few options. as you weighed your choices, you realized that ripping off a piece of your tattered t-shirt was the only option. you gritted your teeth and reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly tearing off a piece of fabric to use as a makeshift bandage.

you then wrapped the strip of fabric tightly around the wound, wincing from the pain. you knew it wasn't an ideal solution, but it would have to do for now. you stood up, feeling a bit more stable, and looked around to see where you could go next.

as you stumbled through the dilapidated woods, your vision blurred and hazy, you couldn't help but question your decision to leave the safety of the walls.

the dizziness you felt only made things worse, and you began to wonder if Rick was right after all. perhaps you were simply too weak to survive in this harsh new world. as you trudged forward, you couldn't shake the feeling that danger lurked around every corner and that you were ill-prepared for whatever lay ahead.

despite your doubts, however, you knew that you must keep moving if you wanted to stay alive.

against all odds, you made it to the Alexandria safe zone, which definitely made you relax a bit. however, you still had to enter the walls without being seen. you also needed to take a shower and change clothes to erase any trace of the horrors that you had endured on your way to the comunity.

you didn't want anyone to find out what had happened to you. but even as you stripped off your blood-stained garments and let the warm water wash away the grime and sweat of your journey, you knew that the scars on your psyche would take much longer to heal.

you had managed satisfactorily to keep your little accident a secret throughout the day, in spite of your giddiness and the weakened you were in.

it was now dinnertime, and you realized that you hadn't spent much quality time with Rick lately. you had joined the group after the fall of the prison, and Rick was the only one you had gotten close to.

he had been distant from you for some time, and you didn't want to lose your only friend. therefore, you decided that tonight would be the perfect opportunity to try and bond with him.

you decided that you would cook for him and his children, which would give you a chance to talk and catch up on things. you thought that this would be a great way to strengthen your friendship, and you hoped that it would also help to improve your relationship with the other members of the group. after all, a strong sense of community was essential for survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

from the kitchen, one could observe Carl lounging on the living room couch. the room was quiet, except for the sound of the pages of the comic book that Carl's father had brought home on his most recent trip turning. Carl's legs were crossed over the small coffee table, and his hands were holding the comic book with great interest.

the dim evening light that illuminated the room barely allowed to distinguish Rick’s serene face as he was holding the younger grimes in his arms.

"what are you cooking tonight?" his gaze was fixed on you, studying your facial expressions as you cut a carrot.

“squirrel and roasted vegetables. I’d have used rabbit, but this is all Dary could find today.”

“it’s fine, I don’t really mind your culinary election as long as we get to spend some time together.” the now beardless man smiled at you.

“that's so cheesy of you, Grimes.” he chuckled at your comment.

he remained quiet for a moment, making you feel as if he could see right through your t-shirt's sleeve. oh, no. you suddenly remembered that you had rolled up your long sleeves so they wouldn't interfere with chopping vegetables, leaving your bandaged arm visible to Rick's worried gaze.

“is that blood?” he inquired.

you continued with your activity not even taking your eyes off the chopping board.

Rick handed the little Judith to her elder brother, instructing him to go upstairs. the tension in the kitchen became now palpable. it was like when you were a child and you got caught doing something wrong, and you knew you were going to get a lecture.

or so you thought.

“I’m fine. it’s only a scratch.”

“don’t tell me you’re fine, you’re bleeding!” he guided you to the couch Carl was previously in, making you sit down.

he disappeared for a moment and then returned with a first aid kit in his hands.

“let me see.” anger was obvious in his voice.

you did not even dare to look him in the eye. it was well known within the group that it was a big mistake to piss off the leader. Rick undid your messy and bloody bandage. you winced at the burning feeling of the air touching your wound.

“how did this happen? did someone hurt you?” he asked still examining your arm.

“NO! not at all! it was an accident. I- uh…” at this point, it was useless to lie to him. after all is said and done, he used to be a cop before all this happened. “I fell running from a few walkers this morning.”

“you what?! I believe I told you not to go outside the walls! It’s dangerous y/n, there are too many threats out there.” the anger previously visible was replaced by another emotion you couldn’t decipher.

Rick kept a white-knuckled grip on the dirty piece of fabric that was minutes ago covering your large gash, his other hand gently holding your wrist.

you hadn’t taken a moment to contemplate the magnitude of the injury until now. to say the least, it was huge. it started a few inches below your elbow and it went all over your forearm to your wrist.

“why do you even care? I’m not your child, Rick.”

“I care ‘cause you’re as much of my family as Carl and Judith are. and I don’t want to lose my family.” he spoke, his voice getting lower as he pronounced the last sentence. “why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

your frustration with Rick's recent behavior boiled over and you couldn't help but voice your annoyance.

"you've got to be kidding me," you almost whispered, incredulous. "maybe it's because you're too busy trying to impose your will on everyone else here, or maybe it's because you spend the little free time you have left admiring that hairdresser's features. but the fact remains that you haven't been there for me lately, and it's starting to feel like I'm losing my only friend in this world."

your words hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the tension between you and Rick palpably. as you looked at him, you could see the hurt in his eyes, and you almost regretted saying anything.

you sighed deeply, feeling humiliated in the face of the seriousness of the problem that had just been brought to your attention by the expression written on Rick’s face.

you began to wonder how you had let things get to this point and what you could have done differently to avoid this situation. perhaps if you had been more proactive in addressing the issue earlier, things wouldn't have come to a head like this.

"there's nothing humiliating about needing help once in a while, sweetheart,” Rick spoke softly, breaking the silence that had settled in the room. he continued to bandage your arm, his touch gentle and careful. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you lately. but you have to understand that I'm just trying to keep everyone safe. and as for Jessie... it's not what you think. I'm just trying to move on from everything that's happened."

you nodded, feeling guilty for your outburst. "I know, Rick. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," he said, finishing up with the bandage. "just promise me that you won't go out alone again. we'll go together next time, okay?"

"okay," you agreed, feeling grateful for his concern.

he put away the first aid kit, but he didn't even threaten to get up. both of you remained in your previous position, awkwardly eyeing each other. in moments like this your small bad habit made act of presence.

you could feel the stinging sensation your teeth left in your lip, making you aware that you had been biting your lip for a while. you knew it was an unhealthy habit, still, you frequently found yourself unconsciously doing it.

“if you bite your lip one more time I’m gonna do it for you.” the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed, lust present in the man’s face.

as you fixed your gaze on the charming features of the man, you couldn't help but notice the way his hair fell over his face, almost obscuring his handsome features. you observed a drop of sweat slide down his forehead. his eyes seemed to denote a sense of tiredness, reflecting how hard he works to maintain the security of the Alexandrians.

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to do. you mustered all your courage and leaned forward. you gave him a peck on the lips to test the waters. you had liked him since the very first moment you met him. the way he carried himself, with authority, which revealed his past as a police officer, drove you crazy.

you pulled back, heart racing as you waited for his reaction. for a moment everything seemed to freeze as you looked at each other, unsure of what to say or do. but then, slowly he leaned in and kissed you back, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

his big calloused hands danced against your neck, pulling you even closer. the intensity of the kiss kept escalating, each movement more passionate than the last. it was as if you were both desperate to feel each other's love, to experience the connection that only the two of you shared.

as the kiss deepened, you felt a warmth in your chest that you hadn't felt in a while. as you pulled away you couldn’t help but think how much you needed this moment of intimacy to make you feel alive. perhaps this was a sign that everything was going to be okay after all.

#rick grimes x reader smut #rick grimes x reader fluff #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes fanfiction #twd x reader

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sygol · 11 months

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heyyyy listen... you need to eat carbohydrates to survive, stop wilting away like a loser. you dont have what it takes to kill yourself, and thats because you were born to live.

-> get outside, -> get in the fucking sun, -> get in the rain, seriously, -> put your phone away, -> get off the computer, -> go into the real world -> acknowledge what is beautiful, what is joyous, -> find it: i promise you its there.

get it: religions, they show their gratitude towards the world in their rituals, because it works. it makes you happy. im not going to start slinging christianity to you LOL, but there are reasons why cults persist: they sell you happiness in a complicated way, people are suckers for that. you can blind the vast majority of people with a carrot on a stick,

but im here today to tell you, you can DIY. skip the cults, skip the bullshit. today, and today now create your very own CARROT ON A STICK, give yourself a quest, seek to leave your zone of comfort, its time to get a little uncomfortable, since youre wasting away anyway, might aswell make that discomfort go to a purpose, go ahead: i'll get you started with some ideas:

in a public place, engage a stranger in conversation, whats the worst that could realistically happen? seriously just go ahead and ask someone if they've had any dreams lately, practice asking yourself in the mirror casually with confidence, thats the only thing you have to practice, the rest will happen naturally.

okay maybe thats not your thing, perhaps try the oldest adage in the book: "take a hike". look, i dont have time to explain this one, it works and thats why it's been said for all of human history.¹

give yourself a reason to quit doing drugs. if youre at the beginning of your drug curve you dont have to take this advice, i know you dont want to but im still going to tell you: that you need to be connecting with yourself and not lying, figure out yourself if you must, but those of you at the end of the curve, get real, thats not cutting it anymore, put it down, trust me, life has a lot of good highs. if youre gonna fucking die you might aswell have a good time on the way out, and hey maybe on that path youll suddenly see that you have a new peak to seek....

⛰️

hahaha time to make some art, time to create something, do something youve never done before, seek out a new friend, fuck, maybe you need a magic spell for that, i don't know, bring whatever ritual into it that you must, but it's important to explore.

the algorithms on your phone are designed to prey on you, they will throw every attack at you that they can, and they will see which ones are successful, and then they will breed those attacks with eachother, they will rip you apart, not in a sexy way, this is the new era of drugs. algorithms and user interface designed to make you addicted. im not telling you not to use them, but acknowledge what those are, whether its a chemical in your brain making your dopamine spike or its a flash on your screen, it'll rot your brain in the same fucking way, i swear to you.

1. hey, i believe some creative liberties were used in this sentence, and do not reflect a truth that is realistically provable, but while youre down here in the foot note section, im going to whisper a secret to you: i love you and the society we live in is made of paper

#t4 #t3

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lilith-incarnate · 2 years

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☆Choose Your Rainbow☆

♡Pile one♡ Crystal: Citrine (Solar Plexus)

Your future holds a destined soulmate. Orange is the prominent color in this pile. Orange represents the Sacral chakra which rules over creativity, sexual energy, emotions and relationships. The self esteem card is in the center… this Twin/Soulmate will trigger you. They will make you see where you need healing, whether they are conscious of that or not. Do you deem yourself worthy of happiness? Make sure you continue working on your inner healing so you won’t reject the opportunity for happiness when it arises. Now, be aware that the roles could be reversed. Your Twin could reject the opportunity for themselves at first. If you don’t believe you deserve love, you won’t see it when it presents itself. Be patient and live with joy. The journey will be not always be smooth, but happiness is ultimately your right. You really can have it all, you’re not foolish. Dreams and reality are only separated by our bodies. Some of the best art was inspired by dreams, you know.

༺Pile two༻ Crystal: Clear Quartz (Crown Chakra)

I don’t know what your life looks like, as this is a general reading, but I know suffering and endurance when I see it. Pain is represented in the color red, correlating with the Root Chakra (grounding, survival). Red is associated with anger, passion, excitement, aggression, lust and strength. Intuition is in the center… you’ve had this unspeakable feeling that you’ll come out on top in the end. It can’t always be so hard. Storms eventually pass. Pain gives away to healing. This pain, whatever it is for you, will be transmuted in your future. Sometimes growth can be painful, but remember this is just a part of the process. Green represents the heart chakra (love, jealousy). Green also stands for nature and growth. The intuition card is the middle, so follow your inner guidance. This is a very transformative era for you and it will not be understood by most.

⊱Pile three⊰ Crystal: Agate (Throat Chakra)

Your road to truth is what will make you successful and happy. To commit to yourself, to commit to unraveling mysteries, and to search for your strongest self… this is the long journey you’re on. No, it is not easy being a Priestess/Priest. Your life has great meaning, your perceived loneliness is not without purpose. Spirituality might be overwhelming you at times, that is your sign to step back and gain perspective. For example, currently there are tons of people obsessed with Manifestation. Obsessed with it to the point they can potentially cancel out their own blessings. Spirituality must be balanced(heart chakra) with practicality. Referring to my Reflection card (throat chakra; logic, honesty and communication) Review your life so far, certain people or situations in your life can act like mirrors that reflect back at you and teach you. What you see can inspire you or you could see something you don’t like. If the latter happens, then you have the opportunity to make changes. Pile 3, you are here to leave a legacy. By name, by word or by blood. Show this world how a rise from the depths looks. In the center, this card represents the Divine presence that is always with you. You are always supported by the spirit world.

⋆Pile four⋆ Crystal: Rose Quartz(Heart Chakra)

Another spiritual pile! The Divine wants to speak through you. Badly. You were born with the connection to spirit, which is why to yourself and to others, you don’t always seem “here”. You’re between two worlds. Our physical one and the spiritual (they co exist, never separated). You’ve had a hard time functioning in this world and it’s structures. That’s because you're meant to be different, you’re meant to gain wisdom from being different and share it. You have a lot of inner wisdom, carried from this life and past lives. People probably think you are an old soul and you are! You're a philosopher by nature. Always looking to learn the secrets of life. You have already found some(Illumination card; Solar Plexus. Self Esteem, Instincts). Discovering new truths isn’t always easy for people to stomach. For example, acknowledging that ghosts really do exist, that would cause a personal crisis for a a lot of people. This is one reason why not everyone sees ghosts/paranormal phenomena. With your knowledge, be gentle with others even when you’re faced with incredulous falsehoods. An example of that would be someone telling you what God approves and doesn't. God isn't some grumpy old man passing judgement on us from above, and you know this but many others are not ready to unlearn what they've been taught. Sometimes, time and experience is the best teacher so remember when someone challenges your beliefs, speak with love. You are the Divine's expression on Earth.

ʚPile fiveɞ Crystal: Lapis Lazuli (throat and third eye chakra)

Come out, you’re hiding the powerful, beautiful, and creative person that is you. You have so many wonderful qualities and talents. Why don’t you give yourself a try? I know you’re afraid of the light because light casts shadow. You’re afraid to be vulnerable to others. Always remember, you only have to show or give that which feels good to you. You have it in you to be successful. Yellow is connected to the Solar Plexus chakra that sits over the stomach. It is associated with the sun, gold, divinity, positivity and self esteem. It also relates to illness or fear. Orange is represented by the Sacral Chakra. With Love being in the center and the tarot cards… my friend, if you can harness that determination in you, that Queen of Wands could very well be you in the future. I could really gush over the strength of this pile! There is a lot of creative energy here, as well. You are a passionate person and not just in a romantic sense. You’re determined to live unabashedly. Show us how to live our truth without shame.

✧Pile six✧ Crystal: Green Aventurine (Heart Chakra)

In the center, Stability and Security. This is your root chakra. This pile comes from unstable roots (no shame). The hungry card isn’t about being hungry for food (but if you are, by all means get a snack!). The hunger card(Solar plexus chakra; stomach. Self esteem, instincts, confidence) is about craving something more. A craving for something that will nourish your soul. A deep wanting for something to fill you mentally, emotionally and spiritually. So, what is it that you desire so much? I am feeling like this pile has big dreams. You have the choice to live in a life imaginary. Pretending, playing make believe, is the first step to making your daydreams into reality. Let yourself play. Laugh at yourself when you trip, you’re a soul in a body that came to explore! Now, the Faith card (third eye chakra; intuition, psychic abilities) isn’t just about having faith in higher powers but it’s more about trusting that no matter what, things will be okay. Life is constantly shifting so just keep working towards your dreams and know that the outcome (Justice card) will lead you exactly where you’re meant to be.

꒰Another general reading has arrived~ This is timeless, btw. It's my birthday month, so I'm celebrating in all ways I possibly can. That's why this pick a card is so colorful. I know things are uncertain, but there is a future. I hope to see you there, smiling.꒱

Remember, no rain... no rainbow ♡ all my love

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

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adelarsims · 1 year

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sages' apprentices

In my world every sage must have an apprentice who can eventually take their place - in case that something happens to the sage, or a temporary replacement is required when the sage is absent for whatever reason, or the sage simply decides not to be a sage anymore. Longevity, and especially immortality, is not something that spellcasters simply have like vampires, they artificially maintain it with magic and potions, so they can refuse it at any moment, and many spellcasters eventually do. Cases of apprentices dueling or even killing their mentors to take their positions also happened in the past, but the latter happened in old and dark times, nowadays it’s considered barbaric and the successor won’t be accepted by other spellcasters. Succession by duel is still legitimate, but only on agreement between apprentice and their mentor, and with two other sages’ approval, so you can't simply come over to your mentor and tell them to defend themselves.

Their names (i’m in love with their names, they were randomized by the game, i only saw these guys and gave them a little makeover and a part in a story) are Beth Looney, Axel Magee and Davion Gallo.

Beth is Simeon's apprentice, but she’s the most playful of them all, a jokester and a spark plug, she hates seeing people in sour mood and will always try to brighten it, but she doesn’t always read the room and can be unintentionally tactless. Beth’s photos are usually a wide assortment of stuck out tongues, winks and finger hearts. She’s the oldest of the three and will always stand up for them because she thinks of herself as their older sister. Beth lived on a street for a few years and can survive on practically nothing if needed, and often teases others for their need of comfort. She also cooks for all of them (including all sages), but because she cares, not because she’s told to or thinks that it's her responsibility. She’s not above lies and tricks for securing important outcome. For example, when Beth dueled with another young spellcaster for apprenticeship under Simeon, he was better, but she cheated. He hates her but can't prove it.

Davion (in the middle) is Morgyn's apprentice. He’s the most serious of the three, sometimes too serious even in Morgyn’s opinion. He’s very practical, good at grounding the other two and reasoning with them when they get carried away, and if there is a leader in their group, it’s Davion. He’s known as the most talented of them, even prodigious, but he gets a little patronizing because of it sometimes, and he absolutely hates jokes on his expense. But he never refuses to help if he’s asked for help, even when he’s on somewhat bad terms with the person who asks. He refuses to talk about his past, but you can figure out that he’s not proud of it. He also reads an awful lot. But in public it’s always studying and always something serious. If he reads fiction for fun, he does it in secret (recently I’ve found “Wands of desire” in his inventory that I didn't put there, lol).

Axel is Elle's apprentice, and the youngest of the three. He’s not a trickster by nature, and putting up with his mentor's antics isn’t easy for him, but fitting in and being accepted is so important for him that he tries to look more chaotic and trickster-y, and acts like he’s extremely laid-back and doesn't have a single care in the world. This is why Axel often gives off a vibe of insincerity and untrustworthiness (probably he shouldn’t even try to keep up with carelessness of a half-fairy), even though at the core he’s a soft and caring person, if a little hot-headed and anxious for attention. He gets bored and distracted easily. He comes from a wealthy family that supports him both emotionally and financially, of course without knowing that his "school abroad" teaches magic, but somehow he’s the only one with an actual (part-time) job. Not for money though, just because he tried the job for fun, people liked him, and he stayed for being liked.

#adelar’s storytime #spellcaster apprentices #the sims 4

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ethicallysourcedtink · 11 months

Text

ʻNO WOMAN SHOULD BE MADE TO FEAR THAT SHE WAS NOT ENOUGH.ʼ ↪ dialogue from the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon. ⁽ᵖᵃʳᵗ ⁰¹/??⁾ change pronouns/gendered terms as needed.

you know how i loathe the summer here.

i would break my fast. good morrow.

you're plainly a fool, and i have no interest in befriending fools.

you can be very wise, my friend.

as you decree, your majesty.

you look radiant.

there are shadows under your eyes.

my soul is touched.

come forth and face your enemy of old, or watch your city burn.

you have been forced to join me in my exile, and i've been poor company.

if i should hear of any whispers, i will bring them to your door.

i have no love for your queen. in fact, i roundly despise her.

you presume too much. far too much.

i am not yet recovered enough from seeing a corpse by my bed to discuss its use for childing.

i know we planned to go together, and perhaps you will hate me for the rest of our lives, but it is better this way.

you took him somewhere safe. what happens now is up to him.

trust me. you can do nothing here but die.

i strongly dislike visitors at this hour. or any hour.

you show an innocent face to the court, but i believe you have another one.

all the world is a cage in a young girl's eyes.

sleep has eluded me of late.

what do you think of his eyes?

they will hail us as legends one day.

you stand on equal ground with whatever i am.

now i know your secret, and it reeks far worse than mine.

i see what's in your heart. it's the same as what's in mine. ambition.

i have no interest in why you are here.

you seem devout. i suggest you pray.

you dare judge me for seeking help elsewhere?

her pride would never allow her to ask for aid.

did the bells wake you?

i shall not speak another word.

do you have any notion of what they do to outsiders here?

she may be sick in love, as young maids often are.

i don't think i'm at all well, you know.

you are a witch. you practice sorcery. i saw it.

you know why this is happening. everyone tried to warn you.

here. i will give you the rest if you behave.

you don't really believe in talk of alchemy and sorcery.

only a soulless husk could hate poetry.

i've always rather fancied an adventure.

all stories grow from a seed of truth. they are knowledge after figuration.

you have a quick tongue as well as light feet.

not all dreams should be pursued, especially not dreams conceived on the featherbed of love.

he must have escaped while the sentinels were distracted.

how does his royal highness mean to forge such an alliance?

i have had precious little entertainment in this place.

i come to give you warning.

better a mouse than some louder beast.

this is not courteous speech. who are you?

i am no green child to believe what i am told without proof.

i do not fear you. your threats have as much weight as smoke.

they say he was in love with her.

my word, but you are a lucky wretch.

fear will make you fight.

this may be too bold, but you seem not to be in high spirits today.

i have no desire to condemn him to death.

do you think me a halfwit?

oh, do shut up.

this mission may not seem survivable, but you never know. we may return from it as princes of the world.

we must do to our enemies what they would do to us.

fire has no power over me.

something is afoot.

you had better start praying for salvation.

i possess sufficient wit to dress myself.

spare me from baseless gossip.

flattered as i am, i seem to remember you are already wed.

stop involving yourself in matters that could undo you.

it will be a pleasure to fight against a warrior of your skill.

i have an interest in survival. i recommend you nurture one, too.

you have been a loyal servant at court.

i would sooner plunge my sword into my own heart than see thy blood water the earth.

i hope all goes as you desire.

i am unworthy of her love, but love her i do. it hurts my soul.

may i ask your name, since i have you to thank for sheltering me?

pray continue.

if her majesty was displeased, i am sorry for it.

remember, no matter how far you travel, i will always be your friend.

he is comely enough.

i doubt he liked her overmuch.

a risk is needful if we are to know the truth.

no duty comes above our service to the crown.

your plot is heresy.

i beseech you, do not expose our transgression.

he should speak to you with more respect.

you know a secret of mine. we are bound by a vow of silence.

wherever i am, i am with you.

you're not in love, then.

i pray she understands. that she forgives me.

this is a mission of the utmost importance.

i will not hear of him.

i took the same oath.

we ought to speak about our… situation.

how are you always so wise?

i know you are mocking me, sir.

please don't tell anyone, or i shall be ruined.

i meant no such insult.

apologies. a poor choice of words.

as i said, i have no interest in your mission.

i confess my mind has been elsewhere.

i have been too forgiving.

she is someone for whom i would die a thousand times, whose name i cannot tell. someone who is the light in my life, the breath in my breast.

what an honour it is to be received once more at your court.

i will always keep you safe.

we have tarried here for long enough.

let us pray that, someday, she weds someone with a backbone.

i shall not involve you any further.

that is the problem with stories. the truth in them cannot be weighed.

i see through your mask. i see what's in your heart.

your pardon, my lady. it was a jest.

i thought i heard you talking. have we met?

#memo to self: chapter 10 #sentence meme #sentence starter meme #rp meme #sentence starters #rp prompts #sentence prompts #long post

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arotechno · 1 year

Text

O. basilicum, part x

Whenever Frida was occupied with other business, it became Basil’s job to keep watch over Ace, one which he took rather seriously, if reluctantly. After all, it was one thing to miss a person. It was quite another to have him drop abruptly back into your life, bleeding and nearly-dead. It wasn’t exactly the ideal circumstances for a reunion.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Ace spent most of his time sleeping. When he wasn’t, he mostly just lay there quietly. He had always been the less outgoing of the two of them, always trailing behind and keeping everyone else in town at arm’s length. But around Basil, once they’d revealed their secret to each other, Ace had always opened up like a flower at the first sign of spring. Now, the silence felt oppressive. If Basil let it drag on long enough, his mind would drift back to all the things that frightened him. So he kept himself talking, even if Ace was barely keeping his eyes open.

“You would like the community garden,” he said. “I’ll show it to you soon. Maybe once you’re— you’re not listening at all, are you?”

“I am,” Ace insisted. He regarded Basil wearily from across the room, green eyes bloodshot and drooping. Basil wondered if he had looked that bad when he’d first arrived in Verdigris. Knowing how bruised and malnourished he’d been—and how small—he must have looked even worse.

What a terrible image.

Ace didn’t seem frightened, though. He never shied away from Frida or Basil. Instead, he only seemed to regard the situation with resignation. On a few occasions, Basil caught him staring straight ahead with a hardened expression, but he always dropped it the moment he noticed Basil enter the room.

Basil sighed.

“You really could have died, you know. It’s a miracle your lungs weren’t punctured.”

“I know.”

“Do you… want to talk about what happened?”

Ace slid his gaze away from Basil.

“No.”

Basil didn’t push him to talk. He briefly considered telling Ace everything, but then thought better of it.

“You’re lucky,” he said instead.

Ace barked out a laugh and then coughed weakly, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m serious. Most people wouldn’t survive a wound like that. We’re both lucky you did.”

“I don’t feel lucky,” Ace muttered.

Basil frowned. He stretched out his leg and the muscles twinged with the motion. Wincing, he rubbed at his knee.

“Well, whatever happened, you’ll be safe here,” he said. “I know Frida already told you that. But it’s nothing like Amistadia out here.”

Ace gave him an odd look. Then he turned away again, expression strangely wistful, laying a hand over his chest.

“You don’t know that,” he said softly.

Basil didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what he should say. He wanted to grab Ace by the shoulders and shout at him, wished he could project eight years directly into his brain like a beam of heavenly light. He wanted to take his pale, clammy face between his palms and cry out, don’t you know we never deserved it? Don’t you know it was never true? Don’t you understand that this is what real acceptance and safety feels like?

But it didn’t seem proper. So, Basil said nothing.

“It’s not so bad,” Ace said. He shut his eyes and settled down into the blankets. “Amistadia.”

“What?” said Basil, but Ace had already drifted off. That tended to be the way their conversations went these last few days—he would stay awake for brief periods at a time, mostly listening to Basil run his mouth, only to fall asleep mid-way through a thought. Basil let out a sigh and rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands.

Sometimes, when he looked at Ace, all Basil could see was the child he’d once been, eyes blown wide with terror as he’d looked on from afar that day so many years ago. The boy that lay before him now was bigger and taller, with lean muscle that had to have come from years of archery practice. But though they were hardened now, those eyes were much the same. When Ace had opened them like a haunted corpse that first day, lying half-dead in a pool of his own blood, they had been unmistakable. Time and tide may have worn away much of their youthful innocence, but Basil would recognize those eyes anywhere.

He was ashamed to admit, even in the privacy of his own thoughts, that it frightened him.

Basil’s parents were dead.

This should not have been a surprise to him, and, in fact, it wasn’t. Basil had assumed them dead for years, because it had been easier than facing the alternative: that they had moved on without him.

However, when Ace revealed this fact to him, it reopened a jagged wound that had been left to fester for eight long years. Basil had never expected an answer. The reality of it—that they had been killed by the king’s royal guard, for the simple crime of letting Basil live—stung far more than he’d imagined it would. He’d assumed they were dead, yes, but he had never wanted it to be true.

It wasn’t the only thing Ace had told him. Once lucid, he had become somewhat of an open book, spilling to Basil with alarming desperation the path that had led him back home to Swallow’s Point. The path that had led him all the way to the castle, that distant towering spire that only seemed like a mirage to Basil now. The path that had led him to killing the king, avenging their parents’ deaths but sentencing himself to bleed out alone deep in the woods.

The whole thing made Basil’s head swim, made his blood run white-hot and his hands tremble. He wasn’t even certain what he was angry at, only that he’d tried so hard to run from this thing inside him, this guilt and shame he’d tried to escape from for years and years, with limited success, but could never truly shake. He didn’t even know what he was afraid of. That it was all his fault? That they’d come for him again? That this new life, the one he’d so carefully built, would crumble, leaving him with nothing once more?

After all that, Basil couldn’t find it within himself to tell Ace the truth: that the curse had never existed, and it didn’t matter.

He thought it best that Ace figure it out on his own. He felt guilty for the subterfuge anyway.

(As it turned out, Ace already knew, and had been struggling to keep it from Basil as well. They were, after all, both very well versed in keeping secrets. Just never from each other.)

The day Ace had his stitches removed, they set up a cot on the other side of Basil’s room for him, freeing up precious clinic space, should it be needed. Frida promised him a proper bed eventually, but Ace merely laughed awkwardly and waved the offer off.

Basil felt strangely embarrassed by the whole affair, surrounded by the humble array of possessions he’d amassed over eight years, while Ace occupied a corner of the room with his small cot and only a few hand-me-down shirts from the neighbors and a cloak to his name. He still had a quiver of arrows, but no bow. (Ann had offered to find him a replacement once he could shoot without ripping open a hole in his chest, but Ace had gone a little bit green at the suggestion. That made sense in retrospect, knowing what he’d done.)

The tension between them had eased substantially ever since they cleared the air regarding all that had transpired, but at times like this Basil still felt like Ace was the ghost he’d once assumed, passing through like a whisper until he was gone. If Basil so much as blinked, Ace would disappear again, fallen to some other sword, some other cruel twist of fate.

Basil was, by necessity, a stubborn optimist. But it didn’t stop the fear from strangling him from time to time, even still.

“Basil,” Ace said. “Basil. Hey.”

With a gasp, Basil jolted awake, hands wound tight around his quilt. The room was pitch black, the howling wind outside heralding the season’s first snowstorm. Basil blinked, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His leg ached something fierce, and he curled in around himself with a stifled groan.

“Basil. Are you okay?”

Something touched Basil’s arm, and he flinched. The hand quickly withdrew.

“Sorry,” Ace said.

“Careful,” Basil coughed out. “I’ve been known to hit.”

(It was true—he had lashed out and smacked Frida once while coming out of a nightmare—but since he was twelve at the time and not particularly strong, he hadn’t left a mark.)

“Right, sorry,” Ace said again in a whisper. Basil couldn’t see him in the dark, but he could sense him there, just beside the bed. “Nightmare?”

“Hush,” Basil said. “Frida doesn’t know I still have them.”

“Why not?”

“She worries.” Basil shook out his hands. “You know how she gets.”

“Right.” Ace paused. “I have them too, you know. Always have, off and on.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Bertrand—the potion master I live with, you remember—I woke him more than once absolutely screaming.”

Basil took note of the use of present tense—live, he’d said—and breathed through a wave of nausea that passed over him.

“What— Can I ask— What are they about?”

“Well… You, mostly,” Ace confessed, the hint of a smile in his voice. “I never stopped wondering where you were, if you’d lived. What I could’ve done. Should’ve done.”

“You were ten years old, Ace.”

“So were you. You wanted me to run, I could tell. I shouldn’t have listened.”

“You couldn’t have done anything. I just didn’t want them to hurt you.”

Ace huffed. “You’re a better person than me, Basil. Always were.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Basil choked out, wrapping himself around his knees while the storm raged on outside.

“Why not? Basil, I killed a man.”

“He deserved it,” Basil shot back, briefly startled by the vitriol in his own voice.

“I don’t care,” Ace said, unfazed. “What good is petty revenge? I’ll bet you they’ve already crowned another. So what’s it matter?”

“I’m not what you think I am,” Basil said, blinking away tears. “I did this to us, Ace. None of this would have happened if I’d been a little more careful like I was told.”

“Scoot over.” The mattress dipped when Ace sat down, still unseen in the dark. “It’s not your fault. They were stupid kids just like us, cruel because they didn’t understand. That’s what you told me, remember? It was just a cruel lie. You didn’t deserve it. Neither of us did.”

“I know,” Basil whispered. A sob bubbled up out of his throat before he could squash it.

“Hey, you’re alright. It’s okay.”

“It’s just— Sometimes I get so angry, and it terrifies me. I don’t even know why I’m so mad. It’s like…”

“Like being strangled from the inside? By something you can’t control?”

“Yeah,” Basil said, sniffling. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“C’mere,” Ace said softly, and before he could move, Basil launched forward in the direction of Ace’s voice. His arms found purchase around Ace’s back, and he clung tight, weeping, while Ace wrapped him in a hug in turn. He chose not to comment on the way Ace was trembling, just slightly, and if Ace noticed the same, he said nothing.

They stayed like that, in the dark while the wind rattled the windowpane, squeezing one another tight until all the pain was gone.

#*stumbles out of doc editor covered in blood* chapter's done #pain.#suffering even #aro #aromantic #aro writing #aro writers #writing #writeblr #o basilicum #the heartless #op #long post

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nicklloydnow · 10 months

Text

“Like his ancient predecessor, the Cynic Diogenes of Sinope, Cioran turned his poverty into a badge of philosophical honour. For the most pressing needs of his body, he would rely on the kindness of strangers and the generosity of friends. He wore other people’s hand-me-down clothes or entertained them with his wit and erudition in exchange for a meal. He would do anything, except take a proper job.

Doing nothing in a world where everybody seemed busy doing something – anything – struck Cioran as the only lifestyle worth pursuing and defending. A life devoid of action and practical ambitions, of distractions and busyness, is a life in which room has been made for meaning: ‘Anything good comes from indolence, from our incapacity of taking action, executing our projects and plans,’ Cioran wrote. And he behaved accordingly. When a journalist once asked him about his writerly routines, his answer was candour itself: ‘Most of the time I don’t do anything. I am the idlest man in Paris … the only one who does less than I do is a whore without clients.’

(…)

Having thus received ‘the revelation of the universal insignificance’, Cioran decided that the best possible social existence would be a parasite’s life – a loser. In a meaningless world, he observed, ‘only one thing matters: learning to be the loser’. Embracing loserdom, making the most of it, becoming one with it, became the great project of his life. Cioran aspired to be a loser as single-mindedly and passionately as others aspire to make a name for themselves in business, academia or politics. For he realised early on that loserdom puts us in the best position to understand how society works, and how it can surreptitiously turn our sociality into a form of self-enslavement. Most important of all, loserdom gives us the key to life’s best-guarded secret: at its core, the world – and we in it – is nothing but a failed project. Let me elaborate.

We fail all the time, in things large and small, yet our biggest failure may be that, as a rule, we don’t understand failure. And since we are not equipped to think about it, we can’t grasp its broader significance in our lives. A long evolutionary history has hardwired us to go blindly for whatever increases our chances of survival in the world, and therefore to chase immediate success. Brooding over failure, just as brooding over our finitude and mortality, doesn’t improve our chances of survival. Failure is the sudden irruption of nothingness in the midst of existence, and contemplating nothingness, while spiritually enlightening, doesn’t make much evolutionary sense. That’s why when failure happens – and it happens all the time – we instinctively tend to move on, without paying much heed or studying it in depth. This must be one of failure’s sweetest victories over us: on a deep level, we are designed to fail, and to fail badly (including our final failure: physical annihilation), and yet we are conditioned to remain blissfully unaware of failure’s darker message because our thinking can’t come to terms with it, just as it can’t come to terms with death itself.

Take the Beckettian quote about failing better, which self-help gurus, entrepreneurs-turned-spiritual-masters and other ‘life hackers’ repeat with abandon. Nothing is easier, if you listen to these sages, than to stumble upon spectacular achievements after experiencing disaster. On this view, failure is always pregnant with fulfilment, like a quarrel between lovers, which makes their eventual reconciliation all the sweeter – a little trick meant to spice up an already grand relationship. What these people always fail to mention, however, is what comes right after their favourite failure quote. For there is, for Samuel Beckett, something even better than failing better: failing worse. Going down and going under. Capitulation. Looking for an exit. Expiration. Here’s the larger context of his novella Worstward Ho (1983), which, as a rule, is conveniently left out: ‘Try again. Fail again. Better again. Or better worse. Fail worse again. Still worse again. Till sick for good. Throw up for good.’ Failure doesn’t necessarily lead to success, but to even more failure – abject, painful, unbearable failure. Did I mention that Beckett was Cioran’s friend? ‘Amidst your ruins I feel at home,’ Beckett wrote to him once.

This sugarcoating of failure is part of a larger societal process. Everything that is unpleasant, disturbing, depressing in our culture is neutralised, sterilised and promptly taken out of view. Not so much for mental health reasons as for economic and social ones. To be productive members of society, to be able to make large amounts of money and to spend even more, to take loans and to pay them back with interest, we need to be hooked to a ‘positive outlook’. Capitalism doesn’t thrive on loners, depressives and metaphysicians. No respectable bank will lend money to a client today who may snap and go Henry David Thoreau tomorrow.

Navel-gazers can be dangerous elements. And so can philosophical nihilists. Should their numbers be left unchecked, they could undermine even the most industrious of communities. That’s why such antisocial tendencies must be watched closely and weeded out as needed. An impressive army of therapists, wellbeing coaches, yoga instructors, self-help experts, entertainers, educators, entrepreneurs and other charitable souls is deployed to make sure that we don’t ever stumble upon the dark side of existence, let alone look the void in the face, as Cioran used to. This is problematic even when it comes to us through the mediation of art or literature. The great books that explore the abyss of the human soul (the mediocre ones never go there) now come with ‘trigger warnings’. Inhaling serious literature is apparently as dangerous as smoking. Granted, this sugarcoating industry has turned life in modern society into a highly artificial affair and largely a mockery, but most people don’t seem to mind. For mindlessness is another important dimension of modern life.”

#cioran #emil cioran #loser #lose #defeat #defeatism #pessimism #diogenes #cynicism #beckett #samuel beckett #oscar wilde #henry david thoreau #goncharov #oblomov #fail #failure #bradatan #costica bradatan

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lya-dustin · 1 year

Text

Someone will remember us

Chapter 43

Cw: child murder, animal death

Gif by @thequeenwechoose

When Princess Aemma squeals as she reads her mother’s letter, Criston is reminded that Aemma Velaryon is still a child despite being a wife and soon to be mother.

Gone was the irritating nuisance who hated him, replaced by the graceful and sensible young woman who reminds him of her late aunt and not her mother.

“I am sorry to hear about the Sea Snake, your highness. He was a great man.” Criston expresses his pre-emptive condolences, very rarely do people survive fevers of that sort. Corlys Velaryon was sixty, if healthier young men could die from it, what chance does he have?

“I thank you, Ser Criston, but he will get better, grandmother writes that the worst has passed and thinks Nuncle Vaemond is just being paranoid.” She dismissed his words and the seriousness of her grandsire’s illness with a wave of her hand. “He just wants to ensure that grandmother will not deny him being Jace’s regent should the worst come to pass.”

He winced, the girl believed Vaemond was honest and true. The man was coming to take what was his by rights and have the Lord Hand declare Aemma’s brothers illegitimate.

“Lord Vaemond comes to call the succession into question, princess.” She deserved to know the truth, to keep her in the dark was just cruelty.

Cruelty is Aemma having no legitimate brothers, he can hear Queen Alicent say.

“No, you must be mistaken, Jace is his own squire, family loyalty is everything to us Velaryons. Besides, he has no case, father gave the boys his name and declared him his, by adoption and by Valyrian custom they are his children just as Aenys and Maegor were Aegon the Conqueror’s heirs.” The princess shook her head, saying the thing all people ignored out loud.

The Targaryen bloodline was founded in bastardry, Rhaenys and Visenya had borne white children despite being half Velaryon.

Rhaenyra, bold and stupid Rhaenyra, had thought she could do the same.

“I was there when he made the deal with Ser Otto and the Queen.” Criston would never betray Queen Alicent, he owed her his life, but the least he could do to honor Teora’s memory, was warn the girl she loved like her own of the incoming shit storm.

-----

“Traitor!” Aemma gives into her baser instinct and tries to slap her great uncle, but he catches her wrist in the air.

“Aemma, you are a princess and I only ask that you comport yourself as one.” Vaemond releases her wrist, and she remains there fuming.

The girl’s willfulness had not left, in fact motherhood made it worse. “You are turning against your own family, you do not get to lecture me about behavior!”

“I only plan to ensure that I will be Jacaerys’ regent when the time comes, niece. I do not know who has been filling your ears with lies these past days, but you need to stop giving into them.” He sighed wondering if there was a way to turn these fears she has off.

Vaemond cannot tell her the truth and he hopes this is the end of it, the walls all have ears in this fucking place.

“Ser Criston saw and heard your deal.” Aemma hissed in High Valyrian, not all spies spoke it and it had been the preferred method for conspiracy amongst them.

But they must remain careful, Vaemond might as well be a dead man tomorrow for double crossing the Greens.

“My loyalty is to my family, tomorrow you will see the truth, little queen.” He said in common and his niece left as angry as she had arrived.

-----

“Whatever the Hand has said, ignore it.” The princess ordered as she organized a suitable welcome for her family. “My mother is your future monarch and should be given the respect she is owed, if the Lord Hand or the Queen tell you otherwise, refer them to me.”

The heralds had been told not to announce them either, in fact, they were supposed to be treated like some dirty secret.

Aemma wears sky blue and gold, Velaryon colors that bring out the blueness of her eyes and as a neutral party even if she is practically leading the Princess’ Party here in court.

Grandfather wanted a feast, but there had been no preparations made.

Aemma could not whip out a magnificent thing to compare to the ones done in the past, but she can manage a very elegant family dinner with what little time they have.

The seating arrangements were not needed, as it was a family thing and most families dine informally.

She just needs to make sure Aemond is as far away from Lucerys, that Baela and Rhaena are not bothered by Aegon and his sliminess, and that no pigs are served.

The pink dread, that stupid prank Aegon made that for some fucking reason her husband still blamed her brothers for.

Aemma wagers that he does that because its easier to blame Jace and Luke for everything wrong in his life than realize he’s been dealt a shitty hand and a shit brother.

“Defying mother and grandfather, I see you are back to your usual self, Aemee.” Aemond comments as she orders around the servants and stewards for mother’s visit.

“Gods, they planned to secret them in like fucking criminals.” She complains to him and double checks on the list of things she has to do or undo before mother arrives tomorrow. “Inhospitality is a sin, you know.”

“It’s improper and rude, but not a sin.” Her religious husband corrects as he takes her lists and distracts her for a moment. “Besides, your mother did commit a crime and a sin.”

Not once have they ever spoken this, not once has it come up.

“So did Rhaenys and Visenya, and they were not told anything.” Aemma points out in her mother’s defense.

“Rhaenys was killed by the Dornish before Aenys lost his first milk tooth and everyone was afraid of Visenya who at the least had the decency of choosing a Targaryen cousin with Velaryon blood to sire Maegor. No one fears your mother enough to let it slide.” Aemond argued.

He was the one most like his mother in that regard.

She always disliked that, but it never occurred to her that it would be an issue once they married.

“Still, by Andal and Valyrian custom they are my father’s sons and if he never had a problem with that, what gives them a fucking right to care?” the princess hoped this was the last they hear of it and forgets all those lessons about biting her tongue as she grumbled. “Gods, if only your mother had gotten on with her life instead of being bitter about what my mother does with hers.”

“Aemma,” the prince warned, but then softened and said her name again. Not Aemee, not Aem, Aemma as if she were an overwhelmed child. “I think you should hand over the preparations to Alarra, or my sister. This unnecessary stress can’t be good for you or our babe, Aemee.”

“If I let someone else do it, they will do it wrong.” She protested, but eventually gave up. If she kept going, she’d end up fighting Aemond, and Aem isn’t sure if she wants a marital spat today of all days. “You might end up pretending the sight of a pig doesn’t bother you, or mama’s intolerance for sesame will make an appearance.”

“I will survive, Aemee. I promise.” He says and she tries her best to ignore the bad feelings she is having about this.

Then the sudden chill in her bones proves her right.

“Aemond,” she gasps as her feet give out from underneath her.

Lucerys washes up dead in Storm’s End, burnt, bitten and missing his left eye. Arrax is missing most of his body, large bites, larger than most dragons.

Maris, in a dress she was fitted for two days ago cries in her mother’s arms, “This was all my fault, Mother above, I killed Luke.”

Aemma retched as she came back to the present.

Death, all she sees is death!

“Aemee, love, what did you see?” her husband asks as afraid as she is. Aemond holds her, steadies her and yet he will tear out her heart from inside her and crush it with his fucking hatred.

Aemma pushed him away in sudden repulsion, and he lets her be even if he cannot understand why his touch sickened her so.

“Aemond, I need you to swear that you will not kill my little brother.” She looks him in the eye.

He is stunned, eyebrows creased in confusion and still reaching out to her despite Aemma trying to keep her distance. “Aemee, what the fuck? What makes you think I want Luke dead?”

“Because you will kill him, Aemond, because your fucking resentment and hatred will win, and you will kill him and his dragon over Shipbreaker Bay.” The princess weeps, wishing she could keep it from coming true and wishing the gods had never cursed her with foresight.

“Aemma, you know me, you know I would never do something like that.” He says pleading for her to let him near her. “I swear to you, I won’t ever do it.”

“Swear on the life of our son, swear to him that you will not murder Lucerys!” she says in desperation and puts his shaking hand on her round belly.

“I swear on Aemon’s life I won’t kill your brother.”

#aemma velaryon #someone will remember us fic #asoiaf fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #oc fanfiction #hotd #ocappreciationtag #fyeahhotdocs #hotd fanfic

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chouxtranslations · 10 months

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Shizun 015 - Formally entering the household

Everyone kn the underworld knows that the Yanluo palace lord was practically heart sick over the matter of the Yunzhen immortal. Anyone who can help the immortal during one of his reincarnations are practically guaranteed to get a raise and a promotion, it was simply fantastic.

Unfortunately, the whole thing was hidden as a divine secret. No one could actually find the immortal, and whether or not they could get that promotion chance was based purely on luck.

Today, the Yunzhen immortal actually proactively reached out, only a fool would give up this chance!

Wang Laosi is an old hand and quite good at cultivation. He dashed over as soon as he heard the news, using his chain and the ghost to trip up 4 or 5 coworkers on the way to secure this chance.

Lu Yunzhen was very moved, “Are all the underworld officials so dedicated?”

Wang Laosi puffed his chest with pride, “At your service!”

He saw Jin Yunu, and immediately pulled out a book of life and death. After checking the demon’s life, he respectfully presented it for Lu Yunzhen to view.

Lu Yunzhen took his time to check that the skin painting demon hadn’t done anything that went against the worlds natural order. He was just... some what immoral and often seduced lustful men for yang energy. And the most he did was to make them a little ill for a few days.

By modern standards he was a petty criminal. It’s not enough for prison, but enough for jail.

Jin Yunu felt wronged, “But this one needs to live”...

In the latter day of the Dharma, spiritual energy is thin in the mortal realm. A skin painting demon can only survive by eating yang energy, surely one can’t be expected to starve?

He’s always very careful and always picked casual gongzi such as Long Jingtian who liked to wander amongst flowers. It was never forced and he always made sure the other party got what they asked for. For faithful people like Long Xingbang and Director Wang, he considered doing the unspoken rules for a while but gave up.

Long Jingtian got even more angry listening to this conversation. This bastard has played around even more than him, and from the sounds of it he usually bottomed. Why did he end up switching positions with Long Jingtian?

This isn’t fair!

He wanted to question him some more, but he didn’t want his father to know anything, so resorted to simply glaring at Jin Yunu. Unfortunately he still only had one slit left for an eye and it had no effort whatsoever.

Jin Yunu looked at him for a while, and finally grasped his problem. Reservedly, he explained, “Long Gongzi, you had drank quite a bit and couldn’t get it up, but I had to follow the unspoken rules...”

He simply must get that role.

If the mountain won’t move then the path must simply move around the mountain. They’re both men anyway, there’s no need to be hung up over these things, right? Unspoken rules didn’t include a clause saying who needs to be on top, if he managed to get it to work then it works.

For actors, it was a normal matter to sing for the wealthy during the day and during the night. He had to say in the matter and had to do whatever the patrons wanted. Some people liked to bottom, what could he do? That’s why he had to make sure he was good at both.

And he did do good!

Long Jingtian saw that he wasn’t ashamed at all and got even more angry.

Long Xingbang is a more uptight person and didn’t understand the implication of the conversation, and thought his son got drunk and did something shameful to the demon. He sighed and yelled at his son again. “This is what you deserve! Who told you to go around sowing oats?!”

Jin Yunu nodded in sympathy.

Long Jingtian felt like his chest was getting stuffy and he didn’t want to talk anymore.

Lu Yunzhen confirmed with everyone that they were find with him taking charge of the matter, and no longer seek any responsibility from Jin Yunu.

He asked Wang Laosi, “What is the process for getting Jin Yunu to reincarnate?”

“The underworld has quite a bit of red tape, for a regular person it takes maybe 4, 5 years,” Wang Laosi admitted. “Skin painting demons belong in the category of evil spirits and need to be questioned and investigated so they take much longer. Even if we expedite matters for you, sir, it’ll still take many years. Plus the area that they lock up demons are filled with quite a lot of terrible demons, and probably this one is not suited...”

Jin Yunu is very weak and has little ability to protect himself, plus he was beautiful. It was like throwing a lamb to the wolves.

Lu Yunzhen really felt bad about the matter.

Jin Yunu became terrified and started crying for help.

Wang Laosi then recommended, “Sir can send this demon to a major cultivation sect, so he can receive some training, cultivate goodness, be released from his demon form, and have a good reincarnation.”

This seems to be similar to what Mo Changkong just said.

Lu Yunzhen was even more conflicted. He’s just a compsci student, where was he going to find a major sect? But if he took Jin Yunu home he couldn’t afford it...

Wang Laosi glanced at the two older men and continued, “If this demon could receive some incense and prayer, it would also be of great benefit to his reincarnation.”

Long Xingbang has regained his usual business shrewdness and immediately understood what he meant. Understanding that evil spirits must avoid resentment, he smiled, “The Long family more or less knows this demon, we’re willing to provide some incense money and create some good karma.”

Lu Yunzhen wavered when he heard the words “incense money”.

Mo CHangkong knows that Shizun had always lived frugally, and that the situation has gotten worse due to his eating habits. He’s been thinking for a long time about how to relieve Shizun of his burden and immediately opened his mouth. “Us at Wujian sect can look after this demon, you should send a thousand in incense money every month.”

Lu Yunzhen was flushing a bit. He thought it was too aggressive and that 500 would have been enough. But Mo Changkong had already said it and he couldn’t take it back, so he simply added, “It’s a good act. You only need to do so until he reincarnates.”

“That’s so little, we can’t accept that.” Long Xingbang immediately responded, “If the master won’t mind, could I... send two thousand?”

Flowers of happiness bloomed in Lu Yunzhen’s heart.

His golden goose’s golden goose is so generous! This skin painting demon is his now, no one else can take him away!

He did his best to play it cool and put on the face of a cultivator again, calmly waving his hand, “Alright, let it be so.”

Jin Yunu was overjoyed. He peeled his skin off of the wooden board, rolled up in mid air, hesitated for a moment, and flew into lu Yunzhen’s arms.

Mo Changkong plucked the drawing out of his arms with a cold expression.

Seeing that the matter was settled, Wang Laosi once again showed his 8 yellow teeth and bid his farewells. “If the immortal has any other issues, you can summon me directly with a burning. I’m under the command of the Hepan palace, Wang Laosi for Haiping city Changle district Fuqiang street. I am familiar with this job and will be at your service.”

Lu Yunzhen was really grateful, “Thank you.”

He remembered Wang Laosi’s job title. If the underworld has a rating system he’ll be sure to leave a 5 star review.

Wang Laosi cheerfully went back to face the wrath of his coworkers.

Lu Yunzhen did one more check around the manor and made sure there are no other spirits involved. Worried that if he chatted he might reveal his lack of knowledge, he turned down Long Xingbang’s offer of a meal and ride, and headed home with Mo Changkong and Jin Yunu.

That high end district really was the pits.

He had to walk for 2 km to get to a bus!

...

The Wujian sect was born 2 hours ago. The building was 34 square meters. One bed, one bath, one kitchen, and one living room. The place felt immensely lived in, with pots and bowls all over the place and posters of animated movies on the walls.

Jin Yunu was stunned.

The thought that such an amazing master must have some kind of spiritual mountain, or at least some kind of temple? Why is this place so run down? Is this some kind of special cultivation method?

With living expenses on hand, Lu Yunzhen didn’t want to hide things from him. He explained his status as a master and said, if Jin Yunu didn’t like it he can go ask Longling temple if they have room...

How could Jin Yunu possibly put up with being a monk? He refused to believe that a normal human can tame a great demon like Mo Changkong, and he refused even more to believe that a regular person can make an underworld official so subservient.

He flew around the house wanting to compliment the fengshui, only to realize that the aura is all wrong. The spiritual power was immensely thick, it was multitudes better than the treasured cultivation spots in the sects!

How does something this good even exist in the mortal realm?

He slowly lowered his head looking for the source of the powers, and realized with a shock that the house was simply filled with rare spiritual stones and cultivation sigils. The bed, the desk, the living room.... Even the toilet had a spiritual gathering array!

Witin the sects, spiritual stones were immensely rare, and only the direct inheritors could get 1 or 2. And there are several hundred in this house.

How extravagant.

What kind of golden thigh did he manage to latch onto! It’s so thick and strong! Who cares about reincarnation? He can cultivate to immortality like this! He’s going to butter them up and suck up to them like there’s no tomorrow! In the best case scenario he can be a disciple. Even a small dribble that falls out of Shizun’s hands would be more than enough for him!

His eyes were practically shining.

Mo Changkong could see his ambitions and laughed coldly. He grabbed the useless skin and threw it into the yard, ordering, “You only deserve to be here.

The yard had a lot less spiritual energy than in the house.

Jin Yunu was about to tear up from the injustice.

Lu Yunzhen just received the living fees and felt a little bad. Stopping Mo Changkong, he said, “don’t be like this, let him stay in the living room.”

“It is a Wujian sect rule that only inner disciples can be in the house,” Mo Changkong said confidently. “Shizun, if you put a human skin in the living room, aren’t you worried someone might accidentally see it and get scared?

Lu Yunzhen thought about it, and agreed that it was troublesome.

He found a sturdy materials and some scraps. After a little hammering he had set up a pretty little house in the yard.

It blocked the wind and rain, but it did look like a dog house...

Jin Yunu wanted to fight a little more for better treatment.

Mo Changkong glanced at him, grabbed a dozen stones, set up a little spiritual gathering array in the dog house, and changed the setting so it was made for demons.

Jin Yunu immediately stopped feeling wronged. He happily moved into the dog house, saying that it was a treasured spot according to Fengshui and that he’ll fight to the death for it!

Skin painting demons are the best at washing clothes, cleaning up, and watching the house! He will properly take care of the two great masters!

Lu Yunzhen saw that he liked the setup and was relieved.

Mo Changkong decided that he was going to wait for Shizun before properly intimidating and educating this restless guy. He had to make sure that Jin Yunu knew his place, stay quiet, and go reincarnate when it’s time. He cannot say nonsense nor expect statuses that he didn’t deserve.

Before, he was always annoyed when Shizun picked up this kind of garbage.

In this life, their life meant they didn’t have choice. Shizun needed someone to help with the house work anyway, and Jin Yunu was quite smart and suitable.

He was just worried that he would be too smart and try to barge in.

Shizun was always great, and never went back on his word. It was only in this part where he had changed his words and fooled Mo Changkong twice.

The first time was when he picked up some 5 or 6 year old brat from the human realm. Apparently he was some kind of crown prince. The king was a terrible ruler and the inner palace was in turmoil. The Queen had been demoted, treasured concubines had gained powers, and she had even falsified evidence saying the prince was misfortune and had to be sacrificed to the heavens.

Shizun had saved the kid from the execution ground and took great care of him.

Mo Changkong was mad! He made all kinds of trouble!

Shizun reassured him saying, “This kid has no talent for the sword and isn’t suited to cultivating here. I’m going to look after him for two years and send him to cultivate with a friend.”

He believed him, and even helped preparing the curriculum.

Unfortunately, that brat was a little antique that cared greatly for rules. He would wake up at every morning and study the sword. He was never afraid of hard work or difficult work, and moved Shizun with this perseverance. This is how he became the second disciple!

This is He Jinnian!

This is the tattle tale bastard that kept reporting his misdeeds to Shizun!

The second time, Shizun had brought back a palm sized ball of white fur from some hill. It was a newborn fox that was abandoned by the pack for being born disabled.

Again, he was disgusted by how carefully Shizun took care of him.

Shizun had coaxed him again, saying, “After we raise the fox, he’ll be able to take care of himself and we’ll release him back to the wild.”

He believed, and helped Shizun take care of the fox, feed it milk, make it food, brush its fur, burp it, take care of its poop and pee. He did all kinds of dumb stuff.

And then, the fox played cute and threw a fit, refusing to let go of Shizun. And just with his fluffy and cute appearance, forcibly became his third shidi!

That’s A-Sui!

The shamless bastard who spent all day fighting with Shixiong for Shizun’s attention and always asked for Shixiong’s help when he needed to get revenge on someone!

Mo Changkong took a deep breath and repressed his anger.

He already reflected deeply when he was imprisoned. He can’t do anything that would hurt Shizun or try to monopolize Shizun again. Older brothers are like fathers. Fatherly love is like a mountain. Let’s forgot about his two garbage Shidis.

It was anyone’s fault that Shizun liked it when things are lively.

But... If Lu Yunzhen wanted to take a fourth disciple...

No way in hell!

#shizun #feng yu nie

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sanpatron · 1 year

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Sitting there in his office, his entire torso sprawled out against his desk, and with only the sound of Yor typing away at her keyboard to break up the silence—Django had finally been bested by the leading cause of every company worker's long-lasting anguish and severe depression; monotony.

There was really only so much excitement one could find in doing shit like paperwork, meetings, and dealing with entitled freaks who will completely ruin your standing in the community if you so much as embarrass them at that high society function you weren't even invited to. Oh, sure; concept design and the like were at least something Django could still put his love and passion into. But a single creative outlet working as a lifesaver can only do much in a never ending sea of soul-sucking and boring labor that's ready to swallow you whole at any given moment.

He begins to pick himself up from the desk, leaning back into his chair while staring out towards the rest of Spirale from the large window overlooking the city. It's no secret to those who know him best that Django has always longed for some semblance of the power he once held back home and the sense of freedom that went along with it. Living the straight and narrow was restrictive. Tiresome. It went against everything he practically stood for. Yet in order to survive this world he had been forcefully thrown into, Django would do just about anything to keep himself from going mad. And if that meant having to forego some part of himself and put up with this lifestyle, then so be it.

Though the question remained; how long exactly could he keep this up?

Well, doing anything loud and bombastic seemed to be a no-go here on this quaint little island. Surely there must be something else to help a guy from getting restless. And that's when an idea formed. A wonderful, brilliant little idea that he questioned how exactly it didn't cross his mind before. In his moment of wistfulness for the days of shooting people up and causing property damage, Django had begun to recollect something. Some very vital information. You see, the gang life wasn't exactly filled to the brim with work to do every waking moment. There does come a point where you'll just have to sit back and wait things out before starting the process all over again to get more cash. Same goes for when you're going up against other people. You could go days, even weeks before new intel comes in and you're on your way to fuck up another business opportunity for your rivals. So when you have that much downtime, and a need to keep your hands busy, what's a guy to do?

Side Hustles.

With newfound inspiration, he immediately gets to work on designing advertisements. Django had dabbled in quite a little bit of everything over the years before being whisked away to Radiale; EMT, firefighter, taxi driver, bodyguard, hitman, underground fighter, a practical jack-of-all-trades if you will. And so long as it could provide some decent cash and a way to stave off boredom, he'll happily do any job he can get his nasty little hands on.

LOCAL HANDYMAN AT YOUR SERVICE! REPAIRS, PERSONAL DRIVER, VOLUNTEER WORK, EVEN YOUR OWN BODYGUARD. NO JOB TOO BIG OR SMALL! 100% SATISFACTION GUARANTEE.

Each break during the workweek would be another chance to put his name out there on a more personal level, and as the days would pass, Django would find himself going around the entirety of the city and its branches. Flyers, business cards, practically anything the man could think up he'd do. But it wouldn't just stop there. He made a real effort to speak to the locals in every ward and branch; asking if any of them could use the spare help around their homes, shops, you name it. Taking on whatever job they'd hand him with a smile and the assurance that he could provide them with the best results.

Truthfully a lot of his work ethic was knowledge he had gained from his time as a gang leader. This sort of grassroots kind of approach would always be the basis in getting people to convert to siding with the Saints. If coming off as a pillar to the community helped some of history's most notorious of organized crime leaders, then he could do the exact same thing, and a helluva lot better! And while none of this work was being done for gangster PR exactly, there was still this idea in his mind that at some point or another this would all pay off remarkably in his favor. Provided he doesn't royally fuck it up in spectacular fashion.

Let's all pray for his sake.

#Isola Drabble ⚜︎#Meant to do this forever ago but hey!!! It's here now!!!#Anyway this is meant to sort of reference all the side activities The Boss can do throughout the series.#So I thought it'd be fun to kinda do that again here in one way or another.#Call them glorified side missions.

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aethele · 2 years

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@patroklides / misc. prompts : “ i must carry my own burden ” / from edelgard

“Yes, I know that, I did not mean to obtrude. I was being careless with my words. Ach, please allow me to rephrase…” His breath comes out in a hurried flurry. He has indeed been careless, cornering her in the council hall like this, prying into her plans for the future in the same entitled way he had thought himself humbled from since youth. How many times back then had he questioned her authority ? Thought himself better suited to the throne in secret ? Brazenly ?

He had sought to humiliate her back then, with his handbill, his many challenges, his corrections, unintentionally or otherwise, in his worst moments—and found himself thoroughly humiliated instead. Any place in her grand future is utterly undeserved, and somewhere under the loud thrum of his strong heart, he knows it. But no longer does he wish to take the burden of the crown from her, nor anything else, only to...

“This war is nearing its climax, and I have put a great deal of thought into what I wish to do once it is finally over, should I survive. I know that you already have your own aspirations and burdens, and that you and Hubert keep a great deal from me. I do not mind. Truly. At least—I care enough about the two of you to try to understand.” He is talking too much again; he can taste it. One word after another, fumbling to be let loose before the next, before silence. He sighs, and for once, lets his proud shoulders drop.

“What I am getting at is, I do not simply wish to return to Aegir. I will, of course, to fix my father’s mistakes and reform my territories, as duke. That is my burden. But after that… I would like to return to Enbarr. To the palace. I want to lend all the strength that I have to bear to you in whatever way you will accept me—as a warrior, advisor, husband, or even a court jester ! —Well, maybe not that last one, if it is all the same. But at the very least… perhaps as a friend ?”

He at last meets her gaze. For all of his bravado, it is much more difficult like this, more intimate when there is no one around but the two of them, no audience, no Hubert, no armor nor weapons to hide behind, no carefully placed lies or misdirections over practiced tea etiquette. And all at once he feels as nervous as he was asking a girl to the ball. “I do not know how to be any more clear-cut. Please do not make me beg.”

#* ❂ ) the splendor of nobility ! ― ic.#sorry i am obsessed with them #thought abt taking out husband and then was like nah unfortunately he would say it #* ❂ ) through empty heavens . ― war.#patroklides

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katieputnam18 · 10 months

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♥♥ NEW BLOG POST

Pack Your Bags; we're going on a trip through the tarot. Starting with the Major Arcana.

The Major Arcana

The Fool is usually unnumbered, although some decks label it zero.

The cards, also known as “Trumps,” are rich with ancient symbolism, and dominate the reading of a spread. This section decodes the symbols and describes the meanings most often ascribed to the major arcane, to inspire your own specific and relevant interpretations.

The Fool is the innocent adventurer, about to begin an important journey.

The Fool is the perfect example of the importance of understanding Old English. Erase everything you think of when you hear "What a Fool" and start with a fresh slate.

With a head full of hope, he is idealistic rather than practical; he is certainly not dressed for travel. The little dog at his heels tries to warn him of impending peril, but the Fool is blissfully ignorant of the risk he takes in stepping off a cliff. He is about to encounter danger, but how else can he make his way into the world?

The Fool is the eternal traveler, ready to set forth alone in search of life’s secrets.

We all begin life as a zero, a tiny egg of potential.

The Fool is the cosmic egg, symbolized by the shape of his number, 0.

As he journeys through the major arcana sequence, he is a part of every card, but he also stands outside the sequence, without a formal value.

An absolute beginner, he is about to explore the world, gain experience, and leave behind his status as a zero, a no-being. He will travel lightly, without the baggage of commitment.

The Fool is the dreamer, lead only by his needs and desires.

Usually depicted as a youth, the Fool must grow to become a man in the next card in the tarot sequence: the Magician—an individual who knows life and has identified what he needs to succeed in it.

The Fool on his journey will collect, in his bag, the four symbols of the minor arcana suits (the Cup, Sword, Pentacle, and Wand):

These items are the essence of his survival;

the Cup to drink from;

the Sword to defend himself;

the Pentacle, a coin, for victuals;

and the Wand to connect him with his higher self.

At this stage of his journey, he is yet to discover the power and meaning of these objects; when he fully understands their purpose, he may progress to the next stage of life, ready to morph into the card I, the Magician.

Even though his number is zero, his preceding card is the World, card XXI. Some tarotists even assign him number XXII/0, to show that the Fool is both the end and the beginning of the card sequence.

Basic Tarot Reading 30min Book Now

THE FOOL’S ASTROLOGY

THE FOOL AND KABBALA

The Fool’s letter is Aleph, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet. It has no sound —it is the breath, the chi, the life force of the universe.

Life begins with a breath, as the Fool is the beginner in life.

Aleph commonly means ox, for endurance, and also instinct, which drives the Fool on his journey.

On the Tree of Life, he is placed on the first pathway between the spheres of Kether and Chockmah—denoting his journey from creation to wisdom.

UPRIGHT MEANING

The upright fool signifies calculated risk. It’s never too late to begin anew and follow your heart’s desire. The journey ahead is not without danger, but it is time to take a leap of faith.

This card depicts those embarking on new enterprises and educational courses provided sensible planning is in place; this is a time for optimism and a fresh perspective.

Whatever you start now will go well, provided you do look before you leap—but once the decision is made, it’s time to push forward and not look back; have courage, commit to your path, and be fully in the moment. The Fool’s appearance in a reading can bring a sigh of relief, in that there is now a way ahead.

Welcome in the new and travel lightly.

Here are some insights the Fool can offer in particular areas of life:

Home: The Fool can show a young person leaving home for the first time. Also, surprise visitors could call. You may also have younger guests in your home.

Relationships: A new relationship—go with the flow at this point.

Career and money: You may have a sabbatical or a new opportunity in your current job or a new career or enterprise.

Prioritizing your workload is also the key to moving ahead swiftly.

REVERSED MEANING

Is what you’re proposing—or a situation offered to you—a leap too far?

The Fool reversed brings out his irresponsible side, as his mouth works ahead of his brain. Without thinking through the downsides, the Fool makes decisions that are not wise.

The reversed Fool leaps without awareness and so becomes the are not wise. The reversed Fool leaps without awareness and so becomes the literal idiot, sabotaging his chances due to desperation and irrationality.

Think carefully before agreeing to a new approach to work and hold back from emotional commitments until you are sure of your ground.

HIS WISDOM MESSAGE

Leap, but look first.

THE FOOL’S SYMBOLS

In the Rider-Waite tarot (my favorite) cards, the Fool appears with these magical symbols. Some of them reappear in other major arcana cards, so learn to recognize them and you’ll soon find you can apply your knowledge throughout the deck.

The dog represents instinct and self-preservation. The animal tries to warn the Fool that he is about to walk off a cliff, but the Fool is oblivious to his warning.

See this symbol on card XVIII, The Moon.

The white rose or butterfly: The white rose stands for purity and innocence. Some cards show the Fool with a butterfly, a symbol of dreams and spirit. See the white rose symbol on card XIII, Death.

The bundle: The Fool carries little in his bundle—just his essentials and four talismans, the symbols of the minor arcana.

The white sun: This is a symbol of consciousness, of the workings of the mind that are directly expressed. As the sun rises, it illuminates the Fool’s world, showing it all in the best possible light. The sun is white, which links with the Fool’s chakra of the crown and has the purity of spirit.

See the golden sun on card VI, The Lovers; XIV, Temperance; XIII, Death; XVIII, The Moon; and XIX, The Sun.

The red feather: The red feather in Fool’s cap denotes his life force. See this symbol on card XIX, The Sun, and XIII, Death.

Basic Tarot Reading 30min Book Now

Cards from the traditional Marseilles deck, whose images have inspired most modern decks, are depicted throughout and their symbolism is explained.

The Fool is the eternal traveler, ready to set forth alone in search of life’s secrets.

It is a significant and complex card that represents new beginnings, freedom, and taking risks.

On the surface, the Fool is depicted as a carefree young person journeying through life, carrying a bundle of possessions with a dog at their feet.

The Fool's clothing is often brightly colored, and they are often shown about to step off a cliff into the unknown. The Fool represents a journey, both literal and metaphorical. It represents the beginning of a new chapter in life, where anything is possible, and the future is uncertain.

The Fool urges us to take a leap of faith, be brave, and embrace new opportunities, even if they are risky or untested. Another aspect of the Fool is that it represents innocence and naivety.

The Fool does not yet know what lies ahead and is therefore optimistic and eager to learn and experience new things. In tarot readings, the Fool can represent a need to take risks, let go of fear and make bold decisions.

The Fool can also signify a fresh start, a new phase in life, or a call to explore and discover new things.

Indepth Tarot Reading 1h Book Now

He is portrayed striding out carelessly across the countryside with a staff in his hand and a dog snapping at the bag hanging from his belt.

He must make his choices, abandon, adopt, embrace, or discard, in order to attain perfection.

Alternative Names: The Jester, The Idiot

Number: 0 (can also be considered XXII or unnumbered, depending on the deck) Numerology Link: None of and all of the other major Arcana cards Astrological Planet: Uranus Element: Air Hebrew Letter: Aleph Symbol: Theox Meaning: Instinct Tree of Life Pathway: First, between Kether and Chockmah Chakra: Crown, for spiritual connection, and base, for survival Key Meanings: Innocence, risk, and beginning

Arcana means “secret” or “mystery.

The major arcana consists of twenty-two picture cards, numbered one to twenty-one.

0. The Fool - Know that you know nothing

The Magician - Be Yourself

High Priestess - Listen to your Instinct

The Empress - Create

The Emperor - Respect yourself

Hierophant - Obey

The Lovers - Follow Your Heart

The Chariot - Keep going

Strength - Belief in Yourself

The Hermit - Meditate on it

Wheel of Fortune - Roll with it/Go with the Flow

Justice - Do the right thing

The Hanged Man - Surrender

Death - Change

Temperance - Find the balance

The Devil - Beware of your appetites

The Tower - Expect the Unexpected

The Star - Have Faith

The Moon - Remember

The Sun - Enjoy

Judgment - Face Yourself

The World - Move On

GRAB YOUR TAROT GLOSSARY

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years

Text

Love Conquers All

Zuko x Male Reader

Word Count: 1856

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Y/n could understand where Zuko was coming from, but he knew he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't go as well as he had perhaps envisioned.

It was all very well and good that he had finally found his way, but he had hurt the Avatars group a fair bit before finding his way. Y/n also knew that as someone who had been a part of Zuko's attempts to hurt them, he had no leg to stand on in helping smooth the situation over. He hadn't been as single-minded in his focus on capturing the Avatar, but he had only cared because Zuko cared.

He didn't think that would matter to them, but then, Y/n didn't particularly care one way or the other how they felt about him. The only person who mattered to him was Zuko. Well, and Iroh, but that was a given of anyone who had met the calm old man.

When they made it to the kids campsite Y/n hung back, staying by the exit. It wasn't that he didn't trust them not to ambush him and Zuko, oh wait, it was that. Never mind.

Y/n watched the exchange carefully. He could feel it in the air mere seconds before she struck.

Faster than their eyes could follow, Y/n moved. By the time that everyone had caught up with the events, Y/n was standing in front of Zuko, sheathing his sword after having deflected Katara's water whip.

Silence reigned for a single heartbeat. Then Katara shrieked in outrage.

"How dare you!"

Y/n was sure she was still speaking, but he had a habit of being selectively deaf when it most benefited him.

And then, with almost no warning she was throwing water at him with increasingly wild movements.

It was no match for Y/n's technique.

It wasn't common knowledge, in fact, he had hidden it for most of his life, but Y/n was an airbender.

Yeah, literally the biggest lie in their world was that there were no more airbenders. The Air Nomads had had the practice of removing non-benders from their society and giving them to the other kingdoms.

What they didn't know was that all it took was for the right circumstances to happen and suddenly you had airbenders in the descendants of those non-benders.

It didn't change much ultimately, they were so few that they wouldn't ever be considered a threat to anyone, not that the Air Nomads had been when the Fire Nation had attacked them a hundred years ago.

What it all came down to, was a confused child suddenly developing powers that no one was able to control anymore.

Luckily for Y/n, the only person who had been around the first time he had bended was Zuko. As secrets tend to do, it had bound the two closer together than anyone would have thought ever since that day.

It was a loyalty that had seen Y/n stowing away on the ship Zuko had been banished on, and one that had been returned by Zuko had never once considered that the apparently Fire Nation child could be the reborn Avatar.

What it came down to, was that Katara was having no luck besting Y/n. Much as he wanted to put her in her place properly, Y/n knew that what they were trying to accomplish here would be hurt by that. From the looks of things though, they might have lost that chance.

Y/n stayed on the defensive, letting her tire herself out instead of outright attacking. He was worried about the look the Avatar was giving him though. That wide eyed expression couldn't mean anything good for his secret. He had always known that it would come out eventually, but he had hoped it would last longer than this dammit!

"Katara stop!"

The kid was trying to get in between then now, but the water tribe girl was apparently past the point of caring. She was just not backing down.

"Wait, I wanna talk to him!"

"No! They need to get out of here and never come back!"

Y/n was sure that her words might have been more intimidating if she weren't so clearly out of her league. He decided to ignore the voice in the back of his head that whispered that if he had used even half of his abilities properly before this they might have caught the Avatar long ago.

The element of surprise couldn't be taken for granted after all, and judging from the kid's reaction just now, all they would have had to do was show him Y/n's powers and he probably would have stayed on the ship that first day.

Y/n pulled himself out of his thoughts with a shrug. It was a bit late for that right now.

The Avatar had managed to get between Y/n and Katara, and seemed to be trying to talk her down from her rage. Y/n watched, only mildly interested. This wasn't how he had thought today would go.

He turned to Zuko, who was still standing behind him.

"Are you okay?"

He just looked Y/n over, head to toe looking for injuries.

"I'm fine, but are you sure it was a good idea to show them that? I could have taken a few hits. I've had worse before, you know that."

Y/n clenched his jaw at the reminder.

"I know. I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you willingly putting yourself in danger though. You didn't even try to defend yourself. Don't think I didn't spot that."

Y/n leveled a flat stare at Zuko.

He at least had the good grace to blush in shame and hide behind his fringe.

Y/n turned back to the group of kids gathered in front of them.

He gave them his best blank stare. He had nothing more to say to them, this was about Zuko teaching the Avatar firebending after all.

Besides, he was sure that anything he said would be twisted around and spat back at him by the water tribe girl.

"You're an airbender!"

Y/n refused to give up his secret that easily.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The little blind girl perked up.

"You're lying. You are an airbender? I thought they were all wiped out."

Y/n stubbornly refused to respond. He could see the water tribe girl's eye narrow at his silence. She was just about to explode on him again when Y/n felt a shift in the air. Less than a second later he felt Zuko's hand on his shoulder.

He slumped slightly. Damn Zuko's soft heart.

"Yes. I can bend air."

The shout of pure joy that the Avatar let out was enough to make Y/n feel slightly guilty about keeping it from him the whole time he had been after him.

"I'm not alone! There must be more, right? Some of the monks survived and hid right? Please tell me!"

Man, this kid was excitable, and as happy as he was, Y/n didn't want to be the one to tell him that he was wrong. He couldn't take the soft option of letting Zuko tell him though, they would probably turn on the both of them and Zuko wouldn't be able to fulfill his destiny.

"No."

"No you're not going to tell him?"

That girl was really starting to get on Y/n's nerves.

"No, they didn't survive."

That shut her up.

It also made the kid tear up, but there was no point building a lie just to make him feel better in this moment. That would be more cruel than the truth.

"The only reason that I exist right now is because of your ancestors though. Your people had a practice of testing their babies for airbending potential."

The Avatar was nodding along. Good, this wouldn't be a surprise to him.

"Well, when they showed to be non-benders your people gave them away. They were sent off to the other kingdoms, not welcome in, nor considered to be, a part of the Air Nomads."

"Air Nomads are airbenders, so if they aren't airbenders they aren't Air Nomads. That's just the way things are."

Y/n grit his teeth. It was an old hurt, but it still stung. He pulled in a deep breath and the only thing that stopped him from screaming about the injustice of it all was Zuko's hand that was still on his shoulder lending him the strength to continue.

"Your people were wrong. Occasionally their methods would be wrong, and they would let a bender slip away into another kingdom. But more than that, its in our blood, in the thing that makes us who we are. When enough of your ancestors were born from the Air Nomads, no matter whether they could bend themselves or not, you have the possibility to end up as a bender."

The Avatar's jaw was hanging open as he stared in horror at Y/n.

"But, they couldn't possibly have known that! If they had, maybe they wouldn't have done what they did."

Y/n's eyes shone with a dark light. This was something he would ultimately have to give up, but it was worth planting the seed if he could.

"So your saying that the only possible use non-benders have is the possibility of benders being born from them?"

The Avatar stopped cold and stared at Y/n in horror.

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then what? You had no problem with the idea that they would be thrown away like yesterday's garbage up until now. The only thing that's changed is this piece of information."

Y/n pulled back as he saw the tears form in the Avatar's eyes.

"Think on that for a while. You have a non-bender in your group. Do you consider him to be useless?"

The kids all looked like they had been hit over the head.

Y/n was sure that this would be the end of their interaction for the day.

"We'll come back tomorrow. Maybe then we can talk without resorting to violence."

He turned back to Katara who looked like she was getting ready to unleash whatever thoughts had been happening in that head of hers.

"Before you put your foot in it, consider this. We have two things you want. One you desperately need, the other, something you desperately want. Have a good night."

Zuko turned and walked back the way they had come, with Y/n bringing up the rear. He didn't trust them not to attack them from behind.

Y/n hoped that with the reminder that they needed Zuko to teach the Avatar firebending, they would be more open to meeting the next day. If that weren't enough, then there was the added bonus of Y/n being the only other airbender that they knew. He was sure that the Avatar wouldn't be able to resist the pull to be around someone who was like him for long.

Either way, they still had a long way to go to convince them that they didn't want to hurt them and that this wasn't a trap.

'Oh well,' Y/n thought as he lay sleepily beside their fire, 'things always look better in the morning.'

#Zuko x Male Reader #Atla #avatar the last airbender #male reader

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djarrex · 3 years

Note

Howie + Rex sandwich you say? Oh, I'm listening. 👀

Kendra I am SO GLAD you bring it up because !!!!!! lemme tell you :’)

Quick lil summary: Howie finds out about the relationship you have with Rex, but that only encourages the sinful idea that pops in your head.

|| Captain Howzer x f!reader x Captain Rex || 18+ only!!! unprotected piv, creampie, cumshot, teasing, vaginal fingering, spanking, licking, hair pulling, oral (m receiving). boy oh boy this is... yeah. 2.4k words of pure filth tbh. (also: minor tbb spoilers because, well, Howzer) and who knows, maybe there will be a part 2? We love Howie in this house ♡

***

Two identical pairs of darkening, golden eyes watch as you saunter over to them - their gazes lustful and voracious. It's nerve-wracking, the prospect of being shared between two captivating soldiers like Rex and Howie. Although, it was kind of your idea in the first place - the two captains had no rebuttal, no qualms, no argument as to why not.

For the most part, your little relationship with Rex has been kept a secret. You'd been working closely with Captain Howzer from the start of the Republic occupation on Ryloth, which was about a cycle or so ago. Then he started becoming a little suspicious about Rex's random, unannounced visits to the Twi'lek populated planet, and soon after, the loth cat was out of the bag. The high probability of Howie finding out about the two of you was never something that overly worried you, because quite honestly, they're more similar than they may realize. You knew he wouldn't report you two, and you were correct in that assumption. What you did not expect, though, was for your own mind to turn the corner to such a dark and filthy place when you had nervously suggested giving Howie some first-hand experience in the physical aspects of you and Rex's relationship.

“Look at her, Captain,” Howzer says with a dark chuckle while palming himself over his blacks. His eyes rove over your body, totally blatant and eager as he continues, “Such pretty lips... I wonder what she can do with them, but I’m sure you already know all about it.” Rex smirks at that little jab, nodding in agreement and keeping his gaze on you; you’re standing in front of them, front and center, completely bare - a wanting, waiting meal for their hungry eyes to feast upon.

“You’re right, Captain, I know just how well she can put those pretty lips to use.” Rex lifts a hand, reaching towards you and you tentatively grab it; he pulls you stand between his parted legs, softening his expression for the moment while searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation. “What do you say, cyare? You wanna show Captain Howzer what you can do with those perfect lips of yours?” Hearing them refer to each other as “Captain” in this back-and-forth power trip has your cunt tingling and clit throbbing - this is going to be fun. Rex notes the sly smile curling at the corner of your mouth - wordlessly telling him all he needs to know. Your eyes flick over to the other captain as a surge of confidence washes over you; you nod slowly, squeezing Rex’s hand in yours before retracting and taking the two steps to stand directly in front of Howie. His hair is tidy in that brushed-up style he so often sports, and all you want to do is yank and tug to where it’s beyond repair.

“Where do you want me, Captain?” you breathe out while lightly brushing your nails through his buzzed undercut, just above his ear. The quiet groan that falls from his lips only encourages you as you press your nails just a little harder into his scalp. You’re lost in Howie’s eyes with the way he peers up at you more desperate than before. His teeth peek out as he takes his lip between them - his eyes glued to the way you so subtly run your tongue across your bottom lip while continuing to run your nails through his prickly, buzzed hair. He’s so pretty - staring up at you like this all while is cock grows harder and harder in the confines of his blacks. The scar on his cheek is the next thing to draw your attention - it’s unique, a sign of a warrior, a sign of surviving battle. Howie must not have been wearing his teal-accented bucket in one, unfortunate instance to have acquired such an interesting facial scar, and for some reason that image has your knees getting weaker the longer you stand in front of him. The scar looks pretty, engrained into his cheek this way - it adds to his already striking features, making him even more breathtaking. The same goes for the smaller, matching one on his chin, just below his adorable pout. You want to taste him, feel him on your tongue, feel it on your tongue. Fuck, you want to do it...

So you do.

Before you can even register acting upon such a wild desire, you’re leaning forward - Howie’s eyes widening as your tongue sticks out and lands flat against the sharp curve of his jaw. Slowly, you begin applying a good amount of pressure with your tongue before moving upwards and gliding across his scar - the little divots along the thin, destroyed tissue tickles your taste buds. He shutters as another low groan falls so effortlessly from his parted lips - a sound you desperately want to hear more of. Upon standing back up you notice the faint shimmer along his cheek and how he goes back to biting his lip in that way that's sending spiraling desire throughout your body.

Rex clears his throat suddenly, deliberately, breaking your little trance.

“Captain,” Rex barks while grabbing your hand and pulling you away. “She asked you a question,” he so matter-of-factly reminds his entranced vod.

“Right.” Howie blinks and shakes his head before turning to point at the center of the mattress - you mentally take an educated guess as to where the lads want you positioned for them. “Pretty thing,” he coos. “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees right there in the middle of the bed, hm?” Nearly tripping on Rex’s feet, you dart onto the mattress, positioning yourself so that you’re facing the wall and your ass is angled the way you know they’ll appreciate. Simultaneous chuckles erupt from both of them, no doubt aimed at the eager way your hips rock back and forth so impatiently.

After a few moments of undressing, Howie climbs onto the bed and shuffles on his knees to move in front of you - his cock now free of its prison and jutting out just inches from your glistening lips; you’re practically drooling at the sight. It's his turn to rake his fingers through your hair; as soon as his blunt nails make that first scrape along your scalp, you whimper aloud and he just grins.

"So, so pretty," he murmurs while tracing your lips with the bulbous head of his cock - the dribble of precum catching at the slit of your mouth. "Open up, gorgeous." You do - letting your jaw slack, allowing him to push in as deep as he'd like. The same fingers combing through your hair now travel to the back of your head - threading between your roots and gripping at your scalp firmly. He slowly begins inching into the warm cavern of your mouth, groaning every time your tongue involuntarily swipes along his girth as it pushes towards the back of your throat. Your lips tighten around him when he begins his languid thrusts, and you do your best to keep your gaze up and at him while engulfing nearly every last centimeter of his throbbing cock. With one hand in your hair and the other caressing your cheek, you’re being held in place while he makes you swallow him whole - your own hands pressing into the mattress with the single job of keeping you up and balanced.

Howie is so achingly beautiful in this moment - his now unkempt, thick strands of hair hanging over his forehead, resting carelessly just above his furrowed brow and squeezed-shut eyelids. His jaw is hanging wide open, allowing the deep, gargled noises of pleasure to filter through. Watching Howie like this, and hearing him - it’s making you clench hard around nothing, even more so than before.

"Captain," Rex calls from behind you. Howie’s eyes snap open, now looking in the direction of where Rex is surely ridding himself of the rest of his garb out of your sight. It's clear to you that non-verbal communication ensues between the two of them as Howie picks up the pace; the sudden dip in the mattress at your feet from the weight of Rex joining you excites you. As if Rex can read your mind, he slowly swipes a finger through your folds - gathering the evidence of your arousal and spreading it around before prodding at your hole. You moan - a deep hum erupting from your center that is muffled by every thrust of Howie’s hips, making him echo you from the feeling of those vibrations buzzing through his cock. His thumb brushes the apple of your cheek as drool seeps from the weakening seal of your lips, descending down like syrup and onto the sheets beneath you.

“F-mmm- is she wet, Rex?” Again, you whimper with your lips loosely enclosed around his cock when Rex continues fumbling around in your folds - you can hear how wet you are, even over the dull gargling sound of your throat getting hammered. “Whatever you’re - mmph - doing back there, keep d-doing it. I’m - shit - gonna cum on this pretty little face.”

Wordless, Rex slides two fingers into your molten entrance - turning the pair back and forth while slowly pumping them in and out. You’re so worked up that your body is already screaming for that release, and you feel it building up quicker than you have time to realize. That familiar tingling sensation burns through your lower stomach, and only intensifies when Rex curls his fingers and quickens their pace - rapidly hitting that glorious spongey spot along your walls that you're never able to hit going solo. Your muffled squeal has Howie growling and pulling your hair tighter than before as he pops you off of him before taking his drool-coated cock in hand, working himself that last little bit with the help of a firm grip and quick motions at the head. You’re trying to catch your breath and Rex continues to finger-fuck you through it all, and seconds later, your cheek is being splashed with spurts of thick, tepid release. Instinctively, your tongue pokes out and catches the tangy spend that’s painted around your lips - letting out a sinful sound of approval.

“There you go, pretty thing,” Howie says with a smirk while leaning down to be eye level with you and pinching your spit-soaked chin between his fingers - turning your head slightly to the right as he admires his work. “Since you like my scar so much-” he chuckles darkly while rubbing your bottom lip with his wet thumb before guiding it into your mouth, “-now you have a little something to match.”

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to catch on to what Howie was implying - it hits you but disappears within seconds because Rex has lined himself up behind you and slid into your wet walls all in one fluid motion. You mewl in both shock and pleasure - Howie opting to keep his thick thumb secure between your lips with his fingers clamping under your chin to keep your jaw closed around him.

“Suck,” the man in front of you commands, his eyes narrowing beneath his untidy hair. You’re unable to process anything of the sorts - totally unable to form any coherent thought with the way Rex’s hips are smacking so loudly against the meat of your ass and the feeling of him prodding at your cervix, making your body wince with each hit. The flesh surrounding your hips fall victim to a bruising grip - Rex holds you steady while fucking you so hard and deep that you’re practically choking for air.

Suddenly Howie rips his thumb from you and traces it along your cheek - collecting the thick release coating your skin and bringing it back between your lips. You’re panting and moaning and trying to lick up everything Howie offers to you - trying to be good for him. Peeking down quickly you see how he’s already hard again, his cock bobbing with each beat of his heart, and that makes your mouth water for more. He must’ve noticed how your glossy eyes are glued so shamelessly to his groin, staring hungrily at his revived member from the dark curls at the base to the swollen head, when he starts to pump himself at his own leisure.

“No, pretty thing,” he shakes his head and makes you look into his eyes with the fingers still cradling your jaw. “I want what the Captain’s having.”

Rex’s grunts become louder, more desperate, as he approaches his climax. You’re right there yourself, whining and whimpering while looking into Howie’s eyes as Rex pounds you into the next system. Howie is just sitting patiently on his haunches, relaxed and pumping himself to the sight and sound of you getting railed from behind. You clamp around Rex’s cock with a shout, and seconds later he stills his hips as his pulsating length spits its release into your strangling walls - that warmth blooming deep inside you making you shutter and moan from the sensation.

“Shit, Howzer, come take a look at this,” Rex calls him over from behind you as he eases himself out of your clenching cunt. Howie climbs off the bed and disappears from your vision - leaving you to stare at the paint peeling off the dull wall, miraculously still holding yourself up on shaky hands. A quick slap on your ass has you rocking forward - low groans coming from the men staring at your puffy folds behind you. “Cyare, tell your Howie how beautiful this tight little pussy looks with my cum dripping out of her.” Your face burns at Rex’s filthy command but you’re too far in this to care.

“I- I look beautiful with Rex’s cum dripping out of me, Howie.” You’re shocked at how effortlessly those words fell from your swollen lips - but fuck, you love it, and the men’s shared mumbles of filthy praise only egg you on.

“Fuck, what a good girl she is, Captain, but I believe it’s my turn now, hm?” Howie’s voice is firm yet careful - he knows who you truly belong to.

“Cyare.” Rex steps into frame with his shimmering, semi-hard cock in hand. Your eyes lock with his, and his expression hardens. “I want to hear you beg your Howie to fuck your tight little pussy.”

***

Tags! Please fill out my form if you wanna be added ♡ This time I’ll go ahead and link my masterlist on here, too.

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#YIKES here it IS #I told y'all #I hope you didn't think I was lying #all aboard the filth train™ choo choo #you will not get an apology from me muahaha #Captain Howzer #Captain Rex #captain howzer x reader #captain rex x reader #captain howzer smut #captain rex smut #djarrex writes #18+#tbb spoilers #the bad batch #howzer x reader x rex #rex + howzer sandwich anyone?

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