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cospinol · 2 years

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Ou hon absolute mvp of this week’s kingdom episode… this is such a crowning gem of a character moment for him I’m so proud of my boy ❤️❤️❤️

His long-awaited Actual Success plus the way the approval-dependence of his personal ideal/goal cuts even deeper than we previously assumed… so good. he’s so good. and the way it all interacts with shi haku’s worldview one-to-one……

really really no words for how much I love that we got an actual reaction shot of shi haku here, specifically after hon’s line about how he’s doing what he’s doing for the sake of living up to his family name (the title he’ll inherit from his father)… outside of this scene we never see him acknowledge ou hon as a person/individual, just as an obstacle to be cut down (even in death he’s only thinking about kika, as if he was already by her side to begin with, never really here at all) but the fact that he reacts to this one line, about fulfilling your responsibilities as your father’s heir……!!!!

also ofc Top Dad Ou Sen in the flashback lol

in contrast to shi haku’s introductory flashback with his own father sending him into battle… :).

also kan jou’s journey this arc is sweet (the way he almost convinces ban you to have the troops withdraw before ou hon’s victory / is later the one ordering them to spread word of his victory to support him afterward while ban you takes care of ou hon ;_;!) but I’m kind of obsessed with the translators having him initially describe ou hon’s risky strategy as war crime

I don’t think it would be one in any capacity, it’s not notably unethical (we’re in a setting where kan ki has never even been court-martialed, here) and his commander fully signed off on this strategy as the only one with a chance of gaining the victory they need(tho really we know it’s also partially just tou doing his best to encourage the kids. but either way he’s obviously fully on board), I like that he’s being just this dramatic abt it

alsooo moving over to the other side of the battle, I love the shots of ou hon/shi haku in combat interlaced with shin/gai mou ones, bc once again it’s another character having a really serious and personally significant conflict while shin and gai mou are just having a fun time hitting each other real hard lol (also gai mou is so handsome again this week❤️)

and gai mou’s line where he gloats about the hi shin unit’s maneuver failing b/c of their strategist’s inferior skill… mgnfnggb. especially with the knowledge of what’s going to go down between him and shin next week :))))

#ALSO GOD ou hon departing Extremely Victorious to take hou mei’s camp #with like the full assurance of his Defeat Of A Fire Dragon under his belt #and the fact that this is His Own Strategy Working #is all incredibly funny with the knowledge that kyou kai will actually get there first. and then shin will get there.#and they’ll BOTH fail to take hou mei’s head. and shin will kill another fire dragon By Accident #an absolute comedy of errors from this point onward!!!#like he literally did his best and technically succeeded on many lvls but also this is IT for actual achievements this campaign #he did his best tho I’m proud of him❤️#txt #kingdomposting

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pucksandpower · 7 months

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Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader - Social Media AU

y/nhorner

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 273,816 others

y/horner waiting to get my wings

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y/nbiggestfan come on red bull, give our girl her wings already!

y/nhornersupremacy i hate that the talent is right in front of them but they keep overlooking you! totally their loss

y/nhornersupremacy manifesting those wings for you soon! the grid is missing your fierceness

purplesector red bull or alphatauri would be crazy not to lock you down

womeninmotorsport the world needs more phenomenal female drivers like you ❤️

y/n4wdc the day is coming for those wings, i just know it

y/nhorner

Liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 1,395,627 others

y/nhorner i don’t care, i paint the town red

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scuderiaferrari red is your color ❤️

charles_leclerc looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other 😉 welcome to the team!

y/nhorner can’t wait 🫶

gridgossip oh it’s about to go down! competing against daddy horner 👀

formulanone never call him daddy again 🥴

womeninmotorsport you go girl! time to show red bull what they missed out on

y/nbiggestfan so excited for you!

lewishamilton onwards and upwards 🙌🏾

y/nhorner thank you, lew!

formulanews red bull must be punching the air right now! y/n and ferrari are going to be a force to be reckoned with together

La Vendicata Revitalizes Ferrari

Maranello, Italy (15 July 2024) - Scuderia Ferrari is reinvigorated in 2024 thanks largely to the arrival of young British driver Y/N Horner. Dubbed “La Vendicata” (The Avenged) by the loyal Tifosi, Horner has made an immediate impact in her first season with the team and rookie season in F1.

Her commanding victories at the Austrian and British Grands Prix added to a consistent streak of podium finishes, establishing Horner as a rising star. Beating Red Bull, her father’s team, on their home soil was sweet revenge after being passed over for a seat.

But Horner’s influence extends beyond her own results. She convinced renowned race strategist Hannah Schmitz to make the jump from Red Bull and breathe new life into the famously questionable Ferrari strategy. Schmitz’s shrewd calls have helped optimize both Leclerc and Horner’s aggressive driving styles.

Additionally, Horner brought along several top designers and engineers from Milton Keynes to strengthen Maranello’s technical team. Her rapport with teammate Charles Leclerc has Ferrari targeting its first Constructors’ Championship and Drivers’ Championship in nearly two decades.

Team Principal Fred Vasseur praised Horner’s technical acumen and work ethic. “Her talent and confidence are matched only by her preparation and diligence. Y/N understands the car and motivates the team.”

The Tifosi have quickly embraced La Vendicata’s bold charisma and flair for the dramatic. With a title challenge in sight, she has brought fresh belief and energy to Ferrari. Still very much early in her career, her potential seems limitless.

Y/N Horner is out to show Red Bull what they lost by revitalizing the Prancing Horse. With La Vendicata and Il Predestinato leading the charge, Ferrari’s glory days may soon return.

y/nhorner

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 784,695 others

y/nhorner i still want your hands up on my body. you still make my heart beat fast, ferrari

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leclerclover it’s definitely charles! i would know those arms and legs anywhere

trulytifosi i think her boyfriend is just being supportive and wearing ferrari merch

leclerclover no way, the body language is all there. it’s definitely charles!

f1wagupdates charles and y/n would be the dream team on and off the track

lightsoutferrari let’s not jump to conclusions, it could just be a random boyfriend. charles doesn’t have a monopoly on wearing ferrari branded clothing

scuderiay/n i know that nothing’s been confirmed yet but imagine if it is charles 👀 they would have so much chemistry together

monzamash i’m manifesting them so much

scuderiaferrari

Liked by y/nhorner, charles_leclerc, and 2,175,834 others

scuderiaferrari when your drivers take team bonding a bit too seriously

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y/nhorner you told us that we should get close to each other so we did

scuderiaferrari as teammates, maybe friends. not close enough for the admin to be traumatized by finding you with each other’s tongue down your throats while i was just trying to get an espresso

charles_leclerc what can we say? we’re overachievers like that

maxverstappen1 so it’s okay when they do it but when i tried to kiss daniel for team bonding i got in trouble? make it make sense!

redbullracing it’s been seven years, let it go

maxverstappen1 no

ferraricentral clearly whatever they’re doing is working so no complaints here

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oneknightlight · 1 year

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Being a trans guy on your period is kind of metal actually. My cis dad sits in disbelief at what I’m enduring with a straight face. The sight of blood does not scare me. Im walking around in the freezing cold and shedding the lining of an inner organ like it isn’t shit. This is proof that if I were on a battlefield I would prevail.

#power to people with uteruses #trans positivity #it’s okay to rest on your period too <3 #but I like to cope like behaving I’ve endured a sword wound to the lower abdomen and I walk onward to victory #tis but a scratch

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verstappensrealwife · 5 days

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My Race Winner - Lando Norris x Reader

fluff, smut.

approx. 1200 words

warnings: sex...

lando norris masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

Your knuckles turned bone-white as you clutched your fists tightly, the intensity of your grip a physical manifestation of the emotions churning within. From the moment Lando, your cherished boyfriend, surged into the lead, you became ensnared in a whirlwind of hope and apprehension, clinging to the edge of your seat with bated breath.

With each passing moment, the gap between Lando and his competitor, Max Verstappen, widened, a visceral testament to his dominance on the track. What began as a slender one-second advantage burgeoned into a nerve-jangling two, then three... until the chasm yawned wide, stretching to an agonizing eight seconds between Max and the man you held dear.

Every heartbeat echoed like a drumroll in your chest, each pulse a relentless reminder of the stakes riding on this race. You poured every ounce of your being into willing Lando onward, a silent prayer uttered with every fervent beat of your heart, beseeching the racing gods for his triumph.

Anticipation coiled like a serpent in your belly, mingling with the icy tendrils of fear that threatened to ensnare your thoughts. As the final lap unfurled before your eyes, you were ensconced in a maelstrom of emotions, caught in the tumultuous currents of exhilaration and trepidation.

Every turn of the track became a crucible of tension, each corner a crucible where hopes soared and fears faltered. The harsh mixture of roaring engines and screeching tires filled the air, a symphony of speed and adrenaline that reverberated through your very soul.

With every twist and bend of the circuit, you felt yourself teetering on the precipice of ecstasy and despair, the line between victory and defeat blurring in the haze of adrenaline-fueled passion. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, time stretching and warping as you clung to the edge of your seat, consumed by the drama unfolding before you.

But then, in a blaze of glory, Lando surged across the finish line, his victory a triumphant crescendo that shattered the tension like a thunderclap. HE JUST WON!

A primal roar of jubilation erupted from your lips, an explosion of unbridled joy that reverberated through the air. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the fact that the love of your life had emerged victorious, his triumph a beacon of light in the darkness.

As Lando leaped from his car, his victory celebrated by the crowd and his team, his gaze sought yours amidst the chaos. Tears of pride and elation welled in your eyes as you watched him, your heart swelling with love and admiration. Without hesitation, you rushed into his arms, the force of your embrace nearly toppling him over as you enveloped him in a fervent hug.

"You won!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion as you held him close.

"I did!" he replied, his own excitement mirroring yours as he returned your embrace with equal intensity.

A squeal of delight escaped you before you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I'll let you have your way with me later, race winner." The promise hung in the air, charged with the electricity of anticipation, before you whisked him away for further celebrations before the podium.

The adrenaline rush of victory still surged through Lando's veins as he practically bounded down the stairs after the podium ceremony, his eagerness palpable as he urged you towards the awaiting taxi with an infectious enthusiasm. The thrill of triumph painted his features with a radiant glow, his eyes alight with anticipation for the intimacy that awaited you both at home.

Efficiently dismissing and thanking everyone who congratulated him, Lando took your hand in his, leading you out of the bustling venue and into the waiting taxi. Each step seemed charged with anticipation, the air electric with the promise of the passionate reunion that awaited you both.

As the taxi pulled away from the venue, the city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours, the world outside transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of motion. Inside the cab, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation, every moment stretching out into infinity as you both eagerly anticipated the intimate moments you would share behind closed doors.

The journey felt like an eternity, each passing second marked by the pounding of your heart and the soft hum of the taxi's engine. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you stole glances at each other, the tension between you palpable as the anticipation mounted with each passing mile.

Finally, you arrived home, the key card in hand trembling with anticipation as you fumbled to unlock the door. With a click, the door swung open, revealing the familiar haven of your shared sanctuary bathed in warm, welcoming light.

Stepping inside, the world outside fell away, replaced by the sanctuary of your private retreat. The air was heavy with anticipation as you found yourselves locked in a passionate embrace, the heat of your desire igniting like a flame between you.

Clothes were shed with reckless abandon, discarded in a trail leading to the bedroom where you both collapsed onto the bed, consumed by the urgency of your longing. In that intimate space, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

His touch was like a bolt of lightning, each caress sending delicious shivers cascading down your spine, igniting a symphony of sensation that reverberated through every fibre of your being. With tender reverence, he explored every inch of your body, his hands tracing a map of desire as he worshipped you with an intensity that stole your breath away.

Each kiss was a flame, fuelling the inferno of passion that blazed between you, igniting a wildfire of longing that threatened to consume you both. In the heat of the moment, time seemed to lose all meaning, the world fading into insignificance as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With deliberate slowness, he entered you, savouring the exquisite sensation of your bodies melding together in a seamless union of flesh and spirit. Each thrust was a declaration of love, a testament to the deep connection that bound you together, the rhythm building to a crescendo of ecstasy that left you both trembling with longing and breathless with desire.

You were a babbling mess, not knowing how to speak, what to say if you could, it was a lot and it was overwhelmingly sensual and passionate.

Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep you away in a sea of bliss. In that transcendent moment, there was no past, no future, only the blissful present of being together, lost in the rapture of shared passion.

As he collapsed against you, spent and breathless, you cradled him close, cherishing the weight of his body against yours. With a tender smile, you brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, gazing into his eyes filled with love and satisfaction.

"My race winner," you whispered softly, your voice a tender caress as you held him close. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that you were home, your hearts beating as one in perfect harmony, a silent affirmation of the love and joy you shared in that tender moment of afterglow.

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eelnoise · 3 months

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supplicate (nsfw!)

18+ MDNI!

Trafalgar Law x afab!reader cw: mild brat taming, teasing, edging, snarky law, piv sex, creampie an: this one kinda went overboard and was not meant to be this long. it was supposed to be two drabbles for both zoro and law but i kinda got carried away. i'll post them separately or whatever idk. tagging: @bby-deerling @themushroomofdeath @risenwrites @kaizokuniichan @strawheart-pirate

At this rate you were going to kill him.

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair as his jeans tighten again. You’d been at it all day – touching and teasing him every chance you get. Running your fingers down his arm when you bring him coffee and lingering far longer than you usually do before departing with a small smirk across your lips, not-so-subtly unzipping your boiler suit just enough for him to get a glance of the soft flesh that lies beneath when you cross paths throughout the day’s work, and he doesn’t miss the sultry, half lidded gaze that seems to follow wherever he goes.

Must be some kind of cruel joke, he thinks. Something you and Ikkaku had conspired together to conjure just to drive him up the wall. Law wasn’t keen on any of the crew knowing of your shared… situation, though considering the fondness you have of your crewmate, he should’ve known it was inevitable. And usually, he pays it no mind – so long as he isn’t bothered by any unwelcome, irritating comments or jabs.

But today it eats at him, riles him until your very image is superimposed onto the backs of his eyelids. As much as it pains Law to admit – your stubborn attempt at teasing him had worked, and probably much more than you even knew. Of course, he could simply take care of the ever growing, insistent need for you right now – right here in his office, and without you. He considers it for a moment as he leans back in his chair. There's poetic irony in the thought, and he chuckles selfishly to himself imagining the look on your face when he doesn’t give what you think you’ve won.

Though why deny himself the sweetened privilege of correcting your impish behavior? You’ve earned it at this point, a victory certainly – though perhaps not quite the prize you seek. Law’s mind reels with possibility, bringing him to a point of distraction that leaves him unable to focus on his own tasks. He wants to teach you a lesson, wants to hear you beg, whine, writhe beneath him, pleading for release that he plans on withholding until your absolute limit.

The way his cock throbs painfully against his thigh gives him an answer that he can’t ignore, and without a second – more rational – thought, utters a near-silent “Room. Shambles.”

Suddenly it doesn’t matter where you were or what you were doing. And Law isn’t surprised when you appear before him looking smug and as expectant as ever.

“Took you long enough,” You begin, the coy edge to your voice cutting through the silence that had been his prison for the past few hours. “Thought maybe-”

Law slides backwards away from his desk and cuts you off with a snap of his fingers – a sure signal for you to keep your mouth shut. “Strip, and make it quick.” The way you shiver from his words alone does not go unnoticed, lips twitching upward at just how easy it is to make you come apart from him.

Spurned onward by both his demeanor and his obvious predisposition, you hastily peel your layers off and leave them in a heap around your feet and step toward him. Law leans back and places his elbows on either arm of his chair. Seems like you’re going to have to work for it.

He only assists you with a slight raise of his hips when you move to free his cock from its confines and allows you to pull his jeans and underwear down as you see fit to do. Instinctively you lean down with means to wrap your lips around him, but Law grabs you by the forearm and clicks his teeth – twisting you around to settle into his lap.

Law reaches down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into a position that aligns himself near perfectly with you, and pressing your back to the edge of the wooden desk. You gasp when he glides his length along your slick folds, an excited half-mewl that lets him know that you’re exactly where he wants you to be. He delights in the sight of you trying in vain to roll your hips for any sort of friction, but his hold on you is too heavy and the attempts get you nowhere. “Law – come on!”

At your frustrated plea, Law tilts his head forward to peer at you with a knowing smirk on his lips. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be talking,” He purrs smoothly, breathing hot upon your neck. “Let alone making demands.”

He ruts his hips slowly – painfully – against you. Whines befall your lips as he lazily slides his cock up and down your pussy, making sure to press just a little harder against your clit. Law knows what makes you tick, having analyzed and researched each reaction to his ministries over the years at sea. He knows just how to make you cry out in limited bliss, how to inch you right to the precipice of paradise – only to whisk it away at the blink of an eye.

Why should you get away so easily?

Still tight within his grip, you’re at his will. Each stroke of him against your walls, feeling every throb of his cock within you leaves you a whiny, needy mess. The frustration turned ecstasy in your gaze cracks his guise further, though not enough to unmask him – yet.

He’d never admit it at a time like this, but the way you sound, the way you feel, the way your expressions twist and curve at his teasing – he needs you like a man needs food. And deciding that you’ve had your fill of his game is a good enough excuse to up the ante.

Law guides himself to your entrance, and using the abundance of slick that glistens along his flesh, eases you onto him. You hiss out a moan as he bottoms out, and a moment later he’s bouncing you up and down his cock, pace still unhurried and languid.

It's agony, sweet and unsated passion that you’re not being given despite your best attempts goading both now and throughout the day. Your laments fall on deaf ears as Law continues his tortuous campaign, pulling you down onto him until your hips are flush together, letting the head of his cock twitch against the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. You’re desperate, the need for him begins to outweigh your tolerance of his little game – so you do the one thing that you know will make him crumble.

You reach out for him, pressing a hand to his cheek to lead him into a tender kiss. Law’s eyes widen in surprise, but cannot help to fall into your trick. He closes them and leans into you, deepening the lip lock and groaning in satisfaction. You slip your tongue between his lips and the grip on you loosens enough to allow you to more freely grind on him.

It takes Law a moment to come to his senses, too lost in kiss and affection to notice that you’d taken control. He breaks the gesture with a growl and a feral grin to match, and that's all the warning you get before he stands up from the chair and folds you backward onto the surface of the desk. Papers crease and books shift as he presses your thighs up to your chest, his cock drilling into your core as fast and as hard as he can give you.

“So fucking needy,” Law taunts, hovering his head just out of your reach. “Look at you. You’re desperate. Drooling for the thing only I can give you, isn’t that right?” He follows up the words with a smack to your thigh and a low chuckle.

So much do you want to speak, though words fail you again and again. You’ve been reduced to nods and wails of pleasure, and Law is living for it.

He brings you to the edge so many times, and only a handful does he allow you to leap. Law’s stamina doesn’t give, and just when you think he’s close he stalls to a near stop – leaving you breathless and panting and giving you some respite before slamming his hips back into yours until the sound of skin against skin echo throughout his cabin once more. “Law, I can’t–” You wearily exclaim, tears pecking at your eyes beyond the hazy, fucked-out gaze you’re giving him. “It’s too much, I can’t…”

“Of course you can,” Law directs from above you. He clasps your jaw with one of his hands, lithe fingers grasping and forcing your face toward his. “You’ll take everything I have to give you since you’re being so good for me now, won’t you?”

The familiar tug from low in your belly pulls once more at his words, and in an instant you’re cumming again around his cock again. His name falls from your tongue like it's the only word in your vocabulary, and it sends his mind reeling. Law’s words eventually deceive him, and soon enough he’s digging his nails into your thigh and sighing into your neck as he fills you to the brim with his own cum.

The moment stalls, and for a moment Law looks at you, the hand nearest to your face coming to rest gently upon your cheek. You offer him a smile, and it makes his heart skip a beat. It always does. Law leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, and trailing an even softer one to your lips. It isn’t something he says often, what he’s saying to you now. The simple phrase is a whisper on his tongue, and made only for your ears – it's one you return just as quietly, though almost too eagerly.

After all, you do love him.

#one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law sm #law smut #op imagines #lawrence!

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rosieofcorona · 7 months

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A Light To Break All Shadows

Just a fluffy little Halsin x Tav fic to keep the darkness at bay. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Tav is eyeing Halsin suspiciously from the opposite end of Art’s bedside, where he’s been keeping watch over the sick man for days. At least, Halsin thinks it’s been days– perhaps three (or maybe four?) at the most. It is difficult to keep track in the Shadowlands.

At any rate, he cannot answer her immediately, which means his answer is insufficient.

“If you have to think about it,” Tav continues, “It’s been too long.”

She has a point.

He is exhausted, as they all are, but cannot bring himself to rest. They are so close– he is so close– to finding the child that will save them, to ending the hundred-year darkness, to restoring light and balance to the land.

And Art Cullagh, ill as he is, is the key that will unlock their victory, so Halsin feels as though he must protect him every moment, must stay by his side in case he should wake, or take a turn.

For days, he has persisted, spurred on by his stamina and willpower. For days, he has waited and watched. Now the idea of sleep falls on him like a spell.

“It is my duty.” He protests. “I will see this through.” “You will,” she agrees, “When you wake. These people will need you in the days to come. And they will need you to be rested.”

She is playing to his sense of responsibility, he knows, but he is too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he nods his agreement.

When he rises from his chair, it seems that all his centuries of existence catch up to him at once, his joints and muscles burning. He feels old and sore and weary as he drags himself toward an empty bed.

“Go on,” Tav commands gently. She feels like a mother nudging a child off to sleep. “Even the greatest leaders need rest.”

“Then you ought to rest yourself.”

She laughs at that, though Halsin means it. He knows so few who are so capable, so resilient, so kind. She has already accomplished so many things that he could not, not in hundreds of years of practice.

“You flatter me,” Tav smiles, but Halsin shakes his head.

“You are extraordinary.”

His gaze is on her when he says it, on her eyes and mouth and hands, the way her armor cleaves to her, the way her weapon rests against her hip. In another place, another time, another life, he would have had her already, would have known her inside and out if she asked him to.

And she had asked him to, once, before they came here. He remembers. At the time he had denied her as gently as he could, in the knowledge that what was growing between them, if cultivated, could later prove a distraction, a weakness.

But gods, he had wanted her then. He wants her still.

Yet such urges, much like sleep, must be suppressed. At least for now.

Tav stares back at him with wide eyes until she feels a flush come over her cheeks. She turns her face away, just slightly, so that Halsin will not see.

“Well.” She clears her throat, and redirects. “I’ll rest before we go scouting tomorrow. And I’ll watch Art while you sleep.”

“As you say.”

**********

In his dreams, he is back in the Shadowfell, that sunless, cursed place.

At his feet are bodies, Harper and druid and shade alike. He knows their faces, their names, their stories. Here is Atlan, a boy from his own grove, no more than eighteen years of age. Halsin had cured him once of pox, had later mentored him in the healing arts.

And here, Jehan the Harper, who had just received word that his wife was expecting. Twins, he’d announced, over a round of drinks at Last Light.

And Moranna, the Selunite priestess who had blessed them again and again on their journey, had prayed over them and shielded them to the best of her ability.

All lost to the shadows, corrupted beyond recognition. All dead, cut down by his hand.

Halsin does his best to avoid stepping on them as he presses onward, each step a battle of its own. The weight of darkness seems to crush him, seems to drain the very life out of his body.

His god is nowhere here.

There comes a voice through the black night, distant, disembodied. Halsin, the shadows whisper, and whisper again, closer. Halsin.

Wildly he turns and swings his glaive, hitting nothing, the panic rising in his throat, and–

“Halsin!” Tav exclaims, blocking a swing of his fist with her forearm.

She is sitting at the edge of his bed looking concerned, frightened even. His skin is slicked with sweat, his breathing heavy, his body tangled in the bed linens.

Immediately, a white-hot shame rushes over him, that he should be the one to cause her fear.

That he should strike at her, even unconsciously, his savior, his ally. His friend, though that is too weak a word for the feeling that grows within him, wraps around his heart like wild ivy.

“Forgive me,” he pants, “I was–”

I was lost in the darkness, he means to say, I was frightened and alone, but the words stick in his throat like flies in honey.

Yet Tav seems to know already, a tenderness softening the furrows of her brow. Not pity, he notes. Understanding.

She has seen equivalent horrors, has seen friends fall and foes flourish and still, and still, keeps fighting toward goodness, toward light. He aches with the thought that she might have such nightmares, that she might know firsthand how he feels now.

But she soothes him, reaches out to wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch as light and cool as an evening breeze.

“It’s alright,” she promises. “You don’t have to explain. You are safe here.”

Halsin lets out a breath he’s been holding for too long. It has been many years since he was last comforted, truly comforted. He is so accustomed to doing the comforting that he has almost forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end.

Tenderness is no stranger to him– many of his lovers have been gentle, have been sweet– but none have ever known his burdens, none have carried them, taken them on as their own. Here is one who has, who does, who will, if he will let her.

He takes Tav’s hand in his and guides it, flattens her palm over the rabbit-fast beat of his heart, breathing deeply, willing it to slow. He wants to say, Thank you, then, I love you, but it’s too soon, he thinks, too desperate, no matter how true.

“Thank you,” Halsin allows, and swallows the rest.

Tav smiles at him then, a soft, bright thing, like a single star in the night sky. The true last light in the Shadowlands.

“Shall I stay with you?”

“Art–,” Halsin starts, but she shakes her head calmly, knowingly. “He’s sleeping soundly. Seems his bad dreams have come to visit you.”

“I do not wish to burden you with something so trivial.”

“You could not burden me,” Tav says quietly. “But I will leave, if you prefer.”

Her thumb strokes over his chest, her hand still pressed against him. His pulse quickens again at so intimate, so innocent a touch. Halsin wonders if she can feel it.

“I prefer your presence, always. But you need your own rest.”

“Very well.”

Her palm slips from him as she rises to her feet, and he thinks for a moment that he’s made a mistake, has waved off her kindness, dismissed her.

Rather, she motions for him to move over and climbs slowly, wordlessly into the bed next to him. He finds himself lifting the sheets for her, inviting her in without hesitation.

She’s changed, he realizes as she comes close, her armor cast aside for the day. Her nightclothes make her look, make her feel smaller, softer. He wants so badly to slip his hands beneath the fabric, to see how soft she is beneath.

“Is this alright?” Tav whispers, looking earnestly into his eyes. Her fingertips flit over his cheek, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you alright?”

The bed is small and Halsin is not, and she is pressed against him like a flower between the pages of a book. He can only nod.

“I will rest here then, with you.”

In the gentlest act he can or will ever remember, she leans forward and kisses his eyes as if bestowing a blessing upon them, a ward against the darkness.

**********

Halsin wakes again in near-total silence, save the gentle inhale-exhale of Tav’s breathing beside him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t mind.

Instead, he is aware of how peaceful he feels in this moment, sheltered from the dangers beyond the inn, aware that at one point or another he had let go of his worry and settled deep into dreaming. The earlier tension in his muscles has melted into a tired ache, as if he is returning from a very long walk in the Grove.

And she is here, wrapped in his arms. A light to break all shadows.

He can’t be sure when it happened. The shift had been imperceptible, like the feeling of falling asleep, or falling in love.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x tav #my fic #halsin x reader #halsin x fem! tav #fluff #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #but mostly just so soft #like it was a delight to write something so sweet #my writing #bg3 fanfiction #halsin romance #bg3 halsin #halsin fanfic

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10yrsyart · 10 months

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i've been inspired by this song "Knight on the Moon- John Lordwood" recently. there's just something very melancholy about it, but in a mysterious way that builds into these intense moments of battle or rescue or something (the beginning leading up to 2:50 and also 6:27 onward).

this is the story of the Gospel, but i hope it's in a way that makes you see it with fresh eyes. the God of the universe, the vast cosmos, saw our sin and our suffering, and loved us enough to come down Himself. He was born as a human and experienced the joys and sorrows that we experienced. the devil is the temporary ruler on Earth and everyone is born under his rule, whether they know it or not. but Jesus paid the ransom for us, to move us into His own Kingdom. He gave His life so that we could be freed from those chains forever.

every pain you've experienced, every sadness that feels like it will finally swallow you whole; Jesus experienced that personally. He doesn't watch sympathetically from afar, He stands and cries with you, knowing just what you're feeling. He loved you enough to give His very life to give you hope. strength can be found in Him, and freedom, and joy. He is the ONLY way to be saved, not only from the consequences of your sins, but from the doom of living in a fallen world. the fallen world won't last forever though, He will soon remake it new. decide for yourself what kingdom you want to be part of.

"Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled: 'Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?' For sin is the thing that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Corinthians 15:54-57)

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cemeterything · 1 month

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howdy mr loveless. just caught up on silt verses for the first time (ty for putting me on btw) i saw you said that all the titles read together are a poem, is there anywhere this is complied? my stupid podcast app won't display the whole title for the longer ones

i don't know if it's compiled anywhere so i wrote it below for your convenience:

Let Me Speak First of Revelations

And Next of Dark Deceit

Then I'll Speak of Champions

Of Lovers, Gods and Beasts

My Song is Long and Twisted

It Winds, It Worms, It Wends

It Carries Few, It Drowns Many

And Those I Love, It Rends

My Song Has Taken Hold of Me

It Grips My Tongue, My Throat

My Voice Cries Truths I Never Knew

And To Fight Is Just To Choke

So Let Me Dwell Eternal

And In Ruined Flesh Ascend

For My Song Has No Beginning...

And The Current Flows On Without End

If I Could Trace With Bloodless Fingers

If My Hands Could Shape The Flow

I'd Bear This Song To The Precipice

And Rend Us Both To Dust Below

We'd Both Go Plunging Downwards

One Final Fall From Grace

I'd Howl, I'd Scream, In Victory

And We'd Be Gone Without A Trace

But We'll Never Be Rid Of Each Other

My Song, My Sorrow, And I

So I'll Bear It Trembling Onwards

To Drift On, To Dream, To Die

And Where My Final Footsteps Fall

Something Dreadfull Shall Arise

Its Gaze Shall Fall O'er Trembling Plains

Its Wrath Shall Scald The Sun

And Where Once Its Howling Forebears Walked

Some Day There Shall Be None

The Wise Man Knows The Taste Of Rot

All Lovers Part As Dust

And Even The Kings In Their Bowers Of Steel

Shall Wither In Ruin And Rust

This Rotten World Shall Wheeze Its Last

[Incomplete]

#the silt verses #long post #hope you can see why i like it so much :]

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probablyasocialecologist · 5 months

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Israel, pound for pound, is the best investment the US has ever made. Israel is the purest expression of Western power, combining militarism, imperialism, settler colonialism, counterinsurgency, occupation, racism, instilling ideological defeat, huge profitable war-making and hi-tech development into a manticore of destruction, death, and mayhem. From Israel’s victory in the 1948-1949 war, US planners saw the country as a regional military power that could contain Arab military and political ambitions. Amidst France’s imperial sunset in the Arab region, the country aligned with Israel – trying to deliver a blow to Nasserist Egypt through the 1956 Tripartite Aggression with Britain and Israel, and armoring Zionism for its successful 1967 war against radical Arab nationalism in the frontline states. Green-lit by the US, the war left the Syrian Ba’athist fusion of Arab nationalism and Marxist-Leninism in shambles and slammed the Nasserist national development project. Israel also became a useful assassin, eliminating Arab radical luminaries from Mehdi Ben Barka to Ghassan Kanafani. From 1970 onwards, US military aid into Israel turned the country into a unique asset: an offshore arms factory; a regional irritant to Arab peace, stability, and popular regional development; a destructive gyro of world-wide counterinsurgency; a black hole drawing in regional surpluses and devoting them to endless defensive and offensive armament, away from social-popular welfare spending and non-military development. Uniquely, the US allowed Israel to keep the military aid partially within the country, slowly and steadily building up a massive military industrial capacity. Meanwhile, US-based capital inflows accelerated, taking advantage of Israel’s highly educated workforce in the defense sector, resting upon super-exploiting the Palestinian colonial underclass in other sectors. In return, Israel armed reactionary forces world-wide: from Argentina to Brazil to Chile, helping evade Congressional restrictions on arms shipments to the Nicaraguan Contras and advanced armaments to the South African apartheid regime. On a world scale, Israel has protected the political architecture of global capitalism. And its US domestic adjunct, the Anti-Defamation League, presaged wider Zionist capitalist investment in repression by carrying out wide-ranging spying on anti-racist, anti-Zionist, Arab-American and anti-apartheid movements.

#israel #palestine #zionism #geopolitics #usa

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lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

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Got Angst for Prime.

AU: Whatever AU you want to use.

Concept: Ratchet's Optics never really recovered from his Synth-En incident. He sees everything in a tint of green. And his optics show it. So, every time OP looks Ratchet in the optics, he sees the blue with a tinge of green surrounding it, and he gets hit with how bad he failed Ratchet.

(I've pretty much always HC that Ratchet had some lasting aftereffects of his tests. This one's my favorite though.)

I can't help it.

I am going to make this shippy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus had always loved Ratchet's optics. If you asked him, he would deny the way he often found himself staring wistfully off in the doctor's direction. It was all professional concern for a mech who simply didn't know when he needed to rest and recover. If he shared a glance with Ratchet for a little longer than normal, it was simply because he cared. That was what he told others. Whether or not they believe him was up for debate.

But beneath that veil of half truths created for both his and Ratchet's safety, Optimus's affections ran deep.

Even before the war, he'd loved those optics. Ratchet's optics were aged even when Orion was young. And yet they held a life to them that was undeniable. Passion incapable of being smothered by the harsh words of others and the seemingly impossible trial that was going up a caste. Ratchet bore every burden and political scheme with blunt determination, his optics always shining brightly as a hint of a smirk played on his features. Optimus loved that mischievous grin and the telltale glint that Ratchet got in his optics when he had some wild plan cooked up. Even though he was unable to bring himself to utter the compliments that formed in the back of his mind, he loved the Doctor's optics more than he cared to admit. So much energy contained within a compact frame. It was beautiful in its own unique way.

Once the war began and Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, he did not think about Ratchet's optics as much. At least until they began to lose the shine that he had been so familiar with in his youth.

War was uncaring and it held no love for those trapped within its web. Optimus endured it with the patience of the old gods of Cybertron long since left to rot. Whispers of ancient beings far beyond his comprehension clouded his sense of time. Tears he wept for the fallen turned his gaze away from those around him and instead to the rivers of energon that flowed around his pedes. He endured it as the last of a long line of divines given frame. But Ratchet was mortal, and as the war dragged on, those optics that Optimus adored grew darker. Passion changed to red hot fury so bright and dangerous that Ratchet's gaze felt almost like venom at times.

Stokes of fire leapt through Ratchet's blazing optics, and more than once Optimus feared he'd be scorched by that boiling inferno of loss and grief. And yet despite being the one to lead their war ever onward, Optimus never felt Ratchet's anger directed at him. When those optics gazed up at him, Optimus felt only age old affection and care. Fire was tamed and turned to comforting warmth. Steady servos ran along his arms and a soothing voice lulled Optimus into temporary serenity on long cycles where he simply had no more tears to shed or reason to give to their Primus forsaken war. All the while those optics met his own and Optimus was at peace.

Vorns passed by. Optimus continued in his eternal march toward victory and Ratchet continued to change. Rage turned into bitterness, the molten hot wrath of war transforming into a deep set sorrow that left creases in the living metal that surrounded Ratchet's optics. Grim darkness pooled in that once passionate gaze. Those optics flickered in wrath long fostered each time Megatron made himself known. Those optics flared with every injury that the team brought with them back to base once they arrived on Earth. Those optics that Optimus loved so dearly dimmed and quieted, their light softening in the dark of the medical bay on long nights when Ratchet thought no one would hear his quiet sobs.

Optimus always loved Ratchet's optics.

He should have treated him better.

"Does it still hurt?" Optimus asked as he ran his digits over the weld on Ratchet's side.

"Of course it does. The weld has only been in place for a month and the wound ran deep." Ratchet replied clinically, not looking up from his work even as Optimus risked wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. Others could see, but in the moment, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the crook of Ratchet's neck as he leaned down, desperate to feel the comforting warmth of Ratchet's frame against his. The Doctor stilled, his field extending and wrapping around Optimus is concern.

"Optimus, please, we've talked about this. I was out of line in saying that. You are not at fault." Ratchet broke from Optimus's embrace and turned around. Optimus wanted to look away in shame as those optics looked up at him, still as lovely as ever, but tinted a haunting green.

A sign of Optimus's greatest failure.

"I am at fault, and you know that as well as I do. Let us not delude ourselves." Optimus reached out to cup Ratchet's face. The Doctor leaned into his touch obligingly. Any open affection was a risk, but there was something unspoken that needed to be addressed before time ran out and the world drew them apart yet again.

"You have always done what you think is right. I can't blame you for hoping and trying to save a mech who was once a friend." Ratchet's optics cycled and the green became more prominent within them in response to his emotions. Optimus frowned and shifted so caress the metal around the Doctors optics. His scarred digits traced creases and small scuffs, lingering around the corners of Ratchet's optics as Optimus observed the green hue in sorrow.

"You shouldn't have felt pressured to do this to yourself. The risks were too great. If I had only-" A digit pressed to Optimus's derma before he could continue, silencing his attempts at being self deprecating before they could truly begin.

"I made my choice. It is not your fault. Besides, the world is just a little more green for me now. That is all." Ratchet forced a smile, but Optimus could not bring himself to do the same. Ratchet's words while he was on synthetic energon were cruel... but undeniably true. How many times had Optimus had the chance to bring down Megatron only to let the warlord go? How many lives could he have saved if he had only put aside his feelings on the matter and acted?

"I can tell you are beating yourself up over it. Stop. It's over now and I'm fine." Ratchet pulled away and Optimus's servos fell. They stood quietly together for a nanoklik before Ratchet moved forward, his smaller frame pressing against Optimus's in a gentle embrace. Strong arms hooked themselves around the crooks of Optimus's torso, unwavering but gentle enough that if he wished, the Prime could pull away.

"Forgive me." Optimus murmured in the quiet of the medical bay. A gentle hum met his plea. Neither said another word as they stood in the relative dark, comforted in the presence of one another. Only the light of the nearby console lit up the area, but it was more than enough for the Prime to work with.

Green tinted optics glowed in the gloom, illuminating Optimus's face as he leaned down. Ratchet's optics closed, most likely expecting a gentle touch to the crest of his helm. Instead, Optimus leaned as close as he was able, even going so far as to angle his helm so that he could get near enough to place a ghost of a kiss over Ratchet's optics. Each closed optic received the lightest of touches, so soft that it may as well have been a gust of wind. But as Optimus pulled back and settled into the helm touch that Ratchet had likely been prepared for, the Prime finally smiled.

"Thank you for standing by my side." Ratchet stared in shock as the Prime's digits again found their place tracing around the Doctor's optics. Ratchet stood still, uncertain of how to respond until Optimus spoke again.

"I've always loved your optics, regardless of their hue." Optimus assured, earning a gentle huff from his companion.

"You sap." Ratchet whispered even as his optics glowed in all too rare joy at the show of affection. The green was still present, a permanent reminder of the costs of war. However Optimus continued to smile all the same, simply pleased to have those optics locked on him.

Yes, Optimus would admit it aloud if times permitted.

He had always loved Ratchet's optics.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #ratchet #optiratch #transformers fanfiction #fanfiction #slight angst #finally a chance to write something angsty fluffy #I do love me these two old bots

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