#icarus ignite writes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thatsthewrongwallcraig · 9 months

Note

babe, first of all, I hope you doing well 🥰 and second, but not least important, i'll do love if write some toxic fluffy whith jack, where, after a argument, she hurts or puts herself in dangerous just to get revenge, but nothing really serius happens to her, they reconizing they're not in a helth reletionship, but they gonna try to be better for eachother, you also can add some smut if you like, but this is not part of the request. hope you liked the idea, but if you don't, let me know

xoxo

My dearest anon...this is a lot of things but not exactly fluffy and I'm sorry if I went too hard on it but toxic Jack Thurlow had me short circuiting 😵‍💫😵‍💫

The Pain Remains

Summary: This time you really lost the plot for good and now all you can do is to clean up your act.

Pairing: Jack Thurlow x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Content Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! 18+!, Grim Dark Smut, Active Self Harm, Jealousy, Borderline Very Toxic Relationship, Two Idiots In Love Trying To Do Better, It's Very Mentally Ill In Here, Mutual Substance Abuse, Very Shitty Coping Mechanisms, Strong Hints Towards Sex Addiction, Mentions Of Public Sex, Angsty As Fuck, Positive Ending, Tho 🙆🏻‍♀️!

A/N: I know, this is a rather heavy one and if anyone of you feels the need to talk to someone: My DMs are always open. Don't hesitate to reach out!🖤

Tagging The Squad:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @roryculkinsbf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @b4sementgrl @blueberrypancakesworld

If the past is just dust

Then the future could be our dream

If all we have is now, this eternity

Ignite my satisfaction, engulf me

- The Pain Remains I By Lorna Shore

Before you even really woke up, you were forced to acknowledge the raging hangover headache in your head. With eyes closed shut, you turned to the side, your hand haphazardly roaming over the silhouette of Jack's body, looking for a glimpse of comforting body heat or just anything to get your racing mind to shut up for a second.

How did you get into bed? At what time did you fall onto the mattress next to him?

You had no clue about any of that as you pressed your body against his back, the pungent aftertaste of cheap rum still lingering heavily on your tongue.

"Fucking hell…" You groaned into the nape of his neck, your nose buried deep in his curly, brown hair and yet you could still smell the remnants of last night's pot extravaganza all throughout the bedroom.

What in the everloving fuck had the two of you been up to last night? With relentlessly firing synapses and painfully overdriven neurons you searched your mind for answers, a flicker of a memory, at this point anything, really.

You couldn't help yourself but to let your face contort into various tortured grimaces as the rest of your body slowly came to. Your stomach felt horribly fucked and in dire need for something solid, although the mere thought of food alone had you nearly gagging. No, you needed something else to take the edge off before you even so much as got out of bed.

Whilst inhaling deep, unsteady breaths, you soaked in the calming smell of Jack's body; a mixture of pheromone-loaded sweat, musky deodorant and soft hints of vanilla coke.

Vanilla coke spiked with cheap rum. Your stomach dropped and turned in every possible direction at the reminder. Nearly every weekend played out in the same shit show again and again: Booze to kill the anxiety, weed to elevate your spirit and nearly deranged amounts of sex to eradicate and simply drown out every last painful sentiment that could possibly be felt.

On that notion your lips curled up into a crooked smile whilst your reader fingertips grazed down your boyfriends gently rising and falling again chest, gingerly drawing a circle or two around his navel before eventually tapping down to the waistband of his black and gray checkered shorts, a throbbing case of morning wood straining against the fabric already. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth in a low gasp, you simply indulged yourself and allowed your hand to slip right past the waistband, fingers wrapping themselves around Jack's girth tenderly.

"Goddamn minx!" Jack hissed into the darkened bedroom and involuntarily jutted his hips against your hand.

"Want me to stop?" You whispered into the soft skin of his shoulder before biting down on it teasingly.

"No, please.", His voice was raspy enough to give you a broad idea about how much the two of you must've smoked last night, "I'm equal parts hungover and horny as fuck."

"Yeah, I thought so." You snickered while you started fisting his cock, generously smearing the pre-cum all over the sensitive tip to not stroke him sore with a dry palm.

"You're a fucking menace, you know that?" Jack stuttered, choking back a breathy moan while rocking is lap in quick rolls, practically fucking himself into your grip.

"Says the lunatic who'll take every and any given chance to fumble me in public? Finger fucking me in the cinema, really?" With a mischievous grin spreading all across your face, you fondly remembered that happening a few days ago.

"C'mon, you enjoyed that, cumming all over the seat like you did." Jack shot right back at you.

"Fair enough." You agreed, tightening the grip around his hard on slightly to drag a shaky sigh from his lips.

"Fuck, you know I can't last long that early into the day." Jack practically whined out, his hips thrusting harshly against your hand while you jerked him off.

"Oh, poor, little Jack." Your playfully mocking voice got lost in the glossy curls of his hair as you felt his entire body turning stiff against your torso.

"Say that again… please!" Jack was clearly about to come undone, needing that little push of humiliation to push past the threshold.

"Oh, you sick fuck.", You sneered into his ear, the tip of your nose hardly touching its shell, "Poor, little Jack Thurlow creaming his boxers just after a few minutes already, huh?"

"Good god, fuck, you're so mean!" It cascaded out of his mouth in a guttural moan as he rutted against your hand in a few last, shaky thrusts before white-hot ropes of cum ruined his boxers and your hand alike.

The milky fluid spouted all over your fingers and eventually down your wrist, causing a very sudden, sharp pinch of simmering pain.

"What the hell?!" You hissed and withdrew your hands from Jack's crotch, raising it up for the both of you to stare right at the scene of the crime.

"What…" Jack mumbled under his breath, his eyes going wide in shock.

Thin yet vigorous cuts thrown all over your wrist, bright red with inflammation and laced with a milky layer of Jack's cum, laughing right in your face about the current state of your mental health.

"What…no…NO!" Your voice flailed and trembled as you stared at your wrist with thrashing disbelief.

"I was clean for a year! This…this isn't happening, no!" A dull pang of pain shot right through your dehydrated head as you basically jumped off the mattress and stumbled towards the bathroom, nearly tripping over scattered clothing and a glass bong.

Unbridled waves of shame and disgusting rippled through your system as a supernova of blacked-out memories decided to implode inside your head. You'd been pissed last night, even furious with Jack about something…yeah..fuck..a call. Was it call? Yeah, of course, a call from is ex-fiancé Cleo, that fucking cunt. Dumped him because she couldn't handle Jack the way you could and now trying to patch things up again. Stupid twat.

"Hey, wait!" You heard Jack calling out to you from behind, coming right after you.

Your out of control body fell against the door frame of the bathroom as you hurried towards the sink, yanking at the faucet for icy cold water to cascade over your violated wrist. It stung and you winced at the sharp pain.

"Are you okay? What the hell happened!?" Jack huffed, only stopping in steps as he was right behind you, making his presence known by cupping your jittery frame with his body, his chin resting on your shoulder as his slender hands wrapped themselves around yours under the running faucet.

His thumb ghosted over the cuts, gently washing himself off of your sore skin.

"Obviously not, asshole!" It shot right out of you and you regretted it immediately.

"Hey, watch that mouth! Right now is not the time for that." He mumbled into the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, sorry… I really lost the plot this time, huh?" Your voice was but a meak whimper.

"Maybe, but I got you. This is a temporary setback, yes, but not the end of the world, you hear me?" His tone rendered soft as he tried to calm you down.

"The cuts are shallow and if we take good care of them they'll heal without leaving a single scar. It'll be okay, yeah?" By now the water numbed your wrist out to the point that you didn't feel his thumb wiping you clean anymore.

"Uh-huh…I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for being such a fucking psycho, Jack." The shame and self-loathing doubled down on you, dragging you into an inevitable breakdown.

"Stop that right there! You're not a psycho and I don't love you any less, you understand?", He pressed himself to you as impossibly close as he could, "A little slip up like that won't scare me. I'll go through that hell right here with you, I promise. I'll never go anywhere and just leave you like that."

Everything inside of you came falling down, every painful emotion amped up by the raging hangover that ruled over your shaking muscles and you just let yourself fall against Jack in eventual defeat.

"I got you and we'll handle that together!"

#rory culkin #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #jack thurlow × you #jack thurlow x fem!reader #jack thurlow #jack goes home #jack thurlow x reader #jack thurlow smut

105 notes · View notes

swaqcenix · 1 year

Text

༻The unloveable | Wanda Maximoff ༺

Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Summary: Being loved wasn't what you were used to. You have a past as much as anyone, but it's affecting you too much. You're too unlovable and you know it.

Warnings: angst with no happy ending, severe trauma, panic attack, depression and anxiety, implied suicidal thoughts and attempts, self- harm, implied and mentions of past abuse, read at your own risk!

Pairings: Wanda x reader

Word count: 810

AN: Unfortunately I needed an outlet to write about my thoughts and my past, but that's all it is now! Remember to read at your own discretion as it is a heavy one, but stay hydrated and remember I love you <3

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

You weren't sure what enhanced you to do it. Perhaps it was the burning taste of the liquor running down your throat. Perhaps it was your mind screaming at you for everything and anything.

All you knew was you felt like utter shit. You looked like a truck had come and hit you straight on. Your body paced back and forth as you worried intensely. The phone call came in the early hours of the morning. Your sister was in the hospital, having being in an accident just a mere minute before.

Wanda was broken, she wasn't sure what to do and frankly you didn't blame her. Pushing her away seemed like the most honest thing to do. You weren't capable of love or being loved. You'd forgotten how it felt, how to feel safe and secure every since your ex Katie didn't show it.

Punch after punch, cut after cut. You'd gotten so used to the feeling of blood trickling down your face you forgotten the feeling of love. So when Wanda came into your life it was so different. Every morning waking up in fear, before eventually relaxing. She was your muse.

But, nothing good ever lasts forever, at least not for you. The alcohol didn't help. You knew that, but the way you blamed yourself for your sister. If you hadn't been drinking, perhaps you could have rang her. Maybe she'd be safe.

It wouldn't be your fault then. But it wasn't the case now and it didn't stop the pounding pain of anger and disgust in your head. Disgust of the outcome, disgust of you.

You texted her in the early hours of the morning.

"This isn't good. Me and you..."

Why you thought that was a good idea god knows. You didn't say you'd die together though. You adored her, admired Wanda. Yet here you were pushing her away.

You kept telling yourself over and over. Fucking unlovable. It's what was engraved on your mind. Ever since Katie you'd forgotten what it felt like. Safety, the feeling of being content.

You loved Wanda as Icarus loved the sun- too close and too much. But you didn't care as she loved you the same. The feeling of being touched by her was igniting. She was igniting and most of all she was the moon that lit you up.

You felt less scared around her, less disgust. Of course you didn't tell her this, you did what you learnt to do. Bury your feelings. Wanda knew though, she always knew.

When you received the response of good luck, the way she knew it was coming you shattered. You we're turning into Katie, into the way she hit your stomach. The way she made you feel. You were becoming the storm.

"Wanda I love you," you tried to make her understand, but in doing that you'd need to tell her the cause.

You couldn't tell her what caused the internal pain. The fire that only she could put out. Wanda was the light that allowed you to see. You wouldn't tell her that, as you didn't want her to think she had to stay. Instead you pushed her away. She was too bright, too precious for you.

Wanda was far too above you, for you to ever deserve her. You'd always love her, how couldn't you? Look at Wanda Maximoff. She was the sun, the moon the stars. She was everything.

But you couldn't be hers as you didn't deserve her. She had spent her time convincing you otherwise. It was when she left herself as it wasn't fair. You were too flawed, too broken. You were too far gone for her to stay and most of all, you were too unloveable. You'd learnt that so long ago. Part of you missed the blood that trickled down your cheek, it allowed you to understand how loveless you were.

As she grabbed her bags and left your mind screamed. It begged you to tell her, to let her understand. She would always be loved by you. But you were too flawed. As the blade slid down your skin and the familiar feeling of hatred came back. You remembered the feeling of being unloved. How could anyone possibly love you?

Wanda did, but you knew deep down. You were the unloveable. The trickle of blood allowed the feeling of understanding come back. The hatred.

"I love you," the words spilled as she left.

You found the walls collapsed in on you as she left. She loved you. But you could not love you.

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x yn #mcu fic #mcu #marvel #marvel fic

86 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 4 months

Text

WIP Tag Game

Thank you loads for tagging @the-al-chemist. As you know, my files are.... extensive, let's say.

I didn't realise to what degree but oh boy. For the sake of brevity (lol) I summarised a couple but... see for yourself.

EDIT: I have a problem, jfc.

Fanfic

HPMA Snow Fun

A Lifetime of Adventures

All Adventures Big and Small

Spin-Offs

A Source of Balance

Ad Astra

A Bright Future

Crossroads

The Lesser of Two Evils

La Divina Commedia

(Dana) Fooled

(Dylan) Birthday

(Murphy) The Apprentice

(Orion) Starry Starry Night

(Reva) Marry You

(Ava) Burning Glances, Turning Heads

(Dylan) The Swift, the Comet, and the Shooting Star

July - U Make Me Wanna

Cherry Red

All the following concern my other blog @kaze-writes

Original

Icarus

Chatty Haunting Short WIP

From Depths So Dark

Lemons

Vampires

Smoke and Mirrors

Larger than Life

Memento Mori

New Horizons

Dinner thoughts

Ava Shorts (Invincible, Slow Love Slow, Burn)

Selene x Henry (yes, this files as original)

Untitled

(OG) I Remember

(OG) The Poet

(OG) The Cat and the Cardboard Box

(OG) The Things We Do for Love

(October) By the Light of the Moon

OG Chocolate Pudding Bear

When Stars Ignite

Infra-Red

No Words

California Dreamin'

Talia Rath Rockstar

The Pretender

The Sound of Silence

Never Have I Ever

WSI (the actual story)

Flashback Scene, All Summer Long

Part 1: London

Part 2: Birmingham

Part 3: Manchester

Part 4: Dublin

Part 5: Glastonbury

Rewrite Doc

When Stars Ignite (full + fanfic version)

When Stars Ignite (og master doc)

WSI Summary

Since all the usual subjects have been tagged already, tagging whoever fancies playing, but also @hphmmatthewluther @endlessly-cursed @usernoneexistent and @lavender-laney

#tag game #writing game #writers of tumblr #fanfic writing #original writing #wip list #LONG wip list #let me tell you people #my google docs is a maze #but what's new right?#also lol I don't even follow as many people as I have WIPs #that's a problem in itself xD

7 notes · View notes

poorwritingandstalecoffee · 2 years

Text

painted constellations on your face

Summary: Alcina wakes up to lying on your chest

Word count: 960—short and sweet

*ughhh finally, I have time to write for the lovely Alcina; it's freaking atrocious that I have had zero time to for her or anyone one really. Anyways I was finally able to finish this tiny little thing!*

Warmth, softness, drowsy peace, and the smell of lavender surrounded me. I felt the sun peeking through the curtains and thawing my cold, immortalized skin into something softer; the warm rays slowly awakening my slumbering mind were accompanied by lazy fingers gliding through my hair. Their loving, careful scratches and twirling of the curls were so tender, new, wonderful, beautiful, and all at once terrified me. What is this warm and sweet feeling flowing through me? Why is it seeping through the cracks in my walls and turning my heart and soul into a mess of hopes and desires and longing and affections I had long abandoned?

What is she thinking—where is the terror, the hatred, the disgust? Why is she always looking at me with that gleaming smile and those wide, sparkling eyes with unhindered adoration and vulnerability? It’s making my heart do leaps and bounds and forcing my soul to cry out in yearning, screaming out for this new and unfamiliar burst of affection reaching toward me from the hands of this tiny unafraid woman.

Waking up to this in the form of small hands cradling my head while drawing patterns down the nape of my neck frightened me because what is this new, unfamiliar, and overwhelming feeling coursing through me and wrapping around my soul? I snaked my arms around her middle and clutched onto her sides while hiding my blush in her chest and prayed she couldn't feel my heart hammering against my ribs. Oh please, God, don't let my fear make me back out now, don’t let her see the reality of who she is lying with and turn away from me, and above all, I beg you, please do not let her love burn me.

“Darling, why do you shy away from my love, hmm?”

Her words, smooth like honey and rich from sleep, ignite a flurry of excitement and wonder within my old bones. Oh, so she wants to play that game? Well, by all means. I looked up at her and could tell she caught on to the glint in my eyes. “Because it’s dangerous to fly too close to the sun, draga. Icarus would scold me for such a blatant lack of gratitude for immortality.”

She smirked, and I swore my heart was reaching out to hers from the look in her eyes. How painfully beautiful and dreamy they are; the swirls and flecks of color exploding across her pupils held all the mysteries of the universe—it was all I could do not to dive right in and lose myself.

“Alcina…” She whispered and ran her fingers down my jaw before pulling me up to her eye level and kissing the tip of my nose.

Blinking back into the moment, a blush crept over my cheeks from her catching me off guard. “Hmm, yes, iubita mea?”

“Did you go somewhere, love?”

I could hear the smirk in her voice even if I wasn't looking down at her, and it brought a smile to my face to see her so carefree and unafraid to joke with me. “Only for a moment, draga. You know I could never part from you. The mere second was nearly too long for my aching soul.”

Her eyes widened, and the most adorable blossom of red spread through her cheeks and down her neck. Gotcha ya. I chuckled at her loss of words and leaned down to kiss the blooming blush along her neck. I hummed at the softness and nosed my way along her jaw. “Give in so soon, ingerasul meu?”

She huffed and narrowed her eyes. “That's not far; you have over a hundred years' worth of linguistic backing to aid your romantic quips—”

“Quips now, are they? Why I thought my words were soothing melodies to your heart, darling. As you so eloquently put it the other day.”

“Do not laugh at me!”

A burst of laughter erupted from me, and I couldn't help but try and kiss the pout away from her lips. “It was a chuckle draga, and I didn't mean to upset you, merely to convey the breadth of my love,” a kiss to her cheek, “adoration,” to her jaw, “devotion,” a kiss to her neck, “admiration,” one to her collarbone, “and complete infatuation and desire for you inimioara mea,” and a kiss to her chest.

I could hear her heartbeat racing and beating against her ribs, and oh, it thrilled me to know that I did that, to see her breathing erratically and gaze upon the darkening beauty of her eyes. How she wakes up every morning by my side and looks at me with something of wonder, love, and compassion is a mystery to me. Praise the Black God she chooses to stay because I don't think I could bear it if she turned away from me.

She reached for my face and pulled me to her till my forehead laid against hers and whispered against my lips, “There are not enough words in any human language to describe what I feel for you, Alcina. Nor is there any word that conveys a deep enough meaning for how my soul continually reaches out for yours, darling. Because Alcina, you are its anchor, the only person who can and will forever hold my spirit—my heart in your arms. I wouldn't want or have anyone else.”

Tears pooled in my eyes, and warmth spread throughout my entire being. My throat closed up from the soothing weight of her words, and I tried to grapple with my conflicting feelings of overwhelming love and heartache, but it was coming too fast and too much. A short wet laugh burst from me, and I kissed her before the tears could fall. She got me.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #michelle's works #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #she’s so pretty in this gif btw #🥺

230 notes · View notes

jamietukpahwriting · 2 years

Photo

Icarus Oh, Icarus You taught us well

But who among us has learned your lesson without scorched feathers igniting our downfall

~~~~~

“Icarus” by Jamie Tukpah

Image Source

Follow me to engage with more content like this! If you’d like to support me and my writing buy me a coffee!

#writeblr #poetryblr #poem #poetry #black poets society #icarus #icarus by jamie tukpah #jamietukpahpoetry #jamietukpahwriting

23 notes · View notes

pretty-dianxia · 2 years

Text

Tag Game!

@sophie--pie @lazy-girl-susd @white-flower-blooming @danhoemei @maedre13 @jadevalentine-writes @huaxie @rukastar @saawek @icarus-suraki @quilleth @half-eaten-mantou @ignite-the-moonlight

Hi everyone!! I made this little thing, hope you enjoy it ✨💛 don’t feel obliged to do it if you don’t want to ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა and if you are not in the tags but want to try it, please go ahead and tag me back!! I’d love to see/read your answers!!

1) Post your lockscreen

2) What did NASA see on your birthday?

Use this link and enter your birth month and day to see what the Hubble Telescope saw on the day you were born!

*feel free to click on “see full image” and just post the picture if you don’t want to share the date. or just put what you got in the tags! For instance, this is mine:

(This is based in an original post created by withlovefromolympus)

3) UQuiz: What type of mutual are you?

link here

I got:

Many people in my daily life would disagree, but hey! THE QUIZ HAS SPOKEN!! *laughs in evil*

4) Make a picrew OF A SWORD!!!

link here

And finally...

5) This or That

hot shower or cold shower // leather or silk // texting or calling // mermaids or sirens // earbuds or headphones // 12 hour clock or 24 hour clock // coffee date or picnic date // sunsets or sunrises // sci-fi or horror or fantasy // pen or pencil // gold or silver //sneakers or boots // glasses or contacts // denim jacket or leather jacket // chocolate or sour candy // drive-in movie, theater or the cinema // rainstorms at night or sunny days // pastel colors or neutral earth tones // lemonade or fruit juice // past or future // rooftops or balconies // moon or sun // fight or flight // order or chaos //

#tag game #<333

29 notes · View notes

fencesiiitter · 10 months

Text

WRITE IN FRONT

•i wrote this short work about Enjolras&Grantaire… could u make some comments if u have somethin' to say after u read this? i'll be glad to see my works have some reflections and i really need some suggestions!

•warnings: this work is about their dying hours.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The residual warmth of his palm prevented Grantaire from hearing the successive shots very clearly.

"Now I'm the one who's been shaken by an angel." That was all Grantaire's mind conveyed to him, until he began to feel as if his mind was ready to end this never-ending to exhaust the cheap labor of thinking, and to spend its old age in the dark underground. "Then this is the death that those royal family and nobles feared, and now I can taste their fear, and I didn't expect it to be almost like drunkenness—isn't it! " He thought. "Now I'm lying here as if I'm drunk, unable to move, the smell of blood has replaced the suffocating smell of alcohol before, this pain is somewhat similar to the pain of strong alcohol burning the stomach, but it's more intense. Look at the bright red on the chest again! Who put on the Robespierre-style waistcoat for me? Although I haven't been able to take a beautiful woman on my arm in the summer when the flowers are blooming, to the freshly cut straw pile in the field, to breathe the scent of tea in the vast world, and travel is not as interesting as drinking, but it is also time to travel around the world after death! "

Grantaire was about to start his journey, and when he half closed his eyes he felt he had some strength left, and something unfinished. So he raised his head and looked at his god. Enjolras's beautiful, blue, clear blue eyes without a trace of haze, which fascinated Grantaire, had dimmed the fire, and could no longer let him burn to the bone. "It turns out that the sun that shines all over the earth will eventually go out, and it will take away the cold and pale moonlight along with it." Grantaire thought vaguely, counting the bullet holes on Enjolras' body from top to bottom, "One, Two, three... eight. Hey! What naughty urchin dares to throw marbles beside the most beautiful icon, and destroy the most successful creation of the merciful God? On the breast of Prometheus there will be seven more diamond nails. Well done, and now I shall have eight holes in my heart! "

When the pages of the book of thoughts were burned to the last corner by the lit match, a drop of blood from the marble statue fell on the tip of Grantaire's nose, walked along the bridge of the nose in a zigzag way, and stayed between the eyebrows, there was still a trace of hotness, which was illuminated by the lamps of revolution. It was the last sliver of light left by the sun to the human world, and Grantaire had it all to himself. He was a little proud, feeling that when he was on the verge of death, he was ignited again, as if he had been ignited by the unburned heat countless times before. He felt his heart beat violently again with the dripping blood, even if only for a short time.

"Flee from this dry and narrow land, where the cold night will fall! Today is the end, and it must be the end," he said to himself. Yet a secret joy filled him with inexplicable pride that at last he had the wings of Icarus, and was successful, near the unattainable sun. Grantaire looked into Enjolras' already hollow blue pupils again, recalling the pity in Enjolras' eyes the first time he looked at Enjolras through the noisy crowd of the tavern and the overturned wine bottle. This was his last memory when he was about to forget everything.

Dionysus came to an end. In the blur, only darkness remained around, and Grantaire seemed to see the ashes of the wings behind Enjolras. An angel escaped from the protection of heaven and died forever. Grantaire, the believer of the angel, who had devoutly kissed the ground under his feet, was now lying on the ground he once kissed, and was about to go with his faith.

Grantaire closed his eyes, and headed for a permanent hangover.

THE END

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

thanks for your patient readin'!

#les mis #grantaire #enjolras #les misérables #that's my first work in Tumblr!!

1 note · View note

icarusignite · 7 months

Note

Hey Autor,

Could you maybe make a Reader Velaryon/Targaryen x Cregan stark?

The reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor (the real father is Daemon Targaryen) and the eldest child of Rhaenyra and the heiress of the iron throne.The reader is sent to the Starks at the age of 14 to live with them for some time (no idea what reason there might be). Cregan doesn’t like the reader at first and is mean to her.At some point, the two get closer and fall in love. Maybe just kisses could arise between them no more. After she was with the Starks for some time, one day a lord comes with his daughter maybe Alysanne Blackwood and her father. Because Cregan is engaged to her and should marry her soon,He never told the reader that he was promised to someone else and the reader gets angry. Cregan wants to talk to her but she ignores him. Cregan does not take action against the wedding and marries Alysanne. Alysanne notices that the reader is angry and and provoke her. reader says goodbye to Lord and Lady stark, While Cregan spends time with Alyssane to get to know her. Reader flies home on her dragon because she doesn’t want to be at the wedding. After years, a war in the north has broken out and seems to be lost. Rhaenyra sends the reader and Jace to the north to help the Starks and end the war with their dragons. Cregan has a child with alysanne (but she should still be alive please.) She's still bitter and full of anger. Maybe the two could have a happy ending because Cregan really loved the reader, he didn’t want to hurt her, but it’s called a stark doesn’t break an oath. Of course, the reader does not forgive him directly and makes him feel her anger.

Please a lot of drama, I love big drama.

I am sorry for my English.

Your reader.

Ps: I wrote this request to another author but I don't know if he wants to write it so I wanted to write to you again because I always love your writing 🫶

Cregan Stark x fem! reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: The five times you told Cregan Stark you hated him, and the one time you actually meant it.

A/N: Hey heyyyy, lol I'm finally back. I'm soo soo sorry this took forever to put out, I've been suffering from massive writer's block and I lowkey feel like my house of the dragon hyperfixation was over for a while so I wasn't feeling too motivated to work on related stuff. Anyway, hope you like what I've done with the premise. Lots of drama but I didn't really see there being a happy end where they actually get together lol. As usual, I love your requests and asks so feel free to send in more (I shall try to get them done in a more timely manner T_T)

I hate you I love you

1. At first sight

Being the oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and future heir to the Iron Throne meant that you were seldom allowed to follow your heart's desire. You were simply a pawn in the grand elaborate game of life, fit to be moved around wherever someone saw fit. You didn't have much of a say when your mother named you her heir, you didn't have a say when she decided that you would be sent to be fostered at Winterfell for a few years for some reason you could not fathom, and you certainly would not have a say when you would be married off to whatever lord would serve the greatest political advantage.

You first met the dark-haired boy that was Cregan Stark at the impressionable young age of fourteen, and you were quite intimidated. There was something in his eyes, their steely grey reminding you of an icy winter storm. His uncle, Lord Bennard, currently ruled the north as regent and you could tell that relations were tense between the two of them.

Lord Brennard had led you into the Great Hall, where the fire roared in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. There, standing near the hearth, was a young man of sixteen, with a stony expression, his eyes fixed on the flames. Lord Brennard cleared his throat, and the young man turned to look at them.

"Princess, may I introduce you to my nephew, Cregan Stark," Lord Brennard said with a polite smile.

Cregan regarded you with a cold, distant gaze, his demeanour as frosty as the land outside. He didn't extend a hand or offer a greeting. Instead, he simply nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line, making it clear that he would rather be anywhere else but there.

If you were unhappy with his offputting behaviour, you made no show of it. Your mother had schooled you in the proper etiquette of being a gracious young lady and you extended your hand gracefully.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lord."

Cregan's response was curt, "Likewise."

He then turned his attention back to the fire, seemingly disinterested in your presence.

Lord Brennard, ever the diplomat, tried to initiate conversation.

"Cregan, the princess has travelled a long way to be here. Perhaps you could show her around Winterfell, and introduce her to some of your companions?"

Cregan sighed audibly and finally tore his gaze away from the flames, "Do I have to, Uncle?"

Lord Brennard's expression tightened slightly, but he remained patient, "It would be a kind gesture, Cregan. She's a guest in our home."

You smiled politely, doing your best to break through the young lord's cold exterior, "I would appreciate it greatly. I've heard so much about Winterfell, and I'd love to get to know the people who live here."

Cregan rolled his eyes but eventually relented with a reluctant nod.

"Fine, I'll show you around, but don't expect me to be your tour guide."

"Thank you. I promise not to be a bother," you grinned now, willing him to at least return some of your warmth.

Cregan's tour of Winterfell was far from what you had imagined. He led you through the castle's corridors and courtyards with long, determined strides, leaving you to struggle to keep up. Your gown, designed for the elegant strolls through the castles of the Red Keep and Dragonstone, was ill-suited for the rugged terrain and brisk pace Cregan set.

"My lord, please, may we slow down?" you called out, your voice slightly breathless. Your soft leather shoes were ill-equipped for the uneven stone floors, and your dress hampered your every step.

Cregan barely spared you a glance, his impatience evident in his voice, "We don't have all day, Princess. You wanted a tour, didn't you?"

You pressed on, determined not to let Cregan's demeanour ruin your first day at Winterfell. You struggled to maintain your composure, but your frustration was building.

"Yes, but I didn't expect it to be a race. Could you at least wait for me?"

Cregan halted abruptly, turning to face you with a roll of his eyes, "Didn't you promise not to be a bother?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration. You had hoped for a warmer welcome, but it seemed Cregan was determined to make you feel like an unwanted guest.

"I did, but I didn't realize being polite was such a bother."

Cregan let out an exasperated sigh, and for a moment, you thought he might storm off and leave you behind. Instead, he begrudgingly slowed his pace, allowing you to catch up.

"Fine, let's get on with it."

As you continued the tour, Cregan pointed out various parts of Winterfell with curt explanations, still making no effort to engage in polite conversation. You did your best to show interest and appreciation for the castle's history and architecture, but it was clear that Cregan was not interested in your company.

Later that evening, the dinner at Winterfell was a formal affair, and despite the grandeur of the feast laid out, Cregan continued to be rude and dismissive towards you. He barely acknowledged your presence, and when you attempted to engage in conversation with other members of the Stark household, he would interrupt with snide comments or pointedly change the subject. The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the disapproving glances of some of the Stark bannermen who were clearly not pleased with the arrangement. You couldn't blame them though; you were an outsider, and Cregan's hostility toward you only made matters worse.

Eventually, you had had enough. After the meal, when you found yourselves alone in the corridor leading to your chambers, you turned to him, frustration boiling over after hours of having kept it simmering under your skin.

"My lord, may I ask you something?"

Cregan raised an eyebrow, his icy demeanour unchanged, "I don't suppose you'd desist if I refused?"

That was it. Your final breaking point.

"Why are you determined to be so fucking impolite to me?" your voice exploded, echoing in the empty corridor.

Cregan's eyes widened, surprised at your use of profanities no doubt.

Without stopping for a breath, you continued your torrent of complaints, "I understand that you didn't want me here, but have you perhaps considered that I didn't want to leave my home either? I didn't have a say in this, just like you, so if I can muster up the courage to try and hold on to a shred of hopefulness about this whole situation, can't you at least try to be civil to me? You're older than me, after all. Or do you not have the emotional maturity to not be a fucking menace to people you've judged in your head before even getting to know them."

Cregan regarded your outburst with his usual cold indifference, and you felt yourself deflate. Perhaps you had gone too far. Insulting a lord in his home was not proper behaviour befitting a young lady but you would be lying if you said that it didn't bring you a little satisfaction to see the slight cracks in Cregan's composure. There was a glimmer of something else in his eyes as well—a flicker of respect, perhaps. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he finally let out a sigh, seemingly relenting and his eyes softened, almost too imperceptibly.

"Fine," he said grudgingly, his tone suggesting that he was far from genuine. "I apologize if my behaviour has offended you, Princess."

He tacked on the Princess at the end of his sentence, almost as an afterthought and the mockery in it only made the fire in your eyes blaze brighter. You opened your mouth to say something else but Cregan raised his hands placatingly.

"No, no. I am truly sorry for my behaviour. I had my reasons but I will not give you excuses," he chuckled. "Although I must admit, I did not expect you capable...of that."

Your ears flushed crimson and you ducked your head in embarrassment.

"I hate you Cregan Stark," you mumbled under your breath but when you looked up to see his arrogantly cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk, you realized you did not quite mean it with the intensity he deserved.

2. Deep in the godswood

One crisp, sunny morning, the two of you found yourselves in the godswood of Winterfell, surrounded by the ancient trees with their solemn faces carved into the bark. You had decided to engage in a rare moment of playfulness, and the game you had chosen was a simple one—tag.

Cregan, always quick and agile, took the first turn as the pursuer. He sprinted after you, his laughter echoing through the godswood. After a few months at Winterfell, you were no longer the delicate princess you once were, and you ran with surprising grace.

As you weaved between the towering trees, the thrill of the chase engulfed you. You darted around a tree, hoping to outmaneuver Cregan, but he was relentless. With a burst of speed, he lunged forward and tagged you, causing you to stumble.

Your foot caught on a root, and you tumbled to the ground with a cry of surprise. You had landed on the soft moss beneath the tree, your dress stained with mud and leaves. You scowled and glanced up at Cregan, who stood over you, victorious and unapologetic.

"You cheated," you accused your voice a mix of irritation and laughter.

Cregan grinned mischievously, "All's fair in love and war, Princess."

You couldn't help but chuckle despite your fall. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your gaze meeting Cregan's.

"Well, we must be at war then, my lord, for I see no love here in this godswood."

"Oh is that so?" Cregan's eyes twinkled and he watched you in a way that made your ears flush again.

"I fucking hate you!" you declared, trying to force a scowl on your face.

Cregan's expression softened, and he reached out his hand to help you up. As you looked into his eyes, something shifted within you. You realized that your declaration of hatred was no longer true if it ever had been.

You accepted Cregan's hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet and into him. Your gaze met his, and there was a brief moment where something bright and electric sparked between the two of you.

Cregan smiled and winked, breaking the soft moment.

"Let's watch our language, Princess. And don't try to lie to me, I know you better than that."

"Oh, you know nothing at all, my lord."

3. Once upon a fairytale

The ball at Winterfell was a rare and enchanting event, one that had not been held in years. The Great Hall had been transformed into a dazzling spectacle, with chandeliers glittering from the ceiling and banners of House Stark adorning the walls. The air in Winterfell had been doing you wonders and you had grown even more radiant in the past year. Your presence drew the attention of many young lords from noble houses across the North.

You were quickly approached by eager suitors the moment you stepped into the hall, and they approached you with polished manners and flattering words, hoping for a chance to dance with a royal princess. Cregan, watching from the shadows, felt a pang of jealousy as he saw one lord after another try their luck with you, often stumbling over their words in their haste.

In response to their requests, you smiled politely and declined each invitation with a gracious nod. Your eyes, however, never strayed far from Cregan, who it seemed had taken up a dance with another lady—a striking brunette with a winsome smile.

Finally, when the music shifted to a slower, more intimate melody, Cregan finished his dance and made his way towards you. He extended his hand with a charming smile.

"Princess, may I have this dance?"

Your response was less than warm. You raised an eyebrow and looked at him with mock annoyance.

"Oh, my lord, how kind of you to finally grace me with your presence. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

Cregan's smirk was mischievous as he took your hand, "Forgotten about you? Never, my lady."

As you began to dance, the tension between the two of you was palpable. Your voice was hushed as you spoke, your irritation clear.

"You've been dancing with other ladies all night. I thought you weren't interested in me."

Cregan leaned in closer, his breath ghosting across your throat, "Jealous, are we?"

Your cheeks flushed.

"No," you replied, trying to remain nonchalant, but your tone betrayed your true feelings. "I just thought you were ignoring me."

"Sounds like jealousy to me."

You rolled your eyes, "I hate you, Cregan Stark."

Cregan's eyes twinkled with amusement as he spun you gracefully across the floor, "You don't."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Cregan brought your hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and your breath immediately caught in your throat, rendering you speechless.

Cregan held your gaze, his eyes filled with a fierce intensity.

"No, you don't," he repeated softly as if daring you to deny it.

4. Slowly, and then all at once

Throughout the next grand feast, Cregan couldn't resist cracking teasing jokes at your expense, each one playful but not cruel, designed only to elicit merriment. His quips were met with laughter and amusement from the other lords and ladies, you felt annoyed being his topic of discussion that evening.

After the dinner finally concluded, you could take no more. You caught Cregan by the arm as he was about to leave the hall and dragged him away to an isolated hallway. Your eyes flashed with anger as you turned to face him and although the expression on your face was a serious one, he couldn't help but be mesmerized by the fieriness of it. It was the same expression you had worn the first time you confronted him about his behaviour and unbeknownst to you, that was when he had first started to feel that aching pull toward you.

"What was that all about, Cregan?" you demanded, your voice sharp.

Cregan's response was unexpected. He didn't offer an apology or a defence of his actions. Instead, he took a step closer to you, his expression intense. Before you could react or voice your pent-up frustration, he kissed you.

It was a passionate, intense kiss that left you momentarily breathless. Your protests were silenced as your lips met his, and your anger dissolved into a mixture of surprise and desire. Cregan's lips were firm against yours, his hands gentle but insistent on your waist.

When he finally pulled away, you were left looking quite dazed and disoriented. Your cheeks flushed, and your heart raced in your chest. Cregan smirked at you, his eyes filled with a blend of amusement and affection.

"Princess," he said softly, "Don't you dare say that you hate me again. It's abundantly clear that you don't."

You tried to form a coherent response, but your thoughts were still scattered from the unexpected kiss. You found yourself at a loss for words, your feelings for the young lord more complex than ever before.

Cregan's thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead tenderly.

"Let's not waste any more time pretending, my lady," he whispered. "We both know how we truly feel."

5. I wish I could hate you

The arrival of Lady Alysanne Blackwood and her father brought a flurry of activity to Winterfell. Lady Alysanne was a beautiful and vivacious woman, and her presence seemed to light up every room she entered. As the daughter of an important house, she was greeted with warmth and enthusiasm by Lord Brennard Stark and the other members of House Stark.

You couldn't help but notice the stark contrast in Cregan's behaviour towards Lady Alysanne compared to his demeanour with you when you first arrived. He greeted the Blackwoods with a genuine smile, engaged in polite conversation, and even offered to show Lady Alysanne around Winterfell himself. It was a stark departure from the cold and aloof Cregan you had known at first.

You tried to push aside the feelings of hurt and jealousy that welled up within you. It had been some time since Cregan had treated you with such indifference, and you knew you should let bygones be bygones. After all, you reasoned, Cregan had every right to make new acquaintances and friends. You were still the one he shared kisses with and spoke whispered promises to.

However, as the days passed, you couldn't shake the feeling of being left behind. Cregan seemed to spend more and more time in the company of Lady Alysanne, showing her the beauty of Winterfell, introducing her to the people of the North, and sharing tales of their homeland.

One evening, as you watched Cregan and Lady Alysanne from across the courtyard, a sense of loneliness and abandonment washed over you. Then came the announcement that turned your blood cold. There was talk around the castle of preparations for a grand wedding. At first, this confused you. Cregan was the only member of the Starks of marriageable age, but he had never discussed something like this with you. And then you realized why, when passing the kitchens late one night, you overheard the scullery maids talking about how lovely a bride Lady Alysanne would make.

One day, as you walked alone in the quiet gardens of Winterfell, your steps slow and contemplative, Lady Alysanne approached you. You had been lost in your thoughts, unaware of Alysanne's presence until she spoke.

"I must admit, I wanted to see for myself the woman rumoured to be close to my future husband," she said with a smirk.

Your heart sank at the cruel tone in Alysanne's voice, and your voice trembled as you replied, "Your future husband?"

Alysanne nodded, her expression filled with mockery.

"Yes, Princess. Cregan and I have been promised to each other since birth. It's a marriage that our families have long arranged, for the good of both our houses."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away to hide your emotions. You felt a crushing weight on your chest, the realization that the man you had grown to care for deeply was bound by duty to another.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you asked, "How long have you known about this?"

Alysanne's tone was sharp and cutting as she replied, "I've known for a while, but I wanted to meet you before the wedding. I wanted to see the foolish girl who thought she could steal Cregan away from his duty."

Your heart ached with a mixture of sadness and resignation. You had to accept the reality of the situation, no matter how much it hurt.

Alysanne reached out with a mocking smile, but her touch was far from comforting as she placed her hand on your shoulder.

"I know this must be difficult for you, Princess, as you are probably used to having whatever your heart desires. But you should have known better. Cregan was never yours to have."

Later that very same day, when the sun had begun to set over Winterfell, casting long shadows across the castle grounds, you were sitting alone on a stone bench, your thoughts consumed by the hurtful encounter with Lady Alysanne. You had been lost in your own misery when Cregan approached, his expression filled with concern.

"Princess, I heard about what happened with Lady Alysanne," Cregan began, his voice gentle. "I wanted to make sure you're all right."

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, but you tried to ignore him, focusing on the setting sun instead. You couldn't bear to look at him, not now, not after everything that had transpired.

Cregan, undeterred by your silence, took a step closer, "Please, let me explain."

Your emotions, raw and uncontainable, finally burst forth. You turned to face him, eyes filled with tears, and voice trembling with pain.

"Explain? You don't deserve to give me an explanation now, Cregan. Not after all that has happened between us."

Cregan's expression was one of genuine regret as he reached out to touch your arm, "Listen, please, just hear me out."

You couldn't bear to listen any longer. The words that had been building up inside you for so long spilled out in a rush.

"You should have told me, Cregan. You should have told me that you were promised to another, that you could never belong to me. You should have told me before you kissed me under the stars, before you spun me around in gilded ballrooms. Before you made me hope for something that wasn't real."

Tears streamed down your face, and your voice broke as you continued.

"I hate you, Cregan."

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. Cregan's face showed a mix of pain and sadness, but he said nothing in response. You yearned for him to tell you that you were wrong. To tell you that you didn't hate him and that he certainly did not hate you and that he would be yours after all.

He opened his mouth but no words came out.

I love you.

The words were just on the tip of his tongue but he could not force them out. He could not be selfish enough to give you hope when he was bound by duty.

There never lived a Stark who broke an oath.

That was what Cregan's father had always told him, and he wasn't about to be the first stark to do so. And so Cregan chose to remain silent and eventually, he walked away, leaving you surrounded by the shards of your broken heart. Your hands came up to muffle the broken sobs that escaped your lips and the tears that streaked down your face were a testimony to your lie. You could claim to hate him all you want but one did not mourn this much for someone they hated.

You left the very next morning, after a hasty goodbye to the few people you had gotten to know during your stay at Winterfell and with a heavy heart, you directed your dragon toward your true home. You didn't think you could bear to watch him marry Lady Alysanne and it was better for you to leave now with at least some of your dignity intact.

~ I hate you and I mean it.

Several years had passed since the painful encounter with Cregan in the gardens of Winterfell. In the intervening years, much had changed. Your mother had taken the throne after the passing of your grandfather, King Viserys and you had been named her official heir. When news of a great war in the North reached the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Rhaenyra Targaryen, she saw an opportunity to strengthen her alliances and sent her two eldest children, you and Jace, to aid House Stark in the battle, accompanied by their dragons.

With the might of dragons at your side, the two of you made quick work of the war, helping to secure a decisive victory for the Starks. The sight of dragons soaring through the northern skies struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, and soon, the war was won.

In celebration of their triumph, House Stark held a grand feast in honour of the Targaryen siblings. The Great Hall of Winterfell was adorned with banners, and tables groaned under the weight of a sumptuous feast. Nobles from across the North had gathered to pay their respects to the Dragonriders.

You couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of emotions as you walked the familiar halls of Winterfell once more. The memories of your time here, both the joyful moments and the painful ones, flooded back to you. You had changed so much since then, and the scars of the past had faded but not entirely disappeared.

As you and Jace were introduced to the Northern lords and ladies, the atmosphere was one of jubilation and gratitude. The Starks were effusive in their praise, grateful for the Targaryens' aid in securing their victory.

You couldn't help but notice that Cregan was among those present, his gaze fixed on you. There was a tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the past and the wounds that still lingered. You had returned to Winterfell as a powerful figure, a dragon rider and an heir to the throne, but the history between you and Cregan remained.

The feast was a boisterous affair, with music and revelry filling the Great Hall. You watched as Cregan hovered about his wife almost constantly, his hand gentle on her protruding abdomen as he guided her about the room.

As the feast at Winterfell continued, your shock deepened when you noticed a young boy running towards Cregan with gleeful abandon. The boy called out, "Father!" with pure excitement, and Cregan, with a warm smile, hoisted the child onto his shoulders. They paraded around the room, making their way through the nobles who cheered and greeted them.

You watched in disbelief as Cregan introduced the boy to the gathered lords and ladies, his paternal pride evident in every gesture. The sight of Cregan with the child sent a pang of bitterness and resentment through you. You knew that Cregan's marriage to Lady Alysanne had likely produced offspring, but seeing it firsthand was a painful reminder of what could never be between the two of you.

Finally, the little boy and Cregan reached you and Jace. The child's dark, pale freckled skin and dark curls were identical to Alysanne's, but it was his eyes that caught your attention. They were the very same stormy grey eyes that you had noticed on Cregan the first time you had met him.

Cregan introduced the boy with a proud smile.

"This is my son, Rickon."

Cregan caught your eye and you caught a brief flash of regret pass through him before he schooled his expression into a pleasant grin. He turned back to his son, his face softening entirely as he gazed at him with adoration so tender that it speared right through your heart.

I hate you, Cregen Stark. I hate you for finding happiness without me. I hate you for not fighting for me. I hate you for your stupid oaths and your stupid loyalties. I hate you.

You were wise enough to keep your angry thoughts to yourself, but for the first time in your life, you found that you actually meant them. perhaps that made you a cruel and callous monster but you did not care. You hated Cregan Stark more than anything else and wondered, not for the first time, if you should have advised your mother against sending you to help out in the war. Still, you were your mother's daughter and if there was one person you loved with your entire heart, it was her. If helping the Starks win their war secured their support for your mother, then you would bury your heavy heart and do it for her.

As the evening wore on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the festivities. The bitter taste of jealousy and regret lingered in your mouth, a constant reminder of the life that could have been but was now forever out of reach. Whatever Cregan thought of Alysanne, it was clear that he loved their children and very soon there would be even more to cherish if Alysanne's laboured breaths and swollen belly said anything. You couldn't escape the feeling that you were a stranger in a place that had once held such significance in your life. The years had changed you, and Winterfell had changed as well. There was no longer any room for you and you couldn't wait to return home.

A/N: reblog and comment please, it really motivates me and I love reading yalls thoughts <3

#cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #hotd #hbo house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon headcanon #house of the dragon aemond #rhaenyra targaryen #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #icarus ignite writes

295 notes · View notes

enigmasandepiphanies · 3 years

Text

In Case of Anxiety, Break the Bank

Will you hold your breath when anxiety knocks on your door?

Will you portal into a wishing well on a cloudland tucked away in your capillaries? Will you try to speak when the shards of broken wind chimes clog your pulmonary arteries?

Will you swing on the pulley like a trapeze artist at the Jumbo Circus you begged Ma to visit? Will your hands spiral like Icarus when you are sun-kissed?

When your thought trains have a nervous breakdown, there is a stampede of passengers in your windpipe. When humans read the poetry of the Earth to keep themselves alive. When your passions are folded by society like secret school notes. When an off-key Moonlight Sonata bathes in your throat. Then, please proceed as follows:

𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦:

A blow straw painting of lightning in the sky.

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦?

Indian autumns ignited in vintage lamps.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭.

An address book of self-hatred.

𝘐𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺?

A handcrafted jewelry box in the attic.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘬𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘊𝘪𝘵𝘺.

A vanity mirror with an array of makeup and toxic positivity.

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴’ 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘺.

𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭:

Fingers carving crescent moons on the inside of your palms.

𝘈 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

You trip on jump ropes of consciousness.

𝘔𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴.

Carmine bites on your lips.

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘩𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘴.

Overblown balloons filling up your chest.

𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘴.

𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳:

Art whispers, “There is no wrong way to be holy”

𝘞𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

Humdrum of the market where identities are bartered at the magic shop.

𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 1857 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦.

The sound of panic when a child leaves your finger and runs with light-up sneakers in your mind.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯-𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴.

𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭:

The turpentine of rage tucked into the deepest folds of your braids.

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘨𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘵.

The breath of fabric softener in handknit sweaters of metaphors.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘑𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.

𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦:

The taste of leftover hope.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵��𝘶𝘦.

Humans read poetry of the Earth to keep themselves alive. Healing begins when you start writing one.

Now, go open the door.

//"𝘐𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺, 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘬"// enigma

Inktober Day 24: Dig

Taglist under the cut (please send an ask to be added or removed from the list 🥺💖)

@siriuslynephilim @valerieavalia @before-i-die-i-want-to-live @like-butterflies-and-glitter @oasis-of-you @thatgaybrownpanda @adventures-of-a-lonely-lesbian @firebugs-and-poetry @adoginthemanger @morally-questionable-goddess @sas-squatch @thehottestmess @something--pretentious @sunlitmisfit @souls-lostandfound @flannelshirt-denimjacket @wh0w0re @the-stars-love-us @mydogisgaytoo @desi-tube @rosadiaz-givesme-bipanic @jugn00 @jugn00-ish

74 notes · View notes

the-dead-sea-trilogy · 3 years

Text

a major update on the series

i have news that is both good and bad. [the fic is not getting cancelled, don’t worry].

after a lot of deliberation - and i mean going back and forth for over a year now trying to write Icarus and the Blistering Sun, the prequel to The Devil and the Dead Sea - i have made the difficult (but i think really important, for reasons i will get into) decision to postpone Icarus and rearrange the order of the series.

Mother Earth and Her Infinite Sky, the sequel to the Devil and the Dead Sea, will be the book to be released next. NOT Icarus, as I have previously been stating.

This is good because I think it is a better, more cohesive choice for the series from a narrative standpoint. This is good because we get to see our boys being in love on a team right away once it’s out. This is good because I am excited about writing a story about our boys being in love on a team to immediately follow DATDS.

This is bad because it means I have to put the prequel on hold (again) and full publication will be pushed back, again. My life is super hectic rn, so at this current time, I’m not able to offer an estimate on when Mother Earth will be released, but I do have the first few chapters written already.

Read below the cut if you want to know some more reasons, both from a narrative and personal standpoint, on why i made this decision and why it was actually really hard for me to do.

if not, all you need to know is the series is not getting abandoned. the order is just getting rearranged, which means publication is being delayed again.

i intend to help this along and keep you guys interested (and myself accountable) by continuing to occasionally post WIP updates and writing updates like these, as well as a tiny one shot compilation like i’m doing for my Legend of Zelda series, if you follow that.

until then, stay safe, love yourselves, and two wishes remain.

-jirachi (silv)

Narrative and Personal Reasons The Dead Sea Trilogy is Getting Rearranged

I work really hard on making a cohesive story with thought, poetry, and themes that I can hand to you guys, and I want to use this time to give you some insight on that and why it’s taking so long. The narrative reasons are the easiest to explain and kind of go hand in hand with the personal reasons, so I’ll approach it from that angle.

The Narrative:

Ever since I started writing Icarus in November 2019 after DATDS, once NaNoWriMo was over (yes, I tried it), I just kept hitting walls. And stopping and starting. And I couldn’t understand why I was hitting so many walls, and I realized it maybe had to do with the narrative structure of the series not being as cohesive as it could be yet. What I came to realize is that:

A big thing in this trilogy is the idea of the cycles of Birth, Death, and Rebirth.

“And y’know, that’s like, the nature of the beast, inn’t it?” Archie said. “Night and day. Water and fire. Land and sea. Birth, death, rebirth—”

“And we’re in the death stage right now…”

“Then one day we’ll be reborn.”

There was a pause. Archie was right.

-Epilogue, DATDS

Icarus was always intended to be the Birth story. Archie and Maxie meet, have their first sparks of inspiration, first sparks of their relationship, and first sparks of their rivalry. It’s all supposed to ignite there, I mention a couple times in DATDS there being a “spark” in Maxie. That was intentional.

Devil is the Death story. They literally say this in the Epilogue. Archie and Maxie purge all the bad blood between one another, die to their pretenses of themselves so that they can kickstart the process of building things new. In dying to their own egos and having an exorcism of sorts (oh you mean a literal exorcism?) they saw into one another and realized how much they really loved one another the whole time.

Mother Earth is the Rebirth story. Archie and Maxie build their new team, learn about what it means to love each other and what they need to do to make their relationship work. (Among other things that have to do with rebirth).

The issue:

When I started writing DATDS many, many years ago, I never intended/anticipated there to be a prequel, let alone a sequel. But I fell in love with this story, fell in love with these characters, and it just kept growing and growing and I love it so much. However, this means, as it stands currently,

I started the cycle with Death.

That isn’t a bad thing - DATDS works as a beautiful introduction to this story. However, this means in order for the cycle (and narrative) to make any sense, it just flows so much better to have Mother Earth be next. Because otherwise, I’m going

Death (Devil) -> Birth (Icarus) -> Rebirth (Mother Earth)

And that just.. doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense when you look at it like that?? Having two “birth” moments in a row seems really wonky, and this is probably the source of one of the (many) issues I was having with it.

Not to mention the strange time jumping that would be happening between

ORAS Canon PRESENT (Devil) -> 15 years PAST (Icarus) -> 1-2 Years FUTURE (Mother Earth)

The solution? Simple

Death/Present (Devil) -> Rebirth/Future (Mother Earth) -> Birth/Past (Icarus)

It loops back around from both a timeline and a narrative/symbolic standpoint.

The bottom line:

Devil set up a rebirth story beautifully. The stage is set for Archie and Maxie to walk down from the mountain and start their new lives. It just doesn’t make sense for me to put that on hold. Especially when things in Mother Earth will end up making it easy to loop back around to Icarus.

And, as much as I didn’t want to end the series on a “sad” note, the fact of the matter is Icarus ends in a moment of “Death,” where Archie betrays Maxie and sets up the spiraling chain of events that lead up to Devil, closing the cycle and making it all a complete circle.

That, and it will be incredibly easy to end Icarus with another Epilogue where things suddenly aren’t as sad anymore, even though they ended sadly once long ago, and it can all come together in a reflective way.

There are other reasons I was hesitant to remove Icarus from its second slot, ranging from “I didn’t want to end on a ‘sad’ book” to “I took a lot of creative liberties with Colress as a character and throwing him in at full force in Mother Earth without any sort of warning is gonna be.. strange, to say the least, and at least introducing him slowly in Icarus wouldn’t make him seem like a complete psychopath” but also Colress is.. just kind of like that.

But also ultimately, even though I love Colress as a character and he does have an arc I’m interested in, this ain’t about him. Much to his dismay, I am sure.

[he already robbed me of valuable covid writing time once by holding me hostage and forcing me to write 120,000+ words about his Team Plasma hot girl summer so he can die mad about it i guess]

What I’m trying to say, ultimately, with this, is that I put a lot of thought and work into what I do. I’m putting so much effort into this story because I care about it, and I want to give you guys (and myself) the best story I can possibly make. That is just, now gonna require more time than I anticipated, especially with this change. And I wanted to give you guys some insight into why delays are happening and why such changes are being made.

Because to be completely fucking transparent, I was really struggling with Icarus. And once I made this realization, it all kind of made sense why. And I think once Mother Earth is complete, things in Icarus with start coming together for me.

In the meantime, stay posted, keep an eye out for the other updates, and I absolutely cannot wait to share Mother Earth with you.

#datds #the dead sea trilogy #icarus #mother earth #icarus and the blistering sun #mother earth and her infinite sky #the devil and the dead sea #hardenshipping #fic news #fic updates

22 notes · View notes

malereader-inserts · 4 years

Text

Touch

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Tony Stark x Male!Reader Summary: He wants to get closer to get a touch, but he’s afraid of getting burned Word Count: 699 A/n: I’m sorry for the lack of update but I got busy writing an essay.

Tony Stark is not a religious person, but there was a time he prayed. To a god of some sort, whoever was listening to his hopeless cries.

He’s so broken, he tired. His body was full of regret, anxiety and guilt of things he can’t control. Oh, how he felt so numb, feeling like days were passing on a dream-like state. He wants to feel, as vivid it truly is, to feel like he was in love. That he was capable of loving someone and that someone was also capable of loving him.

Then, came you.

The bright sun upon the dark universe. You, the sunshine boy, igniting the world anew with such brilliance. Each day you shone and the world shone back, joyful to reflect those warm rays. Eyes so warm and inviting with a smile as soft as the sun rising its early morn. You were warm both physically and spiritually. Warmth and Tony was cold, and just like that, he wanted to always be near. Yet, he didn’t want to soar to high so that he was Icarus and you would eventually burn him.

Both of you had crushes on each other, and Tony just wants to skip the cliches. All of them, the near-death, the chosen one of some high adventure. That wasn’t Tony, and yet you and he were heroes at the end of the day. You two constantly get yourself in a situation that most often not end up with someone almost dying.

“Hey Tony,” You greeted, eyes glimmering like the sun shining through painted windows, entrancing him to smile your happiness.

He can hear sirens in his head, you’re bad for him but yet oh so good at the same time. Tony begs for you to break the ten feet wall his has built over the years, you don’t notice the pleads, but oh God, Tony wishes he can feel again. He feels bad to express his desire to be with you because he shouldn’t burden you with his feelings.

“Hey, (Y/n),” Tony smiles, it’s genuine, and to you it’s bright.

Tony doesn’t realise but you do, that he was a soft hue of like the morning sunrise. And without his painted sky you cannot look as beautiful as Tony perceives you. He was orange and pink in the morning, the blazing fire that was luring. But, he was the soft shades of blue in the skies opposing the blazing orange and yellow lights you had emitted out. And he was the shades of red in the skies as you depart away, anger and lust for your return.

To you, Tony was beautiful, and you were always better when it was the pair of you.

“I was wondering,” You shrugged, he noticed how your hands fidgeting - nervous.

Tony picks it up, he wonders what he has done. He wonders what runs through your mind, but when you smile at him, all his doubts and worries fade away. Your eyes reassure him as you paused your fidgeting.

“When are you free?” You concluded, staring deep into his brown eyes.

You like his brown eyes. His eyes were the type of brown that was like a bar of sweet chocolate. The chocolate that melts at the slightest bit of the heat from love, or happiness. But that chocolate can also grow hard from the cold harsh reality that is apparent in this world. Heartbreak, or the depression that he hid from all those around her so well.

“Um, why?” Tony question, eyebrows knitting together, you think he looks adorable, as he tilts his head, “Like tomorrow.”

“Oh, great,” You awkwardly did thumb up, “There’s this new Italian place and I wanted to check it out with you since you like... you know... Italian.”

Tony must have flushed red, he nods, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

He sees a spark in your eyes as your smile widens, “Great, it’s a date.”

You disappear into the kitchen as you leave Tony dumbfounded. Slowly, a smile crawled upon Tony’s lips finding a home permanently stationed there. Date, he likes the sound of it.

He prayed to a God once, he’s wondering if he’s finally getting blessed.

#tony stark #tony stark imagine #tony stark x male!reader #x male reader #Avengers #avengers x male reader #avengers imagine

441 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 1 year

Note

Hi Kaze!, what about 1,3 and 4 for the ask game. I hope you are having a good weekend ☺️

Hello and same to you! 💛💛💛

What was the first thing you ever wrote for yourself? Not for a school assignment but for your own enjoyment.

Uuuuhm, that is one good question. Ever ever, it'd probably be some story about horses or some such back in 3rd grade or so? I don't even know, haha.

When it comes to my writing renaissance, it would be "New Beginnings", the first chapter of my comeback fic An Art of Balance.

3. The WIP you are most attached to.

Oh, most definitely When Stars Ignite, the Rockstar AU @the-al-chemist and I wrote last year. Although I realise, that one is closed so technically not a WIP anymore.

Hm, then it'd probably be either the Rockstar spin-off series currently titled Icarus, or Larger than Life, my magnus opum featuring Charlie and my OC Ava, which may or may not be bordering on turning into original fiction atm.

4. How many times have you been thrown off plot for a particular WIP?

Uhm, actually... never? Or rather, depends on where in the writing process you're looking at. Once I have a plan and script for a fic set out I stick to it, and only change minor details or add side characters here and there (if they blow up into my favourite problem kids later, that's another story).

But when I'm in the actual planning process of a project? Yeah, things change LOADS there. But that's the point about plot drafts, isn't it?

#ask game #writer's ask

2 notes · View notes

atrayo · 3 years

Text

Channeled Angelic Prophecy of the Jewels of Truth Series on Chinese Militaristic Hegemony Triggers WW3

Hello All,

I'm somewhat nervous about making this entry blog post regarding it's a very very controversial topic. It would come off as China-bashing, which in fact it is more an alarmist entry regarding an East vs. West power struggle that gets out of hand with a conflagration of a World War in its wake. This almost seems like history repeating itself less than a century ago with the Japanese Imperial ambitions of the 1940s spreading across the South Pacific.

I get skittish when I receive such automatic writing missives from the angels as a cautionary form of tough love. As repent all ye who enter here type of phenomena. For my part, I usually bury these statements in my notebook collection of these channeled statements. However, I deemed this one more so detailed with 8 Points of No Return as qualifiers for WW3 with China versus the World triggers itself. I intuit that this is 75% locked in already as ill-fated destiny up to 85% potentiality.

This is my caveat I hope to God I'm awful wrong as having drunk the Kool-Aid as Coco for Coco-Puffs loony toons basket case in this regard. With that stated, I feel more a prophet of doom than an Inspirational spiritual poet as my usual devotion. The statement 3,048 dovetails also upon the commencement of WW4 in 2075 by the European Federation as an Empire, not today's European Union.

Interweaving through all this the angel nameless as they often are without egos speaks about my "Jewels of Truth" series surviving eons (?) from now as a recorded spiritual philosophical angelic discourse with humanity. Talk about a shameless plug in all places and on this apocalyptic topic.

Prophecy of WW3 & WW4:

3048) What is to become of what you call the "Jewels of Truth" legacy of our spiritual angelic discourse with you in the centuries and eons following the end of your life on this earth dearest "Ivan the Atrayo". A future global religion as a cross-pollination of spiritual traditions not unlike that of the Persian Bai-Ha religion but one that actually succeeds in becoming truly globalized. A meta-Worship of the Abrahamic Creator God gets pinched transcending its original roots in around 150 years plus. As can be said from wingtip to wingtip of the Imperial Hawk as the standard for a New World Order.

We the angelic heavenly host didn't wish to alarm you dear Navi (Hebrew for Prophet, ie my first name spelled backward "Ivan") with such an infamous statement as you deem alarmist. However, you amongst many others are canaries in the coal mine seeing the writing on the wall as false placating by China is practically a foregone conclusion in world history to come.

With all this said take this as a pinch of salt to add flavor to the human condition as a cautionary tale of woe if ignored en-masse. As you stated in your introduction above, this is our Tough Love for humanity to glean what it may from our stance to date. Humanity can steer around this for the writing on the wall can still be whitewashed over with bravery if mutual reconciliation is so desired between the superpower of China and the rest of the World.

Allow us to start backward as it may with the future disaster of World War 4 in the region of the world that you presently call Ukraine. Mother Russia is no more a threat for China in WW3 made them their conscripts but that comes later in this statement. The peoples of Ukraine are ancestrally pure stalk of Euro-Slavic genetics and the future European Federation as a dystopian version succeeds the European Union after the rampant famines and plagues scorch the earth post WW3. The European Super Continent unites more so akin to the Ancient Roman Empire of yore with democratic tendencies only for its elite castes. Thus the seeds of distrust and acrimony are sowed once more by barbarians at their gates of the empire.

The year is 2075 the European Continent was less so ameliorated by the nuclear holocaust of WW3 than that of the North American continental shelf. In some ways the traces of Chinese culture is stronger upon Europe for the Silk Road 2.0 of the Sino Belt and Road Initiative succeeds culturally and economically by far before the Chinese government uses it as a Trojan Horse. Chinese population centers of its mainland are akin to a lunar landscape post WW3. Thus its peoples migrant en masse onto Asia Minor what is the Middle East today and into the Eastern flanks of Europe. Such Chinese populations will be considered the barbarian mongrels for the dystopian European Federation thus WW4 ignites around the Black Sea of Crimea.

In twelve years what you consider as an alpha or new beginning Ivan. Will be the start of World War 3 with China upon the year 2033 Anno domino. Give or take 6 months after China crosses 8 Points of No Return that the angel of the Lord God sounds the trumpet of perdition on Earth. China for its part ascended to the righteous status of a superpower too quickly and anything that is achieved too soon is lost just as immediately. The greek tragedy of Icarus with the Sun melting the wax bindings of his artificial wings sends the young lad plummeting to his death.

It is a matter of fact that China has every right on God's Earth to succeed and be a proud nation of her ancestral peoples on a united front. However, as they have been victimized by the Japanese during the early 1940s and were the footstool of the British empire of the 19th century. They feel that payback is in order to the world with a chip on their shoulder, thus their Sino exceptionalism soon becomes a recipe for disaster for the rest of the world and her Asian neighbors.

Notwithstanding its currency manipulations as a temporary measure during the early 2000's to cheat its way to the top. This practice was soon discontinued due to not overheating with a meltdown their economies of scale were soon achieved globally. Next to their notorious one-two punch of lured infamy of intellectual property theft as sanctioned statecraft of technological theft transfers. It would allow the Chinese State to supercharge its beautiful minds to leapfrog the West and the grand USA at its own game.

The first ill-fated seal of WW3 was when China annexed and conquered Tibet during its Cultural Revolution of Mao Tse Tung. That set the tone of supremacy in an egotistical guise of reclaiming its lost Imperial Dynasties of centuries before of grandeur. The 2nd seal of WW3 was broken more so recently from what they learned in subjugating the Tibetan peoples. They carried over to their Muslim minority of the Uyghurs accomplishing their cultural genocide upon them as enslaved conscripts. The Western economic sanctions on its textiles from such a provincial region are little more than a slap on the wrist.

What the Chinese learned from the Tibetans and now the Uyghurs they are implementing on Hong Kong like the flap of the wings of a graceful dragon. Soon the 3rd seal of WW3 to be broken is the naval and aerial invasion of the democratic island nation of Taiwan off its mainland. These so-called rebels will soon experience the Chinese boot snapping their collective necks with the revenge of humiliating their might makes right doctrine.

The 4th seal of WW3 is already partially cracked open with China claiming its ancestral Imperial Dynastic seaways and now air passage routes in an outright fashion. Building naval airbase atolls out of the ocean a feat of engineering will soon pot mark the South China Seas like satellite landmines to the rest of the world. Naval commerce and air traffic are now harrassed including foreign military air traffic be dammed. Expect so-called enemy fighter pilots of Australia and other South East nations to be shot down outright. With naval cargo and oil freighters to be harassed by premature boarding inspections as so-called checks for illicit goods.

The 5th seal of WW3 to be broken is when Mother Russia is soon out witted by Chinese Hegemony. When the mafia state of the Russian government gets greedy in an oil dispute transfer with the Chinese it soon escalates to sour grapes all around. Leading up to China invading by land its armies seize Russian Southern Oil fields permanently. Thus Putin the Russian Czar's rule comes to an end as his Oligarchs soon replace him with a shill of a weak national leader to appease China. Opening the way in future years that the Russian army is at the beck and call of the Great Dragon of China as its conscripts by any other name.

The 6th seal of WW3 is when China tires of the North Korean Premiers games of Kim Jong-Un they annex North Korea without firing a shot. Installing a viceroy and begin massive industrial mining for the mineral riches of the North Korean Peninsula. Which ironically jump-starts the North Korean economy putting its citizens to work for an eventual rise out of poverty.

The 7th seal of WW3 is the greatly lauded Belt and Road Initiative as the Silk Road 2.0 becomes what it is advertised to do. A boon of Chinese engineering producing Infrastructure projects from China through the Middle East into parts of Europe as Sino goodwill public relations globally. It is a roaring success since similar projects brought Africa out of its schizophrenic famines and poverty up to 20 years ago. That all the foreign aid historically upon Africa could never do.

However, what looks good and feels good with much mutual economic prosperity triggers a fervor for Chinese hegemony abroad. Where southeast Asian nations of Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, Thailand, Myanmar, and Indonesia soon get the negative attention of Chinese interference as Big Brother. Frankly stated the Belt and Road Initiative becomes a proverbial Trojan Horse for the conscripted armies of Russia, North Korea, and China's armies. To seemingly roll upon in the guise of an inaugural guest-hosted military parade throughout the circuitous route becomes a bait and switch tactic.

The 8th seal of WW3 is that the unwelcome security occupation by the Chinese armies outside its mainland albeit as security guarantors is soon worn out. The remaining free nations declare war on China and within months a nuclear holocaust is triggered by the United States as a desperate first-strike policy.

Thus ensuring that Beijing its Capitol and Shangai as a modern port megalopolis of Chinese Supermacy is nuked several times by the Western nations of the US and Europe leaving it akin to a lunar landscape. The United States will receive the majority of Chinese Nukes rather than that of Europe as cited in the above introduction to this posting. The US island territory of Puerto Rico is hit directly upon Old San Juan its Capitol for it lacks a missile battery defense shield capability. All the island residents that remain leave over the ensuring years throughout the rest of the Caribbean (ie Cuba, Haiti, Dominican Republic, etc...) and other parts of Florida.

All major primary and secondary American cities are hit once or twice by Chinese and Russian nuclear strikes such as Miami, Houston, Washington D.C., Denver, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, New York City, Detroit, and so forth. Also, the missile defense shield battery purchased by Australia from the United States works as advertised. Sydney is spared a near-fatal strike however the radius concussion of such a nuclear missile detonation overhead causes an electromagnetic pulse knocking out its electrical grid. Its offshore island of Tasmania doesn't fare as fortunate it is hit directly annihilating its entire population. Lastly, the New Zealand Capitol of Christ Church is also hit directly by a Chinese nuclear strike.

World War 3 lasts for a mere 6 years time ending roughly by the end of the year 2039. Leaving what remains of China, Russia, North Korea, and its counterparts of the United States and Europe is a near catastrophe for the next 60 years plus to attempt recovery. The United States loses its superpower status soon to become the Federated States of America an empire by any other name dystopian. Chronic outbreaks of famine and various once curable diseases spread dysentery of water-born illnesses run rampant and plagues of Covid-19 and other forms of Influenza throughout the Americas.

However, in the decade to follow the Federated States of America invades its neighbor to the North as Canada. In order to seize its prized infrastructure and pastoral farmlands to maintain its hold of power. Slavery in America is institutionalized once more in order to cultivate its non-irradiated farmlands and strip mining. Hungry mouths cause riots and thus enslaving such unruly ungrateful once citizens is another act of desperation.

Africa and the rest of the Americas such as the Central and Southern regions fare way better from the Chinese and Russian nuclear attacks lest that of Columbia and Costa Rica. Ironically democracies take root here to one degree or another as they see the dystopian societies of Europe and that of North America and want no part of that turmoil. The Federated States of America partially fascist devolves into feudal Esque family houses of nobility as the once upper classes survive to a degree via tact and shrewdness.

Your "Jewels of Truth" series as our angelic discourse with humanity dearest "Ivan the Atrayo" survives mostly intact not unlike that of the affectionate Rumi and Hafiz as Spiritual Persian poets have done so. Since your channeled writings of us for now, over 26 years to date as Inspirational automatic writings as a clairaudient psychic technique has foretold. It Will be cherished by the generation of readers to come lasting centuries if not an eon or two more. Taken into the stars by futuristic human colonists leaving the earth out of necessity due to dwindling resources.

The 1st truly global earth religion subsumes your writings into one of its tomes of sacred literatures. Thus you'll be piggybacking onto another greatness by sheer good prosperous luck for the added measure as there are no accidents metaphorically speaking. To this, we remark a thank you for taking the courage to share this cautionary statement although your reservations have been noted in protest by us.

Go with God(dess) those of the eyes to see and the ears to hear between the rhetoric spoken by the greater national powers that be. There's is the agony soon to herald all into collective planetary ruin because of a game of brinkmanship that gets out of control soon enough. Pay attention and take actions that are peaceable via protests or be steamed rolled into oblivion. Amen. ---Ivan Pozo-Illas / Atrayo.

Ivan "Atrayo" Pozo-Illas, has devoted 26 years of his life to the pursuit of clairaudient Inspired automatic writing channeling the Angelic host. Ivan is the author of the spiritual wisdom series of "Jewels of Truth" consisting of 3 volumes published to date. He also channels conceptual designs that are multi-faceted for the next society to come that are solutions based as a form of dharmic service. Numerous examples of his work are available at "Atrayo's Oracle" blog site of 16 years plus online. You're welcome to visit his website "Jewelsoftruth.us" for further information or to contact Atrayo directly.

#Jewels of Truth #Atrayo's Oracle #Ivan Pozo-Illas #Automatic Writing #Angels #China #Hegemony #WW3 #WW4 #Psychic #Channeler #Prophecy #Apocolypse #Russia

1 note · View note

drabbles-blurbs-words · 4 years

Text

Pining (Iida x femReader)

Hello Everyone!

This is my first post and imagine ever after a while!

This one is dedicated to my beautiful @kirishibi

Thanks for the support and being my first follow and also just motivating me to write!

There are a lot of people who I’m going to be thanking with some little works so I hope y’all enjoy it!

Likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated.

Thanks for reading!!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iida watched as you swung your legs slowly on the bleachers. The quiet girl of his dreams. You had been done with the training assigned to you and now took a break. The sun shone on you as you basked in its warmth. Your eyes closed as your face lifted towards it, as if it were caressing your cheeks with its rays. Iida kept jogging around the track; each time he passed you he would sneak glances at you. His eyes studied the way your skin seemed to shine under the light, how your hair swayed idly with the breeze, how your eyes shone as you looked… at him. Your beaming smile almost blinded the poor boy. He tripped over his feet as you caught him staring and a startled undignified yelp left his lips.

The boy had been pining for you for a while, but he had never been caught. Or so he thought. You had been watching him also. Your heart fluttered when you felt his eyes on you, your cheeks dusted in pink when he would approach you. You observed how the boy always cared for others and forgot to care for himself. And slowly you fell. Your crush blooming and growing into something stronger.

You had giggled when your eyes met his, but the joy you felt quickly was replaced by worry as you saw him eat dirt. Without a second thought you launched yourself off the bleachers. Quick steps lead you to the fallen boy, who was currently trying to hide his red face. You quickly kneeled beside him and picked up his glasses. He met your gaze carefully before looking away; embarrassment turned his cheeks and ears a sweet pink you found you loved. You softly turned his face towards you and carefully placed his scratched-up glasses back on his nose.

“Thank you….” He murmured.

You shook your head at the tall boy and stood; your small hand reached out towards him. He nodded and took your hand. You felt him tighten his grip as he got up and winced. You observed him carefully and saw the blood on his elbows. You tightened your hold on him and pulled him off the track.

“Wait, we should inform-“

“You need to get those cleaned.”

Your voice was heartbreakingly beautiful. Soft, warm, kind. Everything he dreamed of. He numbly nodded and followed you. Helplessly enchanted by the way you moved and held his hand. His hand seemed too big for yours, but you still managed to make him feel so warm. You sat him on a bench and quickly left him. He observed as your hips swayed as you looked for Aizawa’s first aid kit. Every detail he memorized. The way you pouted as you looked inside the bag, how your brows scrunched when you were lost in thought, how adorable you looked when you were worried. He was consumed by you.

Iida was startled out of his thoughts by soft hands grabbing his injured elbow. You carefully poured some antiseptic and began cleaning the injury. He watched you. The burn of whatever that was, forgotten as he melted under your touch. You, wonderful you, who always cared for others. Who always looked out for him. You, who always made sure he wasn’t neglecting himself. He missed when your lips moved and lamented how much of a fool he must look like.

“I’m sorry. What?”

“I said, you need to be more careful.” Your soft voice had a tinge of reproach in it, but it was enough to unsettle him.

“Ah yes! I am sorry my carelessness has caused you trouble. I promise I will be more careful in the future. I was just… uh. I was…” he tried to remain as stoic and professional as he could as he tried to find an excuse.

“Watching me.” You met his indigo eyes and observed as the boy short circuited.

“AH… WELL… YOU SEE! I WAS-“

He panicked and you witnessed his face become red. A small mischevois giggle left you and silenced the boy.

“It’s okay, Iida-kun… I watch you too.” You murmured.

Iida stared at you for a second and watched as you casually went back to taking care of his wounds. His heart was about to burst, and he found himself grabbing ahold of your hands. Freezing you in place, his dark eyes bore into yours.

“You do?” you nodded at the boy, pink dusting your cheeks. “Then you…”

He swallowed thickly, trying to bring himself to say the words he felt his heart scream each time he saw you. He pushed himself to express the warmth, the love, the sweetness you ignited in him each time he saw you. But nothing intelligible came out. At this point it was just a random mess of words and noises that he knew you couldn’t understand nor interpret. But he couldn't stop.

You watched the boy struggle with himself, the ever-present stoic demeanor melting away and leaving a jumbling mess. You felt your lips quirk into a smile, you enjoyed this side of him. It was cute. You lifted a hand to his cheek, effectively silencing him. You stood in front of him and before he knew it you had placed a slow kiss on his bruised cheek.

Your lips set his skin on fire and sent soft shivers down his spine. His heartbeat was so fast he felt he couldn’t keep up. Your eyes met his as you pulled away slowly. A halo of light seemed to surround you and he felt his chest tighten at the way you looked at him. It was almost agonizing. His breath left him as he saw you smile brightly. You were the incarnation of the sun and he was Icarus; and he didn’t care if he would crash and burn as long as you still looked at him like this.

“I like you, Iida-kun… a lot.”

Before you could blink, you were engulfed in strong arms. Your heart a deafening thump in your ears. You slowly wrapped your arms around him as you felt his embrace tighten. You felt the soft searing touch of his lips on your forehead and then you heard words. The words you had been aching to hear since the day your heart fluttered at the sight of the tall boy. The words you dreamed of each time he approached you. He buried his head into your hair, and you felt yourself surrender into his embrace.

“I like you, too. I like you so, so much.”

77 notes · View notes