#Adventure of Stockholm

[cheeteoo]

Uhh I make memes ig

[possession1981-moving]

[randomfoxsworld]

Heeeyyy, guess who just got hit with a sudden burst of inspiration at 2:00 AM and decided to write an entire one-shot despite not having written anything reader since 2021? Lmk if i need to add anymore triggers

It's also a choose your own adventure ✨️

Content Warnings (CW) / Trigger Warnings (TW)

This story contains the following themes and may be distressing to some readers:

Psychological manipulation / gaslighting

Captivity and loss of autonomy

Implied emotional abuse

Power imbalances in relationships

Non-consensual control / ownership themes

Medication use / dependence

Mental distress and dissociation

Mild body horror / identity confusion

Stockholm Syndrome implications

Unreliable perception of reality Surveillance and loss of privacy

You wake up in your room.

The ‘moon’ outside gleams through the warped windowpane painting everything in shades of ash and bone Its light presses against your skin not warm not kind Clinical Watching

It grates against your senses more than the cold itchy blanket or the splinters of faux wood that bite into your feet paws? Claws?

You aren’t sure what you have anymore. You aren’t sure what you are That knowledge was taken Ripped away slowly replaced by silence and obedience.

And right now… they’re not here

You sit up carefully the bed groaning beneath you like a wounded thing Your breath stalls in your throat You wait One second Two

Stillness

No footfall in the hall No amused voice slinking through the crack beneath the door No eyes on you

They are out

You’re alone

For once

You move trembling staggering toward the window You use the windowsill to catch yourself your palms pressing flat against the cold stone The pill bottles are there lined up like little sentries waiting for the moment you cave You reach for one with shaking fingers

Your head burns It always does before clarity claws its way in Before the memories you’re not supposed to have scream to be remembered You grit your teeth twisting the lid slowly quietly

One sharp click

You freeze

Nothing Still alone

You pour two into your hand Then three Just enough to steady the ache to keep you from breaking apart before you can… before you can do something

You don’t know what yet But the silence tonight tastes different

You glance toward the door

Still shut

Still yours

For now

Your gaze drifts lower to the little stuffed fox curled on the stool by the bed Its eyes staring at the door that doesn’t move But still… it feels like it knows

Like it’s waiting

You stare out the window The forest beyond is skeletal frozen in place But something stirs deep inside the night A wind that isn’t wind A whisper you almost recognize

You press your forehead against the window

You’re still there fingers trembling with the pills in when the door clicks open

A soft sound Gentle

And yet your whole body locks up

You don’t turn around

Theirvoice floats into the room like a smell of smoke you can't wash out Calm, Smooth,inevitable.

“I thought i heard something”

You hear them pause in the doorway Silence as they take in the room the candle unlit the pill bottle in your hand your posture too stiff to be obedient

Then softly almost curiously

“…Were you waiting for me?”

Their tone is light. Curious. Like the question was nothing more than casual conversation between equals You don’t answer You can’t The pills are still clenched tight in your palm and your tongue feels heavy uncertain Too many lies are coiled in your throat already.

The silence stretches.

Then Fin moves soft steps over the wooden floor slow and measured You hear the faintest scrape of the chair as they retrieve the cup they left behind their presence folding back into the room like a shadow returning to its rightful corner.

They don’t speak right away.

And you don’t breathe.

A quiet sigh, then the sound of their sleeve brushing fabric. “You should be in bed,” they murmur, warm and casual. Not angry. Not even disappointed.

You finally glance at them just for a second They're turned slightly away eyes on the candle left unlit, expression unreadable in the pale silver wash of the moonlight

“I’ll light this again in a moment,” Fin says, voice soft and even. “You always look… lost without it.”

They pick up the matchbox. Strike. A soft hiss and the room swells with orange glow. Their face comes into full view, and for a split second

You think they looked straight at your hand

But they say nothing

Fin sets the candle down again “There we go all Better”

You swallow hard Your grip tightens on the pills hidden just out of sight behind your hip

They finally turn to face you fully

No sharp edges in their expression Just calm Controlled Like this moment is ordinary Like your pulse isn’t thundering in your ears

“Did you take something already?” they ask as if they didn’t see the truth As if they didn’t already know

You manage to shake your head

Fin smiles faintly. “Good,” they murmur, stepping closer. “You’ve been improving. I’d hate for you to slip.”

Their fingers brush your cheek feather-light Affectionate almost But beneath the touch is that same pressure as always that ownership That warning

They lean in lips nearly against your ear

“I trust you” they whisper “Don’t make me regret that”

Then they pull away

Just like that the moment is over

Fin moves back toward the desk grabbing cup in hand and heading back to the door before Looking back at you

“You should lie down” they say gently “You’ll feel better in the morning” before stepping out and shutting the door

You stay frozen a moment longer then move toward the bed slowly carefully slipping the pills under the pillow

As you settle back beneath the heavy blanket the candle flickers again…..

And you are left with a choice and I suggest you choose wisely

1 Take the pills

2 Don't take the pills

[shiori8]

Oh look! It's another redesign!

Here, have this little illustration based on my Ladybug/Chat Noir re-designs, that I've been slaving away at for the past month (we're just gonna ignore the fact that I started plotting out the costumes and sketched the pose a year ago lol). I know, I know. A redesign? Very original. But hey I haven't done it yet, so that makes it different ok😝!

(Gosh, I usually don't post sketches, I feel like this is exposing all my drawing weaknesses lol)

These are some of the first doodles I did. For Marinette I basically looked at some traditional Qui Pao and Hanfu dresses for inspiration and mixed and matched details I liked. I also gave her these little skirt flaps (?? whatever you want to call it) to symbolise the ladybug wings and kept the spots concentrated there. All in all I actually immediately knew what I wanted to do with her costume and pretty much just kept to my first draft, but what really gave me trouble was the hair somehow. I really wanted to incorporate actual antennae (I just think it's cute🤧!!!!) but it got too crowded up there so I had to let them go eventually🥺. In the end I settled for her twin tails pulled up instead of down. To make it look more distinct from her civilian form the idea was also that her hair colour changes to black after the transformation.

Chat Noir on the other hand was so difficult😭😭😭. I honestly like the original design soo much it was hard to think about alternatives. I wanted something that matched better with my new Ladybug, but I don't think I succeeded much. Also I hyperfocused on giving him this little scarf/oversized collar thing in my first doodles because I thought it looked cool and ended up scrapping it because the little bell is just too iconic not to keep lol. As you can tell from the final illustration there is actually not all that much that made it into the final version, except for the sheer sleeves, the shoes, the claw marks and some neon green details. I also ended up giving both of them some gold accents to make them match a bit more. As with Marinette, the idea is that Adrien's hair changes colour a bit after transforming too. So I envision Adrien having more of the smooth platinum blond in his civillian form and a more brown-ish dirty blond as Chat Noir, to go for the whole stray cat look lol.

I might come back to this one day, to re-do their civilian forms too or make these costumes more practical rather than just focusing on aesthetics (But hey if the show does this than I am allowed too😂!)

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Viking Ice Skates

In a discovery that harkens back to the days of Nordic exploration and seafaring prowess, Viking Ice Skates from the 10th century CE emerge as a testament to the adaptability and ingenuity of these legendary mariners.

Crafted from leather and horse bone, these relics offer a fascinating window into a world where icy landscapes presented both challenge and opportunity.

As the Viking Age unfurled across the northern seas, the need for swift and efficient movement extended beyond the waves to the frozen landscapes of the North.

The Viking Ice Skates, fashioned with materials readily available to these intrepid seafarers, embody their mastery over both water and ice, underscoring the versatility that defined their pursuits.

The composition of these ancient ice skates sheds light on the resourcefulness that defined Viking craftsmanship.

Leather, pliable and durable, formed the base of the skates, offering comfort and flexibility to those who donned them.

Horse bone, carved into blades, enabled a gliding motion across frozen surfaces, bridging the gap between land and frozen waters.

Beyond their functionality, these ice skates offer a portal into the mundane yet captivating aspects of Viking existence.

As seafarers and traders, Vikings navigated a diverse range of environments. The ice skates underscore the multifaceted nature of their lives, highlighting the interplay between practicality and cultural adaptability.

In a time where technology and travel were vastly different from the present day, the Viking Ice Skates provided a means of efficient movement across frozen landscapes.

The relics, a silent testament to their owners' journeys, stand as a connection to the daily experiences of these seafaring adventurers.

Viking Ice Skates not only speak of practicality but also offer a glimpse into cultural practices.

Skating, beyond its functional purpose, may have held social or recreational value. The skates' existence within Viking society underscores the integration of ice-bound activities into the fabric of their lives.

The discovery of these ice skates resonates with the broader mission of preserving historical artifacts.

As these relics emerge from the depths of time, they remind us of the importance of safeguarding and studying the past to better understand the cultural and technological foundations upon which we stand today.

Viking Ice Skates, though seemingly modest, echo the enduring legacy of a civilization that has captivated modern imagination.

They remind us that the Vikings were not confined to the pages of history but were dynamic individuals who adapted to their surroundings, leaving a mark that endures through the ages.

Viking Ice Skates stand as more than mere relics; they are a testament to the Vikings' mastery over diverse environments and their capacity for innovation.

These ice skates transcend the boundaries of time, allowing us to skate through history and glimpse the daily lives of these legendary seafarers.

As they emerge from the past, they extend an invitation to explore the interplay between necessity, creativity, and cultural evolution that defined the Viking Age.

📍Swedish History Museum, Stockholm

[ringingsilent]

I did it!!! It took (checks game timer) around 80 hours but I got all 180 emblems AND A-ranked Green Hill in SA2B on my 20 y.o. GameCube :D

I go months at a time without picking up a controller. It definitely takes time and effort but if I can do it you can too :)

[killj0y616]

Running a one shot in Cy for a few friends tomorrow. It's going to be fun

[microwave-core]

I wish that music players on blogs still worked. If they did, I would put this on loop.

[the-words-we-sung]

Omar here I come \o/

[foxfinding]

I think I'm going through the fucking stages of grief with my current subtitling project.

For most of the time, I was telling people this movie is good?

But like.

I, personally, absolutely ADORE just. The MOST absolute TRASH fucking media out there?

(I love EVERY SINGLE fucking Sharknado movie?)

and... there are a lot of moments I can feel I'll have to tell my friends like. "Look. just. Ingore how this bit here is a bit widgey, yeah?"

And like.

HOW MUCH OF THAT DOES THERE GET TO BE BEFORE A MOVIE IS NO LONGER CONSIDERED "GOOD"????

I have spent SO. MANY. HOURS. on this fucking project.

(I asked a friend to fucking help me figure out some sanskrit because the version I found didn't make sense when I tried to look up translations for it.)

(I have like. SIXTEEN TABS of fucking Sanskrit dictionaries/translation sites open right now.)

(For a SEVEN SECOND fucking line, in a seven minute song, in a movie that is TWO HOURS AND FIFTY-FIVE MINUTES LONG.)

WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING.

[starbvund]

NPCs available:

Rahadin Corellon Artor Morlin Violet

[killj0y616]

This, but a CY_BORG headline about someone using a new "./PWK.ded" app & unleashing it on the _NET. This causes a rash of deaths across CY. It just so happens the party is getting ready to do a _NET based heist & run the risk of bearing witness to ./PWK.ded

Tragic News! Someone's made Power Word Kill into a copypasta! Half of youtube is dead!

[hsmagazine254]

Explore Stockholm: A Scandinavian Gem Beckoning with Unforgettable Experiences

Discover the Magic of Stockholm Stockholm, the mesmerizing capital of Sweden, is a city that effortlessly combines rich history with modern elegance. Situated across 14 islands connected by picturesque bridges, it’s often referred to as the “Venice of the North.” This enchanting city boasts a myriad of attractions, shopping districts, culinary delights, and unique experiences that will leave you…

[dandelionjack]

the Doctor has always been a terrible person but it’s really funny how 15 is pretty much the same But Worse since he believes himself to be Healed. i don’t know if it’s intentional or just bad writing but i’ve seen somebody describe him as “a narcissist who learned therapy speak and now congratulates themselves on unlearning bad behaviour” and it’s EXACTLY how he acts

0 self reflection 0 questioning whether he may be in the wrong at all, ever, just deflect and mete out justice. torture a man and say you were triggered. trap a woman on your TARDIS and stockholm syndrome her into “having fun adventures”. all that stuff he used to do before Healing, dialed up to 11 15, this time with 15x more “babes” and “yasss” and 15x less self-awareness

previous incarnations used to be the snappy left-brain narcissist, the pretentious intellectual, better than everyone else because he’s smarter, trying to be as kind as he can but fully aware that he’s not nice. performing cleverness for the audience. charm, sure, but a different kind. 15 performs charisma. he hasn’t got a trace of autism left, he oozes self-assured BELONGING in any situation, the actor, the drag queen, all eyes on her. flamboyant. perfect in every way — even his weirdness no longer sticks out like a sore thumb, you’d never catch him saying things like “sorry about the deaths of your family member slash pet” or scooping jam from a jar with his fingers in a stranger’s kitchen. he’s *got it together*. or, well, that’s the impression he learned how to cast

the reckoning is going to be so painful. you show up out of nowhere, scare a neglected child with talks of fate and luck, and cause him him to grow up believing he is destined to unmask you and bring you down … your uneasy allies lock him in prison, you prophesy doom… what do you think is going to happen, silly man?

[canadianbaguette]

It wasn’t just what Paul did. Either. It was what he continued to do. Who else could stand at the verge of Divinity and keep fighting. To be offered the world and back and have a taste of perfection, and still Bite at the hand that feeds.

To not even have the excuse of the stray dog scared of kindness, scared of unknown intentions. For part of the bliss was understanding.

It was frustrating that Paul kept fighting and biting and kicking. Yet at the same time. It was what Pokey found endearing.

It was never just a once off action, that singled Paul out. It merely drew Pokeys attention to him.

Yet, that was a distraction from what Paul really meant

He WAS right, and Pokotho could not deny it because the call was coming from inside his own mind and self.

He would try anyways, His mind was infinite, it was no issue to bury that revelation deeper.

It wouldn’t Repress!

PAUL WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!

Despite the booming tone, the only thing that flowed into Paul’s mind was still Happiness. With a dash of fear.

Not Paul’s own fear. But rather that of the God realizing and introspecting, who had never Had to do that before. Had never been confronted with his own thoughts.

After all, who would be the one to show him. The hive? They were all empty vessels, the lot of them. His brothers? What would they know about Pokotho.

a series of quieter thoughts drifted into Paul’s head.

Regardless, of that MINOR crisis there would be no more stalling.

A half-mask was laid upon the centre of the table, it looked similar to the Hive masks. However it was split down the centre, instead of covering his whole face it would only cover the left half. It also had a blue gem on the forehead as well as small silver flourishes on the edge of the mask.

If he put it on, there would be no taking it off. It would become part of his face.

Paul had his perspective, he had delayed his choice as long as he could.

The point of no return still had not been crossed, Paul stood knee deep in the waters of the rubicon. Whatever he did it would define the rest of his life.

If he ran, he could never unlearn what he saw here, never unknow the secrets of hatchetfield. Nor sever the connection formed already. Merely dampen it. Maybe He could resist it, maybe he could live a normal enough life, despite the God he was now intertwined with.

If he stayed, his fate would be certain. He would become the first Vessel of Pokotho that was more than just an empty puppet. He would have duties with the Church of Starry children, and would become part of the Underbelly of hatchetfield. He would be housed in the Starlight but free to interact with the rest of hatchetfield so long as he returned to his Home eventually.

Maybe he could still get to know Emma a bit more, but would he be comfortable around her. Would Pokey get Jealous?

As well as the lingering doubts that, Pokey would get bored of him once he gave in. Despite the reassurances that Pokey knew him thoroughly, understood who Paul was, and that he would still enjoy Paul’s free will, even if it was just him lying in his bed watching TV. That Paul was Wanted, for everything he was.

It still felt hard to believe. Even as he had the fact hammered into his brain over and over.

Open RP:

"I swear to God if I hear another jingle or person singing in the street I'm going to lose it..."

[snail-day]

Family Matters

I fear my brain worms have moved onto:

Yan! Choso x Reader x Yan! Yuki

Tw: Yandere Behaviors, Somno, Captivity, Power Imbalance, Mentions of drugging, Stockholm Syndrome, Overstimulation, Creampies, Full nelson, Dubcon/Noncon. MDNI

a/n: This was supposed to be short and sweet. I believe the brain worms munched a little too hard :)

You’d like to think Choso never meant for this all to happen. That the whole situation was due to his own desire to start a family. That if it were up to him, you’d be somewhere far from here, curled up with a book and not wrapped between his arms while he whispers sweet apologies into your skin.

However, Yuki did all the dirty work and brought you here. Who decided you were perfect for them. Choso wanted a family, and she didn't want to give up her freedom. You'd give her that. Though kidnapping doesn't seem like the best solution to that problem, but maybe you were just a bit more sane. Who knows.

Yuki’s always been a hunter. A visionary. She wouldn’t go for someone stronger; no, she chose you precisely because you weren’t. Soft and pliant, someone who reminded her of a rabbit caught between wolves. And now you’re here. While it took a while to get Choso on board, he eventually had to give in.

He never imagined himself sharing. Always thought he'd be monogamous. But when his lover comes home cradling you like a prize, whispering about how sweet you’d be (once tamed), how you'd look tucked into their bed? How could he say no?

Especially when you’re so cute when you cry. When you're sleepy from all the drugs she put into your system, not clawing or screaming every time he tries to hold you. Dragging you out from under the bed by your ankles so he can cradle you and stroke your hair nestled in the various blankets. Because when you're quiet, well, he can pretend. Pretend you want this, too.

It’s Choso who cherishes the naps. Who likes the way your weight sinks against him, your breathing slow and warm on his chest. Yuki’s always moving, training, exploring, and hunting down her next thrill. But Choso? He’s a sleepy homebody. He’s selfish when it comes to cuddling. You’ll try to wriggle away, always so defiant, but eventually you give in. Huffing and puffing as he releases a sigh, breathes in the scent of you as you melt into his arms, quiet for once. Humming against your temple, gentle fingers stroking through your hair, tender lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. You sometimes wonder if he wishes Yuki were a bit softer. Less adventurous. Maybe then he wouldn't be so devoted to clinging onto you.

But you realize you don't know much about him as he doesn't understand much about you. Perhaps it's the curse in him, but he doesn't exactly understand why you cry so much. You're being loved. Taken care of. What more could you possibly want? How much of the world does he have to give you?

It’s only when you’re tired that you stop trying to claw your way free. When you’re drowsy, limp, vulnerable that Choso can’t help but admire you. That peaceful little face… it makes something ache inside of him. Ache and throb. Precum stains his pants, his cock pressed hard against your thigh, and before he knows it, his hand is slipping under the silk nightgown Yuki dressed you in before she left this morning. No panties. House rule reserved only for you.

Two chubby, thick fingers trace lazy circles over your clit. You're still half-asleep, but your hips betray you, grinding gently into his touch with a breathy whimper. One that he hushes with soft coos into your hair, as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. He's too needy for proper prep, but not a monster. He won't split you open dry, no matter how desperate he is.

Gently coating his cock in the slick gel, groaning at the sensation, then smears the rest over your folds, working two fat fingers into you with care. Stretching you open, watching the furrow of your brows. The way your hips grind into his palm. That's when he knows you're ready to be his sweet girl.

Moving to shift you into a full nelson, your legs spread wide, needy cunt on fully display to the cruel, cool air, his toned arms wrapped tightly beneath your knees to hold you open. His body shakes as he lines himself up, the flushed purple head of his cock nestled against your soaked entrance. And when he finally pushes in - inch by slow, shuddering inch - his breath stutters in your ear.

" I'm sorry,” he whispers, voice cracked and barely holding together. “I just - I need you. I need you so bad. Love you too much. You understand, don’t you?”

You don't. But who are you to think when you're being split apart with each and every inch.

His trembling, soft lips brush your temple, then anywhere they can reach, almost frantic like he’s trying to kiss you into forgiveness. His cock twitches inside you, buried deep, stretching you around every vein, every pulsing inch of him as his hips start to roll in slow, desperate grinds upward.

It’s overwhelming when every movement seems to be thick and needy, every stroke a whimper he can’t quite bite back. You can feel the tears welling in his thick dark lashes as he mumbles, “Feels so good - feels too good - I’m sorry, I’m sorry - ”

And that’s when Yuki walks in.

“Aw, baby,” she sighs, lips pursed into a faux pout as she drops her bag and saunters over. “You said you were too tired to play.” She teases, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Kneels between your trembling thighs, fingers curling around Choso’s thigh to still his movements.

“Let me taste.”

She leans in, licking a long, slow stripe from the base of his cock to the swollen bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. Thin pink tongue all hot and wet, sinful even, and your entire body trembles. You mewl into Choso’s shoulder, but Yuki only hums in approval.

“None of that. Let mommy make you feel good, okay?”

God, she does. Takes her time savoring you, swirling her tongue, teasing both of you until Choso’s thighs are shaking and your slick drips down onto the sheets in glistening trails. Every drag of her tongue across his base has Choso twitching inside you, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Eventually, perhaps mercifully, she relents. “Go ahead,” she breathes, voice honeyed and cruel. “Stuff her full.” Moving her soft hand to stroke lovingly through his dark hair as he fucks you slow and deep, whispering praise between gasps. Yuki draws lazy circles against your clit with two fingers, tracing their names into your overstimulated nerves until you’re gushing into her palm.

“Such a good girl,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss you gently. “See? We take such good care of you. You’re going to let Choso fill you up now, right?”

You nod, dazed, teary-eyed, far too dumb with pleasure to form a single coherent thought. All that spills from your lips are soft, slurred thank yous, babbled between gasps every time she pushes you into another climax. Each twitch of your body, every flutter of your walls around Choso’s cock, sends him closer, until he's almost sobbing, the warm tears finding home at the dip of your shoulder.

It only takes a few of those pretty little squeezes, and then he’s bursting with a low, choked groan. His cock throbs inside you as he cums, hot, thick ropes filling your cunt, the warmth blooming deep, pressing tight against your insides like he’s trying to make a home in you. He stays buried there, panting into your hair, as Yuki leans in again, slender fingers catching the spill of cum that threatens to escape with obscene care.

“I think we’d make a really happy family,” she purrs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen, puffy cunt. “Don’t worry. Mommy will pay all the bills. Choso wants at least ten kids. You can do that, can’t you, sugar?”

You don’t answer. How could you, with exhaustion taking over? Your lashes flutter closed, brain turned to syrup from the overwhelming heat. Rebelling tomorrow seems like a better idea. Your head lolls to the side in a barely-there nod, and that seems to please her, or maybe it’s the taste, your juices tangled with Choso’s musk as she slurps her fingers clean, tongue dragging with a playful hum.

A part of you would’ve shivered. Maybe even cried. But then there’s pathetic little Choso, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, breath shaky, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in a soft, cracked whimper. As if the words have any meaning because he still doesn't pull out. You wonder if he even understands the word for someone who says it so much.