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[freshinkdaily]

5 Savvy Strategies for Securing Cheap Flights tips for cheap flights

5 Savvy Strategies for Securing Cheap Flights tips for cheap flights 5 Savvy Strategies for Securing Cheap Flights tips for cheap flights” Jet-setting in luxury doesn’t have to drain your wallet. With a bit of insider knowledge and strategic planning, you can secure premium seats for less than you might expect. This article unveils five savvy strategies that can help you find cheap flights…

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eighteen

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Nothing super specific, but things get pretty dark (at least in my opinion). Mentions of torture.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel grabbed Rhys by the front of his jacket, hands shaking horribly despite all his efforts to stop. It had started this morning, when another disastrous attempt to talk to Andrian had left Azriel with his mind in shambles, knife pressed against his own throat. It had been going on for weeks now. Someway, somehow, Andrian would find a way to break through Azriel’s defenses and force him to relieve his worst memories. Sometimes he dreamt of his burning hands. Mostly he thought of you, and the day he’d nearly killed you. 

“Tell me you didn’t,” Azriel growled desperately. “Tell me!” 

It was too easy for him to pick out when his brother was speaking with Feyre, and something about the way Rhysand had been looking at him— like he was a fraction of a second away from splintering into a million pieces — told Azriel enough about who had been sent for. You were the only one who could calm him. The only one who could do what he and Rhys had failed to do. 

Violet eyes shone from a perfectly handsome face. A face he knew too well. A face that he wanted to punch right now. 

“I’m afraid I can’t, brother,” Rhysand responded gravely. 

Azriel slammed his fist against the wall instead, taking out a chunk of granite that spit grey dust into the air. He swore beneath his breath, pacing the hallway and trying to steady his racing heart. He’d never wanted you to see this place. He’d never even wanted you to step foot on the island above, its rolling peaks a stark contrast to the tunnels below where Azriel conducted his business. Business that stained his hands a thousand shades of red. 

“You’ve been working yourself ragged, Az, and Andrian still hasn’t said anything. Not to you. Not to me. We need to know all we can about Koschei. Vassa’s on the brink of madness. Henna’s dead. I can’t even get past Andrian’s mental wards. What the fuck are we meant to do?” 

“So you thought to go behind my back and bring Y/n into this?! She’s not something for you to use, Rhys.” 

“She’s already in this mess.” Rhys reminded him, as he often did. His eyes softened as he looked to the locked door at the end of the hall with its small, rectangular window. Bars breaking up the lamplight glowing from within. “And you know she’d agree this is the best course of action. She’ll be able to do it.” 

Azriel’s hands shook. “Give me another week and I’ll get us the information we need. Tell Feyre to turn around. Don’t bring Y/n here.” Don’t let her see this part of me.

“The boy doesn’t have another week. He doesn’t even have a day.” 

The shaking traveled throughout Azriel’s entire body. His eyes darkened and he began the process of hiding his heart away within the void that curled inside of him. That wicked beast that was always on the verge of swallowing him whole. 

Feyre winnowed you both to the outskirts of the northern territories and you went from sweating in your fur-lined leathers to shivering in the knee deep snow. The Illyrian Mountains rose behind you like predatorial rows of shark teeth and the endless sea stretched in front, slate grey and empty except for lonely ripples of sea foam. Through the frosty haze you could make out a smattering of islands, each with their own tooth-like tips capped with snow and ice. Feyre looked at you, her eyes leaning more towards blue now that she’d tapped into the Winter Court’s power to stave off the cold. 

The Warren was protected by wards that made winnowing impossible, so you let Feyre scoop you up in her powerful arms, wings growing from her back like unfurling shadows before the ground dropped away from her feet and she took off into the sky. 

You clung to her shoulders, eyes slamming shut so you wouldn’t have to look down at the churning black waters and the rocks they crashed against. If you were to fall now, you could only hope you drown before the waves ripped your body to pieces against the rocks like meat torn between a pair of canines. 

You stayed frozen and tight as a coil until the rush of wind stopped and you no longer felt your stomach creeping up into your throat. You could have dropped to your knees and kissed the ground if you weren’t sure your lips would freeze there. You did shove your hands into the gritty sand though, breathing slowly through your nose until you finally had the strength to stand. 

Feyre led you down the long stretch of beach, waves whistling in the wind — a haunting, beautiful melody, like a woman crying. 

Azriel had discovered The Warren centuries ago. After a particularly brutal brawl that had left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs, he’d taken to the skies, desperate to escape the hard packed floors and burning scent of sex mixed with alcohol that seemed to invade every corner of the Windhaven barracks. He’d been fighting over a woman, a woman that had been dragged into the rowdy common room trembling with the telltale sign of a whisky haze over her burnt umber eyes, dress ripped and muddy. 

Did it even matter that he’d brought her back untouched to that leaning house with its wooden slabs frosted over and the chimney coughing up black smoke like a diseased lung? Azriel had wondered as he flew without a destination in mind. And when he’d finally collapsed on the island, frozen ground beneath his hands and knees and spitting out blood from his cut up gums, his shadows had tugged him towards the gaping mouth of The Warren, urging him to explore a darkness that was his and his alone. It had been his escape. A safe place in the world that had so few. But when Rhysand became High Lord and he the Spymaster, Azriel hadn’t hesitated to give up The Warren in the service of the Night Court, adding it to the long list of sacrifices he made so that he might actually start to feel like he deserved his place with his family. 

You stilled in front of The Warren’s entrance, black walls glittering and damp from sea spray. Jagged, cracked bone rocks hovered overhead like axes ready to fall, jutting out of a cliffside and curling over the beach in the shape of a hunched back or an unhinged jaw. Wind whistled from within like asthma — high-pitched and keening. 

“This is where you keep all your prisoners.” You weren’t asking a question, merely stating a fact. 

Feyre had had little time for explanations back at the House. She’d focused on defending your body against the frigid cold to come, her mind split between you and Rhysand as he worried over Azriel from miles away. 

“Not all of them. Only the ones Azriel finds useful.” 

“The ones he plans to torture for information.” 

From somewhere deep within the earth you swore you heard the clanging of chains, a growl, and a desperate groan that had the hair on your neck rising. 

Feyre’s usual warmth was gone, replaced by something with more tact and less care. “This isn’t a place for the faint of heart, Y/n. And neither is Azriel. He’s tried to hide this from you, but it’s as much a part of him as anything else and if you care for him as much as I believe you do, you’re going to need to get used to this.” 

There was the faintest flicker of doubt in your heart. “Andrian… he’s just a boy… you haven’t—Az hasn’t—”

“No,” Feyre said quickly. Horrified. “Azriel found him weeks ago trying to slip back into Day Court. We brought him here because it’s the most heavily warded place in Prythian and because the world needs to be protected from him as much as he needs to be protected from the world.” She grabbed your hands. They felt cold as ice. “Y/n. I swear to you, we haven’t hurt that boy. We won’t hurt him.” 

“I know. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Already you felt sick to your stomach just for asking. Azriel was many things — dangerous, cruel to those he felt were deserving of it, maybe even murderous at times — but he was still Az… and you weren’t afraid. Not even as you let Feyre lead you into The Warren, and you were swallowed whole.  

The mouth of the cave quickly narrowed into a tunnel before turning at a severe angle and twisting like a corkscrew downward. If it weren’t for you and Feyre’s glowing bodies, you might have missed one of The Warren’s slick steps and tumbled down forever. 

You passed by two offshoots, each branching out into their own secret tunnels that whispered and echoed and smelled faintly of blood. Coppery and sour. 

One of the rooms you walked through smelled like metal and limestone. The rust-colored ground and drain in the center of the floor told you all you needed to know about its purpose and before you could stop yourself, before you could even think about whether this was truly a good idea, you found yourself pressing a hand against one of the chains hanging from the ceiling. 

If Feyre was right and this was truly a part of Azriel — something horrible that needed to come with all of the good that he was — then you wanted to know. You felt that you had some right to know, and if it was the power the Mother had granted you, then you would use it when you saw fit. 

Feyre froze when your power flooded the room without warning, feeling the energy and fury radiating off your skin without even turning to look at you. You kept the memories a safe distance away, but drank in the knowledge of every horrible hand that had hung from that ceiling like you were reading a list of names from a book. You read their crimes. You read every drop of blood that Azriel had spilled on the ground. 

“Y/n?” Feyre asked tentatively, fearfully, when you blinked and released the chain. 

She had every hope the bond would snap in place for you soon and that you’d help end Azriel’s centuries of loneliness. That you might be the one to finally show him he was deserving of kindness. But to love Azriel as he was, with all his rough edges and the pain he could inflict as much as he carried… it was not for the faint of heart.  

“I understand why Azriel wanted to hide this place from me. This part of him,” you said quietly and to no one in particular. Not even to Feyre. “But he shouldn’t have.” Your eyes turned harder than stone. “They deserved it. Each and every one of them.” 

Feyre stood, shocked into silence, and it wasn’t until you gripped her arm and nudged her into the next room that she found she was able to walk again. 

You passed by more hallways and more rooms, some disturbingly clean and empty, others with chains hanging from the ceiling or littered on the floor. But the strangest part was, you could smell Azriel within these cramped walls, and that alone made you quicken your steps. 

You chased that familiar scent, walking confidently through the dark and passing Feyre until you were spit out in a long, neat tunnel with one metal door at the end. Tendrils of shadow flickered from around the corner. 

“Azriel?” 

Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw him leaning against the wall, hands folded behind his back. Rhys’s eyes flickered to you, then to his mate as she followed closely behind. Azriel stiffened, his eyes locked and heavy. Shadows tugged at his eyes and accentuated the sharpness of his cheeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the day he left you… which wasn’t so far from the truth. Because the whole time he’d been here, he’d been thinking of you, and the ways you might hate him for what he did and the sick corners of his soul. For—

You sailed into his arms, wrapping yourself around his torso and pressing your face into the hollow of his neck. Part of your mind chastised you, calling you silly and desperate as it reminded you it had only been ten days since you’d last seen him. But you didn’t care. It felt far longer than that. Too long. 

You needed this almost as much as he did. 

You disappeared behind his wings, cocooned safely in membranous folds and shadows that kissed your skin. Azriel himself buried his face in your hair, feeling some of his worst worries dissipate. You hadn’t run away. You hadn’t been so disgusted as to leave just yet. 

“Y/n,” he murmured your name before kissing your temple. “Gods, I missed you.” 

“I would hope so.” You murmured into the curve of his jaw, “I might be a boring bookworm but I’m better company than this place.” 

Azriel winced. “You have no idea.”

You missed the pointed look that Rhys and Feyre threw your way, but Azriel didn’t. He was tall enough to see over your head as Feyre pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, eyes glistening. They had come here for a purpose, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner they could all go home. 

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “I didn’t want you to come here. I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to see the things I do.” 

“I know.” You traced the curve of his jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “But I’m not afraid, Azriel.” 

His eyes flickered from fear to relief to love, like one of those picture books you had to flip through to see the scene play out. 

“You’re not?” 

You shook your head no. Then you kissed him on the lips and whispered the words for him and him alone. “I trust you. You’re the most terrifying thing here anyway, and you’re mine.” 

Yours. 

Azriel quitel liked the sound of that. 

Even here in the dungeons burrowed beneath empty frozen lands, Azriel found it within him to hope. Horrid creatures might be hidden elsewhere, creeping like slugs under the earth that he’d have to crush beneath his boot or tear treasured secrets from, but for now you were still by his side. For now you were still his and he would always be yours. 

You looped your arm through his and moved towards that door at the end of the hallway, steeling yourself for what you already knew was behind it. 

The light from the barred window flashed warm and cool then warm again. Light warped and pranced. The scent of rot hung in the air, humid and choking. You touched the door handle, feeling the magic fall away like it recognized you and opened up into a makeshift, but quaint bedroom. There were no windows here for there was nothing to see below ground, but some of Feyre’s landscape paintings hung on the wall. Faelights bloomed overhead, throwing light and heat on a child’s bed with green sheets, a table, and a bookcase overflowing with an assortment of puzzles and novels and toys. You felt your blood turn cold. They’d once belonged to Nyx before being repurposed for the little boy trembling on the floor. 

You stared at him in horror. 

The little boy who’d been so violently bright that morning in the marketplace was dull. Although he was wearing fresh clothes, his skin had turned a stone gray, black marks dotting his once silken, silver skin like a disease. He was aware of his condition, weeping on the plush rug cut in the shape of a flower as he batted at his arms, willing them to turn healthy again. 

“No no no no no no,” he sobbed. He grabbed at his pillowy hair in frustration and tugged. A cloud of fragile strands came away and he cried harder, trying to stick them back to his scalp. 

Rhysand’s face was broken and pale. He tried not to look at Andrian. He was too young. Reminded him too much of his own son. 

“You were right.” Rhysand’s voice was hollow, laced with a pain that grabbed your throat and squeezed. “Koschei did kill him. He’s been dead this whole time.”

“NO!” Andrian screamed. “HE DIDN’T! HE PROTECTED ME!” 

Fat tears rolled out of filmy eyes, dusty and brown as pond water. Rage filled him with new energy and he tried to attack your mind as he’d already done with Azriel. But there was something altogether different about your magic, something flexible that morphed and rearranged your mental walls until it felt like he was trying to attack himself. 

He gave up when your walls didn’t fall, and chose the physical route instead. You recoiled as he took a swipe, bony arms reaching out in an awkward lunge. But his legs were too weak and crumpled beneath him. He looked like a fish laid out to rot on a summer day — bloated and slick. 

“Koschei brought him back to life for his powers—”

“HE LOVES ME! PAPA LOVES ME!” 

“To use as he saw fit when the time was right.”

“But he can’t survive being separated for so long from Koschei’s power, can he?” 

Just like Vassa. Left on their own without their maker they couldn’t handle the curses that had been placed on them. They’d bend until they broke… unless they found another way… 

“The killings,” You murmured as the pieces slowly fell into place, “He killed those Librarians and the tailor and the florist…” You didn’t want to be right about this. You prayed to the Mother that you were wrong. 

But Azriel read the thoughts in your eyes and nodded. Feyre could only stand still and Rhysand couldn’t do more than speak out in that dead voice of his. 

Andrian had killed those fae, not just to send a message, but because that was the price for going against nature, for being brought back from the dead. Power demanded balance. To stay alive, Andrian had needed others to take his place. Those Librarians and the Velarians hadn’t been murdered. They’d been sacrificed. 

What Koschei had done to this boy — what he’d turned him into — made you want to crawl into a dark corner and stay there forever. 

Andrian’s sobs died out. A crack of lightning followed by unnerving silence that had Azriel’s blood freezing in his veins. Andrian wasn’t much older than he’d been when he’d first been tossed into that dark cellar. When his brothers had set his hands aflame. 

“He loves me,” he declared, as if saying it would make it true. He stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. “He stayed when Henna left me. He wasn’t afraid of me like the others. He took care of me.”

But Koschei hadn’t taken care of him. He’d taught Andrian to love him. To worship him, because that’s what he craved above all else. He’d helped the boy control his powers and had allowed him to live so he could send him off to die when it was most convenient. You’d thought Henna was Koschei’s perfect soldier, but you were wrong. Andrian was. He’d been broken and molded into something that should never have existed. He’d been sent to Prythian after his sister’s death to take her place. A boy who would have no choice but to return to the lake or die trying. 

And he was dying. You could see it clear as day. Two teeth clinked onto the floor and Andrian’s hands flew up to his mouth. He whimpered, eyes locking on you like you might be able to fix this. 

You wanted to beg Rhys and Feyre to do something, to fix him, but it was a useless endeavor. They wouldn’t have brought you here if they could just reach into Andrian’s mind and end it all peacefully. Andrian was too powerful for that. But you could use another way. 

You approached him like a wild, injured animal, grimacing when he tried to run at you only for his ankle to twist and then snap. He fell to the floor in a pathetic sprawl. 

“Hey there, little feather.” 

Andrian paused at that familiar nickname, watery eyes looking up. You said it just like Henna had once upon a time. The same inflection in a differently pitched voice. His lips trembled. 

“She left me.” 

You shook your head before kneeling on the ground in front of him. He smelled of death. It clung to his linen shirt and trousers. It clung to the few strands of hair still woven into his scalp, skin so thin you could make out his skull. 

“She didn’t leave you, Andrian.” You poured your voice out over him, as soothing as you could make it, forcing the tears down. “She thought you’d died and that you’d stayed dead. She had a little ceremony for you out near the willow tree and buried your favorite toy beneath it with a handful of water lilies. Do you remember it? The little wooden doll you dressed up like a soldier with the red cap and the silver shoes?” 

He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head while his weak neck teetered dangerously atop his shoulders. 

“Andrian—” You pulled his hands away and in a bold, dangerous move brought them to your temple and slowly lowered your mental wards. You didn’t give him free reign, but rather guided him through snippets of memories you’d taken from Henna before her death. They all revolved around him. Before, and even after Koschei had poisoned their minds, Andrian had remained her true priority. 

The boy’s eyes flashed from anger to confusion then, finally, to despair.

“She didn’t leave you.” 

Andrian waited a few moments that had your heart seizing, then rushed into your arms, tightening them like a vice around your shoulders and burying his face in your hair. You held your breath, but tightened your grip. You weren’t his sister, but you were the closest thing he had. 

Slowly, like sand falling through an hourglass, you felt his arms weaken and fall from your shoulders. He stared at you, wide and terrified as his hand snapped off at the wrist and fell to your side in a grey heap. 

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.”

You smoothed back his hair, shoving down the tears that threatened to fall. His eyes were white now and unseeing. “It’s ok, little feather. It’s ok.” 

“I don’t—” Even his voice was crumbling apart. Raspy and broken like cracked glass. He had little time left. The fight in him gone. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to that dark place. Please don’t make me go.”  

Azriel had been watching the entire time, trying not to picture the little boy with dark hair, weak wings, and bandaged hands. He went so, so still. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” You promised. You forced your trembling lips into a smile. 

He took in a rasping breath. “Will you go with me this time, Henna? Please.” 

You gritted your teeth, brows furrowed in an effort to stay here instead of turning and sprinting back to the surface. 

“I will. That’s why I came” You brushed his hair away from his forehead, saying nothing when the wispy white strands were torn away from his scalp like silk… just like the memories of Koschei’s lake you plucked from his mind without him knowing. You swallowed the pain of what you knew was coming. “I won’t let you be alone.” 

He went quiet after that. Maybe his voice had deteriorated beyond saving, maybe he finally felt at peace. All you knew is that you needed to keep brushing his hair and holding onto his hand when he laid down and placed his head in your lap. He was like a little windup doll that had run out of string. He kept breathing until he finally stopped. 

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Author's Note:

So... this was a rather sad one, bit of a tonal shift if you ask me, but I wanted to wrap up the stuff with Henna and Andrian before we continue on to other things.

BUT, you have to appreciate when Y/n walks into what's effectively a torture chamber and goes "yeah, nope, still in love with Azriel." It's just one of those things that gets brushed under the rug but like... this guy's WHOLE JOB is inflicting pain upon people.... and you know what, it's a fantasy book, so who the hell cares. We stan Y/n being supportive of Azriel's career lol

[woonova]

꩜ ﾟ˖ FROZEN STRAWBERRIES

◟﹙ 🍓 ﹚nishimura riki ﹕drabble ﹙ @woonova ﹚

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  written to i remember by deadmau5 & kaskade

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  genre fluff, established relationship

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  synopsis during a peaceful night at home, you seek to change niki's opinion on your favourite midnight treat

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  warning not proofread (kinda)

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  wc 0.5k

rin's notes ! im finally back my people!! enjoy this small drabble i found in my drafts for now ^_-

— tumblr’s algorithm works best with reblogging so plz consider reblogging and liking my posts ! —

You pulled your legs closer to your chest, tucking them securely under your arms, the oversized hoodie that loosely covered you providing a slight feeling of warmth and comfort. The short hairs that were scattered along your bare legs stood upright as they were greeting with a swift and chilly air that escaped from the refrigerator parallel to you.

"Aren't you finished as yet, what could you be searching for so long?" you complained, a bit irritated with your boyfriend's sluggish pace. "Just a minute now, i've gotta find the perfect snack for my perfect girl."

You ignored the rapid pounding in your heart as you watched Niki retrieve your midnight snack before tip-toeing over to you with a huge smile. As he got closer you couldn't help but stare, his radiant smile which came in its unique boxy form, his sharp eyes that had suddenly been forced shut by his wide grin, and his brightly dyed hair with its contrasting ends.

"Alright here you go, your favourite."

Frozen strawberries. A sweet and cool treat that never failed to satisfy you. You left out a sigh as the cold fruit grazed your lips, the sweet juice melting in your mouth leaving both your fingertips and lips with a slightly sticky residue.

"I don't know how you can eat those," Niki stated with a distasteful expression. Sure, he could stomach strawberries, whether it be in the form of jam, ice cream, or even covered by melted chocolate. But he couldn't understand the enjoyment of having a frozen berry inside your mouth. Heck, you couldn't even chew it.

"How can you eat microwaved strawberries but not frozen ones?" you asked with a questioning gaze, your head tilted to the side as a teasing smile slowly made its way across your cheeks.

"Because, warmed strawberries are better. They're so much more softer and sweeter."

"You know, I think I could change your mind." you slowly let out as you inch closer to him, the soft fabric of his hoodie brushing against his forearm. "Nothing is ever going to make me eat frozen strawberries, ever."

As you inched closer to him, your smile growing, you could almost see the pink hue that was slowly traveling across his cheeks in the dim lighting.

"What are you doing....?" he let out in a choked whisper, as if the words were suddenly caught in his throat.

"Changing your mind." you responded in a tone similar to his, only with more confidence as you placed your chilly lips on his. The sugary residue from your long forgotten snack still smeared across your lips, provided a yummy taste that you both happily indulged in. Niki's hand found its way to your cheek as you continued, providing an even more comfortable and endearing atmosphere.

As you separated you could faintly see Niki's eyes glistening in the dark, as love swirled within his brown eyes.

"So did I change your mind?"

"Maybe, but it'll take a lot more convincing,"

"Well you know, i'm pretty good at that."

ʚɞ ﾟ˖  sponsors @k-labels @en-web @k-films

© https://...woonova | 2023

[ravenromanova]

You’re supposed to be mine

Pairings: Playgirl college Wanda x Female college reader

Warnings: JEALOUS WANDA!!! SMUT!!! 18+!!!!!! Mommy kink, Tribbing, oral, Submissive reader, Squirting DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE!!!

Summary: No one can have you expect wanda…even if she has a hard time telling you how she feels.

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

~

“Y/n are you ready yet?!” Wanda’s smooth sokovian voice echoes through the hall into your room. “We need to go!” She continues her nagging as she walks to your room.

“I’m almost ready chill wands.” You groan as you attempt to secure your wings to your back. Wanda’s eye wonder down your body when she enters, you’re standing in front of the mirror in a white skirt, white lace bra, white fishnets with white stilettos and a small halo. You looked divine in her opinion and it was clear you noticed her stating when you turned to face her.

“Helllooooo earth to wanda” You said waving your hand in front of her face. She snaps out of her thoughts and clears her throat before sending you an apologetic look.

“S-Sorry malysh…. what did you say?” She responds as the tips of her ears go red.

“I asked if you could help me attach my wings” You huff in annoyance at the redhead.

“Oh-yea of course” She says motioning for you to turn around. And when you do she attaches the wings to the back of your bra. Her fingers stay on the exposed skin of your shoulders and travel up your neck for a moment. You breathe hitches as you feel her soft touch on your skin. But the moment is quickly ruined by your phone ringing making the two of you pull back from each other.

You walk over and grab your phone seeing that natasha is calling. “Hey natty” You greet your friend happily earning an eye roll from Wanda that you don’t see. Wanda decided to wait for you out in the living room not wanting to hear you flirt with natasha.

“You on your way love?” She asks and you blush from the nickname and tell her you’re leaving for the party soon. The phone call lasts only a few minutes then you’re hanging up and grabbing your stuff.

“You finally ready?” Wanda asks when you walk out into the living room putting on her shoes. She was dressed as the opposite of you skin tight red dress with a black lace bra peeking out, accompanied by red and black fishnets, black heeled boots, horns and a pitchfork. You weren’t gonna lie between her hair, makeup and outfit she looked fucking good.

“Uh yea i’m ready” You snapped out of your thoughts when she stood up and she walked up to you with a smirk. She grabbed her keys, then grabbed your hand and walked the two of you out the door. Once she locked the door she leads you to her car and opened your door for you before getting in on her side.

The car ride was filled with laughs and halloween music as the two of you drove to the frat. As the two of you approached the frat you could hear the music from the car to which you groaned. You didn’t want to really be here but somehow the sokovian convinced you. She told you it would be fun to dress up and let loose. So you reluctantly agreed and said fuck it. But now that you’re here you’re kinda regretting it.

“Come on malysh” Wanda cooed opening your door for you, you hadn’t even realized she parked since you are so anxious. You took her hand and she leads you into the obnoxiously loud frat.

“I’m having second thoughts wands” You say softly when you two walk in. The frat is filled wall to walk with people, the music is so loud and all to can smell is weed in the air it makes your head spin.

“It’s okay you’ll be fine don’t worry.” She said calmly squeezing your hand leading you through the party into the kitchen. “Give it an hour and if you still want to leave we can okay?” Wanda asked handing you a drink taking in the pout that formed on your lips.

“Fine” You huffed taking a sip of your drink. She then led the two of you to the dance floor after a few in hopes to loosen you up. See Wanda had a whole plan tonight. She was gonna finally ask you to be hers tonight. Step one was to match with you. Step two get you a little tipsy. Step three dance with you in close quarters. Step four stay close to you all night. Step five when the party ended she was going to make sure you went back to your shared apartment. Step six seduce you and fuck you. Step seven ask you out.

And so far her plan was working… well that was until Sharon Carter got in between the two of you. She had intentionally grabbed Wanda’s attention pulling her away from you. Once you noticed Wanda was distracted you sighed and walked back to the kitchen. You poured yourself another drink and leaned on the counter wanting nothing but to leave.

“Hey sweetness” You heard a sultry voice whisper in your ear. And when you turned around you were faced with the lovely Natasha. She was in a ghost face costume which made you giggle.

“Hi natty” You beam as the redhead gets her own drink. She takes a swig off the vodka she poured and then stood next to you.

“Whatcha doing here all by your lonesome?” The redhead asked taking in your anxious demeanor.

“Well Wanda had convinced me to come and then ditched me for Sharon fucking carter so i just came in here where it’s less crowded” You complained wearing a groan of disbelief from Natasha.

“When the fuck is she gonna get the hint?” She said annoyed rolling her eyes at your statement. Natasha knew how you felt about the sokovian. Everyone knew… everyone but Wanda apparently. You had fallen for her the second she was assigned your roommate in freshman year. And your feelings only grew stronger when last year you two rented an apartment together in your junior year.

You had been trying to get the woman’s attention for the last almost four years. And now that the year is halfway over you’re scared of losing her once you graduate. But your attempts fail each time as she continues to have one night stands and meaningless hookups almost daily. So you kinda just decided to give up in hopes that she comes to her senses.

“I’ve given up on that” You mutter sipping your drink in disappear. Natasha just sighs and mumbles something about Wanda being a dumbass. You giggle a little at her clear frustration with the younger girl. Then Natasha decides to take you out on the dance floor and promised she within leave you.

Wanda watches you as you enter the dance floor with Natasha. She watches as Natasha grips your waist and grinds on you from behind. The younger woman’s face grows red hot when she sees and back your ass up on the older woman’s crotch. Within seconds you and Natasha’s lips are ghosting over each other before she crashes her lips into yours.

You’re shocked to say the least when she kisses you but with the alcohol on your system you don’t care. You kiss the redhead with drunken passion imagining it’s the other redhead you were kissing. The moment lasts only so long whenever you feel yourself being pulled by the arm away from Natasha.

You barely have any time to process what the hell is going as you feel the brisk air hit your skin. It’s only then that you realize that Wanda had dragged you outside.

“Wanda what the hell!” You said loud even for outside staring at the woman furiously. Wanda walked to her car not answering you as you followed behind her calling her name.

“Wanda answer me!” You yelled again approaching her car. “WANDA MAXIMOFF!” You screamed finally getting the girl to turn around.

“Get in the car y/n” Is all she said opening your door for you. You scoffed at the woman and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Not until you tell me what the fuck just happened!” The frustration evident in your voice.

“Get in the car” She repeats walking up to you.

“I said no” You reiterated yourself growing more angry.

“GET IN THE CAR Y/N” Wanda yelled and it took a step back when she did. After a minute of starting each other down you sighed in defeated and got in the car. She slammed your door before getting on her side and taking off.

Wanda didn’t speak a word to you as she drove, nor did she speak to you when you entered the apartment. No what she did was sit on the couch and stare into nothing as you kept trying to get her to talk.

“Wanda please-“ You beg sitting next to her on the couch. You tried to hold her hand but she got off the couch instead.

“What did i do?” Your voice broke a little as you spoke which caused her to look up at you. She took in your helpless state and softened a little.

“Why were you kissing her?” She finally said after god knows how long. The question to you off guard and took you a moment to process.

“Who Nat?” You raise an eyebrow as you question her to which she nodded. “I was drunk wands” The confession was honest as it passed your lips.

“You sure that was the only reason?” She pushed walking just a little closer to the couch where you sat.

“Yea i’m sure- it was just a drunken kiss that’s it” You said standing up trying to reason with the woman. She just looked at you before speaking.

“You’re supposed to be mine” She mumbles and you cock your head not quite hearing her.

“huh?” The words are soft earning a groan of frustration from her.

“You are supposed to be mine. You aren’t supposed to kiss someone else!” She says louder this time making your eyes go wide.

“W-What?” You say not believing you heard her correctly. Wanda walks closer to you and puts her hands on your shoulders.

“I want you to be mine y/n” Wanda confesses staring right into your eyes. You feel your heart flutter and swell at her confession. And that’s all it takes for you to grab her face and crash your lips into hers. Wanda reciprocated the kiss and gripped your waist to deepen the kiss. The both of you got lost in each other in the middle of the living room relishing in your first kiss.

“Bedroom” You whisper against her lips after you come up for air. She doesn’t waste anytime as she picks you up and carries you to your room. Before you know it you’re being placed gently on your bed with her on top of you.

Her eyes rake over your body, she groaned as she took in how innocent yet sexy you look. “So pretty angel” Wanda praises taking off your bra and wings.

You blush at her praises and suck in a breath when she removes your heels, then kisses your ankles. She works her way up kissing your thighs before taking off your fishnets while staring at you. Then after a few seconds of you just kissing and squeezing your thighs she finally took off your skirt leaving you bare.

“Need you” You mumble incoherently tugging at her dress in hopes to remove it but fail. She laughs a little at your eagerness and removes her dress leaving her in the fishnets and lingerie she wore underneath.

“Oh fuck” The whisper is barely audible when it passes your lips. You just stare at her in ask her glory for a moment appreciating her curves, her plush thighs, the black lace bra holding in her plump tits. Wanda was truly something built by the gods in your eyes and she thought the same of you.

She slowly removes the rest of her clothing but not before making a show of taking everything off. Once she is fully naked she makes her way and straddles your hips as you lay on the bed. Her soaked core is just mere inches away from yours.

“Please wands” You beg once you feel her start to grind herself on your mound. She puts a finger to your lips as a way of telling you to be patient.

“I will baby. I just wanna enjoy this” She responds shaking herself off you and settles in between your thighs. Wanda spreads your wet folds with two of her fingers before attaching her lips to your clit. Your hands instantly grip onto her hair and you grind your hips in response.

“Taste so good malyshka” She mumbles into your pussy living the way you taste. This is the moment where Wanda decides you’re hers forever. She couldn’t live another day without you being hers.

“Oh fuck!!!!” Your screams being her out of her trance and she decided to shove two fingers in you while she continues to devour you. It doesn’t take much for your first orgasm to snap and you gush all over her face and fingers.

“Such a good girl for me baby. It didn’t even take much you for too cum for mommy did it? I guess you’re just all desperate and needy for me huh?” The redhead says in a condescending tone slightly mocking you.

“Yes mommy” You replied as you felt yourself fully submit to Wanda. She smiles at your submission as she settles her pussy on top of yours. Wanda then slowly starts grinding against you earning a moan from you.

“You feel so good against me baby” The redhead praises again gripping your hips for leverage. Your eyes gloss over in a haze of pleasure feeling Wanda’s clit rubbing against yours. This is truly the filthiest thing you’ve ever done. Needing to focus on something you sit up a little and suck on Wanda’s nipple.

“Fuck yes baby” She groans holding a handful of your hair still grinding against you. The two of you are in perfect sync as your cores rub together creating sinful sounds that echo throughout the room.

“Fuck i’m gonna cum again!” You scream as your back arches and Wanda holds you close to her as you spasm.

“Good girl baby” She says her orgasm following right behind yours and she hold you even tighter as she squirts all over the two of you.

“Holy fuck” You whisper going to look at the mess the two of you made. “That was so hot” The words come out broken as you giggle a little.

“Fuck yeah it was” The woman responds giving you a quick kiss before going to grab something to clean you both up with. When she returns she takes her time cleaning you up littering your body with kisses as she goes. Once she’s done she cleans herself up before coming to lay next to you.

“Wands?” The words come out a little broken as you speak. Your head is going a thousand miles a minute once the reality of what just happened sets in and you needed clarification.

“Yea baby?” She coos running her fingers through your hair. Suddenly you loose all confidence you had and don’t know what to say.

“What’s wrong malysh?” She asks again this time growing a little concerned at your sudden mood change.

The fear of rejection hits you like a truck as you try to find the words to speak. “Was this only a one time thing…?” Your voice is meek and small as you finally respond.

“God no baby.I know i’ve made some dumbass mistakes but please baby- i love you so much… and i want you to be mine. That is if you want me..” Wanda’s voice trails off and that’s when it hits you.. She was scared of you rejecting her.

You can’t help but giggle a little at how nervous the most sought out girl at NYU was in front of you. “Of course i do you big idiot.. i’ve wanted you since freshman year” The confession takes wanda by surprise and all she can do is kiss you in that moment.

“Mine mine mine” She chants after you two come up for air. And you can’t hold in your laughter at her antics.

That night Wanda fucked you into a fucked out haze of glory and told you just how much you mean to her. You never felt more love than you did that night and you finally were able to call Wanda your girlfriend.

~Bonus scene ~

The next morning when you woke up everything seemed brighter and better. You had went on with your normal routine expect Wanda followed you everywhere you went.. not that you cared.

It was sometime in the after noon when you had gotten a text from Natasha that made you cackle.

Nattybear 🐻: Did she take the hint?

You smiled at your phone and at your best friends childish antics before responding with.

You: Oh hell yea she did ;) fill ya in later💋

After you hit and you went to the kitchen and had lunch with your lovely girlfriend ready to start your new life.

~The end ~ I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other cites

[diejager]

hiiiiii like i've wanted to send u a request for like a while and i'm so happy i finally got u

i sadly forgot my og idea buuuuuut luckily i got a new one cus i'm bestie besties with a lurker who is like a friend with a writer cus they know each other irl and cus she gave me a lil spoilie

i wanna use like what i was told for dis request

like ik the thing is about a champion/warrior and their god and like it's a certain king being absolutely PATHETIC for like the first one (like ik my opinion cus i luv pathetic men and like i wanna know ur ideas about this)

like i love the idea of cod boys being a god or champion cus like y'know the smut that can be made

so could i request my second fav boy soap or even ghost being a SIMP like full on worshipping their god after hunting for their pretty

LUV u darlin and like KEEP ON writing because i am GOBBLIN up everything u and my other favs make but make sure u also rest

Cw: God/Champion stuff??, inaccurate Greek mythology, worshipping, offering/gifts/sacrifice, oracle, tell me if I missed any. Note: this reminds me of… the name’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t remember exactly who wrote about this before. Could you also send me the @ of your writer friend? I’d like to credit them if possible. And thank you! Just make sure to take breaks in between of reading, yeah? You have to rest your eyes every hour or so.

Johnny couldn’t believe his eyes when he stumbled into this small sanctuary outside the sacred precinct, outside any protective walls and guarded cities. Nestled into the side side of a mountain, the marble stones carved intricately in pretty vines and gentle flowers only to be placed in an isolated place. Away from any travellers and warriors, and hidden away from prying eyes of thieves and charlatans. This little, marble shrine made of white marble, painted murals and gold ordained altar - one of the prettiest he’s seen - was left near forgotten, overgrown with fauna and collecting dust. 

And despite that, the statue that stood behind the altar, tall and imposing, curves soft and tunic flattering, the Goddess loomed over him with a shadow of warmth and compassion, much unlike the statues of the ruling Gods and Goddesses he was used to —it was ethereal. Your image was one of love and care, a stark dichotomy to the arrogance and self-importance of Zeus and his siblings. You were welcoming towards him when they spurned him for his foreign appearance: a child of slaves that had bought their freedom, a potent sign of determination and strength.

“Perhaps that Oracle wasn’t crazy,” he gawked at the falling leafage, ribbons of round leaves hiding the entrance, parting like a curtain to the main stage of a theatre.

He had tried his luck with the Oracle of Delphi, in a drunken daze that failed to strip him from his embarrassing misadventures around Delphi’s bars and temple. Johnny had wanted to see what all the fuss was about, the mile long travel many made to see her and her prophesies. He wanted to know if she was a true oracle or a scam, a charlatan like many others, but lo and behold, she was blessed with the sight. 

He still remembered her words, her words spoken from the Gods’ whims, giving him the blessing of finding a Goddess he would willingly kneel to, one that would show him the same love and devotion he gave. She foretold that he would meet a Goddess of Health and Hunting that he wanted to worship, a give and take cycle —of life and death. And here he stood, before the statue of a benevolent Goddess he knew he already loved.

You were a minor Goddess, able to gift your champions with totems and blessings, but not a miracle. Your sacred temple was warm, the air filled with the scent of fresh spring and dewy mornings, candles miraculously lit, wrapping the room in a golden embrace that felt akin to a mother’s kiss. Johnny’s eyes wandered around the room, taking it in while he walked to the altar, he stared at the dusty and empty marble, a sad sight for a Goddess so warm.

He searched around his belt, looking around his clothes and padded leather for an offering to wake you up. Something simply - anything - would work, if only to rouse you from your slumber, be it a year or a century long sleep, he would wake you and dub himself your champion. He picked a pelt, an apt offering for a Goddess of Health and Hunting. It was freshly skinned and cured, brushed with care and killed with sympathy. He wasn’t a ruthless killer or an avaricious hunter, he took what he needed and left what he didn’t. 

Nodding at the brown pelt, he wiped away the dust that had collected and placed it on the marble, taking care to place it flat and straightened the fur. He took a step back to admire the sight, eyes filled with wonder at the sudden glow, bathing him in a calming light. He felt better, his once aching arms gone, his bruises gone and his strength returned. Waking you had brought a blessing, you had healed him of his aches and pains, restoring him to his peak.

“Welcome,” he heard you whisper, your voice sounding like a bird’s song, pretty and awestricking, “Will you become my champion, dear warrior?”

How could he say no at your sweet plea? You were the warmest being he has ever met, your very essence an embrace full of passion. 

“If yer wish me so, Goddess.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled and he’d never felt so lovesick before, his heart so full, yet light.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[ilys00ga]

𝐒𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 4k

➞ synopsis: buying a pretty vase from an antiques shop can't be that bad of an idea, can it?

➞ genre: fantasy, some angst, bitter sweetness is good for our hearts, fluff, hurt/comfort, cursed ghost!yoongi...

➞ A/N: So, this isn't the fic I talked about before, but I still wanted to post something while I take my time to figure out what the hell I wanted the other fic to be. this is purely inspired by a random prompt I found on a random website, and I wanted to give it a try. I hope u like it <3

ps. PLEASEEEE !!!!!!! do not hesitate to send me ur feedback (comments, asks, reblogs... whatever u want) !!!!!! just give me ur opinions. I'd love to hear it all :,)

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The tips of my fingers meticulously traced the lines and patterns that coated the vase between my hands. A gorgeous ceramic vase that came with an even more gorgeous lid I had come upon at the small antiques store a few hours earlier, which—in my honest, humble opinion—was poorly and deficiently frequented given the amount of goodness it vends.

It was one that I’ve passed by many times on my way to work before, located in an old street busy with other art stores. Each time I’d stopped at it, fascinated by the items I could see through colorless glass, I’d get that strange desire to enter and discover what it had to offer me, but it wasn’t strong enough to pull me inside.

Broken or not, there’s magic hidden in those old items. Stories and emotions traveling from the past all the way to my heart.

Until one day, I decided to surrender to those powerful items and made my way through the front door. It was indeed a dusty magic shop.

I put the vase on the table with extra care and opened the lid, my dog running around somewhere in the other room. A quick look inside the vase, however, had my brows rising.

"Is this.. powder?" I asked myself.

Back in the shop, nothing hinted that the vase contained anything, nor did the owner utter a single word about it. She, in fact, didn't even seem to be that interested in her very few customers, if I were to be honest. The newspaper she was reading throughout all that short period of time I was in there had her eyes fixed on it, for the most part.

I swallowed hard, feeling like my heart had been ripped off my chest and drowned in icy cold water with the thought of getting unknowingly tangled in some illegal activities.

Loud barks, then the crashing of something cut my new overwhelming awareness short, and I sprinted in search of my hyper dog.

"What did you break this time, Holly?" I made quick work of cleaning the mess Holly had made, giving him some treats because he looked so cute nonetheless then returned to what I had decided to call a cursed beauty later on.

Upon entering the room, the sight of a man looking through my limited collection of vinyls with his back facing me made my legs freeze in their place, and my heart almost slipped out of my mouth in another alert panic.

"What the hell?!" my lips shouted before I could even think of finding something to defend myself in the face of that stranger.

The man dropped the disk in his hands and faced me with wide eyes. His startled expression quickly snapped into a kind smile, and he spoke, "Hey, are you the one who opened the urn?"

"Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?!!" my heart was pounding in my ears. I quickly went through the details from the moment I walked into the apartment to that of when I came back to the room, checking if I missed any hints of somebody breaking in or not.

The stranger started walking towards me with an arm stretched out, and I quickly backed away, looking around before grabbing the first hard object I could find within my sight line, "Stay away from me!"

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you." He stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in the air, "I'm Yoongi, Min Yoongi, and you just set me free from that damn urn. Thank you, by the way."

The more he talked, the colder my blood was running in my veins and the slippier the object was becoming as I gripped it with sweating hands for dear life. Nothing he said made any sense. All I could do was shout in frustration, "What the hell are you talking about?!"

The patter of paws slapped across the corridor floor, and Holly came running into the living room. The dog started barking when he saw the stranger, but the latter didn’t even flinch. Instead, he sighed, breathing heavily through his nose, and then looked back up at me. But before he could say anything more, I huffed.

"Are you a serial killer?" I wanted to cry. Actually, he looked too pretty to be that coldhearted. I figured that maybe if I cried, he'd feel bad and leave me alone. Or maybe, if I took the chance to launch at him first, right then and there, that'd do something.

I could either die an honorable death, attempting to fighting back, or lay myself bare skinned for my predator, and no one would be a witness outside of the walls of the room that were only getting colder and colder by the ticking seconds.

Well, maybe Holly would, but he’s busy barking, not moving from his place at all.

"Look, I really don't know how you ended up here. I-I don't want to know, yeah? I will even let you go and not speak a single word about this. Just please don't kill me. Yeah? I'd do anything you want, just- please?" I began to plead, sweating like crazy even though the room around felt too icy.

The man didn’t reply, crouching down to lure my dog over. Holly’s small head cocked to the side before slowly moving closer to him. If I weren't busy trying to steady my breathing while simultaneously making sense of whatever was going on in the middle of my living room, I would’ve palmed my face.

"I told you, I'm Yoongi and I'm not a serial killer. This thing you have here, the one you just opened," he explained, nodding towards the open ceramic vase on the table, "I, my soul was trapped in there."

I blinked, a beat or two slipped through my lips, then muttered, “You’re being serious?”

“Why would I lie about something like this?” he retorted, hands petting the pet on his lap, and added in a softer voice, “I understand how crazy this sounds, but in simpler words, I was trapped inside and once the lid was lifted, which is what you have done, I was able to get out.”

“Oh, so you say once the vase is shut again you’ll go back there, is that it?” I breathed out, picking my words cautiously.

He hummed and nodded, still focused on the dog he was playing with. Taking my chance, I rushed towards the table. With trembling hands, I grabbed the lid and screwed the vase shut.

"No, wait! Don't clo-"

Silence…

The familiar sound of multiple clocks ticking together, hand in hand and almost perfectly at the same time, welcomed me into the antiques shop.

The shop was practically empty. No customers were in sight. My only audience was the oil paintings hanging on the walls, the lamps and the crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, the tables and the surfaces that displayed everything: from old jewelry to dolls and collectible plates and cups, the sculptures in different shapes and sizes scattered everywhere, the old books, cameras, vases and musical instruments…

They all stared at me and the vase I was holding tightly to my chest.

Walking ahead, I reached the front counter where the same old woman stood reading some newspaper. Despite the clearly audible bell that rang every time the door was swung open, she didn't seem to be recognizing my entrance. I cleared my throat in an attempt to grab her attention, but it fell on blinded ears.

Sighing, I put the vase on the counter with a thud and declared my aimed objective, "I'm here to return this."

"No exchange, no refund." The woman finally, but dryly, replied.

"You have to understand, I can't keep this anymore." I insisted.

"No exchange, no refund!" She repeated in a stern tone, looking up and meeting my eyes.

"Fine," I took a deep, long breath in, "you're the owner, tell me what do I do with it then."

"Its colors go very well with any kind of furniture, but I'd say keep it on a shelf amidst other decorations." The contrast between the way she spoke so friendly and the tight smile she had on her lips poked at my nerves.

"Are you kidding me? I just said I don't want this cursed thing anywhere near me! It has a weird powder in it! and-" I paused, lowering my voice despite the fact that the shop was empty—minus me, its owner and its goods, "some weird ghost appeared out of it!"

The antiquarian silently folded her newspaper, put it on the counter in front of her, and stayed silent for a while, staring deeply into my eyes.

"Use the ashes and break the curse." She mumbled.

"Ashes…? What?"

"You heard me. Break the curse and save the dead." She didn't say anything further, busying herself with the newspaper again, and that was my key to leave.

"Next time, don't sell cursed stuff to innocent people who don't have enough time on their hands." I turned on my heels and stomped out of the shop with the vase between my hands.

Three days later:

“Alright, talk to you later.”

Stepping into the apartment, I hung up the phone and put it on the small coffee table. Holly was curled up on the sofa with his nose tucked under his tail. My body naturally bent down, and I pecked the pup’s head affectionately.

It had been exactly three days since I came back from the small antiques shop, put the vase on the shelf, and never dared to touch it again. Every morning and every night, I’d stared at it and contemplated whether I ought to open it and investigate what the hell was going on or not. The shop owner’s words never left my ears, ‘break the curse and save the soul.’

Three days had passed, and I still hadn’t made my mind up or got to any simple conclusion whatsoever. The thought of having somebody else’s ashes in my house made my stomach twist in ways, yet somehow I couldn't find the courage to empty the urn.

Well, at least it wasn't coke or something of the kind. That thought floated in my head as I lay on my bed the same night I’d come back from the shop.

Stuck in a quandary between the fear of what could be awaiting me and the burden that was unceasingly weighing both my heart and mind, I knew that having a staring contest with that damn container day and night wasn’t going to do me any good.

After yet another fruitless debate between me and my conscious mind, I slowly walked towards the shelf, carefully put my hand over the lid, lifted it up and stared at the powder—the ashes inside.

I waited, nothing happened. Looked around the room, nothing happened.

For a moment, I could feel a scoff bubbling its way up my throat. It was ridiculous, I felt ridiculous for expecting something, for believing that something would happen and that all of that madness was real.

How could a tale about the soul of a cursed, handsome man popping out of an ancient vase be real?

But then again, I recalled the thing the old woman had said to me, as well as that encounter I had with the strange man. Very vividly clear. I remembered it, it happened, it was real.

"You didn't throw it away." A low voice came from behind and made me jolt in surprise.

There he was, the strange man—Yoongi leaning on the doorframe with both of his hands tucked in his pockets.

Part of me was grateful he was there because I didn't have to worry about my mental well-being deteriorating. But the other one shivered, creeped out by his presence, by the whole situation.

"Thank you." Why is he so polite? "I was scared you too would throw me away." Oh?

I lightly shook my head, trying to find the proper words to express myself, and I said, "Listen, I need answers."

“I figured. What is it that you want to know?”

"I-I talked to the person that sold this thing to me, and she said that I need to use these… ashes to break a curse.” Somehow, my brain was more than aware of the fact that the man standing a few steps away from me was most probably not human.

“yeah…?” He mumbled back, “didn’t she say how to do that?”

I shook my head ‘no’, and if his disappointed, broken look surprised me, I tried my best not to make it visibly noticeable.

“What the hell are you exactly?” I asked. I wasn't sure what emotion(s) I was feeling at that very moment exactly. I couldn’t put a name to it to save my life. But I surely didn’t mean to sound as exasperated as my voice made me out to be. I could see his throat work as he gulped, eyes averting from mine to look down at the floor for a moment before looking up again.

"I died a hundred years ago. A witch attempted to kill me, and she did, before casting a curse and trapping me inside that thing over there." he pointed towards the antique vase behind me, then added, "in my ashes. I've been trapped there for years. Some people did stumble upon me when they opened it over the years. Just like you did. But they never gave me one chance to even speak, and they threw it out immediately."

“But why? What did you do to deserve all of this?”

A gloom overcame his eyes, yet his voice was steady and deep as his lips stretched into a smile that only the word ‘sour’ could do its description justice.

"That's what happens when one falls in love with a witch.” He replied, “anyways, that’s all I know. I've been trying to figure out how to break the curse, but being stuck in a jar serves for nothing.”

Neither of us spoke for a while, him standing amidst the echoes of his past and my voice trying to find its way through the strangled words stuck in my throat.

“I’ll help you.” I spoke, breaking the heavy silence.

“Really?” His face was so full of hope it sent my heart clenching between my ribs.

“Yeah. This is making me anxious as well, I have no other choice.” I answered, brushing it off with a shrug.

“What brings you back here?” said the antiquarian who was busy polishing some old pocket watches, her glaces hanging low on the tip of her nose.

“I- We need some help.” I answered, and her head snapped up to find me and Yoongi staring back at her at the front counter.

“How could an old antiques shop owner possibly be of any help to you youngsters?” She asked again.

“I assure you that I’m not younger than you.” came a comment from Yoongi.

She stared at him, her relaxed expression turning tense, and then she looked at me again. Instead of providing an answer, I put the open vase in front of her. She gave it a quick look and then looked back into my eyes. “You are one stubborn young woman.”

“I’m not here to return it.” I cut her off to explain myself, “I’m here to know how to break the curse and release his soul.”

“I see you let him walk around freely.”

“Why is that a problem?” I asked with furrowed brows.

“Why wouldn’t a wandering dead be a problem to the living?” Her brows rose just as she gestured with her head towards Yoongi, as if stating the most obvious scientific fact, “anyhow, you want to know what to do next, don’t you?”

I hummed.

“All you need to do is throw the ashes into the ocean, let it dissolve and become one with the salt water. Tomorrow, when the sun sets.”

“Why specifically tomorrow?” I asked.

“Full moon. Or else your efforts will go down the drain. Do not let that happen” She emphasized on the last part through gritted teeth.

“How do you know so much?” Yoongi was the one to ask.

“I am nothing but a mere shop owner. Buying old stuff and selling them, that’s what I do.”

“You must be a special kind, then.” He bantered.

She shrugged and replied, “I study my products. We’re talking about items that date back to hundreds of years ago.”

She handed me a small pouch bag and told me to put the ashes in there, saying that it would be easier than carrying an open urn around. She seemed displeased with Yoongi’s presence, which was quite understandable, but it didn’t phase him as he was more interested in the shop around him. Walking around with curious eyes.

“Do not spend too much time out there.” was the last thing she addressed to Yoongi before we walked out of the shop.

“You think there’s more cursed things in that shop?” he asked.

“I do not want to think about it.” He chuckled at my response, then I added, “Full moon is tomorrow night.. Do you want to spend one last day with me?"

"Sorry?"

"I think you deserve one last good day before.. resting."

I watched him give my offer a thought as we walked down the street, then he broke into a wide smile, "You mean it?"

“Of course! You’re new here. We can't do much in less than a day, but we can do things around the town. And then we’ll go to the beach before the sun sets, do what we need to do…”

“That sounds way too good to be true.”

“We'll make it true.” I reassured him with a nod.

The next morning, I found Yoongi sitting with a book I could easily recognize from my own collection resting in his hands. He had told me that since he doesn’t sleep, he spent the night reading from my bookshelf. After a few minutes of me listening as he talked so passionately, impressed by everything he’d read, I decided it was time to commence my mission of granting the man his most merited happy day.

It started with a short trip to a well-known bakery, where I made him try whatever his heart—and stomach—desired of baked goods. I bought him wine to taste, and he said it bore no resemblance to that of ancient times. That's how we found ourselves running a taste test on a bunch of beverage bottles, and he had the same reaction to all of them. I also ended up getting him some soda cans to try, and he liked them.

I rented two bikes. It took some time for him to adjust, whining about being confined inside a jar for a hundred years. But once he got the hang of it, we went wandering around the streets of the city with the breeze kissing our cheeks.

I then brought him to a park, one he later said he really liked. We walked between the trees and let the grass tickle our toes. Sat between colorful flowers, redolent with the scent of an early spring. He made a crown and insisted on taking a picture of me with it. He later revealed that he used to love nature the most when he was still alive, and talked about the days he’d spent in the green despite his father’s constant insistence on marriage and building a family of his very own.

I asked him how old he was when he died, he said twenty-eight. And suddenly, his appearance made sense after that. Too young and too handsome, how could the world still let go of him?

He laughed when I made a comment about that and joked, saying that apparently his past lover didn’t want him to live past twenty-eight. I could feel the heavy pain in that joke slicing at my neck, stinging, and I swallowed it down.

He stopped to pet every dog and cat that crossed our path. I couldn’t help but take a picture or two, though the camera never caught his reflection in its frame.

I made sure to drag him towards the kid’s section of the park, where I taught him how to play in the slides and the swings and spring riders. Two grown-ups playing around in a kids’ playground had its fair amount of questioning stares, but hearing him giggle and seeing his wide grin was more than worth it.

We kept on talking nonstop about the differences between our timelines. We made it to a bridge that looked over a lake, the clouds above reflected on the water surface, glowing with the sun behind them. Yoongi started throwing small pieces of bread for the floating ducks, and I just stood there, observing.

“What other place do you want to go to?”

“The beach.” He answered, not looking up from his task. “My favorite place.”

It was a couple of hours before the sunset when we finally made it to the beach. There was a chill in the air that evening, the sand wasn’t as burning as it probably was when the sun was still up high in the sky, beaming. I let my lungs sip on the fresh scent of the ocean as I took a deep breath in, watching Yoongi approach the water with distant eyes.

He let the foamy edge climb its way to his toes, dipping his ankles and then retreating to the sea. He sat on the sand and I did the same.

We didn’t talk. We just sat there and watched the waves dancing with the wind as the sun sank to meet the horizon.

It wasn’t until shades of blue, orange and red blended, interwoven as they painted the breathtaking scenery before us that he spoke in a hushed voice, as though he’d startle the sun and make it rush to hide under the ocean if he spoke any louder, “Thank you for everything, really. No one has ever been this nice to me, even when I was still alive. This meant the most to me.”

I smiled.

“You know, if I were still alive, or if we had met sometime in my lifetime, I would’ve done everything I could to keep you by my side.” I could see him scratch at the back of his head from the corner of my eye, and I turned to see his giddy smile.

“you shouldn’t say things like this ‘cause I’m going to be thinking about it for the rest of my life.” I said, sheepishly.

His smile grew bigger, “Sounds superb. At least someone will remember me.”

My heart clenched.

“You deserve to be remembered.” I said.

“I really don’t.” I could see tears pricking his eyes as they turned a faint red. I had so much to ask at that moment, but I couldn’t. Words were stuck behind my teeth, and I just turned my head to face the horizon again.

“It’s time.” He noted, standing up and offering his hand to me. I took it in mine and stood on my feet, gripping the pouch between my fingers. We marched deeper into the sea, deep enough that the water reached our knees.

“ready?” I asked one last time, and he nodded, his smile never fading away.

The pouch felt so heavy as I untied its drawstring, carefully emptying its content into the water. Yoongi stood behind me, and I didn’t have the heart to look over my shoulder.

It took everything in me to turn around, and when I did, he was no longer there. Breeze blew in my face, and I swear I could feel warmth touching my skin for a moment, or two.

Whether I’d want to visit that antique shop again or not was something I still can’t put my finger on, but somewhere, somehow, deep down I knew I was thankful for it guided the vase– the urn to my hands.

And I whispered prayers of him resting at peace ever after as I looked up at the glowing moon above and the sparkling stars that swimmed all around it.

Grieving a person I never knew, but had the chance to cross paths with, at last.

[solarianastrology]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS!!!

I just made this blog to post my astro observations, learn more, and interact with others into astrology. I've been studying astrology for 2 years and heavily focus in medical astrology, but I love it all.

DISCLAIMER: These are my observations from my personal experiences with these placements and energies. They may or may not apply to you. Astrology is not the end all be all, it's simply the possibilities and in your birth chart, you determine the outcome. There's duality to everything.

Let's get into these observations>>>>>>

If you've ever paid attention to degrees, you've probably noticed this pattern. Let's take Aries for example. The Aries degrees are 1, 13, and 25. Aries is of the cardinal modality and fire element in astrology.

Let me get to the point >>>>> In astrology, 1 degree is Aries, so is 13 and 25, but let's take a closer look at these numbers. When you add 1+3, you get 4, which is Cancer, a cardinal water sign. When you add 2+5 you get 7, which represents Libra, a cardinal air sign. The degrees coincide with the signs of that same modality.

Another example: Taurus is 2 degrees and its fixed earth sign. The other degrees that represent Taurus are 14 and 26. 1+4 is 5, which is a Leo degree, a fixed fire sign. When you add 2+6, you get 8 which is Scorpio, a fixed water sign. You see the pattern?

Most Pluto 2H natives I know that are undeveloped have an unhealthy attachment to extremely materialistic items (if that makes any sense, lol) such as designer or the most trending fashions. I've seen some go broke buying shoes and clothes, travelling, and I could be wrong but I think it's to give them a temporary sense of self-worth or value. The key with Pluto here is to get in touch with what is truly of value to you instead of what society deems valuable in outer appearance. When you transform your value system, the constant ups and downs with finances, stability, and self-worth will improve. Learn yourself, love yourself, evolve yourself.

In my opinion, Libra's are the most manipulative sign, and this is coming from a Libra. Don't get me wrong, Cancers can be very manipulative emotionally, but they don't care to have you around if you negatively affect their mood. Most manipulators need to manipulate because they need something from you whether it be something physical or not. Geminis manipulate for fun and out of boredom lol, it's not too much reason and they are very independent and can connect with almost anyone, so they don't take the top for me either. Scorpios are known for this, I know... but it's Libra's need for relationships that get me. Libras are balance and anything tipping the scale will cause an imbalance and that's the last thing any Libra wants. Some will do almost anything to keep the peace and not to mention the charm. Heavy Libra placements, especially Sun, Venus, and Mercury's words and deliverance are magnetic. They can manipulate almost any situation. and don't forget they are VERY intelligent. (AIR)

Pisces Rising's are always so beautiful in an out of this world way, like I can stare at them and just admire their beauty, almost like a painting.

Those with Sagittarius Suns in Pisces degrees are healers. They also have an expansive imagination which can sometimes lead to unrealistic or more fantasy thoughts frequently. Beautiful inventions and ideas but it's important that Ya'll sometimes put focus into the details of things and how to actually make those ideas practical so that they manifest physically.

In order to manifest anything, you need all four elements. You first begin with the imagination/visions (FIRE), then you have to connect with that thought emotionally (WATER) to give the thought meaning and reason. Through connecting with that thought you develop thoughts that support that feeling, you gather information (AIR), your mind knows what direction to go in in order to make it a reality. Now you make the thoughts a reality by putting in the practical work (EARTH) to make it physical.

Chiron 3H natives are so smart but with a lot of them I know, the education system made them feel like they weren't because of their unique way of acquiring knowledge. They like to learn on their own and in their own way to build confidence in the knowledge they know. Just because a teacher taught them something one way, doesn't make it the only way. Just because some information came from one source, doesn't make it credible or true, they dig deeper and find their own meaning.

Virgo risings are so well put together and they know it. They not only see the flaws in everything and everybody, but they see it in themselves. I find it beautiful and quite classy that they don't judge anyone despite being able to see the imperfections in others but instead strive for perfection in self. They'll never make a bad first impression.

Cancer moons feel deeply but they are not crybabies, (at least not in front of others). They don't try to suppress their emotions, nor do they try to show them too much, they sort of let them flow. They have a keen understanding of emotions.

Okay thats it! THANK YOUUU

[wednesdaywitchcraft]

Setting up your altar is a personal manifestation of your soul and your personality in the way you practice your Magick. Each witch may have a unique set up that reflects who they are, what type of witchcraft they practice, and what is sentimental to them. As such, every altar may look a little different. There is no specific “correct way” to set up your altar. The right way to set up your altar is what feels right for you. Nevertheless, if you’re setting up your first altar and don’t know where to begin, here are a couple tips on how you can set yours up:

Where to set up your altar:

You can set up your altar anywhere! You can set it up in your home, in your garden, in your workspace (although the best place to set it up would be a more private space) but essentially an altar can exist anywhere you make the room for one. Typically the best place for an altar would be a bedroom, since its a space that most people are connected to spiritually and feel most at rest. My altar is set up in a corner of my walk in closet. It’s on the smaller side but its big enough for me to practice my craft. For those that need a much smaller space, you could set your altar up on a dresser, a nightstand, or even your windowsill. You could even get a portable altar that can be taken down and put up easily, which is good for those that live in smaller housing and those that like to travel.

Which direction should your altar face:

Again, this one is more of a personal decision. In Wiccan history, traditionally the altar is said to be facing North. However, you can face your altar in whatever direction feels right. Perhaps there is a beautiful view facing East that helps you meditate, or perhaps the area you want to set up your altar in only faces South. That is completely OK. As for me, I have my altar facing North-East, based on my preference on the elements I feel most connected to. I have two modes, I’m either completely grounded or completely in the clouds, so the elements I feel most connected to are earth and air; which is how I chose to position my altar. If you want to position your altar for the elements you feel most connected to, you would choose between North (earth), South (fire), East (air), and West (water). However you choose to position your altar should feel right to you.

What to put on your altar:

Your altar can consist of a few traditional things and personal things. You can have plants, crystals, candles, incense, and other traditional tools. You can also have personal items such as photographs, magazine clippings of something you want to manifest in your life, a homemade wreath or jewelry, or anything that feels personal to you such as a seashell or stone you picked yourself on your last hike or adventure. There’s a few things I personally believe every altar should have for spiritual protection purposes (this is my opinion only, not mandatory in any way) and those are:

an altar cloth

a candle

protective crystals (such as black tourmaline, smoky quartz, or amethyst)

incense or white sage

a fireproof bowl or cauldron

Additional things you may want to consider for your altar:

a wand (either premade or handmade) or athame

herbs or crystals for spells

a pendulum board or ouija board (if you wish to commune with spirits)

a chalice

something representing each of the elements

a compass

charms or small statues of things that you connect spiritually with

hand-picked items such as seashells, acorns, pine cones, leaves, feathers, or stones

Important things to remember about your altar:

I know I sound like a broken record saying this, but again, your altar should be personal. A reflection of YOU. If your altar feels right, then it’s right. If it feels like its missing something, add more to it. If it feels too cluttered or like too much, take stuff off. Your altar can change with you! You can switch things out as you feel your energy shift. Something that is very important to remember about your altar, is that it is a sacred place. Cleanse your altar if things start to not feel right after changing things up. Remember that things you find other places, may have picked up energy from that place/people, so be sure to cleanse any items you are bringing into your sacred space.

Blessed be

[zushimart]

crossed wires, ch.2. m!spiderman!reader x civilian!scara. friends to lovers, childhood friends. 2.6k words. warnings: a car almost hits someone, no one is hurt. read ch.1/the teaser here. and remember to leave feedback if you enjoyed!

there’s quiet chatter in the blindingly bright classroom of his morning lecture. the professor is filing through papers in his office a room over, so students are free to flit from one table to the next and examine the different instruments organized for the laboratory.

he takes a seat in the chair at a table farthest from the door, a good distance from the board. it used to be an issue – just last year he was squinting to make out little letters on a powerpoint slide – but now, his gaze is crystal clear. must’ve gone to the campus café together, he notices, eyes glancing at the neighboring table of pre-med sorority girls sipping through straws while trading their phones around.

“i don’t think i’d be into him if i could see his face,” one says, passing a phone back. “like, not to sound shallow…”

her friend pulls her hair back into a pony, shrugging, “so what if you can or can’t see his face? either way, he’s still spiderman.”

“what if he’s bald?” the third one asks, scrolling to another video of the hero taken from the night before.

“some bald people are cute!” the other girl protests. “and he’s better than anyone on your roster,” she says, earning a laugh and a smack to her shoulder.

and despite them paying him no mind, he shrinks into his seat, embarrassed. he keeps an eye and an ear out, though, unable to staunch his own curiosity. he hadn’t had time this morning to see the videos the public managed to catch. the haphazard stop of a grand theft auto almost escalated into a sticky car chase with him attached to the trunk, flying in the wind like a piece of paper.

“i would let him,” the first girl admits. “unless he’s like, over forty.”

“that would make it even better,” one of them giggles.

“what are you staring at?” a familiar voice cuts through his eavesdropping and he tilts his head to the side just before scara can shove him forward, evading the playful blow. “how do you always manage to do that?”

“‘cause i know you so well,” he says, not looking up. “good morning, scara.”

“yeah, hey,” scara mumbles while pulling out the seat beside him. “signora texted me this morning saying she’s using one of her free skips and childe’s traveling for a varsity game.”

“so… we’re alone?” he tries not to sound too excited.

“for lecture and lab, yeah. it’s in pairs anyway. they’ll have to make it up together.”

a yelp from the table over startles them both as one of the girls fights her friends for her phone back in a fit of giggles. he tears his eyes away from them and looks to scara, pulling out materials for class.

“hey…” he bids and scara hums expectantly. “how do you feel about spiderman?” he rubs the back of his neck. “i heard them talking about him earlier…”

scara raises an eyebrow. “what about him?”

“like,” he blows air, “would you consider yourself like, i dunno, a fan?”

“do you?”

he chews his lip. “i-i guess?”

scara nods slowly and shrugs. “hmn.”

“what?”

“don’t really have an opinion. i haven’t thought about it.” scara’s pause stretches into seconds before he opens his mouth again. he likes to make people wait for him. “i guess if it’s one guy… it’s nice that he can protect people from like… i dunno, freak evil scientist shit,” scara says. “vigilante shit is weird. i’ll think about it more.”

“mn. i didn’t really mean morally,” he says, twisting the string of his hoodie around his finger.

“then how did you mean it?” scara asks, tapping the tip of his capped pen against his lips.

“do you think he’s… like…” he asks. “you know…”

scara’s lip puckers like he’s tasted something sour. “are you into him?” he asks like lightning.

“i asked first.”

“i haven’t looked hard enough.”

“fine, then me neither.”

scara laughs, crossing his arms. “yeah right, you’ve totally got spiderman underwear, maybe some toys to match,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“i do not!” his voice cracks with indignation. “he’s not my type at all.”

embers burn in scara’s heart, pumping hot blood to his face and turning it pink. he props his chin up with his hand, head firmly turned. “and what’s your type?” he mumbles, muffled through his fingers.

but the professor strides into the room. the chatter stalls as he readies his powerpoint and podium before staring expectantly at the clock to strike eight on the dot. textbooks slam onto the table, laptops open, pens and pencils hit paper – their conversation lost in biology.

~

he hands scara a pair of forceps, opening and closing his mouth like a fish while a question bounces around his mind a few times.

“you look stupid,” scara says, catching him in the periphery.

“i like people smarter than me,” he blurts. “a-and… mean to me. what do you like?”

scara blinks.

“still on this?” he asks, blasé concealing how his hands falter.

“don’t squeeze too hard,” his labmate says with his way of twisting a command into the whisper of a suggestion. at anyone else’s correction, irritation would pickle scara’s mood.

“are those your only qualifications?” scara snaps.

he blinks. “should i have more?”

“lots of girls are smarter than you,” he points out. “your iq’s not anything special, anyway.”

“i said people?”

“what?”

“i said people smarter than me,” he says.

scara swallows hard, looking up to meet confusion written in those eyes. “oh.” he mumbles, heart slamming uncomfortably hard against his ribcage. “…then even more people are smarter than you.”

“but not a lot of people are mean to me,” he points out, reaching over to turn the burner off before their solution bubbles over. “not like it makes a difference, anyway,” he says with a decorative smile. “because maybe the people mean to me aren’t very smart at all.”

if he didn’t know any better, scara might think he was flirting. “maybe,” he blurts, nervousness ballooning in his throat.

“so, you didn’t know?”

“know what?” he snaps, blush blooming.

“people not girls.”

“you don’t talk about it,” scara points out. “you’re secretive about… that.” he always has been, dodging truth or dare at middle school sleepovers and avoiding drinking games at high school parties like he’s afraid he’ll admit something or kiss the wrong person.

“so, you thought i was off the table?” he teases with a half-smile.

well, yeah. scara’s only ever seen him with a girl before. he remembers, the colors still vibrant and the shapes still sharp, unlocking their cramped first-year dorm without warning only to catch him tussling teeth and tongue with his half-sister, mona. scara’s mouth twitches into the ghost of a grimace in the wake of the resurfaced memory.

this time, scara successfully pushes him away, but he’s giggling as he takes stumbling steps back.

he can’t deny how revolutionary the admission is. they’d somehow veered into a timeline where the weed of affection growing a woody stem in scara’s stomach could blossom. maybe he could even pluck it as it grows up his throat and hand it to the boy next to him. and maybe he wouldn’t sneer. maybe he might quite like it, think it nice and keep it in a vase.

a part of scara hopes he might have a type. that type. smarter than him, sure. mean to him, of course. with dark hair, blunt bangs, and maybe… ugh.

“i can’t believe you kissed my sister,” scara mutters under his breath.

“i-i, what? where is this coming from?” he squeaks back, throwing a pair of hands into the air. “that was, like, years ago and it— you know what? you keep dodging my questions,” he accuses.

scara rolls his eyes, scissors slicing fine white lines of paper into test strips.

“so, what kind of people do you like?”

“i like guys dumber than me, obviously,” scara mumbles. nice to me, he thinks to himself. “maybe someone funny. i don’t know.”

and this time, in his periphery, he catches sight of a bit back smile, lips stretched over hidden teeth. “spiderman’s your type, then?”

“i wouldn’t know,” scara grumbles at the reintroduction. like the arrival of a rival, he bitterly reflects. “maybe he’s yours. i don’t care for celebrities.”

“fine,” he draws out the syllable, almost annoyed. a hand pushes scara’s shoulder as he dips the test strips into the solution, knocking him a step to the left and interrupting his ministrations. pressure builds like steam in the teakettle of scara’s little body, but before he can open his mouth to admonish, his labmate is staring at his phone.

“gotta use the bathroom. might take awhile. feels explosive,” he mumbles, body moving to catch up with how faraway his mind has already run. like a flash, it happened.

and scara grabs his wrist before he can take a second step.

“you’re lying,” he says, eyes a little wide as if he’s surprised with himself… surprised by the motion sickness surging from the unpredictable swings between giddy excitement to sharp frustration to sluggish disappointment.

the boy looks from scara’s hold, tight enough to cut off circulation, to his eyes. surprise mirrors surprise. his mouth opens, but this time, nothing comes out.

scara looks away. he pulls away. he makes himself smaller. “whatever. just go. fuck off.”

he walks away without a word.

~

he sips from a juicebox while mentally mapping his patrol route for the rainy afternoon on his walk home from classes. he couldn’t make it back from the corner store robbery before the end of biology and he winces when he remembers the look on scara’s face. guilty conscience manipulates his fingers into sending another apology text that’s delivered but never read. maybe if he finishes the report before scara opens the document, his haughty prince will forgive him.

muscle memory takes him up a staircase, fingers fishing a ring of keys from his pocket to unlock a heavy 19th century door. it swings open on rusty hinges, screaming loud enough to inspire ghost stories at least three floors down. he gives a tentative hello to his aunt, smoke billowing from the kitchen as may disassembles the beeping alarm dangling from the ceiling. she gives him an apologetic smile and he rolls up his sleeves to open rusted-shut windows, fanning for a moment before she shoos his help away.

he holes up in his bedroom, keeping a careful ear listening till minutes later, like clockwork, he hears a goodbye followed by the heavy door swinging closed with another awful groan. after double-checking the stove to avoid another building fire, he’s ready to exit.

patrol is slow. between stopping a simple collision and rescuing a cat from a tree, nothing calls his immediate attention. and now, he sits in wait. the sky looks heavy, but not exhausted — just tired enough to droop. he blinks rain from the eyes of his mask, thinking to himself how useful it might be to have doc ock’s personal phone number so the guy could shoot him a text when he’s on the move. until he catches sight of an achingly pretty face amongst a sea of multi-colored umbrellas.

it isn’t stalking, he thinks to himself as he sticks close to the wall across the narrow street, unspotted by pedestrians below. just curiosity. making sure he’s safe. scara disappears into a flower shop. a few minutes later, he blossoms from the door holding a small bouquet of baby’s breath and a single carnation, eyes glued to his phone as he takes a stumbling step forward onto the sidewalk.

he smiles, a big tenderness swelling in his chest as he imagines himself wrapping an arm around scara’s shoulders to steady his gait.

until there’s an eerie tingle singing up the back of his neck.

the sound of a taxi hitting the brakes after a sharp turn echoes between buildings. tires hydroplane across slick city streets and the yellow cab hurtles over the curb like a speed bump, giving scara a single second between looking up and being hit by two tons of metal.

webs have shot out and stuck to the back of the car. the force of his superhuman pull, leveraged by swinging around a telephone pole and a streetlight, brings the taxi to a screeching halt just a hair’s length away from where scara stands.

some onlookers offer a quick cheer as spiderman jumps down onto the sidewalk before returning to busy lives, but a few linger to watch and film the superhero skitter over to the boy standing stock still in front of the car, frozen in shock.

“are you okay?” he asks, hands reach scara’s shoulders just before he’s shoved off with alien strength — shocked into the realization that he is a complete stranger.

he takes a step back and lets his eyes flit to the taxi to check if the occupants are okay. the driver’s stumbling out, unharmed and apologetic as he surveys the damage to his vehicle.

the hero’s attention snaps back to scara when he stutters, “s-sorry.” he’s white-knuckling the bouquet in his hands, stems broken.

spiderman clears his throat, coughs once or twice as he tries to drop his pitch, “your flowers,” he says. scara shakes his head like he’s coming to and looks down, quickly loosening his grip. “that was scary,” he supplies.

scara swallows hard. “yeah,” he manages. “holy shit. um, thanks,” he bows his head with gratitude. “yeah, thank you,” he repeats a bit firmer.

“no problem,” he says, devoid of all usual disarming charm as his mind conjures a world where he took a minute longer during lunch or made a left instead of a right on the boulevard.

actually, he almost throws up.

scara walks off.

he stares after him, legs moving to catch up quicker than his thoughts can.

scara glances to his right and almost jumps. “w-what? why are you following me? did i forget something?” he slows down, almost to a stop. he looks around at the eyes glued to their interaction, spotting a few phones pointed their way.

“yeah, my number,” he jokes, the delivery falling flat, tripping over the crack in his voice.

scara’s face twists in confusion. “what?”

“a-actually, i can’t give you that,” he stutters. “sorry. it’s just, that was scary. and i was worried and i’m still worried. like, i’m shaking,” he says, raising a hand to show scara the tremor. “but maybe that’s ‘cause you’re really, like, totally beautiful.” oh my god, shut the fuck up, he thinks to himself in a panic. “that’s not what i meant, sorry. wait, i do mean that. you are beautiful. that’s not the point, though, i wanted to make sure that… you’re okay? because if i’m like this, how do you feel? you know?”

he spoke so much for so long that, at the end of his stream of consciousness, the street somehow feels quiet despite the bustle.

with wide eyes, scara tries to placate. “i-i’m okay. thanks to you,” he offers, uncertainty dripping from the words.

“good!” he chirps, clasping his hands together. “okay, yeah. good.”

scara shies away from the superhero and his onslaught of audience attention as pedestrians rubberneck. “i’m gonna… go now,” he says, slowly backing away with another nod.

“right!” spiderman says, “yeah, be safe! safe-r, i guess…” he calls after scara as he’s swallowed by raincoats and umbrellas. stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks to himself. even superhero status can’t save the idiot he becomes in front of indigo eyes.

the small crowd descends, a courageous few opening the avenue to a few lucky celebrity selfies. ugh, he always has a hard time saying no.

[metacrisisdoctor]

tentoorose & the gift of domestic life

in my personal opinion it's kind of deeply simplistic to say that tentoorose wouldn't settle down bc they "need" to travel when both of these things are refuted in the narrative multiple times.

i'm gonna go over this under the cut.

to start this conversation somewhere let's start with how tip/tsp is all about them not needing the tardis and travel as long as they're together, and how losing it would be hard - but they'd still be happy on any random planet because being stuck together isn't so bad - the foundation to their life in pete's world is laid here. this is really massively important because you can see that rose saying this touches the doctor, because it's him realizing that it's him that she loves and not what he offers her. if you take the doctor avoiding the subject as him dismissing it instead of him wanting something he thinks he cannot have, then you are misunderstanding the intention behind it.

it's a beautiful culmination when he literally and metaphorically allows himself to fall later in these episodes. he's asked if he has faith and he says he believes he hasn't seen everything, which is why he keeps traveling. this is left in the air until he faces the devil, without his tardis, so small and seemingly unimportant and the only thing that matters to him is the love between himself and rose. and that love translates into his belief in her; in not only his faith in her ability to also beat the devil, but also in saying that he has seen a lot of the universe and believes in one thing: her, he is saying that he has found all he has ever looked for with rose and if this is his final test; the end of it all-that is fine because he is finished searching even if there is more out there.

that's why him saying "here you are, living a life day after day, the one adventure i can never have." in doomsday is so painful, because it's a vocal confirmation of the reasoning behind his avoidant behavior throughout season two. the depth of feeling he has for rose paralyzes him because he has already lost everything, and now he knows he has found a home with her that he will also lose.

but it goes even farther than all of that. it goes all the way back to nine in father's day, "street corner, two in the morning, getting a taxi home. i've never had a life like that." that bit of yearning to slow down and just be with rose in one place is already seeping into his being then, and it becomes completely central to his character when he regenerates into ten.

the fact that he wants to settle down to a certain extent, to have a human life with rose, and cannot have it is why he represses his feelings for her after seeing sarah jane - and it's only in the later half of s2 after, poetically, visiting pete's world that he allows himself to start to open up to her a bit despite knowing he will lose this new family he has found someday. even in late season two there is a barrier they cannot cross because of his immortality, not because he doesn't want the things rose does. it's because their life spans do not match and never will, and he would never want her to be immortal because he sees his own immortality as a curse, which we see him state in the lazarus experiment.

people claim rose wouldn't want to settle down either, but it takes a lot of ignoring things rose says in order to make this true, quite frankly. rose loves adventure and travel, but what she really loves is the sense of purpose the doctor has brought to her life by showing her what she is capable of outside the constraints of estate life, as she says "it was a better life. and i don't mean all the travelling and aliens and spaceships and things, that don't matter. the doctor showed me a better way of living your life." this is something she does not lose in doomsday and it's still not something she loses in journey's end.

and the thing is, we see multiple times that rose wants to settle down with the doctor and pushes it away because she has decided to spend her life at his side. since she knows he cannot do this, partly out of his duty to the univese and partly because he isn't human, she accepts that she never will either. in army of ghosts when jackie asks if she'll ever settle down she looks so sad when she says, "the doctor never will so i can't. i'll just keep travelling." this is such a heavy moment because it shows that this is something rose has considered, something that she does want because if she didn't she would just say so, and something she herself has begun to repress to support him.

not every relationship has to end with a house and kids, but the doctor and rose are a relationship where the foundation to where they got in the end is dangled in front of them, almost cruelly, the entire time. so the idea that them having it would be too boring or something they would feel isn't enough for a fulfilled life is misunderstanding what their relationship was about in the first place.

do i think they still do alien things? of course. do i think they travel? of course! do they still have a home to come back to? a family to have christmas with? a life to live side by side until they're old and grey? of course. those things do not go against each other. settling down doesn't mean they don't have fun, they don't explore, they don't break rules or grow their own tardis. it just means that they get to have an equal and shared life together with a safe place to always come back to for the rest of their lives, which is what they both always wanted.

without understanding all of these things, it dims the tenth doctor's sacrifice in journey's end and leads to people not fully grasping his descent into madness when he is denied this life that he so desperately wants but is denied in this life. in the confidential for journey's end david tennant says, "by gifting rose this other doctor he is not allowing himself to go back." because if tentoo did not exist he would tear apart reality to get her back as the timelord victorious and the only ONLY thing that stops him from doing so is that her happiness is what matters to him, and he knows that tentoo will make her happy because they are the same man with different opportunities who made different choices because the universe showed him the kindness of mortality.

tldr: the doctor and rose love travelling, but they don't need to travel to have fulfilled lives and they never did. that's part of what makes their relationship special and this is part of the canon narrative so much so that there is a song on the season two soundtrack about it.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh~ can we get Yandere Ei and Yandere Yae miko x reader headcanons~ seperate please

I'll start with Yae Miko for now- I'm finally trying to finish Inzazuma's storyline so I really hope I can make this work.

If she's OOC, I apologize. I still need to get better at writing Genshin and I can take tips 😥

Possible spoilers for Genshin Impact's Inazuma storyline.

Yandere! Yae Miko Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Kidnapping, Threats, Manipulation, Implied murder, Protective behavior, Slight possessive behavior.

Yae Miko is a very mysterious individual and yandere.

She's a kitsune and used to be a close friend of the Raiden Shogun.

Wielder if Electro powers, she spends a lot of her time in The Grand Narukami Shrine as Guuji.

Despite this, she's somehow always where she needs to be to help someone in exchange for something

If you catch her attention she shows interest.

There's a good chance she'll know nearly everything about you while you know nearly nothing about her.

The kitsune has various opinions on humans.

They have such trivial arguments and she thinks of them pitiful and foolish at times.

Although, sometimes humanity peaks Yae's interest.

The Traveler is one of these examples.

You are the other.

Your origin doesn't peak her interest much in this case.

A friend of The Traveler, a merchant, or a poor Inazuma citizen...

The list could go on.

No, what matters to her is the fact you visit her shrine so often.

Your response is so cute to her for a human.

You find the shrine calming, a place for renewal.

You comment on the blossoms that surround it, how the air buzzes softly due to the Electro energy in the air...

In your mind... it gives you the most comfort in Inazuma.

Yae Miko finds your reasoning silly.

Sometimes humans are funny creatures.

Despite this, she welcomes you to her shrine.

You treat it and her with respect, so respect you'll get.

Similar to Kujou Sara you are a frequent visitor.

Nearly everyday you stop by to chat.

At first Yae Miko just had a mutual respect towards you.

Although soon she starts to grow a strange fascination towards you.

The familiar often humors herself with you while you visit the shrine.

She sometimes offers you books as she owns the Yae Publishing House and has an adoration of books.

Trust her, you'll enjoy the novels she picks.

She also enjoys a few pranks with you.

Her excuse is that if you want to be around so often, you have to indulge her in her antics at times.

Her yandere behavior is Manipulative, Protective, Possessive, and Obsessive.

She isn't sadistic and is more of a guardian.

Partly due to being a familiar-

The closest she gets is mischevious with her behavior rather than sadistic.

Harming you does not bring the kitsune joy.

Yae Miko is simply playful towards her darling.

She is a kitsune which does make her manipulative.

But she does it both for your interest and hers.

Yae Miko feels since she's so interested in you she should try to keep you alive and well.

If you aren't happy by her side? Well... you'll learn to.

The human mind is very fragile.

Yae Miko is a very observing yandere.

It's hard to tell her origins and she seems to know a ton about her darling.

After all, she'd be a poor guardian over you and her shrine if she didn't do her research, wouldn't she?

Her darling may not know she's a kitsune without the proper research.

That glow in her eyes is haunting, however.

Yae Miko also harbors protective feelings towards her darling.

She wants to keep those she cares for safe, even if she is blunt with them.

The kitsune would prove to be intimidating when protecting her newest curiosity.

She's strong and not many would get very far with opposing her.

Most of the time she likes to keep you at the shrine.

You like it there anyways, right?

If not, she always seems to hover close and keep and eye on you.

If you're in danger then she'll be there to help you.

Strangely it's nearly everytime-

At times, Yae Miko can be seen as possessive.

She eyes those around you with judgement, purple eyes scanning them to see if she needs to step in.

She doesn't want you bothered by visitors if you don't need to be.

Yae Miko also seems like the type who'd say threats so calmly it's terrifying.

She may even giggle afterwards.

It's amazing how you can get such reactions from humans with just a few words.

Yae Miko wouldn't necessarily kidnap.

She may encourage you more and more to her shrine, though.

If you stopped coming, however...

She finds herself stalking you to see what's wrong.

Only then would she maybe kidnap you.

Perhaps if you two fought or something she'd be a bit more forceful.

Murder is something she's in the middle with.

She probably could do it, she just finds threats and tricks more entertaining.

If she did trap you in the shrine with her, she acts rather patronizing.

If she kidnapped you it was for a reason.

You pushed her a bit too far.

No need to worry, in her eyes at least, she'll take care of you.

You always did find the shrine calming...

So hopefully you won't try/need to leave it anymore, right?

[freshinkdaily]

Maximizing the Magic: Essential Disney World Tips for a Dream Vacation

Maximizing the Magic: Essential Disney World Tips for a Dream Vacation Embarking on a Disney World vacation is a dream for many, filled with enchanting experiences and unforgettable moments. However, to truly maximize the magic of your visit, it’s essential to plan smartly. From dining reservations to navigating the parks with ease, this article will provide you with indispensable tips to craft a…

[ladyrijus]

Oh how DARE (/lh dw) you give me feelings ab the Yiga clan, I already love them enough, I would absolutely love to hear if you have more thoughts ab them and ever want to say!!

*kicks door open with an armful of Yiga Clan thoughts* I GOT YOU.

The Yiga Clan are descendants of Sheikah rune-crafters, who knew how to inscribe runes associated with a certain type of reality manipulation onto different surfaces. The guidance stones you see? Those are their works left remaining. When water collects at the tip of the guidance stone, it collects the effects of the runes before transferring them to the Sheikah Slate. However, the Yiga Clan have learned how to inscribe runes on their paper slips, which activates when the finger runs over the symbol of the inverted Eye. These cards help them with their traveler's guise and teleportation. Additionally, their windcleavers are inscribed with runes associated with wind manipulation, but the effects are dampened due to the rune's deterioration when used in battle repeatedly.

A Yiga's guise cannot work near a statue of Hylia. She unmasks all illusions. This is why not many of them can get into Kakariko Village; they're outed almost instantaneously. When Dorian left the Gerudo Highlands and met his wife, he knew his life was going to change, for better or for worse. He definitely thought worse when he was getting married though, since he was scared his illusion would drop before Hylia. However, the goddess, sensing his change of heart, actually made the illusion permanent. This makes him the first of his kind to be divinely redeemed. When he helps the Yiga again after his wife is killed, the roots of his air are darkened to black as a rebuke from the goddess, but they do not seep any further as she accounts for the fact he only sabotages the tribe for the life of his two children, as well as Impa and Paya. He covers the dark parts of his hair with his amigasa hat.

This next headcanon veers towards OC territory but it's to explain the lore behind Urbosa's hatred for the Yiga. To put it shortly, there was a Yiga woman who had once, while guised, seduced Urbosa's mother. She was deployed in Gerudo Town to acquire the Thunder Helm, with the idea that there were runes inscribed on the helm for electric resistance that could be used to leverage their efforts against the Hylian kingdom. Urbosa, a child at the time, had caught her in the act after a few months of courtship. She was very perceptive for her age, and immediately asked what the Yiga thought she was doing. The Yiga, despite her conflicting emotions, immediately resolved to kill her to avoid having any witnesses. But what she didn't realize was that Urbosa's mother had already seen everything. Swooping in, she shielded Urbosa, deflected the attack, and promptly electrocuted the Yiga. Whether the Yiga lives after the electrocution or not is up to you. I think it's another tragic love story either way! This experience leaves both Gerudo women feeling very, very conflicted and betrayed. For that reason, she calls the Yiga traitors.

Pikango is a Yiga informant. His paper slips are hidden behind the sheet on his canvas, and he uses them to teleport between stables periodically to gather intel about the Sheikah. He frequents the Dueling Peaks Stable out of all of them. What's interesting is that he's the first Yiga member to have been born in Kakariko and return despite the discoloration of his hair. This is why everyone is wary about telling Pikango about the location of the fairy fountain when he returned: most Sheikah who leave Kakariko for good turn out to be Yiga, and certainly none had ever come back before. Purah and Robbie are exceptions for obvious reasons. Pikango's hair is however, mostly white. Why? As I've mentioned before, it takes a while for a Sheikah's hair to turn black since it's based on their faith. I like to think that Pikango is carefully neutral about his opinions regarding Hylia. He helps the Yiga not necessarily as a "fuck you for not letting me have doubts about you" to Hylia, but because they helped him out when he was forced to leave his home. They have definitely tried to recruit him as a footsoldier but he probably admitted that he was not of the fighting type. So they got a different use out of him: spywork. With that deal, Pikango gets to live most of his life just travelling, while keeping an ear open for anything regarding Hyrule Castle, the nearby shrines, or the traveler clad in Hyrulean Blue.

[a-writers-blurbs]

Drabble 3

The audacity of the human woman was astounding. Here he was, generously allowing the Miko and her kit to follow him, and she had the nerve to make requests of him?

When had he sunk so low as to even congregate with humans? Let alone grant them requests. Nothing this onna said could possibly-

"I know you dont care for mine and Shippos' presence... but I'd very much like to travel with you a while longer, if that's ok. I think Rin could benefit from some tutoring." Well... that was certainly unexpected.

"What could you possibly teach this Sesshomaru's ward aside from outspokenness and spratic decision making?" It was a fair question. The Miko was an odd creature. She didn't conform to scocitial norms whatsoever.

Years ago, when she first appeared, she dressed so scandalousally that, had he not scented her purity, he would've thought she was a whore. She was loud, opinionated, strong willed, and never showed submission.

She was brash and loyal to a fault. But she showed proper respect when the situation called for it. Mostly. She was well mannered, protective of those she claimed as hers, she was clean and full of various quirks.

She was an odd human. But her eccentricities didn't necessarily mean she would be a good tutor. He allowed his musing to trail off as the spicy scent of her irritation began to fill the air.

"I'll have you know, I'm well versed in geography, mathematics, literature, grammar, and three foreign languages. Not to mention the medical and first aid training I could give her." It seemed her education was a source of pride for the spunky onna, and he had unintentionally wounded that pride with his doubt.

But instead of feeling guilt, he simply shrugged and wondered where Imuyasha stood in all of this. Lothe as he was to admit it, the welp was his brother. And as his brother, it would be 6 escort the Miko if she was disobeying her mate in any way by leaving. "Do you not need to return to your mate, the half-breed?"

"That baka isn't, and will never be my mate!" The spike in her miko powers made his body break out in goosebumps. What could have possibly happened between the idiot hanyu and the Miko to cause such a reaction.

Noting the shift in her aura from anger to sadness, he decided to move the conversationalong. What did she get out of this exactly? "You wish to travel with this Sesshomaru and tutor his ward in exchange for what? Protection?"

"In a way..." Raising his eyebrow in question, the Miko blushed and looked down. "I was hoping you would train me to defend myself. I'm pretty good with a bow & arrow, but that's it."

By now, she was dragging the tips of her toes in the dirt, head still facing the ground, and fingers twisting and fidgeting. She looked very much like a bashful child aching for attention. It called to his instincts. "You wish to grow stronger."

"Hai." She was slightly put off by the sudden softness in his voice, but she shrugged it off.

This was her chance. She had one shot to make a case for herself. If she screwed this up, her last resort would be running to the east and taking up with Kogas wolves.

She didn't want to do that. So, with a deep breath, she straightened her back and faced him, ready to plead her case.

[chevelleneech]

https://www.tumblr.com/chevelleneech/757738833363222528/anyone-who-read-its-an-11-on-a-gay-scale-needs-to

It’s not that serious, many of us are just having fun…

idk why we have to be extra cautious when it comes to Jikook content when the fandom can have a blast whenever certain pairs interact and call namkook or Yoonmin or whoever else married over the smallest interaction and go crazy for hours on main but we have to write x amount of warnings and being reasonable and all

unpopular opinion maybe but having to constantly tiptoe around Jikook content to make sure I’m not misinterpreted just kills all the fun for me to the point i don’t even post about them on my account anymore

It’s shipping after all, it’s not that big of a deal, or is it? can’t we just have fun and go a bit crazy this time?

To you, anon, as well as @felixdoriga. I was writing my reply to Felixdoriga as this came in, so I’m adding it here for both. (I am in no way insinuating Felixdoriga is the same person as anon.)

The short answer. I’m not saying be cautious nor am I taking things overly literal. I’m just saying, be realistic now, so later, no one circles back and blames each other for being let down.

No amount of queerness between two active duty soldiers in a reality show being aired on Disney+, is going to break a “gay scale” more than anything we’ve already seen. And since we already know how Jimin and Jungkook can get, it is odd to me that someone would insinuate they’re even more gay within the first two episodes of their travel series.

Below is the long answer, since I like to explain myself as thoroughly as possible.

To Felixdoriga: I don’t think I’m looking too much into it, since I also read their thread that is pretty much nothing but insinuations that Jimin and JK are going extra wild with their interactions.

That said, in the post anon is messaging me about, I make a point of saying someone else’s excitement will not be the same as another’s. Meaning, I think it’s important for everyone to manage their expectations and not run to blame the tweeter if the hype doesn’t match up with what they were expecting based on the reaction thread. However, the reason I said what I said in my response, is because I do genuinely believe that acting as if they are giving an 11 out of 10 on the gay scale, is ridiculous and could stem from straight up lying or not viewing JM and JK as people outside the ship. Because every little interaction is not A Thing, it’s them being them.

Yes, that person may have a different numbering system from what I would consider an 11, but unless they live somewhere where queer interactions are extremely illegal and they have never seen Jikook interact with one another before, what could they possibly have done to break the scale? On a platform such as D+, whilst they are enlisted? The realistic answer is nothing, so why set that expectation when you know shipping fandoms can and do consist of many people who are unable to manage their own?

Why put that level of expectation out there at all, knowing people who hate JM and JK will take it and watch AYS in hopes of being able to “debunk” the thread, and claim it as you (the tweeter) lying to gain engagement clicks?

I understand the person was excited and presumably had a lot of fun watching the episodes, but I do think there were better ways to tweet about how much fun it looked like JM and JK were having, without putting themself in a no-win position if their 11 = sitting beside each other or constant hugging while playing a game. Because calling something an 11 on a scale from 1-10 is not just having a different numbering system. It’s making it clear something drastic happened, and without trying to rain on anyone’s parade, that to me is simply unlikely.

And to round out what the above anon is saying, I’m not suggesting anyone tip toe. I’m suggesting people don’t hype up what’s happening in their heads, based on a Twitter thread that is insinuating they were interacting in the utmost gay ways, to something more reasonable. Because that person is 100% going to be hit with hatred if the hype they built isn’t lived up to. And while Jikookers aren’t the rudest this fandom has seen by far, our subsection is not forever innocent of being hateful. There’s bad eggs here too, and people tend to lash out when they feel embarrassed.

We can be excited. We can hope to see them cuddling and giggling the entire time, because they are cute together and they do have fun together, but short of them being physically affectionate in the ways we have seen them before (ear suck and hickey) within the first two episodes, there is no reason to make people think that is what they’re going to see on the 8th.

I think that person could have tweeted with just as much enthusiasm without the exaggeration. Assuming it is, as I’m not saying they’re lying. I haven’t watched the show so I don’t know, but you all are super excited to see “breaking the gay scale” level of interactions, when all that person could mean is, “They constantly shared drinks.” Which couple’s absolutely do, but we’ve also seen all the members eat off the same fork plenty of times.

So no, don’t shut down your excitement, but be sure to manage it. They’re not going to do anything to break any metaphorical scale of gayness, no matter whose numbering system is being used.

I imagine they’re just going to be themselves as much as they can be, which for years has been sus enough. Again, we have seen them repeatedly choose each other for emotional and fun things. We’ve seen them flirt like hell in interviews and on live. We’ve seen JK suck on Jimin’s ear, in front of thousands of people. We’ve seen proof that Jimin put his mouth on Jungkook’s neck, until it left a mark. We’ve heard the other members teasing them about the things they say to and about each other, and more. So we have a perfectly good scale of our own to compare the series to already, and if nothing tops hickey or ear-in-mouth action or a live booty call in front of fans… there is no broken scale.

And me saying to manage expectations isn’t to say Jimin and JK will do less or that the show won’t be interesting. I’m just saying, we’ve seen a lot of questionable behavior from them, which is why insinuating they’ve done even crazier shit than what we’ve seen, doesn’t make sense.

So once again, I will absolutely eat my words if something wild and actually does happen, but realistically, knowing who JM and JK are and what they’ve done in the past… they would have to be extremely coupled up for me to think they broke any scale of gayness.

[proofpick]

okay but can we talk about this website i found????

listen up folks because i literally cannot stop talking about this site called proofpick that i stumbled onto at 3am last night when i was trying to figure out which air fryer wouldn't catch on fire (don't ask)

first of all???? they actually TEST stuff?? like with their own hands?? and take real pictures?? not those weird stock photos that every other site uses???

things i'm screaming about:

they write like actual humans

no weird sponsored content vibes

they compare stuff side by side (bless)

their guides don't make me feel stupid

THEY EXPLAIN THINGS WITHOUT BEING CONDESCENDING

actual conversation with my roommate:

me: "which vacuum should i buy for pet hair?" every other website: "This prestigious model utilizes innovative cyclonic action technology-" proofpick: "this one actually picks up cat hair and won't die in 2 months"

like????? the CLARITY????

also they don't just do product stuff. they have guides for basically everything:

travel tips that aren't just "pack light" (groundbreaking)

food hacks that don't require a culinary degree

life stuff that actually makes sense

tech guides that don't assume you're a coding genius

the best part? when they say something sucks, they EXPLAIN WHY. no more of that "this product has some minor drawbacks" nonsense. they'll straight up tell you "this coffee maker makes terrible coffee and here's proof"

why am i so excited about this???

because i'm tired of:

fake reviews

sponsored content disguised as "honest opinions"

articles clearly written by robots

guides that make no sense

having to google every other word

if you're tired of getting scammed by fake reviews or just want straight answers about literally anything, check out https://proofpick.net/

seriously, it's like having that one friend who's tried everything and isn't afraid to tell you the truth. like that time my friend told me my new haircut looked like a lawnmower accident - but actually helpful.