#Anyways I was hesitant to answer this at all so

[cuntygojo]

everything is romantic ft. armin arlert!

synopsis: a game of cat and mouse gets to be a little too much for armin.

content warning: nerdmin, sub!armin, dom!reader, armin has a tongue piercing, armin is a PERVERT, the glasses stay ON during sex, coming inside, not proofread, prob more but i’m a freakaleak and can’t keep track. wc: 943.

notes: not apologizing for anything that occurs in this fic, i need armin badly!!!!!

poor armin, you’ve been making him play this little game of cat and mouse far too long, and he doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

a day goes by, and you’re purposely leaving your panties on the floor of the bathroom, but you swear up and down it was on accident!

“sorry ‘min, guess i forgot to grab them after my shower.” you’d say, eyelashes batting at him slowly.

“it’s okay, just please— be more careful.”

“i can’t make any promises.”

he sighs, walking back to his room to play overwatch.

no promises kept, the boy catches you changing with your bedroom door open a week later. he didn’t mean to look, he promises, his eyes moved on their own. he can’t help the fact that late at night, he imagines your body, and how soft it would feel— your hands teasing his cock oh so slowly.

by the time he’d start to lose track of it all, he heard something. at first, maybe it could’ve been confused as background noise people use for sleep, but the moans that followed after? definitely couldn’t. it was coming from your room.

fuck.

he tries to ignore it, but god, the way you sound is making him lose his mind. he can’t control the strain of his cock against his plaid sleep pants either. armin tries to think of something— anything to help him right now, but he’s far too distracted by your loud moans. he can’t help the way you sound when you whimper his name is driving him crazy.

he either needed to ignore it until you inevitably decide to torture him again, or finally put an end to your sick teasing.

he hesitates at your door, adjusting his glasses, and a hand hovering over the doorknob. should he knock? should he barge in? he decides on an answer in the middle, opening your door slowly and meticulously, just enough so he can see what you’re doing.

the poor boy nearly lets out an audible gasp at the sight. there you were, in the flesh, vibrator between legs. he’s frozen in shock— but his hard on is saying otherwise. fuck it, he thinks, it’s not like you’ll notice anyways, he speaks to himself as he slides down his boxers just enough to start touching his cock.

“o— oh god armin! you’re s’good, my good boy!”

armins cock twitches, keep calling me that please. his tip is red and sensitive, he’s waited too long to finally make himself feel good like this; thinking— no, seeing you like this is driving him wild. the blonde starts with a slow stroke, his cold hand wrapping around his warm cock, he can’t help but moan. armins eyes widen.

you turn your head to your door, finally noticing him. you let out an airy laugh before speaking,

“armin! took you long enough, come in!”

he gulps and tucks in his painful hard on, walking slowly into your room of the shared apartment.

“uhm, look— i’m really sorry that i—“

before he could finish, you’re standing up to kiss him, tongue slotting perfectly into his mouth. you feel the cold metal that adorns his mouth, giving yourself a second to admire it with your tongue. he lets out a little whine in response, your hand coming up to grasp the back of his neck as you deepen the kiss.

breaking the kiss, you lean him down onto your bed before whispering, “it’s okay, don’t worry.” he’s confused, and moreover aroused, so he lets you take the lead. “since we’re both already eager,” you start, rubbing your hand over his bulge, “why don’t we just skip to the good part?”

armin nods frantically, hands already moving towards your chest— which he’s obsessed with. you waste no time removing his pants, boxers following suit. body moving on its own, you begin to straddle armin, cupping his face in the process. so cute, you think.

“do you want me to fuck you, ‘min?”

eagerness taking over him, he guides his tip near your entrance, shuddering at your wetness. you ease down gently onto his cock with a moan, letting your hands roam as you pull up his shirt. you fingers tweak with his nipple, which is seemingly sensitive, because you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

letting out a giggle, you start to move up and down on him, making him let out a whimper. his hands grasp your hips tightly, almost as if to stop you from moving. he was strong sure, but your dedication to make him cum was stronger.

“listen baby,” you let out a moan, his cock pressing gentle kisses against your walls, “want you to cum inside, ‘kay?” he looks at you with the cutest puppy eyes, all you can do is smile down at him as you continue, “be my good boy ‘n do that for me, please?” it’s almost as if you’re begging for it, but you know he wants it just as you.

he’s thrusting into you as your bouncing gets sloppy, his grip never faltering, and his glasses sliding down his nose. you’re both a moaning mess, armin’s mouth open agape, he just can’t handle the pleasure anymore. for most it would be embarrassing how quick he came, but to you, it was the hottest thing ever.

you felt his cock twitching inside as he came with a whimper, and you quickly follow suit by clenching down onto him, gripping his chest. he starts laughing— laughing, and you were so confused.

“y’know,” he fixes his glasses, “if you wanted to do this from the start, you could’ve said so.”

[prodagustd]

last summer | myg

Summary: Maybe it wasn’t the town, or the sun, or the heat. Maybe it was you all along.

✧ this is a drabble of the road not taken, set during summer before chapter one.

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!reader

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?), slow burn

—warnings/tags: none

—series: the road not taken

—words: 1.3k

—a/note: i wrote and edited this in three hours so forgive me if it's a little rough jfdjfj this was so fun to write, also: the first yoongi pov!!! i wrote this listening to spring into summer by lizzy mcalpine, i felt it was very yoongi coded lmao. anyway remember that drabble requests for trnt are open!! enjoyyy

Four years ago

As Yoongi sat on the edge of Simon’s pool, he had the subtle feeling that he should be doing something else this summer. He knew that graduating didn’t mean the end of his youth—that there would be plenty of opportunities for mini vacations, road trips, travel. But this summer was different. Looking at his pale feet under the water, it felt different.

He had already secured a job at a law firm in town. It felt almost too perfect—it was a good firm, and it was close to home, so he could still be near his mom. And if things went well, in a few months he might even have the chance to bring Simon on board. He wasn’t too worried about the future; he accepted the changes, the passing of time, the transition to full adulthood. But there was a feeling in his chest that told him he should’ve been somewhere else. 

He didn’t have the chance to give it too much thought. He still came back home—and he liked it here. He loved his hometown, and he loved Simon’s house, especially in the summer.

Yoongi had never lived in a big house. He’d always stayed in the same little old apartment, and even though he loved it, he’d always had Simon’s house too. It had been like a second home to him ever since he was a kid.

He knew it by heart: the big living room with the even bigger couch, the giant TV, the kitchen with its island and jars full of cookies and candy, the baby blue curtains, the light wooden stairs that led up to Simon’s blue bedroom, the one with tiny stars on the ceiling that glowed at night. And there was you. You, in your baby peach walls and baby peach sheets, reading your second book of the week, lying in bed with your glasses slipping down your nose.

He used to stop at your door sometimes, just to hear you turn the pages. You would roll onto your elbows, resting your face in your hands, and smile as you asked if he was already tired of your brother. He never answered that question properly. He’d just laugh or shrug, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. Maybe he thought he did. Maybe that was the mistake.

A bee buzzed near his face and snapped him out of it. The pool water shimmered, the sun burned the tip of his nose and the door behind him creaked open, making him turn around. 

It was a surprise to see you up at ten in the morning, but there you were, catwalking along the edge of the pool towards him, with bare legs and an oversized shirt that was probably Simon’s hanging just long enough to barely cover your thighs. Yoongi’s gaze lingered on your messy hair, on the way your collarbone showed where the shirt slipped off one shoulder, the soft curve of your neck exposed by the collar. He realized that he was watching you longer than he meant to. You caught his glance and smiled, and for a second, everything felt a little softer.

“Hey you,” you said, sitting next to him and dipping your feet in without hesitation. The oversized shirt rode up slightly on your legs as you settled in. “What are you doing up so early?”

Yoongi scoffed, his gaze flickering briefly before he looked away. “Ten in the morning is not early.”

“Tell that to Simon.” You shook your head, hair falling loosely over one shoulder. “I don’t think he’s getting up until five minutes before the guys arrive.”

“I knew he was going to make me do all the grilling alone,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, making you laugh. “What are you doing up early, anyway?”

You sighed, pouting  “I’m just enjoying the pool before I get kicked out.” 

Simon had invited some friends to spend the day by the pool. He and Yoongi were going to make a barbecue, and the plan was to get drunk and sunburned. It wasn’t explicitly said that you weren’t invited, but it was clear it was a boys-only gathering. 

Yoongi chuckled softly, clearly softened by your pout. “You’re not getting kicked out,” he said, but you shot him a look that clearly said stop lying.

“He’s not going to be that forward, I’m sure. But as soon as someone mentions a girl he hooked up with, he’s going to make a face and that would be my cue to leave.” You rolled your eyes. “The worst part is, that I don’t even know why! As if I don’t know my own brother, my God.”

Yoongi huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re so dramatic,” he said, glancing at you with a sideways smile. “It’s kind of cute, actually. The way you get all worked up over nothing.”

You bit back a smile, meeting his gaze. “Shut up. You know it’s true.” You murmured.

He nodded toward the grill. “Come on, I need someone to help me with the barbecue. I won’t let you escape.”

You snorted softly, standing up. “You know I’m no scout girl, Yoongi.” 

“Just make me company, then,” he said, a quiet invitation in his voice.

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Alright, fine. I’ll help.” You said. “Under the condition that you won’t let me get kicked out.”

“Fine, I promise.” He said, watching you as you stretched your arms over your head in a lazy arc before tugging the t-shirt over your head and tossing it onto the lounge chair. Beneath it, your beige bikini dotted with little strawberries caught the sunlight—soft, delicate, impossible not to notice.

You started walking towards the other end of the pool, your bare feet tapping softly against the baby blue tiles. The fabric hugged your hips, clinging in places he tried not to look at too long but couldn’t quite ignore. He noticed the curve of your waist, the way your shoulder blades shifted with each step, your collarbones, and how your silver chain rested against your chest, tracing the valley between your breasts. 

Your body moved like you didn’t care who was watching, and maybe that’s what made it worse. 

Or better.

Yoongi watched you quietly, not meaning to, and felt something stir in his chest, not sharp, not urgent, but quiet and deep.

It wasn’t just that you looked beautiful. You always had. It was the way you moved like summer itself, familiar and fleeting. Like this version of you—this moment—would disappear if he blinked.

And maybe that’s what made it ache. 

You paused at the edge of the pool, then glanced back at him over your shoulder.

“But anyway,” you said, your voice light, casual, “doesn’t Simon have a girlfriend now? Or something like that?” A smile tugged at your mouth. “I was hoping you guys won’t be talking about girls like that now.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You just dipped your toes in and slid smoothly into the water, disappearing beneath the surface in one clean motion.

Yoongi swallowed. Hard.

He just sat there, stomach pulling a little tighter than before. The sun was hot, but it wasn’t what made his skin burn.

He cleared his throat and forced a laugh, shaking his head like it was nothing. “Yeah, guess we’ll have to keep it strictly professional then.”

But his eyes stayed fixed on the spot where you’d disappeared beneath the water. His heart wasn’t so sure about professionalism anymore.

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling the weight of the sun—and something heavier, deeper, pulsing quietly in his chest. It felt like it might pull him into the water with you.

[allisluv]

Finnick Odair who considers everything with reader to be his first! Also they never had the chance to properly fairly and safely develop their relationship until probably d13/post rebellion and now he feels the rush and gets nervous and imagines things and whatnot. Do you think in the beginning he’d be confused on why his meticulously crafted Capitol Charmer persona suddenly doesn’t work anymore?

i yapped so bad and idk if any of it makes sense but we move! this is giving me ideas for finnick and shy!wifey ugh i miss them. also this is the first time i've wrote properly in like a month so please be nice or i'll cry (/hj) <3 // tw: mentions of finnick's trauma and slightly nsfw content? idk not really but i'll add it anyway

oh my heart is melting !! finnick is so nervous when he's around you; i am talking palms sweating, heart racing, mouth dry, stumbling over his words kind of nervous--- and that scares him. not that he's scared of you; he's just scared that the persona he's crafted so delicately, so carefully, over the years is beginning to crumble. and honestly? he's got no clue who he is, not after spending years mastering the act of being different people to suit the situation and the people around. he doesn't know how to be finnick. he just know how to survive, and that is by being the capitol darling, by being whoever you want him to be.

after the war, there's a hell of a lot of self-discovery (not only for the victors, but for people as a whole), and the first time finnick and you go out on a date-- a proper one, not a propo for the capitol or thirteen --, he's so nervous that he nearly ends up knocking over a candle and setting the only rebuilt restaurant in four up in flames. hes so nervous that the table shakes as his knee bobs under the table, and when you reach across to take his hand in yours, telling him to relax and just be himself, he doesn't know what to do with that advice.

...because he doesn't know who he is!

there would be a lot of conversations between you and finnick about finding your sense of self again, even when the relationship between the two of you progresses from something sweet and easy-going to something more serious and long-term. finnick would suggest having date nights where the two of you try something new each time in an effort to figure out what you really like and what you were told to like if that makes any sense at all.

and you are so right about finnick classing everything with you as his first! if anyone asks who his first kiss was, he'll answer you without a second of hesitation (because florence in primary school didn't count and the people from the capitol definitely didn't). you were the first person he made love to, the first person he had sex with (yes, there is a difference, especially to him), the first person he genuinely thought about a family and marriage with, and the first person he slept safely beside.

and, boy, does he intend for you to be the last, too.

[repairheartzz]

~His tears~

By me hehe 🙋🏻‍♀️

•first time writing smut and ofc it's for mark Grayson MY DEAREST.

•you know the drill minors do not interact and if you're jealous you can't write something this euphoric keep them comments to yourself ✨.

"warning": smut/ nsfw/ desperado mark/ tears(mark's lol)/ fluff(?)/ sex/ p in v/ female reader/ uhhhhh/ ermmmm/ what else/ nothing?/ Nothing.

Buckle up Bonnie 🐇

I REMEMBERED THIS SONG LOL ANYWAY LEZGO

We're going all in on "His Tears": desperate, shaking, broken Mark Grayson crying while he's inside you, needing you like air, whispering apologies and love between sobs and thrusts.

Chapter 1: The Breaking Point

(Emotional buildup – no spice yet, but it simmers hot beneath)

---

The door slammed.

You jumped—heart spiking—just as you were reaching for your phone to text him again. For hours you’d waited, pacing, calling, checking the news. The GDA feed had been down. The skies over the city stained red. You knew where he was, and you knew what that meant.

And now… he was home.

Your bare feet hit the hardwood as you rushed to the entryway—and then stopped.

Mark stood there. Covered in blood. Not his. His chest rose and fell like he’d run a marathon through hell. One of his gloves was torn, and his hands… his hands were shaking.

His eyes met yours.

And then—he cracked.

The first sound wasn’t a sob. It was a gasp, tight and raw, like he’d been holding his breath for hours and finally broke the surface. He took one step forward and collapsed to his knees. Not from pain, not from wounds—he was strong enough to survive a thousand broken bones.

No. This was something deeper.

You dropped beside him instantly.

“Mark. Mark—baby, talk to me—what happened?”

He didn’t answer. Just wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face into your stomach like a scared child. You felt it then—his shoulders shaking, wet heat soaking through your shirt.

He was sobbing.

And you held him. Rocked him. Ran your fingers through his bloody hair. You didn’t ask for details. Not yet. You just whispered over and over, “I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were red. And he looked so, so young.

“I killed them,” he whispered. “I killed them all.”

Your breath caught.

“They made me. I didn’t have a choice. They would've killed thousands. But…” He choked. “It doesn’t make it easier. It never gets easier.”

You cupped his face. “You did what you had to. You saved people, Mark.”

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

His voice trembled. “I don’t want to feel empty.”

And that’s when you saw it—that shift in his eyes. That need that burned through the pain.

“Let me feel you,” he begged. “Please.”

---

Chapter 2: The First Tear (Next)

You're getting it raw, emotional, soaked in tears and love.

This is Chapter 2: The First Tear — the first kiss, the trembling hands, the breaking point inside you.

---

Chapter 2: The First Tear

(Emotional-intimate / NSFW build-up)

---

“Let me feel you,” Mark whispered again, his voice wrecked.

“Please.”

You should’ve hesitated. Told him he needed rest, or a shower. But the pain in his voice—God, it cut deeper than any wound ever could. He didn’t just want to touch you—he needed you like a dying man needed breath. And you… you would give him anything.

You leaned in.

Your lips brushed his—tentative, trembling, testing.

And he melted.

Mark surged forward, capturing your mouth with a fevered desperation. There was no finesse, no practiced rhythm—just raw hunger, the kind that came from grief and love tangled into one.

His hands moved to your waist, clumsy and shaking. You could feel the dried blood on his skin—yet underneath that, he was so warm. So alive. His fingers gripped your shirt like he was scared you’d vanish if he let go.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses, “I didn’t mean to come here like this—I just—I didn’t know where else to go—”

You shushed him gently, fingers threading through his curls.

“You’re home now. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t remember moving, but suddenly he was under you, lying back on the floor while you straddled his lap. He looked up at you like you were light in the pitch-black. His hands rose to your face, holding you so tenderly it hurt.

“Can I?” he asked, voice cracking.

You nodded.

And then he kissed you again—this time slower, more reverent. His tongue brushed yours, tentative but needy. He tasted like blood and sorrow and desperation. And under you, he was already hard, straining beneath the thin layer of his ruined suit.

Your hips rolled instinctively.

He gasped—shivered.

That was when the first tear fell.

He pulled back, eyes fluttering shut as it slipped down his cheek.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “I saw your building… it was gone for a second. I couldn’t breathe. I—fuck—I thought—”

“Shhh. I’m right here,” you whispered, pressing kisses to his jaw, his cheeks, the soft trail of tears that wouldn’t stop. “I’m here, Mark. I’m not going anywhere.”

He sat up then—suddenly needing to be closer—and kissed you again, feverish and needy. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other gripping your thigh so tight it might bruise.

His voice broke against your lips.

“I need you.”

---

Chapter 3: “Let Me Feel Something”

NSFW / intensely emotional / filthy-soft

---

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts.

“Can I take these off?” he asked, voice so hoarse it barely came out.

You nodded.

And he moved with this reverence—like he wasn’t undressing you, but unwrapping something holy. His hands were shaking as he slid your shorts down your thighs, then your underwear, eyes glimmering with tears he didn’t bother to hide.

“Fuck…” he whispered when you were bare beneath him. “You’re so perfect.”

You sat up, gently pulling at what was left of his suit. Bit by bit, he peeled it off until his chest was exposed—covered in bruises, blood smears, and that familiar vulnerability he only ever showed you.

He kissed you again.

But slower. Deeper. This kiss had weight. Like it carried every life he took today and every second he thought he lost you.

“I missed you,” he whispered against your mouth. “I missed you so fucking much.”

You guided him down with you, lying back on the soft carpet, legs parting just enough to let him settle between them. And when his tip brushed against your entrance, he shuddered—the kind of full-body shiver that came from needing something too much.

He paused.

His forehead touched yours.

And in a voice broken and shaking:

“Please… let me in. I—I need to feel something. I need to feel you.”

You reached up and cupped his tear-streaked face.

“I’m yours,” you said. “Take all of me.”

He pushed in—slowly, painfully gently.

And he sobbed.

Not a whimper. Not a gasp. A full sob, breaking in his throat as he bottomed out.

“God… you feel—fuck—you feel so warm—so real.”

He buried his face in your neck.

“Why do you still want me?” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m a fucking monster.”

“No,” you breathed, holding him tighter. “You’re mine.”

He moved—slow at first, barely thrusting, just grinding deep inside you as if he wanted to merge. Every sound that left him was soaked in emotion:

“F-Fuck, I love you.”

“I thought about this while I was bleeding—I thought about you.”

“You’re the only thing that keeps me human…”

And then the dirty talk came—not cocky or loud, but desperate, aching, like every filthy word was an act of worship:

“You’re so fucking wet for me—fuck—your pussy’s hugging me like it missed me…”

“You take me so good—like you were made for me—God, I missed this pussy—”

“Want me to fuck it better, baby? Want me to fuck the sadness outta both of us?”

You moaned his name as he thrusted harder—still crying, still kissing your neck between each stroke. His hips slapped against yours, deep and controlled, every push an apology, every pull a confession.

“I don’t deserve this,” he choked.

But you pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“You deserve me. All of me. Forever.”

And something in him snapped.

He fucked into you deeper, harder, whispering your name like a prayer between sobs and gasps. And when he came—buried to the hilt, shaking, crying against your chest—he whispered over and over:

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for loving me…”

---

THE END OH I'M TIRED, WHAT DO YOU THINK? did I do good

[bibibbon]

Yang cheng and inescapable grief

I have seen many people express confusion as to why yang cheng went after the original E-soul and as to why he was acting the way he did in this episode, and the answer to that is grief.

Yang cheng lost his parents at a very young age, yet from what the show tells us, we can infer that this memory heavily haunts him and is one of his earliest memories in childhood. The loss of his parents inadvertently led to him being bullied, viewed as worthless, and what caused him to have such a low trust value point as well as having low self-esteem. All of that suffering because E-soul was too slow. All of that grief and the ability to have a normal life snatched cruelly because the system was broken because no one helped him in time.

However, even with that, the fact that E-soul still managed to save him and even asked for his name acted as a shining hope in Yang cheng's heart a cure to the ache of loss and a small reassurance that there is more to come and the future is bright. It is that encounter that fully solidifies the faith that Yang cheng has for E-soul and makes him want to become like E-soul.

E-soul haunts Yang cheng's narrative, and at this point, he is all that Yang cheng has. The doll that his parents got him was an E-soul doll. His parents wished for him to be as brave as E-soul. He was saved by E-soul, and everything around him revolves around E-soul, even his job. In a way, it's like a symbol and its believer. E-soul and Yang cheng.

Even the first time in a decade, Yang cheng forms meaningful relationships they are centred around E-soul in one way shape or form. Little pomelo sticks to Yang cheng due to his interest in E-soul and him applying to the competition, xia qing is captivated by the Yang cheng behind the E-soul mask and Shang chao makes his move after realising that the E-soul actor with now a rising trust point is Yang cheng. Even if E-soul failed him in not being fast enough, he saved Yang cheng, gave him hope, and manifested that hope into a reality where Yang cheng finally gained those he cares for. A reality where he has trust value points, a reality too good that he still deems it a dream.

After years of loss, Yang cheng finally gains, and it's sweet too sweet to last. At this point, yang chengs self-esteem and sense of self-worth and overall self has become so hooked and revolved around being the perfect E-soul. He could truly act himself and show a side he couldn't when he wore that E-soul mask when he was acting. Yang cheng found gain and solace in being E-soul his whole self worth depended on it. The more people he was able to save, the more he felt worthy of love, trust, and felt useful. The more Yang cheng embodied the role of the speedy electric hero, the more he felt worthy the more society deemed him worthy. In a way its like a worshipper being rewarded for their devotion to their deity.

And then it all comes crashing down with shang chao's death. Shang chao's death acted as a catalyst for yang cheng in multiple ways. Yang cheng wasn't fast enough to stop the shooter. He hesitated and failed to save his friend. While yang cheng sums this up to him being jealous, I don't think it was just jealousy keeping him back, but I believe that yang cheng fully views his failure being due to jealousy. Yang cheng is an unreliable narrator!! His failure was because he wasn't fast enough, but jealousy causing hesitation isn't the only factor that could have caused it and he didn't want shang chao to die he spends the rest of the episode beating himself up over it to the point that he drives himself to insanity trying to avenge shang chao in anyway possible.

Shang chao's death caused Yang chengs self-esteem to come crashing down. He is a failure of a hero, and he couldn't play the role of E-soul properly. He was too late, and his increasing hatred of himself manifested in his newfound hatred for the original E-soul. A hero who failed, a hero who caused death first it was his parents now shang chao. How many more have to die due to heroes' selfishness? Yang cheng loses all trust in himself, and that causes for him to also lose all trust in E-soul, which is only regained when he beats E-soul and deems himself as worthy of that role.

Another reason as to why shang chao's death acts as a catalyst is because he also starts to believe that his hero is the reason he lost. He starts to believe that it was his deity that caused him to lose his friend, and it drives him over the edge. Human loss due to human greed and capitalism and with the truths that Enlightner states yang cheng is driven to the edge, claiming that he must take full responsibility and challenge the original E-soul who in his eyes represents the flaws of the system.

The looming sense of responsibility and duty that was once what made Yang cheng feel useful acts as a crushing weight on his shoulders that makes him vulnerable,desperate, and easily manipulatable to the point he views that it would be much more simpler for everyone to become weights and play a role in society for it to function perfectly.

Due to his overwhelming guilt, Yang cheng chooses to become a puppet and advises the public to follow in his footsteps so society can run smoothly. When asked by xia qing if this is the path he is willing to take he tries explaining that this is the only path he has (unreliable narrator) indicating his sense of responsibility and duty has encompassed him to an unhealthy degree that he fully believes that challenging E-soul and killing him or being killed by him is the only way possible to serve justice.

In the end, even if Yang cheng was killed by og E-soul (which wasn't the case), he would have died knowing that he tried. He didn't hesitate, and he would have attuned for his mistakes, leaving the world with no guilt.

Alas, I believe that the reason yang cheng didn't react to finding out that Uncle Rock is the founder is because he has accepted himself as a puppet a simple weight that is moved to balance a horrible system and it is why he probably accepted orders and killed moon because that's what a puppet does it follows orders no matter what so society functions smoothly. Yang cheng doesn't want to suffer the conceuqnces of breaking the rules because the cost was too great, the cost was shang chao, xia qing and everything he gained that was then painfully ripped away from him and sent him spiralling like a mad man.

[lilousmustaches]

Bloody Nightmare

Warnings: Nightmares; Period; Blood.

Notes: So a fandom a day... how's that sound? I'm feeling creative and reexploring old fandoms (since i finished all Sebastian's fics LOL). I've always wanted to write some Levi but never got it right. Just thought about a little scene and it came to life. Enjoy!

Summary: Levi wakes up from a nightmare to an empty, bloody bed and you nowhere to be seen.

Levi’s dreams were never kind.

How could they be in this lifetime? For a long period he thought all he was destined to know was pain, blood and sorrow. He even avoided sleeping when he could. It was a waste of time and a vulnerability anyways… until you appeared.

He knew what were going to be the consequences of letting someone in. All the constant worry that was going to blind him, and yet, he let it happen. You didn’t give him much of a choice really. It started with desperates nights of lust and seek of comfort and before he could stop it, he found himself worrying a little bit more about of your safety in the battle field, saving food so you could eat properly, letting you pass the night in his quarters after both of you having fucked out the outside world worries.

Now, he couldn’t even remember the last time you didn’t sleep in his bed by his side.

He got used to having nightmares of losing you, knowing so damn well that now this was his biggest fear. But tonight they were brutal. Dangerously graphic. Dangerously vivid.

He was running through a haze of smoke and blood, the sky burning with titan foam. His boots slammed against cobblestones slick with something he didn’t want to identify. All he could hear was your voice - screaming. Not in pain, but in terror. And then he saw you. Limp in his arms, blood soaking through your Survey Corps’ uniform.

Your eyes wide and lifeless. Your mouth still moving, whispering his name one last time before everything went black.

He woke up gasping.

His heart was pounding, lungs desperate for air that refused to come. He sat up abruptly, sweat clinging to his skin. The sheets twisted around his legs like a trap.

“(Y/n)?” Levi murmured, his voice low and rough. His eyes slowly adapting to the dark ambience of his room only illuminated by the moonlight.

He frowned when there was no response.

Quickly his hands started searching the space beside him where you're supposed to be, and his heart, that was starting to calm down from the horrifying dream, increased its beating in an impressive speed.

Your spot was cold. Empty.

Then he saw a smear of dark red on the sheets making his breathing stop.

Blood.

“Shit.” Levi cursed getting out of the bed in seconds. The fear returned like a hammer to his chest. He took a breath, trying to think straight and scanned the room: your boots were still by the door, your jacket forgotten on the chair, the windows closed. No sign of a struggle. And also no sound. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper, he was sure that if something had happened, he would have woken up. Wouldn't he?

He moved fast, bare feet silent on the wooden floor as he stalked toward the bathroom’s door in his room. Levi only noticed a faint light spilled beneath it before barging into it, without knocking.

You faced each other with wide eyes, both confused for different reasons. You were sitting in the bathtub, steam curling around you, hair in a messy bun.

“What the hell happened?” His voice cracked, low and desperate. He stepped into the room without hesitation, kneeling beside the bathtub. Levi cupped your cheeks with his slightly shaky hands. “Are you hurt?”

“What?” You whispered, still confused about his sudden interruption of your bath. “What- Levi, no. I’m fine”

His eyebrows frowned slightly one more time and he started to scan your body to find answers. Any sight of injuries that could have caused the stain. He could see your naked body through the water tinged faintly pink but what really got his attention were your arms hugging your lower belly. Oh.

“You got your period.” Levi sighed when it finally clicked in his head. His shoulders went down partly relieved, partly annoyed with himself for not getting it sooner.

“I woke up with really bad cramps.” You explained almost timidly starting to understand your boyfriend’s reaction. “I swear I tried to clean up the mess I made, but I couldn't change the sheets while you were sleeping…”

“Tch.” He exhaled slowly, finally feeling his heartbeat go back to normal. Levi gave you a light kiss on the forehead, exhausted, before getting up and exiting the bathroom, giving you privacy.

You let out a soft sigh, leaning back into the bathtub as you let your heart rate settle. At first, you thought he might be annoyed with you but giving it a second though - you knew there was more to that.

After some last minutes enjoying the heat of the water, you gathered courage to step out, wrapping yourself in a towel. It was a surprise when you found the bedroom already stripped: bloodied sheets gone, mattress cleaned. Fresh linen already halfway done.

“You didn’t had to do that” You exclaimed softly and he snorted, like he was telling you to shut up. He finished tucking the corners with military precision (Or maybe it was just Levi’s methodical personality) and indicated you the clean clothes he had separated, folded in the chair. Panties, black sweatpants and one grey oversized long sleeved shirt of his. 

“Be right back.” He mumbled quietly passing through you, opening the front door of his bedroom that leaded to his office. You slowly got dressed still feeling some sharps pains in your stomach. Although it wasn’t like this subject was common among your girlfriends, through the years you eventually learned that you felt your period harder than the most. But honestly, considering all you went through in the daily Survey Corps’ routine, you always tried to not make this a big deal. You never even dared to say you were suffering from this little detail. 

Levi returned just when you sat on the bed, your back against the headboard, making yourself comfortable under the blanket. You noticed a steaming mug in his hand.

“Ginger tea.” He said simply handing you the mug. “Good for cramps.”

“How the fuck do you-“ You stopped mid phrase realizing that this was Levi. Of course he would know what to do. Of course he would know how to take care of you. “Thank you, darling.” 

The pet name, hardly never used in your relationship, slipped your lips before you could stop yourself. It felt appropriate to the feeling that warmed your chest when saw him being so careful towards you, a soft side of him that was reserved only for you. 

“Sure.” He nodded sleepy, not seeming to mind the use of the pet name. Levi sat down besides you, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. He put his hand in your tight, starting to draw circles there with his thumb while you stayed quiet for some minutes, just appreciating the tea and the caress. 

“You had a nightmare,” You said gently, finally evoking the subject.  “You thought I was bleeding out.” 

You tried continuing when he stayed quiet and you saw his jaw tightened. 

“You were. In my dream. I couldn’t stop it. You were just… gone.” Levi admitted finally opening his eyes to stare at you. There were so much fragility in his grey eyes, that made your heart ache. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” You apologized letting the mug, now empty, in the headboard and moving your hand to squeeze his. You knew your reaction would be the same or worse if it was you that had woken up to an empty bloody bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He looked down at your joined hands for a moment, before saying anything. 

“Don’t ever try to handle it alone again. Not if you’re in pain. Not if something’s wrong. I don’t care if it’s blood or a damn papercut. Wake me up.” Levi said with his usually hard unbothered expression, and you couldn’t stop from noticing the drops of authority tone he used. Captain’s voice. 

“I didn’t want to be a burden.” You admitted and his expression softened.

“You’re not. You never are.” 

“It happens every month, it’s not a big deal.” You brushed it off although his words were still lingering in your head. 

“No big deal but bleeds to the point of staining half of the bed and needing a hot bath to ease the pain.” He scoffs almost with a humorless laugh. “Inside of here you don’t need to hide these kind of things, (Y/N). Not from me.”

The honestly and urgency in his voice makes you stop. This man really did find his owns ways of saying ‘I love you’ to you everyday. You immediately put your hand in the back of his neck pulling him to a long chaste kiss, one that he happily accepted. 

“Brat.” He whisper with his lips still glued to yours, making you chuckle. “C’m here, let’s try to sleep, I’m tired.” 

He grumbled adjusting his position to lay in the bed, pulling you by your waist, connecting your back to his chest.

“I’m here.” You whispered reassuring him, pulling his hand to your lips, leaving a sightly kiss there. 

He squeezed carefully his hand in your belly, leaving it there in hope that his warm would make you feel a little better. 

His quiet way of saying he was there too.  

[trulybetty]

once is all it takes | II : smoke & exhaust fumes

pairings: eventual jack abbot x f!reader, f!reader x emery walsh, jack abbot x emery walsh, jack abbot x f!reader x emery walsh word count: 704 warnings: smoking, emery comes with her own warning, pushing our feelings down, no beta, mistakes are my own, this is the plot before the smut, I can't help myself ao3: linked ⤷ series masterlist

You hate smoking.

Always have. The taste, the smell—the way it lingers in your hair, clothes, skin—long after the cigarette is out.

But when you’d stepped outside, Lena had been there already on a smoke break. She’d taken one look at you and offered you a smoke, her expression unreadable. She didn’t ask why you needed one. You hadn’t hesitated accepting it.

The air is heavy. Summer nights in Pittsburgh don’t run as hot as the day, but the heat clings anyway—humid and low. Out in the ambulance bay, it’s thick with exhaust and leftover adrenaline. Your ID badge bumps against your thigh when you shift your weight. You exhale and let the smoke trail out from between your lips.

It tastes like regret already.

The trauma doors to the emergency department hiss open behind you.

You don’t have to look to know it’s Emery.

She doesn’t say anything. Just walks up and stands next to you like this is something the two of you do on the regular. Like it’s not gone two in the morning, and you didn’t watch her nearly square off with Jack Abbott over a patient bleeding out between them.

You pass her the cigarette without a word.

She takes it, lifts it to her lips, inhales slow.

Holds.

Exhales.

Then hands it back.

You take it, flick the ash to the ground. “Why aren’t you in the OR?”

“B team was already prepped and scrubbed in.”

You nod.

There’s a pause.

“So,” you say, voice low, “we going to talk about what happened in there?”

Emery doesn’t answer.

Not at first.

She crosses her arms at her chest as a means to do something with her hands, more so than anything else.

Then, finally: “It was just me and Jack. The usual. Nothing to it.”

You let out a breath of smoke that turns into more of a laugh. “That was not the usual Emery, and you know it.”

She rolls her eyes, not at you. Just upward, like maybe there’ll be an intervention from something higher up that will save her from this conversation.

You press your tongue to the back of your teeth, “You going to tell me what that was?”

Emery shrugs, “He was wrong. Then he wasn’t. That’s what happens.”

“That’s not what happened at all.”

Another shrug.

This one tighter. Defensive. It pisses you off.

You let the silence stretch and breathe between the two of you.

When she doesn’t make an effort to fill it. You do.

“Jack was rattled. You were rattled. That’s not your thing. That’s not either of your things.”

“I’m fine.” Emery replies, too quick. Too clipped. Which means she’s anything but.

“Didn’t say you weren’t.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

It’s your turn to shrug, “I’m not having it. I’m just making observations.”

You can feel her glare at you as you take another drag of your cigarette, but you continue to look out at the poorly parked car half-blocking the bay—one security’s definitely going to tow before sunrise.

Emery sighs, “I’m tired,” she says.

You nod, “Me too.”

Emery takes the cigarette back, holds on to it, watching it burn for a moment before taking a deep drag.

“I didn’t think Jack was wrong.”

You glance at her, “But?”

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t like that he wasn’t.”

You hum an acknowledgement, but you don’t answer.

Because this is the thing.

If you were to talk about it—really talk about it—you’d have to say words like trust and instinct, and maybe you don’t hate him as much as you say you do.

You’d have to ask questions you’re not ready to hear answers to.

So instead, you take the cigarette back.

Flick the ash before taking a last drag and grind it out in the ashtray on the wall.

Instead, you say, “Come on. I need to get out of here and get some sleep. Let’s go pretend we don’t hate our jobs for a few more hours.”

Emery snorts, “You mean I have to work and repress?”

You smile, but you don’t look at her. “Welcome to my world.”

She follows you inside without another word.

[dailyreverie]

Hi bb 🥰 if you feel so inspired, maybe this prompt with Poe?:

a last-second kiss right before one of them is betrothed to someone else.

Please and thank you 😊🙏

Hiii my friend! thank you so much for your request! I really enjoyed coming up with and writing this one, and I hope you like it too, even if it is a tiny bit angsty... sorry about that.

The days when you were mine

Note: kind of based on the song "Peter" from Taylor Swift, I suggest listening to it while reading. Also, title comes from that same song.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x f!reader (reader is mentioned to be a bride)

a last-second kiss right before one of them is betrothed to someone else.

Word count: 1.2 k

Warnings: Cheating, light mentions of death (just a tiny one mention).

“Brides are not supposed to be sad on their wedding day.” The voice at the door startles you a bit. You wipe your tears as well as you can, but wiping away tears for 3 days straight can get tricky. You turn to see Poe leaning by the door, leather jacket and tousled curls not helping you at all with your current emotions.

“Well, brides are not supposed to do what I did last week with you,” you try to joke, but it only comes out with sadness, making your chin wobble again as you remember what you did - what you both did. “Or 2 days ago.” It sounds like a punch line when you say it with a teary laugh, but all it does is punch you on the ribs.

Poe smiles anyway, a tight smile that tries to comfort you, but once more, all it does is throw you off your feet. “You look beautiful.” He tries, but only gains an exasperated sigh from you.

“What are you doing here?” His eyes travel up and down your body, not daring to take a step closer to you, hesitation visible even on his always sure stance for a change.

“Well, you invited me-” 

“And I thought you were not coming, not after we slept together, Poe-“

“Don’t do it.” He finally blurts it out, the words he seemed to be holding onto since you saw him again, words that remained unspoken between you two since your first encounter three weeks ago, after a lifetime of waiting for him to return. Talk about timing. 

“You can’t say that,” You snarled.

“Don’t marry him.” Poe insisted.

“It’s a little bit late for that, Poe.” You tried to stay strong, but tears blur your sight again, tears of anger this time. “You are late, actually.”

“We said we’ll wait, we promised,”

“So I was just supposed to wait until you were done being a hero and finally decided to return home? Is Yavin even home to you anymore?” You waited for an answer that you knew was not coming. “Because I waited, Poe.” You admit, as much as it hurt to do so, as embarrassing as it was to say it out loud. “You joined the Republic, and I waited, because we promised, but then I waited, and waited, and waited…” You took a deep breath to calm the fire that was beginning to boil in your stomach. “And then I heard from your dad that you were in the Resistance.” It came almost as a question, an angry demand.

Poe stayed quiet because even if he wanted to reply, he had no words to do so. He didn’t even flinch; he took every deserving, angry word and stood firm to receive it.

“I mourned you so many times that when I saw you for the first time again that day, I thought I was going mad, that I was seeing ghosts.” You chuckled at yourself. “And then, the days were I learned you were not dead it was even worse, because you said- no, you promised, you would come find me, and I kept thinking, what did I do wrong?” 

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Poe rushed to you when a sob interrupted you, holding your arms and rubbing them up and down. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Calloused fingers wiped your tears, and it took everything in you not to lean into his touch.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wait any longer, but I was tired of hoping every ship that went through the sky would be you. And then I met-” You couldn’t even say his name, as if it would burst the bubble Poe and you lived in. “I met him, and I was happy again. I knew I was never going to be able to forget about you, but I could be happy with him.” You regretted the second you looked into his eyes again, because they were the same eyes you fell in love with when you were just teens, and the same eyes you dreamt of every night since.

“I never, ever, stopped thinking about you. And I didn’t want to bring you to the mess that was that war. There were so many moments when I thought ‘now, I can do it now’, because I couldn’t stand the feeling of thinking you could ever be in danger, and that maybe I would be able to protect you, but it all kept getting worse and worse and… and it was no place for you, I couldn’t do that to you,” he trailed off, his eyes relieving every moment in which his very soul lost a little bit of hope. “I always asked my dad about you, y’know?” He chuckled at his admission, and the sound of it made you smile too.

“He mentioned it,” You smiled through your tears.

“He would always say you were keeping everyone together, holding the front, keeping everyone’s hopes alive. As you always did.” His thumb caressed your cheek again, catching a stray tear. You smiled at each other then, mourning the years together you lost as you saw they went by anyway, showing themselves in the few gray hairs on his beard and the lines that appeared on the corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“I guess we did our best from our edges of the galaxy.” You knew the sad smile on his face was only a mirror of yours, and you caved then, if only because you couldn’t bear to feel sad anymore. You turned to kiss his palm, lingering your lips there as your hands clung to his wrists. He seized the moment to close the distance and kiss your cheek, his lips were quick then to travel to your jaw, below your ear, your nose, every spot they could kiss, until he met your lips and stayed there, cupping your jaw and kissing you just as he had done so many times already these past days were you would find your way to his place at night.

You broke apart without moving far from each other. You knew, right then, held in between his now stronger arms, that he was not planning on letting go. “Do you love him?” He asked in a whisper, almost against your lips, without any hint of remorse.

“Poe,” You whispered his name, finding his eyes, almost begging him to take his question back.

“Just tell me that. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you love him, and I will turn around and leave.”

“I have to,” You said after a beat, clearly thinking of what to say, even if you said so only because it was the right thing to do. Because you were not going to do to him what Poe did to you, even if it broke your heart to see his eyes still waiting for the answer that he was hoping for, the answer you knew was true.

But his hands let go of you then, taking a step back, and giving you one last look. You shared a look from across the room, a look that told you he understood, but that he was heartbroken anyway, not doing much better than you were. “I won’t watch you get married,” He stated, his voice breaking at the last word, his head shaking from side to side. “But I do hope you are happy-”

“Poe.” You interrupted, your voice firm and clear, as your thoughts had become so too in a matter of seconds. “Give me 30 minutes.”

**

So he waited. 20 minutes had gone by when you found him outside, your shoulders shaking as you walked towards him, but once you reached his side, he could see you visibly relaxing and the most beautiful smile showing on your lips, the same smile he fell in love with. 

“I’m done waiting.” You concluded, barely able to finish talking as he grabbed your waist and pulled you to him, kissing you with a smile as the sunset shone on you.

🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀🌟🚀

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed!

[doctorsiren]

I saw an interesting post a while back that said “Capcom made us [Miles and Diego/Godot] only have like two(?) interactions because they knew we would be unstoppable with a brother dynamic” and tbh it stuck with me bc it was intriguing.

So yeah that potential brotherhood, but that Godot/Diego AU I made (that I still need a name for)

Also I bet Gregory Edgeworth would have smelled like a bit like coffee, and so Diego just reminds Miles of that comforting presence 😭 (the von Karma estate was a tea household, so he didn’t smell much coffee after DL-6 and didn’t realize how much he missed it/reminded him of his father)

[sergle]

What is a jelly? In your patreon

Jelly is referring to literal jellies and jams! I have fruit trees / bushes in my yard and sometimes there's a large batch, and I send jars of that to patrons.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

sometimes i don't even have a concrete explanation behind disliking an episode. sometimes it just sits weird in my gut. is that not reasoning enough?

[getosugurusbangs]

hioreo thoughts... please..... but take your time fi you nedd.........

okay okay i hear you guys 😭😭

here’s my thoughts on them 🫡 just for you guys

they’re really not a warranted ship, but do i care? not really, no 💀

while i encourage hiori and reo as a pairing here, i still actually think nagi has to have been in the picture. i don’t really think that they’d end up working as a pair if it weren’t for reo going through nagi in the universe this is happening in. because obviously no one (but especially hiori) would want nor need to be taken care of to the extent that nagi does/did, it’d make for a good teachable moment for reo, and also provide more ways to change and move on from him y’know. he can’t try and do the same thing(s) as he did with nagi again, just with someone else.

not necessarily that i think reo would immediately resort to treating everyone he’s closer with in the same way, but it wouldn’t surprise me to see those same behaviors bleeding into other relationships, y’know?

i think a relationship (of whatever kind) between the two of them could definitely inspire both overall personal growth, and potentially developing a new way of viewing football.

on a more fun note though. they’re both nice, they’ve both got shitty parents, they have the same blood type, they both have almost normal hair except for one minor part of it that throws the rest of the style off…. they have many things to bond over!

anyways. live footage of the boyfriends

[chaosduckies]

Do you think you'd get along with your OCs even if they knew you created all their problems and trauma?

Thought this was the best way to explain it-

I think the ones I give the most trauma to would be terrified of me and the others would be like “OH HECK NO STAY AWAY YOU’RE NOT TRAUMATIZING THEM ANYMORE!” And then they’d probably beat me up- (I imagine Ryker scooping up Nathan to get him away from me-)

safe to say I would want to get along with them but they would never allow it 😅

thank you for the ask anon!

[edelbleu]

you know, even tho some people seem to think that reo's actions were selfish, i kind of get him tho... i'm not justifying him lashing out to nagi, but i do recognize that he did it 'cause he was hurt, and it's completely fine to feel like that. no one wants to be left behind by someone we hold so dearly, it's not selfish (even tho we all know nagi's intention wasn't to hurt him, he just wanted what was best for both). i think their main problem is their miscommunication, nagi failing to express to reo his true intentions and thus hurting him, and reo not being able to see past his insecurities and pain.

their relationship is a really interesting one. sorry for the rant! just wanted to add my two cents abt them ♡ really love your blog!

You're so right, anon!

I totally agree with the notion that Reo isn't the one in the wrong for their fight - neither is Nagi. It's a failure on both their parts to properly communicate and express their true feelings.

I don't think Reo's reaction is disproportionate at all - let's face it, when I first watched (yes, I'm an anime first) the scene where Nagi joins Isagi's team, I gasped out loud, because I knew something huge had just happened, and I knew Reo wouldn't be happy about it. I think that was the intended reaction for that moment; it comes as a shock for the audience, so it must've been even worse for Reo!

At the moment Reo doesn't even lash out, he shuts down and tells Nagi "to do whatever he wants", which I actually think is a much more mature answer rather than start losing it in front of them. We now know thanks to Episode Nagi that he cries after that, and well - he just lost (or he believes he's lost) the person he's been building his future dream around for the last 6 months... of course he's upset!

And really, if we hadn't gotten to see Nagi's pov of that moment.... we wouldn't have known he was doing it for their sake, either. Sure, in the main manga you get the idea in later episodes that he doesn't hold any kind of grudge against Reo and that he actually looks forward to seeing him again, but... from a third person pov, it looks like a solo move, with the goal of "I want to get stronger", not "I want to get stronger so that we can reach our dream."

And the first option would've been totally fine too, but man, cut Reo some slack. He deserves to be a bit upset. Later things get worse before they get better, and I believe that's due to Reo having too much time to wallow in self-pity and listen to his insecurities.

Reo's denial -> depression -> anger -> acceptance emotional pipeline is really well-written IMO.

In the end, I think their behavior is... human, and very realistic at that. I was genuinely impressed to see such a complex dynamic between two characters in a shounen about football of all things, and honestly, that's what got me hooked.

TL;DR: Reo isn't selfish, he's insecure, and Nagi didn't help him realize he wasn't just moving on without him.

[queenerdloser]

one of my reference letter writers got back to me today to say she was done with my letter but the links on the schools spreadsheet i sent her weren't working (they were just links to the dept websites), so i scrambled to get links emailed to her to upload her letter to interfolio and the like four schools i'm submitting to that don't use interfolio (boo). and that was this afternoon (i responded within an hour to her email) but so far nothing's been uploaded and i'm like... pls upload them pls now i'm super nervous she's going to struggle with the like technical aspect of getting letters uploaded. praying and hoping she uploads this weekend bc then i've got one letter on lockdown.

[elegyofthemoon]

raspberry and a little void ✨

HI BRANNN I HOPE UR DOING OKAYYY i also dont remember how we became mutuals but i love seeing you around you keep doing you buddy love seeing ur passion for ferdibert 💪🏼💪🏼