#Concept Photo LIE

[laymilleestudio-archivememories]

H1-KEY [LOVE or HATE] Concept Photo LIE

[seokmattchuus]

Can we talk about that “current ranking reveal”? It must’ve been an early April Fools joke cuz it had the whole, “Go girl! Give us nothing!” vibe. At the same time, m-snake seems to be setting the G-groupers up for a downfall by revealing two in the top 9 while several K-groupers fell, including the sharp drop of Gyu Vin…

Mnet's been shitty to g-group this whole time. From the fucking beginning. Not to mention the whole concept photos they dropped so that it could hint at who to vote for. With the lineup they want, they'll really make another kepler (not aiming for outside-of-the-show success) Like, they really just want 8 koreans and zhang hao at this point.

[bigbossbigbossbigboss]

her name is aisling and all i have of her is this very messy sketch that i only did because i needed her out of my mind and into this plane of existence asap

[icarus-suraki]

I don't like wading into Ao3 debates, but I want to give my professional opinion on Ao3 with regard to archives vs. libraries.

I am a professional librarian (MSLS) and I have worked in both archives and public libraries and a lot of the confusion and concern I see surrounding Ao3 is a fundamental misunderstanding of How Archives Work.

An archive is a collection related to a subject. That subject is often a person but sometimes a field or concept or project. And the purpose of an archive is to keep everything. And I mean everything. I was going to say "short of biohazards" but since I know there's a sealed R. Crumb Devil Gal chocolate bar in the UNC Chapel Hill archives, we really do mean everything.

When a collection of materials--which are usually unique and original and can be photos, manuscripts, letters, recordings (audio and/or visual), notes and notebooks, objects, published books, whatever--on and/or from the subject arrive at the archive, they are examined, preserved for longevity, accessioned and cataloged (added to the archive's records), and added to the archive. You measure collections in linear feet. As in, once it's all preserved and boxed and secure, you note how many feet of shelf space it takes up. And some of y'all on Ao3 have a lot of linear feet to your name (and I'm proud of you).

This is an archive: it is designed to preserve the original materials related to a subject. That is its purpose. Archives are how we have the original scroll manuscript of On the Road, for example, or the Lomax recordings of American folksongs, or Tijuana Bibles, or James Joyce's loveletters to Nora.

Now you, a member of the public, can access some archives. Some are easier to access than others. The one I worked in was open to the public; good luck getting into the British Archives without a good reason.

So now apply this to Ao3--which is an archive both in name and in purpose. It is intended to preserve fan-created content long term. And this means everything, whether you personally like the materials or not. It is a repository for as much as possible.

And the "whether you personally like the materials or not" is important, hence why I mentioned Jim's loveletters and Tijuana Bibles in particular. (RIP Jim, you would have loved pegging.)

If it's made by fans and it exists, we should keep it to document the history and progression of fandom. That is the point. We have lost enough materials related to the subject of fans of media and we don't need to lose any more.

The fact of the matter is that Ao3 is only one facet of the OTW, which preserves other fan-related materials (convention booklets and zines, for example). Somehow Ao3, an archive on the subject of fanfiction, has been divorced from the rest of the project, mostly by way of "purity culture" and panic over "dangerous" fiction.

The fact that you can go through an archive and find interesting information is the other side of archives. No, they shouldn't be like the banker's box of old letters stuffed in my closet. Yes, they should be organized and as accessible as is appropriate for the state of the materials.

It's really, really cool to find stuff in an archive, I'm not even going to lie. I have done it before and I will do it again. And yet there are other items in an archive that I might not want or need or be interested in at all--but they're still there. That's the cataloging and accessioning: to keep up with what's there, to stay "on topic" with collecting, and to be able to find things in that archive. Bless the tag wranglers who are doing the cataloging at Ao3.

The pearl clutching seems to come from 1. the creation of "dangerous" fanworks and 2. public access to those "dangerous" fanworks. These are issues of "purity culture" and opinions on censorship and should not involve Ao3.

Ao3, under the umbrella of the OTW, is a documentation and preservation project first and foremost.

[fingertipsmp3]

Is it just me who cannot figure out their colour season

[arielleslipgloss]

How to Genuinely Enjoy Being Alone!

(none of these photos are mine)

“You can’t be afraid of what people are gonna say, because you’re never going to make everyone happy.” - Selena Gomez

Be nice to yourself! Nobody likes being around someone rude. Therefore, you should be kind to yourself, treat yourself well, compliment yourself, etc. Plus, you can’t enjoy hanging out with yourself if you’re talking badly about yourself!

2. Romanticizing being with yourself! Buy yourself flowers, have a picnic, make a fort, watch a movie, etc. Think of yourself as a main character spending alone time. Maybe your character journals/draws in their bed. Maybe they read outside and enjoy nature! Whatever it is, romanticize your WHOLE life.

3. Stop planning, start acting! You’re gonna have to get out of your comfort zone for this one. Start to do little solo dates WHENEVER! If you have free time, spend it with yourself. A lot of people plan and never do it. So, just start hanging out with yourself at random times without planning. Like right now you could make yourself a little drink and watch a movie. That is if you have time, of course!

4. Go on solo dates!! Solo dates are one of the best things to do for enjoying alone time. You don’t even need to go out anywhere if you don’t want to. Which makes them also super easy to do. All you need to do is pick a fun activity you love and enjoy. Then, make a little setup wherever and lastly enjoy! As for solo dates being AMAZING they really help with lonelinesses. It does take time, but doing something you love with yourself is so beautiful. The whole concept of a solo date is mind blowing and breathtaking. I will always recommend to go on solo dates. They’re life changing, and I say this from experience.

5. Trust, never lie, and take care of yourself! Trusting yourself, never lying to yourself, and taking care of yourself. You see how these three things all include you? Well, you need to commit to these things….for yourself. It’s all for you and your well-being!! Now think about it this way, should you trust, tell the truth, and take care of someone you love? Yes, you should! So, be there for yourself and you will find peace in being alone.

“I’m smart, I’m capable, I’m a fast learner, and resourceful.” - Georgia Miller

I love you sm dolls! Remember to take care of yourself and stay pretty 🎀

xoxo, Arielle 💋

[merakiui]

mera im curious...what is the most pathetic and desperate virgin concept u can come up with for any boys you choose in twst??

I have so many that I will try to write pathetic virgin concepts for each twst guy!!! >:)

✧ Riddle who gets off to your notes. It doesn't matter how messy or neat they may be, how filled or lacking the page may be, or even how useful they may be if the exam covering that material has already happened. He knows it's wrong to have pilfered your notebook, but he couldn't help it and he assured himself he'd give it back under the pretense of having found it (which isn't entirely a lie). He sits back in his chair and flips slowly through the pages, not particularly reading the material you've written, as he idly fucks into his hand and pictures diligent you, sitting in class and penning notes. There are doodles in the margins of the pages: cute flowers, smiley faces, hearts, what looks to be Grim. He thinks about how you hold your pen, how you might chew on the cap when you're bored, how your hands also touched this very notebook... Great Seven, he's a mess.

✧ Trey who is so strangely fixated on your teeth and mouth. At first it was cute because he's so serious about dental hygiene, what with how he ensures Ace and Deuce brush their teeth properly. But with you it's different. When you smile, he pictures your teeth in his shoulder or your mouth on his neck, pressing kisses or sucking fresh marks into his skin. And when you're eating, he notes the way you lick your fork or spoon clean every time and it gives him such a vivid image of you giving his dick the cutest, most gentle kitten licks. He has to excuse himself before anyone finds out he's painfully hard. >_<

✧ Cater who gets off to the many selfies and photos he's taken with and of you. Sometimes he scours the other students' Magicam accounts to look at the photos they've posted of you and his mind runs wild with thoughts and what-ifs. That photo of you sitting between the twins during their birthday party has him wondering if they fucked you on that very couch after the festivities had worn down. Or that photo of you and Kalim sopping wet after the both of you got caught in the rain... He's zooming in to see if the rain's made your uniform shirt see-through all while thinking about how you and Kalim may have warmed up. Cater can't seem to look at pictures of you without thinking about sex, and it's even worse when he sees the pictures he's taken of you and him. A spaghetti scene you recreated from a popular romance film has him imagining what could have happened had you just leaned in a little closer. Or that one alchemy mishap in which you were turned into a tiny fairy for the day... if he put you in a jar....... :)

✧ Ace who gets off on teasing you. They say partial truths often lie in the joke, and Ace sure does love joking about very specific things when it comes to you. He drives you mad every time, but because the two of you are close friends he gets away with it. He sticks his fingers in your mouth when you yawn to prod at your tongue, all while saying, "If you keep yawning like that, flies are gonna get in your mouth~" Or he'll squeeze your hip after you've eaten sweets just to mess with you. Or he compares your hand to his (for some odd reason) just so he can get away with touching you. Or he shows you a card trick that ends with him tucking the card behind your ear rather than pulling it from that area. His teasing feels more like flirting, but anyone who notes this is earned a swift denial from Ace.

✧ Deuce who gets off to the domestic moments in your friendship. Sharing a mirror in Ramshackle when he spends the night, preparing meals for each other, and even walking to class and talking about very boring things (like the weather). It makes him feel so special, and sometimes he pretends the two of you are a married couple. Deuce gets so embarrassed if anyone points this out, especially the elderly who see the two of you in town and comment on how cute you look together. He adamantly denies it, but later he's in the bathroom imagining married life with you and it gets him so worked up.

✧ Leona who gets off on the power imbalance between the two of you. Realistically speaking, he's stronger, both in terms of social class (after all, he's royalty) and also physically and financially. But that doesn't matter as much as it does when he's around you. Despite all of this, you know how to match Leona's wit, always keeping him on his toes, and you treat him as you would others even while knowing just how much power he has over you should he choose to exert it. Leona just likes the feeling of being number one in your world. Possibly a little too much, considering it never fails to get him excited. :)

✧ Ruggie who gets off on sneaking up on you. At first it was to pickpocket you. Steal spare change for himself or take your wallet just to watch you panic when you can't find it, but he's come to love the way you turn around just in time to catch him. He knows he does this on purpose solely to get caught, but seeing how you huff and glare lightheartedly at him... the way you purse your lips or the way you snatch your things back and laugh softly about how he ought to try again next time... He doesn't even care about your wallet anymore. He just wants to hunt you down and catch you for himself. You're the real prize here. <3

✧ Jack who gets off to your difference in size and strength. At first it wasn't something he thought of, but then you come to him and beg him to help open jars or stuck windows and he does it so easily. He refuses to believe you're struggling that hard with it, but then he watches you attempt to open a jar and it all clicks into place. Oh, you're...really cute and small and so fragile compared to him, who's all muscle and raw strength. Jack knows you have your own strengths and in no way does he think you're weak, but he's always reminded of your size and strength differences whenever the two of you are doing things together: training/sports, lifting heavy things (which are often very light to him), and even standing side by side. He thinks about how much bigger he is and he feels so flustered when those thoughts get him hard.

✧ Azul who gets off to your body language. He knows what it means; he's studied human customs well in advance before coming up to the surface. But oh you tempt him every single time you arch your back when you stretch or when you yawn and make such cute, sleepy sounds. It's even worse when you bend over to reach for something across a table or bend down to grab something that fell. He's digging his nails into his palms to steady himself, but that doesn't mean his thoughts are steady. He may look entirely composed with his usual smile, but in his mind you're getting fucked six ways from Sunday. You can't give this man any gifts because 1) he'll scramble to pay you back and 2) he'll delude himself into thinking it's a courting gesture and that you want him sooooo badly each time you offer him a snack from the school store or give him something you think he could get more use out of.

✧ Jade who gets off to your banter, especially the threats. Great Seven, you tell him you'll gut him and turn him into eel sushi and OOOOOO he's on the edge of his seat like: "yes...... and?? and????? what else will you do to me?????" all with the wildest, sharpest smile you've ever seen him make. He gets so worked up, so flushed in the face, so terribly aroused, every time you threaten him with anything. Yank him down to your height and mutter a threat, whether outlandish, violent, or something as silly as "I hope both sides of your pillow are hotter than hell," and he's saving these interactions in his memory for later recollection.

✧ Floyd who gets off on your praise. Call him a good boy or congratulate him on his test score or cheer for him at basketball practice and he's over the moon with excitement. He eats up your praise like it's his last meal. Say more good things to him! He wants to hear Shrimpy's praise every day, and when he's in a bad mood all it takes is the memory of you saying he's done well and he's back to his usual excitable self. He likes your praise a little too much, as evidenced by how hard it gets him. orz he spends too long thinking about it while he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling while he lazily strokes himself to thoughts of you calling him a good boy.

✧ Kalim who gets just a little too worked up at your proximity. He makes for such good best friend material. It's natural you'd be drawn to him because he's just so sweet and friendly. So it's completely normal when you spend the night at Scarabia and you end up falling asleep beside him in the common room, or when he feeds you outright because that's just how he is! He wants you to try all manner of yummy foods. It makes his heart race faster when your lips close around his fingers or you unconsciously snuggle up to him. He loves you so much. orz

✧ Jamil who loves your obedient nature. It has him horny gripping every time you scramble to do well on a test or in class so you won't upset the professors. You try to keep out of trouble because you're a good student, and he loves every bit of it. He wants to ruin you, take your obedience for the professors and twist it so that you'll only ever listen to him, follow what he says, trust in his words. He could just hypnotize you and maybe a sick part of him wants that. Maybe he wants to experience what an entirely obedient, cock-drunk (Name) is like...

✧ Vil who uses his professional opinions as a way to feel you up. He runs his hands up your sides to smooth wrinkles in your uniform out, all while reminding you to take care of your appearance. He fixes your tie just to get close enough to smell your perfume or shampoo. He loves how you lean into him, trusting his judgement because Vil could never lead you astray. Secretly, Vil's just getting away with every touch under the guise of giving you advice or fixing your uniform or even getting measurements for tailored outfits for school events. It's much too easy.

✧ Rook who, unsurprisingly, gets off on stalking you. He's such a creep! He watches you from afar and gets hard over the smallest things. It's likely because you're so vulnerable and unaware when you go about your daily life and he gets to invade such a secret slice of your life. Whether you know he's watching you or not, it doesn't matter. Just the idea that, on some level, you might be able to feel his prying eyes gets him so unfathomably excited.

✧ Epel who loves a good competition and gets so into it if it's a competition between you and him. Whether it's something athletic or academic, he's always ready to engage in a friendly competition with you. Unfortunately, when you smirk at him and tell him he'll need to give it his all, he gets excited in...other areas. To think all it took was some competitive banter and your smirk to have the blood rushing downwards... T_T if he loses this competition, is the punishment a make-out session? Epel can certainly dream.

✧ Idia who is too scared to talk to you in person, so he codes a Magicord bot he uses as a practice dummy. But then things get a little out of hand when innocent chats turn explicit and soon he's role-playing with the false you. Idia knows it's not real, but it feels real when you tell him all the things he wants to hear. It's shameless e-sex, but it's the best (and only) e-sex of Idia's life. ;;;; he feels immensely embarrassed afterwards.

✧ Malleus who gets off on your smiles. It's such an innocent thing, but then it has him thinking so deeply about it late into the night. You're so sweet and precious. He could picture your smiles all day... Malleus loves you more than words can possibly describe. He thinks about the little things that make you so wonderful, but most of all it's how expressive you are when you smile. Sometimes he has a habit of letting his thoughts stray into intimate fantasies, but it's nothing terrible. He wants to love you wholeheartedly; that includes physically.

✧ Lilia who gets off on surprising you and subverting your expectations. He finds it so darling when you have certain assumptions about him, only to be entirely wrong when he disproves them. Though he's oh-so-cute (a fact he would never deny), there's more beneath that adorable veneer. He's a mysterious who loves popping in to startle you when you least expect it. Be it in the library or in the halls, he always finds you. And your shock is a sight he drinks in merrily.

✧ Silver who is so enthralled by everything about you, so no matter what you do it always makes him feel so in love and fluffy. He's never known this sort of love before, but he's always so honest about his feelings and so his attraction to you wouldn't be any different. You could be napping peacefully in class and Silver's watching you from across the room with the softest, sweetest smile on his face. He thinks about you day and night; you even fill his dreams. Most of it is entirely normal and innocent, but then all it takes is for someone to suggest something less-than-pure about you and suddenly Silver's thoughts are derailing. Oh, he's never thought about sex before. But sex with you? That seems very appealing, so much so that he's feeling much hotter than before. ;;;;

✧ Sebek who, in spite of everything, gets off to the fact that you're human. There's just something so...appealing to you. He struggles to put it into words (and he almost doesn't want to), but you're so soft and sweet and enticing. Maybe Sebek secretly likes your being human because it makes you seem weaker by some strange default? But then he dwells on this and that doesn't seem to be the reason. Truthfully, Sebek likes your humanity because it's charming. Because there's something about you that feels and smells different. Maybe it's because you're the first human to make him feel so aroused that he deems you worthy of his own affections, or maybe he's just hopelessly, pathetically in love with all of the things that make you human and he's trying so hard to deny that.

✧ Rollo who gets off to your scent. Maybe it's a perfume you wear or maybe it's your natural scent. Whatever it is, he's carefully borrowing insignificant items that smell just like you so that he can hold them up to his nose while he masturbates. You're just so perfect and your scent drives him crazy and he feels like a filthy pervert each time he does this, but it's too late to stop. He's already in so deep. Just your scent alone has him shuddering through messy orgasms; imagine what you'd do to him if you were here in person and he got to touch you...

✧ Neige who gets off to indirect kisses. When you share a spoon or bite from the same snack, his pulse is racing at the prospect of having indirectly kissed you. He's so eager and excited that he has to try so hard not to let his face get so flushed with arousal. And you're so relaxed about it! You're so cool... He could admire you forever. <3

✧ Che'nya who gets off on watching you when he's invisible. It gets him hard every time he catches you in an intimate or compromising situation. Whether you're bathing or changing or masturbating, it makes it all the more tempting when he's completely invisible and you have no idea someone else is in the room with you. He's thought about pressing himself against you when you least expect it just to feel you flinch or to hear your breath hitch. And then there's the thought of fucking you when he's invisible, where you'll only see yourself stretching around a cock that isn't visible to your eye. >:)

[anadiasmount]

Married life with Jude!!

headcannon for jude bc i’ve never done one! hope you enjoy! 🧟‍♀️🤍

masterlist | jude’s masterlist | send requests/ concepts!

would def introduce/call you as “wife” everywhere you go. doesn’t matter where you guys are headed he would so go “this is my wife y/n.” would make me feel so giddy i will not lie 😣😔

kiss your ring finger whenever he pleases, or when he notices you becoming nervous or anxious because he knows how much kisses with you mean. “relax darling, it’s us. me and you.”

have a random argument in the morning and jude being first to apologize bc he one, hates to see you upset bc of him, two due to the fact he hates when you’re not talking to him, and three bc he hates fighting especially with you. “forgive me okay? i didn’t mean it.”

would text you whenever either of you are out to check in, and starts the text with “wife…” or “husband” to remind to pick something up, or send a quick i love you text, to tell you about their days or something funny you guys saw, to say they miss each other. props if they send pictures instead of just texting.

on random occasions would pull out your wedding photos because it’s the most memorable and unforgettable night of his life. would explain to you how he felt in that moment and pull you his chest and tell you he loves you so much.

calls you “mrs. bellingham” to get your attention or walks into the room bc you and him love it. friends and family would make fun of you and you would shy away from it, but jude just smirks bc deep down it’s a reminder to everyone you’re married to him.

the two of you spending every morning together before he leaves for training or away games, having your daily tea/coffee with cookies/biscuits because you hate being apart even if it’s for just a little bit. “gonna miss you so much angel. wait for me so we can grocery shopping okay?”

LATE NIGHT TALKS BECAUSE WHATTT??? i have trouble sleeping at night and he would def stay up with you and you the same with him when you can’t sleep and just talk about kids, pets, friends and family, work, about the old times when you first got together.

brings you your favorite bouquet of flowers when he comes back from away duty, never getting over the fact that you’re married to him. kissing your forehead first and then leaning down to connect your lips together. “your favorite flowers, but you’re my favorite flower beautiful.”

annoys the shit out of you when he’s sick or clingy, begging for you to hold him and kiss his cheeks or temple because you apparently take the pain away. your hands massaging down his back and neck to smooth him, but sometimes he pretends just so he can feel you. “i need my wife to be with me in ‘sickness and in health’ remember?”

when back in england he loves doing date night at late night. takes you on walks after dinner and treats you to ice cream, buys you something to remember the night. his hand on your thigh in the car or around your waist when walking. “look so pretty for me. why are you so beautiful, wife?”

BYE IM SORRY BUT HES THE TYPE TO BUY SHIRTS THAT SAY “my wife” “his wife” and “my husband” “her husband” and force you go to public wearing them because he thinks it’s hilarious. “i’m sorry i can’t. i need a good laugh. please baby? do it for me?”

buys you small presents because he can’t stop spoiling you. “for you my wife. don’t start with that because i have every right to do anything to make you smile.”

would pull up to your work place when you least expect it and wait in your office/ designated area to eat lunch when he’s off. you would tell him all the gossip or topic of the day to reach, and he’s attentively listening because he loves hearing about the silliest thing that occur in your work place. everyone would just stare at the two of you in awe because you are the definition of couple goals.

when you attend his matches you would surprise him with a “his wife #5” jersey and he would smile wide and pull you close after the match ends. he would make fun of you at first but he loves the idea bc he know it’s a reminder to not him but the whole world. “my wife indeed. it’s gonna become my favorite jersey you’ve worn. gotta remind everyone who your husband is right?”

a relationship especially when married isn’t one sided, so the two of you always go above and beyond to make each other happy even if it’s the smallest word or action. squeeze in a cuddle even if it’s not appropriate timing. always communicating about how you to ensure the two of you are okay.

even the smallest glances you send when you’re not together, it’s glances like those that will never fail to put a smile on each others faces. like the of you would be the only humans alive.

[rosy-crow]

Sephiroth is such a fucking wild character when I really think about it sometimes.

He was injected with alien cells in his mom’s womb as part of an extremely dubious science experiment, transformed into “part alien” because of it, was marked a successful specimen shortly after he was born, and then raised by a company as a product and weapon.

He got sent to war (ACTUAL WAR THAT ALSO INVOLVED GENOCIDE) at age 14 by Shinra as the first of his specific type of super-soldier, LITERALLY BY HIMSELF with no guide or mentor, but just the knowledge of his past training, a nameless sword, a few materia, and a picture of his missing mom.

He took command of a team of veteran mercenaries, got overly attached to them after just over a week had passed because they were apparently the first kind adults he had ever met + he had never known any semblance of a normal family, home or life, and then they all killed a bunch of people together on an island.

Halfway through Sephiroth fucking lost the photo of his mom like a classic little kid would except he was a child soldier, so he had to dig through literal corpses to look for it.

Meanwhile, his adult team started realizing the company they were working for was pretty corrupt and hmm, genocide bad. So they DESERTED to go save a kid that was the sole survivor of the people they had battled to extinction.

And Sephiroth COMMITTED TREASON ON HIS FIRST MISSION for them and to go help save the kid. But then he killed that same kid to save his team from a sinking island instead, who got really upset about that and left him to go desert their posts as soldiers hired by Shinra. Also, he somehow regained his mom’s photo during this whole fiasco but then one of his adult squad-mates kicked it into the sea in a fit of rage. Most pointless photo ever.

But that’s fine because then he just went BACK TO WAR and grew up through his teen years fighting in it, made two new friends with his fellow super-soldiers, nearly finished the war with them, and then they deserted too. One basically committed assisted suicide. One vanished completely and went ballistic.

Then Sephiroth ended up in his hometown on a mission, but he didn’t know it was his hometown because had no idea who he was.

He instead found a creepy weird room inside a reactor full of his dad’s unethical human experimentation, had a mental breakdown and a bad falling out with one of his former super-soldier friends who was dying and deranged, went to a basement library in an old haunted mansion, read a bunch of data on his own experimental creation and the project that led to his conception, believed a lie that he was the last of an ancient species, and lost his mind.

So he went and burned down his own hometown, killed a bunch of people, cut off the head of an eldritch alien that he thought was his mom and stole it to keep, got nearly cleaved in half by some farm boy, fell into the depths of a mako reactor (with the aforementioned alien head), and died for five years before coming back to destroy the world with a meteor. He briefly became a god around this time too.

He didn’t successfully carry out the meteor plan and basically died AGAIN, but this time he came back by using the forms of three random kids to rediscover his own personality because his memories of his past self were erased. He was resurrected, fought his mortal nemesis for revenge, lost again, and seemingly died for the last time but with a final statement about not really ever vanishing in full? Sure?

Also, his real mom is locked away in a crystal because she couldn’t kill herself thanks to being stuffed with alien cells. His dad never admitted to even being his father until his last moments and was just a devoutly cruel, horribly abusive scientist, that let Sephiroth go through all the previous shit just to see what would happen.

For some reason, Sephiroth can also traverse multiple worlds now too.

Oh and he has hair almost to his knees, cat eyes, goth leather club gear, and a sword taller than he is. He is 6’7/200 cm.

Oh and the wing! He has one random wing too. Sure.

Absolutely bizarre character. There is so much wrong with him. It’s perfect.

[gildedkrone]

Jealous Ghost? Pre-relationship? A touch of angst? Maybe more angst? And I guess a dash of Comfort to soothe the soul of the faint hearted??

Does she know I'm tattooed onto your heart?🔞

This fic contains cheating trope. I do not condone cheating; the relationships in the fic are purely fictional. Exercise care in real life.

Relationships: Ghost x bottom!Male Reader Synopsis: He seeks love and pleasure with another—you. Master List | Part 2

Skin slapping and wet noises. They are addictive as ever, and the man beneath you is breathless and panting. His skin is dripping with sweat and his mouth is on yours. You taste notes of bourbon and gets mouth fucked by the eager tongue. Pleasure is a time stopper, and you are it's keeper and watcher.

You've never had complaints about your ass, and you weren't going to get one now.

"Fuck, so fuckin' greedy, whore."

Simon, he said his name was Simon, is balls deep in you. Your mind is all frazzled by good dick and you struggle to string your words together with any sense of coherence.

"Anything for you, Simon."

He is dark, mysterious with a gravitating pull and you wasted no time in stripping when he pushed you onto the bed in the cheap hotel. A military man, he certainly didn't enjoy wasting any time to get right into business. Pent up didn't cover how he was feeling, going by how feral his thrusts were and the power behind his hips.

The dick is good, but you can't help feel guilt.

Simon is married. To a woman.

You're not a woman. You're a cheap whore of a man willing to take anyone's dick for cash.

"Always wanted to do this. Fuckin' piece of shit father—" a sharp thrust "—always gave me shit for liking men."

His technique isn't perfect but there's a semblence of experience behind it; he must have experimented with other men before. There's a photo of a woman in his wallet when he flashed the wad of cash.

"You're doing so well, Simon." He preens under your praise and renews his vigour. It's the best you've ever had and you look foward to his messages the most.

It's so fucking good and pleasure is a bolt of lust emanating from your hips up in milky spurts of cum from your untouched dick. His hands leave imprints in your hips and he fills you up nicely with a long orgasm tapering off into a kiss.

The afterglow with Simon is always a treat. He runs a hand through your hair and lays an arm across your chest. Your breathing eventually returns to normal and you gaze at him. Hazel eyes, short hair and several scars on his cheeks.

You broach the subject with much care. "You have a wife, Simon."

"She's not you."

"Do you love her?"

His shoulders stiffened before they relaxed. "Don't think I do. 'M stuck in an arranged marriage and in hell."

"Still—"

"Didn't pay you for advice, lad."

You shut your mouth wisely at the tone in his voice. You once believed his wife must be a really lucky person to have him. To be with him and in his wallet. You don't think so anymore. Not when he is here with you in a hotel room and cuddling against your flank.

When his arm leaves your chest, stringy cum drips onto you and he disappears into the toilet for a shower. When you are done, he is back in his jacket and trousers with a simple mask on. He flips through his wallet and leaves the cash on the bedside table. Simon is more generous than other men, often leaving excessive amount of cash for your services.

He points to the cash. "'s for you. I'll message you if I want more."

"Anytime, Simon."

The door shuts behind him and you count the stacks he left behind. He left a huge tip again and you pocket the cash. It's wrong, but wrongness is subjective as hell and heaven are and when you are taking him so nicely, wrongness is a far flung concept with no precedence here. No strings attached was the motto of most sex workers but its a lie to say you didn't have any sort of preference for him.

He is divine and something wicked and desire is fire to see him more often. Be his little starlet, always shining for him with the lust in your eyes. You wouldn't live it down if you broke their marriage, but if he wasn't a willing partner to his wife, who would hold it against you for being his secret?

Not especially when he is more man than any other you've slept with.

Part 2

[lundenloves]

IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, I MEET MY FATHER WHEN HE IS A CHILD

〔 yeah this had no idea being as emotionally intense as it was, and for that, i will take a swig of this wine i’m drinking. a rhône red. this is based off the poem by nikita gill — and dedicated to all the girlies who relate. i love you, you are seen. 〕

˗ˏˋ i have a lot of requests in my inbox. i’ll take ages to do them because all of my time is stolen by the ceiling whom i stare at lovingly. it’s been really rough lately folks, i won’t lie.

⇀ warnings of brief abuse mentions | 1.7k

dad!simon masterlist | masterlist | taglist | request info

A father and his youngest daughter. Simon and his youngest daughter. A concept so simple but also complex. The last one to need dad, the last one to be embarrassed of him, the last one to scoff after consoling kisses to her temple, the last one to say bye to him and the last one to move out. Every of his efforts landed enough for surface satisfaction, though not deep enough to reject tears over TikTok slideshows. Father quotes, embedded between photos of old and new paintings, some of animals hugging and others of people. 

What if you met your father when he was a child? It said, eleven words that joined together to create a swell of pity in her stomach. The clock turned three and darkness welcomed the girlhood routine of small houred upset. 

In another universe,

I meet my father

when he is a child. 

Her chest hurt. She hadn’t said bye to him, too busy on the phone with her friend. Undoubtedly another teenage drama, one that lasted only an hour at best when saying goodbye could’ve taken mere seconds and lasted forever. He stood in her door frame, camouflage clad and knocking to enter. 

“Bye.” She’d mumbled, now touching her shoulder at the invisible feeling of his hand. A touch that she had learned meant love from her father, his calloused fingers padding twice before pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking out. He always closed the door behind him, a fatherhood instinct he had picked up from the years. 

She viscerally pictured his youth. An image near scolded into her brain from the single photo she had seen. Stood without a smile, hand raised to bite on his nail. He was small against his older brother who looked just the same, a distant hand placed on Simon’s shoulder. It was something that she thought about often, about how even in his childhood she hadn’t seen one smile.

It was telling.

We play catch in the woods

and as we play he tells me

he isn’t allowed to cry

but sometimes the world 

hurts him and he doesn’t know

what to do with all that pain. 

One tear fell. She could hear the young voice, something so untainted but so far from happiness. A nonchalance sprouted from a young age, said with a shrug and a wide eyed stare — something like an animal in headlights. Her own childhood easily caught up to his, passing him by without a look back. The boy dropped his arm and watched her walk by, dark circles made home under his eyes and the bruises on his arms harbored, making their place known for years to come. 

So I give him the shoulder he needs to cry on. 

And he does. He does 

Until the tears are done. 

Her lip tasted salty, one or two more tears dropping for the thought of her father at her age. Still and silent, an observant soul with a foul temper. One tested more than he would’ve hoped or had energy for — if not his father, then school peers, finding joy in persistent teasing for his solemn stares and aggressive responses. 

It was something he had carried to adulthood, to parenthood. Dropping the bag of trauma at the door and doing his best to avoid the handle, locking the door and throwing away the key to avoid stepping near or on anything delicate. Anything that could set him off, for anger and upset had been merged into one. Because it wasn’t right to be emotional, it wasn’t right to cry or show visible turmoil because that’s not what men were like was it? Nevermind a five, nine, twelve or sixteen year old boy. 

Tears were the crime, anger was the fine. Even now, his rare despair came laced with anger and she couldn’t help in finding similarities to herself. She was her fathers’ daughter. Her smile, her eyes and her cry. Silent. Her ears went red the same way his did, her pitch raised when on the defence and her tears came at night when no one was around to see them. 

Like now. 

As she lay in bed, wiping tear-stained cheeks in a house bought from what was ultimately Simon’s life. Every deployment it seemed far fetched to assume he wouldn’t come back, though it was easy to forget the very real possibility. His texts kept her mind from wandering too far, a simple text of good morning or night. Something he knew was reassuring, because as much as she was his daughter he was also her father. 

Afterwards, I buy him ice cream 

and I listen to his laugh, 

the glowing warm laugh

of a child who knows he is safe. 

Isn’t it weird how you can feel it in your chest and stomach when something really hurts your feelings? A sinking feeling, one that you can’t seem to shake until your head decides to alleviate you of the weight. Her head spun at the thought, her father as a child and this continuous feeling — something that happened so often he almost found comfort in it. 

Familiarity runs a person. It’s undeniable, anything merely familiar is a driving point for the average individual. Though it was easy to forget the definition was different for everyone. For some, it was being born into a burning house with spits of fire. The inclination to find a human equivalent of petrol just to start a riot, finding home in forever arguments and turbulence. Simon was scared that’s what he would create, a lineage of trauma and anger. 

But he hadn’t. Not to the extent he was worried for anyway, instead, his girls were extended parts of the warmth he feared yet craved so deeply. The feeling of safety was a necessity growing up, it’s grounding — something he wasn’t a party of privilege to and it made his daughter sob. 

It made her sob how his hugs were forever tainted by his childhood. A fear to hold both arms tight in favor of a one armed distancing method, one that was abolished when drunk and she received his longing. Constant drunken smiles, laughs, hugs and words of affirmation. Her phone was pulled from the bedside table, scrolling to find his contact and phoning him without a second thought. 

It was even later where he was, but still the phone barely had a chance to ring once before he had answered. “Hi, you alright?” Voice hoarse from sleep, forever in concern. 

She imagined him sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his eyes with a mighty frown across his brow. One that would soften as she began to cry down the line, “I feel bad I didn’t say bye to you.”

“You did.” He’d almost laugh instantly, his own attempt to lift her up from thousands of miles away. “Don’t cry over it.” A pause. “It’s late where you are, eh?” The creak of his bed sounded over the phone and she knew he was getting up to start his day rather than go back to sleep. 

I wish someone could 

have done that for him. 

She hated it. The way he would throw emotion away by retreating to his room for days after coming home. It was something she hadn’t paid any attention to being younger, but the older she got, and the older he got, it became obvious. The undeniable anxiety in his shaky hands, all pent up worry from being so still on the field releasing. He couldn’t hold a mug for days, growing red faced out of frustration and subsequent embarrassment over the inability to do something so simple. 

“Are you alright dad?” She’d ask, watching from the threshold as he clinked the ceramic against the counter — a crass sound filling the room and then his puff of anger. The tea spilled across the surface, his fist encouraging the flow with a thump against the marble. “I’ll get it.” Voice quiet, wary eyes catching his own.

His jaw tightened at her presence, pushing both hands up through his hair and down to rub his face. “No, it’s—” He cut himself off with a timely blink. “Sorry.” He motioned to the spillage, taking steps backward to lean against the surface behind him, instantly zoning out. 

Sometimes he wanted to cry. 

But it didn’t ever happen. 

Been a kind, safe place

for the child he used to be. 

Would it have made a difference? 

Would it have made a difference? 

The worst feeling in the world was that of neglect. The feeling of loving someone so hard, on your knees in front of them begging for them to love you back, and yet, only receiving a familiar feeling of disappointment running cold in your veins. Nothing but abuse and torment, the pining for warmth becoming redundant against each icy spit. It was worse coming from someone you looked up to. Anyone from a friend to a sister and a brother. But worst of all. A parent. 

Because there was something devastating about the lack of parental love for a youth. Those key years are knocked for six by the physical blows and emotional hits. It shapes you. Molds each crevice in your brain to whatever badness it feels, manifesting in forms of wrathful anger or complete silence, a primal human instinct to protect yourself. 

Not that it ever worked. 

It never does. 

Instead, it works in tandem with the abuser. Silence aiding an escalation of the inevitable. But one or two hits isn’t so bad, right? The purpling of your cheekbones feels like home and it’s not something you can ever leave.

Simon recognised that from a young age. 

And if the tears hadn’t been beaten out of him and he was able, he would’ve cried. Ten years old, yet his tears had already run out.

But would it have made a difference?

as always, comments are reblogs are highly highly appreciated! if no one pats me on the head every now and then, i’ll fall down a hole.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta

i cant tag more than 50 people, so will tag in comments!

i tag x reader as it’s your family with him, your daughter.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWELVE

in which you grapple with new emotions of nothing, eddie makes a few bad jokes, and honesty becomes an illusion again.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 3.8k+

→ a/n: half way point, folks! sorry this one is shorter. blame eddie?

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

12:00 ────────ㅇ───────── 24:00

JOHNNY BOY: No photo, no money, right? 

ARGYLE 😎: learn some patience broski 

JOHNNY BOY: It's been an hour and they aren’t answering. They haven’t said anything. I want my money. 

DINGUS: why the fuck are you guys blowing up the chat right now? someone better be dead. 

ARGYLE 😎: the lovers haven’t sent their hourly update. 

ARGYLE  😎: maybe they are dead. killed each other with passion. 

JOHNNY BOY: So what are we buying with that spare 1k, guys?

BIRDIE: oh fuck please tell me they aren’t dead

BIRDIE: did they seriously kill each other? do i need to facetime them? 

DINGUS: @BIRDIE honestly, for once, you have a good idea. facetime them. i would call but… something tells me i need to back off for a while. 

JOHNNY BOY: I take it you remembered that night at the bar? 

DINGUS: oh fuck off (yes. i did.)

BIRDIE: i’m facetiming them now.

DINGUS: great. i’m going back to bed. 

JOHNNY BOY: I think I’m going to buy a new camera with my cut of the money personally. 

—

HOUR TWELVE - 3:00 AM

One of you should have moved.

It could have been minutes, hours, decades later. The concept of time is completely lost on you as you focus on the weight of Eddie lying over you. He’s half draped across your back, bare chest sinking into your exposed skin, throwing the brunt of his weight in the sliver of cushion available to him beside you. His softening cock is still inside of you, the warmth of him is encasing you from the inside out. You match each deep inhale of his with your own, exhaling on the same silent beat. An unspoken moment of synchronicity, letting the weight of the decisions just made truly crawl beneath both of your skins. 

I hate you. 

Good, then this changes nothing.

You wondered if he tasted the sour of his lie in the heat of the moment. You wondered if it was just as metallic on his tongue as it had been on your own. 

One of you should have moved. But it takes the realization of your incapability to truly hate Eddie Munson as you should and the twitch of your body that follows to rouse Eddie. 

“Fuck,” he sighs out, finally pulling out, turning to fully fit his body onto the couch rather than on top of you. You dangle a leg and arm over the edge of the sofa, keeping your cheek pressed to rough fabric and your eyes turned from him as you bite your tongue. 

A million words you want to say in the clarity, all lost and slipping between your fingers with time. 

I lied. I don’t hate you. This meant everything. This changes everything. I don’t hate you. 

“Fuck is right,” you settle on murmuring instead. There’s nothing you can say now that can change what’s transpired. It’s over, it’s done with. Rather than staying stuck in the past still in your rearview mirror, you need to focus on the road laid out ahead of you two. 

The two of you lay like that for even longer than you had the previous position, shifting here and there until you both fit comfortably on the lumpy cushions. Side by side, almost spooning, but space left between you. You don’t think Eddie even realizes his hand is grazing soft circles over your thigh, moving on its own accord and sending shivers of comfort down your spine. 

Is the road ahead of you two even paved? 

“What now?” he suddenly asks, breaking the silence you two had been reveling in. You had been in your own head, and you wonder for a moment if he had been as well. You can’t find it in yourself to glance over your shoulder and look at him, to solve the mystery on your own, instead clinging to those grazes of his fingertips still skimming your thigh. 

With an exhausted sigh, you zero in your focus across the room, looking at the clock on the shelves, “I don’t know. It’s already three in the morning, so-”

“Oh, fuck.” 

“What?”

“It’s fucking three,” Eddie is shooting up from behind you quickly, “We never sent a fucking picture.” 

You understand his panic immediate, realization settling as he springs off of the couch, echoing his words with sincerity, “Oh, fuck.” 

In any other scenario, it would have been comical to see a nude Eddie panicked and rushing about his apartment living room. To see him disposing of the condom, to see him struggling to pull back on his sweats and t-shirt before he’s disappearing into his bathroom and emerging seconds later with a blushing face and a wet rag. 

He returns to you in an instant, murmuring the world’s softest apology before he swipes the cold cloth over your sore cunt, making you hiss out in surprise. 

“What the Hell-”

“I said I was sorry!” he defends, tossing the rag to the floor before he’s grabbing your clothes, his clothes technically, and handing them over to you, “Figured you’d want to be dressed before we send the photo.” 

“I-” you stare at the clothes with a contorted face, still trying to brush off the exhaustion that came with the sudden change in atmosphere. You hadn’t even gotten to maneuver the aftermath of it all, pilferage the rubble and bring up the possible path-not-yet-road that you two had to face going forward. 

What did this mean for you two now? What did this mean for the remaining twelve hours?

Nothing, you suppose. Maybe you don’t need to ask those questions, because Eddie already answered them for you. It changes nothing. 

“Thanks,” you numbly say and take the clothes from him. He grabs your phone off the floor as you shrug the clothing back on.

What the fuck were you expecting? 

It was a one time ordeal. It was just a quick fix to get it out of both your systems. Just because you were needy, because you were craving a conversation about it all, didn’t mean Eddie was. There was no difference here between what transpired between the two of you and some random hookup. No feelings, no strings attached. The only difference was the obligation to spend another twelve hours together, if your friends hadn’t already decided their altruistic grace periods had hit their limits. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie grumbles, looking over your plethora of notifications, “Fifty fucking texts. Seven missed calls. We’re fucked,” When you let out a sharp laugh, he looks up from the screen at you, furrowing his brows, “What’s so funny?”

“Can you imagine making it halfway only to fuck up because we were getting along too well?” you snort, unable to help yourself. Twelve hours. You two had managed what already felt impossible, only to screw it all up because you two couldn’t keep it in your pants. Maybe if you admitted that to your friends, they would let the bet continue. You can already imagine Robin’s yips of glee at the prospect. 

Eddie’s worrisome look begins to crack, the corners of his mouth twitching, “I… That would… suck.” 

His voice is wavering, barely able to keep it together and withhold his own amusement as you beckon for him to hand over the phone, both of you sitting back on the couch, thighs pressed together. 

“Suck is one way to put it,” you giggle, barely glancing at the missed notifications, “Seriously. We made it this far. And it’s not like we weren’t together… We were. A little too literally.” 

If this is the closest you two come to talking about it, you can handle that. 

Eddie finally barks out a laugh, “Yeah. Maybe we took the bet too literally.”

“Just a little bit,” you shimmy a shoulder against his, forcing all laughter and smiles and drowning out any worries that continued to persist in your chest. Now wasn’t the time. This was enough. You can handle it. 

Your phone lights up with a Facetime call, making both of you jump.

Robin.

“Oh, no,” you groan, eyes pinching shut. 

“It could be worse,” Eddie notes, leaning into your space. His side presses into yours and it makes you want to die, “At least it’s just Buckley.” 

You shake your head, ignoring the burn he ignites in you with every slight touch still, grumbling, “Right, it’s just Buckley.” 

The two of you had sex. It should be out of your system. There was no need to continue to feel goosebumps raise when his shoulder knocked yours, when his knee slotted up against yours. It has to be out of your system. 

You swipe your thumb to answer the call against your better judgment. 

“Oh my God, you two idiots are alive! I swear to God, we thought you two killed each other! I almost had to go across the hall and have Steve predial for the cops if you two didn’t answer, I-” 

Robin’s rambling begins without so much as a hello. She’s speaking a mile a minute, taking no breaks, no pauses, no breaths, as you stare blankly at the screen where she’s half hidden in the shadows of her dark room. 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers, eyebrows raising. You watch him through the screen, afraid to turn your actual face towards him. You don’t trust yourself. It should be out of your system, but it isn’t. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone talk so fast-”

“Fuck off, Munson,” despite Eddie’s effort to keep his voice low, Robin picks up on his words mid-rant, “My point is, we were worried. Why didn’t you send your photo or answer any calls?”

“We forgot,” you supply lamely. You catch Eddie’s fight against a smirk as he coughs over the beginnings of a scoff, and immediately shoot your elbow that’s out of frame into his side. 

Robin narrows her eyes at the screen, “You just forgot? How? No offense, but I can’t see you two getting distracted, especially with each other. We’ve all been under the assumption you just… sit on opposite sides of the room, and pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

Eddie coughs again, followed by a grunt from another pierce of your elbow.

“Have you considered that we might have been sleeping?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m so glad that you’re all-knowing, Buckley,” Eddie says as he composes himself, “Where would we be without a sleep expert?” 

You finally turn your head to glare at him face-to-face rather than through the screen, trying to warn him to back off. Robin could go hours in the ring with Eddie, and you weren’t exactly in the mood to listen to the two banter off each other. He meets your warning gaze with wide eyes, almost as innocent as a child caught in the act. You can’t even stay mad at him – the moment those autumn brown eyes meet yours, soft and gooey and terribly laced with tempting gold, you’ve melted for him. All your defenses fall. 

You need to talk about it. You need to know if he means it.

“What does that even mean?” You ask as you slowly turn your head away from Eddie, “What exactly are we supposed to look like after sleeping?”

“I don’t know. Messy hair, squinty eyes, maybe some dried drool and appearing more… more… caught off guard?” Robin rattles off her list as she stares at them through the screen, shifting around from where it looks like she’s laying in bed, “Actually, now that I’m saying all this outloud, maybe you guys were sleeping,” you and Eddie freeze up in sync. Technically, you two could pass off as the Facetime being a rude awakening in your mutual dishevelment – both your hair and Eddie’s was messy as could be, shirts looking to be twisted from putting them on so carelessly. Hell, at your own detrimental embarrassment, you bet Robin would spot dried drool on your face if she looked close enough. Just not for the reasons she would believe, “Shit, yeah, okay. I believe you guys. You were sleeping. Our bad.” 

Just as you sigh in relief, Eddie’s face blooms with a wicked grin. 

“That or we were fucking.” 

It comes to your attention now that it is very hard to decipher when Eddie is joking. You wonder just how many times you had misinterpreted his sarcasm, how many times he had said a blatant truth only for you to take it for a grain of salt. 

Most of all, you wonder if Robin catches your distress at him actually exposing you two. You don’t even have it in you to shove your elbow especially painfully into his side this time, completely dismayed and unsure of what to say. 

She doesn’t catch it. She only snorts, rolling her eyes, “Right. Of course – or that.” 

You’re still unable to respond as Eddie continues to grin, laughing along with Robin, including her in an inside joke she had no idea of her involvement in. She has no idea. 

Because you guys were fucking. You’d had sex with Eddie, let him use you and throw you around like a goddamn rag doll. And now, here he was, so casually joining around with your mutual friend about it as if it were some absurd dream. Some stupid joke, some unreasonable thought of something that could never possibly happen. 

“Okay, well I’ll let you guys go back to bed-”

“Or jumping each other’s bones,” Eddie interrupts Robin.

She makes an exaggerated gagging noise, though the corners of her mouth are pulled up in a smile, before continuing, “And I’ll let everyone know we probably won’t get an update for the next hour. Just… don’t kill each other, alright? Who knows, maybe you guys can even become friends?” 

You wait for Eddie to take the punch line of something along the lines of being friends with benefits, to make a spectacle yet again of what had just transpired to an unsuspecting Robin. 

It meant nothing to him. It was all a joke to him. 

“See ya, Robs,” you offer weakly, numbly, hardly able to raise a hand to wave her off. You know that to her, this is just a symptom of fatigue. The type of tired solved by crawling back into bed and sleeping it off. She’s not worried; she even grins wider as she says her final goodbyes to you and Eddie before the call ends. 

Eddie knows better than Robin. 

He waits a few seconds after the call has ended and his apartment has fallen silent again, watching your slow movements as you sit your phone down on the arm of the couch. 

You lied to yourself, clearly. This incessant ache in you, this question that has begun to run laps in your mind, will never be satiated or sedated through joking discussions of what happened. You can’t pretend like your hips won’t carry invisible scars for the rest of your days from where Eddie’s hands scorned you, you can’t forget how his lips fit against yours in a movement easier than breathing. Kissing him, holding him, filling him had been more effortless than filling your lungs with the air necessary for survival. And you hadn’t caught onto it in the moment, hadn’t recognized your mistake and stopped this train from running off its tracks quicker than you could handle. 

That’s all it was. A trainwreck. You and Eddie were a trainwreck, and the only casual so far it seemed was you. 

An explosion. A glass wall. A tormented ocean. Every single transaction between you and him ended with you wounded, never him. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks when you suddenly stand from the couch, not really sure of where you were going to go but no longer capable of just sitting and thinking, pondering, drowning. 

“Fine,” you curtly reply, deciding the kitchen might be a good place to start. Get a glass of water, gulp it down instead of false hope or fake niceties Eddie was probably going to shower you with now. 

Or maybe there would be no face niceties. Maybe he’d go back to being cruel, and in that, not realize he was being kind to you and your heart that had grown too heavy over the last twelve hours. 

“You don’t look fine,” he persists, and follows you. It nearly sparks irritation. But of all the emotions rushing through you right now, you don’t have the energy to spare for petty irritation. 

“Then stop looking,” you sigh as your eyes trace over his cabinets, trying to remember which one holds his glasses. He gets too close too fast, coming up behind you and opening one of the cabinets as if he was reading your mind. A collection of mugs, plastic cups, and crystal glasses alike line the shelves. You focus on them rather than him. 

“What’s wrong?” he insists, actually starting to get on your nerves now.

You didn’t want to tell him what’s wrong, because it was stupid. The most predictable cliche has come to fruition, and you only have yourself to blame. The anger he’s assuming is his fault is just misdirected. You just needed to get your emotions under control – if you could accomplish that, you could survive these last few hours. 

“It’s nothing,” you push back, finally looking at him. You worry for a second that you might be teary eyed, but you know better. Your corneas burn, everything aches, but your vision is clear as day. He’s clear as day, and it makes the ache all the more unbearable, “I’ll get over it.” 

You’re not supposed to want him this way. You’re supposed to hate him. 

He stiffens, “Get over what?” 

“It.” 

“I-” he stammers at your vague response, mouth pressing into a harsh line as his eyes narrow, “Jesus Christ, how are you still this fucking stubborn? After everything that’s happened tonight? After everything that happened in the last hour?” 

“I’m not stubb-” you fruitlessly try to correct, but he bulldozes on without listening.

“I thought after I had been balls deep in you, maybe we had made some progress – maybe we could be friends-” 

“Are you fucking joking?” you scoff, trying to properly process the sentence he’d just said and not get hung up on him using the phrase balls deep, “I- No, okay? Sex doesn’t mean friendship, Eddie. That’s not how this works.” 

“Then how does it work?” if you were stupid, you’d assume he was begging, “Please enlighten me. How do I get you to trust me?” 

“Why do you need my trust so badly?” you snark back. Misdirected anger, and he’d put himself directly in the line of fire, “Why do you want that of me so goddamn badly when it’s clear that after tonight, we’ll pretend all of this never existed?” 

He steps back as if you slapped him. As if he hadn’t been the one just making a mockery of whatever was happening between the two of you. 

“You said it yourself,” you continue to ramble, waving around a previously fisted hand, “It changes nothing. And it’s not your problem that I struggle with that. I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself – there’s a difference.” 

“It doesn’t feel like there’s a difference,” Eddie immediately snaps, “You’re mad because I said… I said that? Because I said your words back to you? Because if you can recall correctly, sweetheart, you’re the one that said it all means nothing first.”

The misdirected anger is starting to feel perfectly directly with each word that leaves his mouth, “Because you asked me if it all meant nothing first. They’re still your words, not mine!” 

“I only asked that because you’ve made it very clear that you enjoy hating me.” 

“You think I enjoy this?” your voice breaks with emotion, taking a step closer to him. Your toes brush his, “You think I enjoy all this fighting with you? You think I enjoy seeing you act like it’s painful to be in a room with me for more than a few seconds at a time?”

His hardening gaze, his hands twitching at his sides, the lilt of his mouth as the corner folds downward. Now that you’ve tasted him, you could never erase yourself of him. 

“You really want to know what I think?” he’s not screaming like he should be. The two of you should be shouting to the ceilings, screaming until the surrounding neighbors could hear you. You want to yell until your lungs give out and noise complaints have been filed, but he’s not having it. He’s quiet as he takes the next step closer. His head dips in closer to yours, lips nearing the shell of your ear, “Do you truly want to know what I think about all of this?”

“Yes,” you whimper out, the need for yelling being swallowed down for the time being, “That’s all I want.”

It’s true. You don’t know if he can see it, the crack in your composure as you admit it, but it’s the truth. You want to see inside his mind, watch the mechanics ticking in real time. You need to know his every single thought and feeling so badly, your hands shake. 

“I think,” his voice comes out as a husky whisper directly against your ear, chest just shy of brushing against yours, “you never really hated me, baby,” he pauses, and one of his hands come out to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you in closer to him, “I think, you just wanted me so badly, it made you into a dumb, angry slut.” 

“You’re cocky,” you shakily laugh. You need to stop this. You need to push him away, save yourself.

You lean into his touch and silent commands, pressing up into him. Going as far as to stand up on your tip-toes so that your nose brushes against his neck. 

“Am I?” he chuckles, and the sound shoots straight to your core. 

You need to push him away. You need to put distance. You need to remember this means nothing.

“You asked me what I thought, sweetheart,” he goes to pull away, and you follow, “And I’m nothing if not an honest man.”

It means nothing. You can deal with your own ramifications tomorrow. You can work through the catastrophe relief come tomorrow afternoon, nurse away the heartbreak and sore disappointment. 

You have him for one night. One night. To let him slip away from you is to waste it. 

“Honest?” you try to scoff, but it comes out a breath against his skin, both hands now wrapping around your waist as he turns the two of you and cages you against the counter, “You… You can’t even honestly tell me why you hate me. You have to use some bullshit excuse.” 

His hands rake down your sides before cupping beneath your thighs, lifting you to sit on the counter. He’s fucking smirking. Completely unaffected by your words. 

“Would you like me to be honest now, doll?” he rasps, leaning back to take you in, “Or would you rather me eat that poor pussy right here, right now, on this counter?” 

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @amira0303 @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @tlclick73 @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[silhouette-cosplay]

Viking vibes Loki!

Two shoots in one week was a little insane, not gonna lie, but it was worth it to get both the ice castles AND this magical snowy landscape in PA! We got a ton of snow suddenly overnight and it was just perfect to put on Loki again!

I literally have SO many photos that I want to share with you all—two and a half year is such a long time to work on a project and I am gonna milk the end result for all it’s worth 😎

Based on Ragnarok concept art by Aleksi Briclot

Photo by @sennedjem

wip tag | more of this costume

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’M STUCK ON THIS FUCKING PLANET. I’M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN EARTH.

Tap photo for better quality

That’s right!! I’m talking even more about sinner bodies because I’m CRAZY!!! RAAHHH!! 🤪 SHES SO CRAZY WE CANT TAKE HER ANYWHERE!! 😝 it’s 3 in the morning and I can’t stop thinking about this goddamn TV.

I think Vox is genuinely the most fucked up character in this rewrite currently. Not really morally fucked up, there’s definitely worse people, but physical alterations in hell out of the main cast he definitely has it the worst. In my last post I talked about how Angel formed in hell and I want to go back to this because Vox did not form in hell as a TV or even a robot at all. He got formed on the road after dying in a car crash and was literally just this fucked up clump of wires and metal panels and had gross little robot hands and he had to make everything else himself and wait for his body to adjust to it, so he literally cannot regenerate normally. He didn’t even have a face yet or screen of any kind, just a little camera to see out of. If his screen shatters he needs to get a new one or if his body breaks he needs to get it repaired, thats why he’s able to upgrade his body and stuff.

And like yeah some tech sinners do just form as robots but Vox just is a fucking mess and I think about it all the time and thats why his demon form is all fucked up like that and I think thats partially another reason he hates Alastor’s ideals so much sometimes because hes like “technology bad!” even though he literally is also partially a tech sinner and hes just stupid but like without technological advancements Vox literally would have nothing like they wouldn’t’ve met, Vox would not have a company, etc, etc and thatd probably help a lot of people yeah like the Vees would not fucking exist but ignoring that, just on a personal relationship scale I imagine your “friend” being like “man I really hate the thing that gives you life and allows you to live a somewhat normal existence” hurts a bit.

Technological regeneration is a bit more confusing and hard to explain than biological regeneration since machinery can’t really “heal” in real life. The concept sounds almost bewildering, like you can’t cut a wire and have it slowly heal like skin would, you’d need a whole new wire. But Vox internally, the things that allow him to move and live how he does now, it’s the only part of him that he can heal, and to him, it’s still “defective”.

Vox is disabled mentally and physically; he has Autism, ADHD, and epilepsy, all of which he is unable to be medicated for due to his new body. These are all things that he hates to acknowledge and will become irrationally upset by if they are mentioned to the point he will actively to deny certain aspects of disability. Being a man from the 1900’s-1950’s his views on mental disabilities and mental illnesses are… less than uh.. “acceptable” for today’s standards. He often disregards slurs towards this being called slurs and insists that “They used to just be words” or “It’s a medical diagnosis.” yet still gets incredibly upset when he is ever called a slur that actually could apply to him. In a way he tries to come off as purposely ableist so that he doesn’t have to confront this aspect of himself that he doesn’t understand. His knowledge in technology or sharks or economics aren’t “special interests” to him, they’re just “regular things a man likes”. He can’t process what a hyperfixation is. He doesn’t know that it’s normal for him to be unable to speak on occasion or that certain textures make him severely uncomfortable. These are either seen as weaknesses or “average people things”. Aside from how terribly disabled people were treated back around the 50’s, he views the neurodiverse aspect of his mind as something that only serves to further push him from grasping the feeling of regular humanity again.

For physical disabilities, he doesn’t lie or deny that he has epilepsy, yes he has an intense disdain for mentioning it, but for very few people he is close with he will disclose this information to them privately. There are a very select few people that are aware of this and two of those people are Velvette and Alastor. This post isn’t really about diving into Vox’s epilepsy so I’m keeping this concise because I have another post to put all of that in. Hope you all enjoy the wacky art :)

The binary says “Trust us” for anyone curious

[tyongsies]

NCT 127 — 'white lie' concept photos

[riddles-fiddles]

Can we get the dorm leaders reaction to s/o telling them that Twisted wonderland is a game in her world? She gave them plenty of proof and even showed them the game on her phone.

Riddle's confused and extremely intrigued from this piece of information

Though he's more on the confused side of things. He's not so acquainted with technology so it's a hard time for him to discern what's true or fake

And honestly, your claims are so absurd it easily slips on his side as a prank. He'll be polite and look interested the whole time, but his brain is racing against time to make reason of it all

"Cater always tells me about this 'effects' things you can add to photos and there are plenty apps for image manipulation"

Dismisses all the proof you show him as a very dedicated prank of yours, because how could he be merely an AI when he very much feels very alive? Bullshit.

He lays down on his bed for a few nights with a deep sense of dread, being unable to sleep from all the doubt that creeps on his mind. He wants to believe that it's all just a lie, but what if it isn't?

Sleeps through half your essay about how everything he knows is a lie, growing in boredom as you stubbornly shove evidence, talking like some scientist presenting a thesis

Honestly half your argument has already gone through his head at some point so he's not truly impressed

Plays it cool saying you're gone nuts and that all this magic stuff fried your brain

"Geez easy now herbivore, nothing you're blabbering about makes sense", and he looks absolutely unnafected, shrugging it off

He can't help but dwell on it for some time though, but he'll never show it on your face or hesitate for even a moment in front of anyone

No, you are the crazy one, he's very much real. His pain is real, or else all the things he feels deeply rooted on his heart wouldn't hurt this much... right?

At first he's skeptical and scoffs off at your attempts at making his mind around your little antics

He's got the mind of a businessman, he's not falling for such childish pranks, no matter how well made that photoshopped image looks. Oh, wait, it's an app? Well, you're probably just teaming up with Idia to piss him off

His interest is piqued the moment he sees the cards with his face, and as you tell him it's a gacha game, his features light up for a fraction of a second - but then he remembers that you're trying to shove some absurd nonsense down his throat. No, it's not the time for profit thinking

Though you sure did gave him an idea, and he'll be sure to talk it out to Idia some other time

Azul keeps on a composed and rational feeling to him, one he pridefully shows to everyone around him, but he's got his insecurities and doubts, and now you just sparkled something inside his heart

He can't quite grasp it, but it always leaves him choking and uncomfortable, something alike to fear and anxiety, something he used to feel when he was the pathetic little octopus with too much time alone

For the first time after many years, he finds himself pondering about life, questioning everything he knows, a sense of dread tugging at the confines of his mind. He didn't like to think that maybe you were right, that everything he might have experienced was nothing but a cruel lie

Kalim can't quite grasp the concept of his existence being literally a video game, but he's the first one to not treat it like a joke

He's very interested on everything you says naturally, but he's very impressed to know that there's a game where he is a character!

"But... y/n, how could I be a literal game character when I'm right in front of you? Doesn't that mean that you are ficitional as well?"

He laughs light-hearted, taking things surprisingly well - because he can't understand he's not truly real. No matter how many screenshots you show, his wiki page, his cards, not even playing through the whole Scarabia arch will suffice to convince him

He just thinks you're a very talented person who made the game as some kind of diary or something, being inspired by everything that happened in Night Raven College

Eventually Kalim just convinces you to brush your point off, seeing how happy and entertained he looked. Maybe it's for the best to just allow him to eat up that lie

You wouldn't want to make Kalim sad now, would you?

Vil looks at you like you have just insulted his whole bloodline and then threw all his makeup on his face

Stands there in awkward silence, processing all the information and carefully picked proof, snatching your phone to look through it

By the end of this tense moment, he shakes his head, laughing out as if finally understanding that everything was merely a joke.

But you don't laugh back, instead looking him dead in the face

Vil's unsettled by everything, from the way you look at him and the new, hard to swallow information

He asks you to go to therapy and says that he'll be more than happy to accompany you, sincerely worried about you

He doesn't want to believe the things you showed him, so just like the others, he'll just settle on the idea of you playing a prank on him for the sake of his own mental health.

Idia.exe has stopped working

"I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!" shouts out once he snaps out of his paralyzed processation so loudly you're sure everyone at NRC could hear him

He looks mortified and equally thrilled as he goes on blabbering about some underground government bullshit

Red and blue pill kinda shit, you know? Talks about simulations and how he dreamed saw the walls around his room glitch for a moment while gaming (he's sleep deprived)

Shut him up or else he'll be wailing in his fake existence and talking to you about some conspirational theories he formulated with the source of his own brain

Malleus is eerily silent as you present him with all the information you have, a perfect display of your confidence and everything that just fell right like puzzle pieces

When you're done and looks up at him, expecting an answer, he stares back, his emerald eyes deep and piercing, silently rummaging through your features though his gaze made you feel like he was reaching directly for your soul

"I know," he responds simply, an amused smile creeping between his lips

With a nod of farewell, he turns on his heels and simply leaves, unbothered to give any kind of explanation

Malleus leaves you with an existential crisis, hanging where you stood without understanding a thing

He knows? How can he know? Is he programmed to say that? Is he truly an IA?

You're not sure and will never be, because Malleus never gives you an answer eveytime you poke at the matter, simply smiling warmly before resuming to his tasks