#I feel an overwhelming need to post these for posterity

[qpjianghu]

Towards the Truth (2025) episodes 5-7

damn these bitches gay

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Is there hope in us, still? (is there something worth believing in?)

let me wrap my teeth around the world - series masterlist here

pairing: poly marauders x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.4k

genre: fluff, kinda angsty

warnings: slytherin reader, the good good post summer break mental illness, everybody's having some issues here, there will be a pt.2 next week to give it a happy happy ending but this isn't so bad, it has a hopeful ending on its own

a/n: wowie another one lol hope y'all enjoy <3

Sirius is hollow when he gets back from summer break - quiet and petulant in a way that doesn't suit him anymore, snapping at his peers and pulling away from people's touch. You can't blame him. Especially not when you're feeling the same. You're not quite as showy about it as he is, that constant, underlying desperation to keep it all hidden burning under your skin. Sirius's suffering is loud - loud enough that you always hope it will drown out yours. It never really does, as far as the other two are concerned. 

He shoves towards the door when class ends, likely stalking back to his dorm to hole up for the rest of the evening. James sighs, a hand on Remus' shoulder comfortingly as the boy stares at the doorway where Sirius just was, his brow furrowed in that worried way that he's mastered. 

"We're going to do some studying together in the common room later… see if maybe Pads feels like joining. You're always welcome to come along with us…?" James asks in that gentle way of his, patiently hopeful. You busy yourself with gathering up your books, knowing that if you look at him, you'll crumble. There is love in the way he looks at you, despite everything. You're sure that, if you take notice of it, it would be enough to condemn you these days.

"I'm going to do some work alone tonight," you say shortly, brushing past the two of them. Remus catches your arm as you try to leave, fingers wrapping around your wrist ever so gently. But when you pause, he lets go of you abruptly, like there's something wrong with his touch against yours. This is the beginning, you think. This is where I start to lose you. 

"If you change your mind…" he begins softly. You nod stiffly.

"I'll let you know." James and Remus watch as you leave swiftly, Remus rubbing the palm of his hand against his thigh, as if trying to take back the contact he'd already made with your wrist. This is where it starts, he thinks. This is where you begin to realize that I'm better when I'm left behind.

Remus has to stop himself from startling later that night when he's woken up by a cold hand shaking his shoulder. You hadn't come to study with them that evening, which wasn't surprising, but it hurt something in Remus. James, especially, had deflated, his eyes dull and his hands fidgety while he tried desperately to finish his essay, his thoughts wandering to Sirius and the dark circles under his eyes, the paleness of his skin - and then to you, to the stubborn set of your jaw and the hard look in your eyes. Looking down at his own hands, he wonders what worth they have if he can't even save the people he loves.

Needless to say, the last thing Remus was expecting was to have you in his dorm in the middle of the night, one of Sirius's sweaters shoved hastily over your pajamas as you shook him awake. You place a finger over his lips when he wakes abruptly, climbing up next to him without so much as a word as he fumbles to find his wand on his nightstand, casting a silencing spell over the four-poster bed.

"What's going on, dove?" he asks, his hands itching to hold your face, to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your cheeks and soothe you in some way. But he resists - you're here, in his bed, looking at him like you need him, and the last thing he wants is to overwhelm you and have you scared away. The last thing he can bear to do is put his hands on you, his scars glinting against unblemished skin -  something ruined touching something holy.

"I just… couldn't sleep. I'm not - I haven't been sleeping well these days," you respond, and Remus is sure that if he could see you clearly, if he weren't squinting at you through the dark, you'd be shying away, face tilted away from his eyes, away from any kind of vulnerability.

"Well," he says carefully, reaching out to put a hand on your knee. You don't pull away, to his relief. In fact, you relax a bit into it, letting your posture slouch. "Stay here then, yea?" Much to Remus's delight, that's all it really takes for you to move forward, pulling the blankets back to settle underneath them. He joins you, of course, settling in next to you and letting you decide how much - or how little space to leave between your bodies.

When you reach your hand over, cupping his cheek in your palm and smoothing your thumb over the skin there, he feels a part of him melt in the relief of it, a part of him that didn't realize quite how much he'd missed your touch - your love. He cups his hand over yours, tilting his head to press a series of kisses across your palm. When you continue to let him, sagging further into the pillows, he keeps going, trailing kisses up and down each finger and finishing with your thumb. 

It's then that you pull him closer, tilting your own face up to place your own gentle kiss to his lips before thumping your head against his chest. He lets you, of course, keeping his hand tangled up with yours while the other wraps around you. Before you can sleep, though, he leans close to whisper near your ear.

"James has been wondering where the invisibility cloak disappeared to. I'm sure he'll be pleased to know you're the one who ran off with it." You can't help but smile at his words, your face still pressed against his chest.

"You have so little faith in me, Rem. Not everyone needs the cloak to sneak around in this castle."

"But you did steal it, didn't you?'

"…I'll give it back to him later." Remus huffs out a quiet laugh at your confession, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"You know he doesn't mind," he soothes. You squeeze his hand in thanks where your fingers are still interlocked.

"Goodnight, Rem… and thank you for this."

"No need to thank me, love. I don't mind at all."

Something clatters to the floor on the other side of the locked bathroom floor and Remus frowns, staring at it like he can burn a hole big enough to see Sirius on the other side - to make sure he's ok. James drapes himself over Remus's back where they're sitting on James's bed together, his arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Remus lets him, leaning back against him and feeling James sigh at the weight of it, a bit of tension draining from him.

"Were they really here last night? They really came and spoke with you?" James says, his face buried in Remus's neck, a desperate sort of lilt to his voice. Tell me there is hope, he thinks. Tell me I can fix this, still.

"You saw the note they left, love," Remus lets his eyes settle on his nightstand where you'd left the invisibility cloak, a note folded on top with a simple thank you written in it, a heart scrawled next to it that he recognized as yours. The whole thing almost made up for the fact that, by the time Remus had woken up, you'd already been gone.

"Do you think… things will be better now? At least a bit? Were things better last night?" James asks, his arms tightening around Remus's waist. Remus, in an act of reassurance, wraps his fingers around one of James's hands and squeezes gently as Sirius stalks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and stomping away.

"I do think things are getting better. It's… slower than you and I would like, I know. But all we can is love them - and that, my dear Prongs, I know you can do." James grumbles something unintelligible at the compliment, his face still hidden from view. Remus is sure that, if he could see it, he'd be greeted by the flushed red of James's cheeks. He settles for bringing one of his hands up to press kisses across it, instead, content to bring a bit of hope back to the person he loves - to do something good with this body of his. 

There is hope, he thinks, in this love they all share. There is something here to fight for, still.

[edgeray]

*vibrates*

So many wips… 👀

Ok so. IDK. I have. So many “want to sees”. So I’m just gonna list them 🤷‍♀️

Ghost Clervie AU. I’m imagining Clervie watching as Peruere- sorry, *Arlecchino* develops her “cold, strict, and unfeeling Father persona”. But she quickly reverts back to Peruere in the presence of Clervie when Arle figures out she isn’t hallucinating and this isn’t some scheme of someone trying to throw her off balance.

(I’m actually just realizing the parallels of Furina making her Archon persona and Peruere with her Father persona 🤔 Both masks are there in order to better protect the people that rely on them (Fontaine’s citizens and the Hearths Children respectively)). Anyways.

Isekai-ed Arlecchino. I’m just wondering at how that would work and how serious you would make the writing take itself. Like would it be crack, crack that takes itself serious, or serious? (You don’t need to answer that. I was just pondering)

Modern Cat or Bunny Shifter Arle. Arle in her animal form has a nearly 100% coat with the exception of one ear that’s black. It’s cute. Also, I see her as a bunny with floppy ears that are so long that she trips over them XD I’m giggling at the thought she might even be one of those massive bunny breeds too. This makes me wonder if the House exists and whether or not the rest are also shapeshifters. Like a haven for shapeshifters, if you will.

Pirate Arle. You know (you don’t, but I’m telling you 😅) I’m a sucker for enemies(who actually aren’t all that bad) taking in and caring for an abandoned enemy.

Historical Goddess Arle. I think the fact that Reader prays for a painless death rather than no death at all could be intriguing to Arle who probably regularly gets prayers from people not wanting to die?

Spiderwoman Arle. It’s not a want, it’s a need. I’m also a sucker for secret identity relationships. 

Arlecchino w/ Cursed Bio Child.

Alien Arle and Human Reader. Arle and Clervie internally seething at getting another runaway test subject (not at the human, at the fact they were experimented on). That(the facility) would need to be taken care of… (badass ArlexClervie couple who are leaders of an organization who take down illegal trafficking rings, experiment facilities, etc? 👀) Once the newcomer gets adjusted to their new home, of course.

Arlecchino x Alive/Knave Clervie.

Sorry if any of that/the extra commentary seems like I’m trying to press for any of this. Yeah, these are requests. If that’s ok 🙂

👉👈 Hopefully it isn’t overwhelming.

The Other End of the Blade

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi anon, sorry for being late with this anon! I really love your commentary on all of your (mine?) ideas so don’t worry about it! I’ll put more of a response at the end of this.  This one is going to be pirate AU because I too crave some enemies to lovers right now. One piece is the only basis I have for pirates so apologies if it's not alike to other pirate media.    Those of you wondering where this list of ideas come from, it’s from my ideas/wip post, where I store all of the silly little ideas for fanfics. Feel free to request from anything on that list.

Content warnings / info - enemies to lovers, semi-graphic violence, heavily one piece inspired, got WAY too invested into this whoops, 4.0k words

Before you could read books, you could read wanted posters. Before you could spell out your name, you could write down ‘pirate’ and ‘wanted dead or alive.’ Before you could write, you throw a mean punch. Before you knew how to play, you knew how to fight. And before you knew how to count your fingers, you could tie knots. Before you knew what a Marine was, you already were one. And before you knew what ‘love’ means, you knew what hate was and who to hate: pirates. Hatred towards them coursed alongside your blood through your veins. 

Pirates are the scum of the seas, raiders from the depths of the oceans that have come to pillage towns and wreak havoc over the prospering empires. They’re sick people who only know how to steal and how to kill. They rob lives without an ounce of hesitance, ignorant to the misery and suffering they force upon people because of their actions. The world would be better off without them. That way, all people can live in peace without worry from murderers and pillagers like them. Pirates are everything you should hate and you swear that you're going to make it so not one person has to be afraid of their shores–they'll never have to look at the horizon wondering if they see pirate ships in the distance cruising towards them. 

If there is one thing that your family has instilled into you, it would be that a world free of suffering is a world free of pirates. Like every other family member before you, you've been set on the path of greatness that is to eradicate every one of those vermin since birth. The only aspiration you could have is rising the ranks of the Marines. Generations of your family served in the Marine, holding the highest positions. Being anything short of one of the admiral positions, (the lowest of which ranking fourth highest in authority) is a disgrace, a stain on your one of the most prominent Marine families. 

Rising towards the ranks was no difficulty for you. It's only about two years since you've joined the Marines, and you've already risen to a commander position. For reference, even the best of soldiers take four to five years to be promoted to that level. And you know you're about to be promoted–you just need one big case. Just capture one famous pirate, and you know that the Captain rank is yours. One more step closer to cementing your place among the greats of your family. 

– 

Water pelts across your face and the strong sea breeze whips around you. Over your own thumping heart, you can hear the roaring of raging waves paired with the wild flapping of the sails and the creaking of wood. Thudding footsteps rushes all around you, and the clouded sky flashes, thundering. 

“Lower the sails!” You scream at the men as they wrestle with the ropes. Seeing one of the men fumble, you grumble under your breath and shove him away to take over. 

“Get a bucket, and keep getting rid of the water. We need as little water to get into the hull as possible,” you command him, and that's enough to make him useful. 

“Pirate ship spotted!” One of the crew members states and you groan in frustration. A pirate ship at this time? You're only just barely ensuring the vessel does not capsize! Not only is the Marine ship struggling, but no doubt the pirate ship would be too. You release the ropes, seeking out the captain. 

“Captain!” You yell as you head towards him. The cranky man shoots you a snooty glare before turning to a Marine soldier besides him. 

“Hurry up! What flag is it?! Huh? Huh?! Give me a damn answer before I throw you overboard!” Your captain gruffly exclaims at the poor Marine who was holding a spyglass, pointing it towards the oncoming ship. You cringe at the Captain's voice, silently giving sentiments to the other Marine. 

“It's a… um… it.. um…” The Marine stutters, unsure of what to make of the flag. You grind your teeth before wrenching it out of his hands and examining the flag yourself with squinted eyes. In between  heavy rain and dark surroundings, you can just barely recognize the flag: a hand grasping a candle. 

Damn it! At this time?! 

“It's the Hearth pirates!” You announce, tossing the scope to your Captain to see. 

“The Hearth? You mean one of the Harbinger crews?!” The old man grunts before seeing for himself. His facial features morph into one of disbelief before hardening. 

“I want every cannon manned now! Get your weapons ready and drawn! All hands on deck!” The Captain demands. The confusion and disbelief was practically palpable among the Marines, and felt through their second of hesitation before the soldiers’ replied with a ‘yes Captain.’

Is he crazy? What the hell is wrong with him? As much as you would love to capture the notorious Hearth pirates, you knew now was nothing but an imprudent time. Even if the Hearth was among the less deadly of the Harbinger crews, that did not make them any less powerful. You have heard from other Marines’ hushed whispers that it takes at least a large fleet (5 Marine ships) to take down one entire Harbinger ship, and even that was theoretical. The Fatui pirates as a whole are damn near unstoppable, but the Harbingers themselves are monsters ripped from hell. As much as you hate to admit, you’re not strong enough to defeat a Harbinger, and you have similar doubts for your Captain. Where does he get this pomposity from?

The other men are struggling enough to keep this piece of wood afloat, and now they have to worry about battling pirates? You doubt even the Hearth is eager for a fight. Fighting in this storm would only lead to early graves for both sides. Winning against and capturing the Hearth pirates is unfavorable, but surviving past this storm is indisputable. 

“Wait, Captain!” You call out to him. An annoyed click of his tongue comes from him, as if you were the bother, and it only makes you clench your hands into fists. He turns his back towards you, irritation written all over his expression. 

“What are you standing around for? Get ready already!” He demands with a scrunched face. 

“We can't engage in battle with them yet! We don’t have enough men, and we're already struggling with the storm!” You protest. “We're in no condition to try and fight them!”

Silence. Around you, you hear whispers from the other crewmates, sounds of agreement coming from them. Evidently, this increases the captain's indignation. 

“Quiet!” He screams. “If we're struggling, just think about how they could be faring! They don't have nearly enough resources as us marines do to survive! This is our chance to capture one of the Harbinger crews!

“After all,” he pauses to give you a pointed, haughty look. “We have one of the members of the greatest family? We won't lose with you on our side, right? We're in your hands.”

You bristle, your nails digging into your palm as your lips twitch into a deeper frown. To think he would use your family name against you. What is he even trying to do? You're too stunned to respond and he brushes past you. 

You're absolutely powerless to do anything, and so are the other soldiers on this ship. No one here outranks the Captain. No matter how correct you may be, you would be punished for disobeying a superior's order. If only you could have been promoted earlier, then you wouldn't have to listen to this fool. Had it been you, you would have this ship steered towards the closest Marine base and report what direction the Hearth pirates are going. But you can't do that. You nod pathetically, and the rest of the men disperse. 

You can only watch as the smaller ship approaches closer and closer. As soon as Hearth pirates enter within the firing range, chaos ensues with your Captain's bellowed “FIRE!” 

A cacophony of screams and cannon fire sound through the air, deafening you, and the overpowering smell of gunpowder and brine swarm your nostrils. Like all naval battles, it’s always a blur–just a flash of colors and movements. At some point, the pirate ship approached close enough for them to board onto the Marine ship. You are not aware of this until you find yourself face to face with one of the Hearth pirates. By then, all rationale has been thrown out in favor of instinct–the most precise, miniscule reaction is what keeps you alive the most when it comes to battling pirates. Your surroundings fade from your awareness, your only attention on the figure before you.

She’s a young pirate, that you can tell, but her skills are no less admirable. She has an ever passive, unreadable face that makes predicting her movements hard to discern and even harder to catch off guard. You narrowly dodge another slash of her saber, and your cutlass swishes through the air, only shallowly cutting her sleeve. Despite this, she is far from deterred, and you have to parry another swing. The steel of the blades screeches as your blades clash against each other. Now at a temporary standstill, the both of you exchange eye contact for a brief moment. Lilac eyes, brimming with determination, skirts away from yours. She pulls away only to lunge again, a thrust of her blade heading towards you abdomen but you dodge, side-stepping it. The blade skims just past you, embedding into the wood of one of the masts. Realizing the given opportunity, you give a swift kick to the pirate’s stomach, disconnecting her hand from the handle of her sword. She tumbles onto the ground with a grunt, and you use no time to close the distance. 

Just as you are about to deliver another blow, a loud gunshot sounds through, making you flinch. A sharp pain erupts from your left shoulder and you stumble back from the young pirate. You cock your head, peering behind you. This action allows you to narrowly miss two oncoming daggers, though your cheek and neck get nicked. Spinning on your heel, you face the dagger wielding pirate fully. He’s a young boy, with a top hat and matching eyes of the saber user. Siblings, perhaps? The fierceness in his eyes confirms your suspicions. 

You charge at the boy, but before reaching him, a large wave crashes into the boat, water spilling overboard and throwing you off balance. The sudden impact makes you lose your balance, and you’re hurtled towards the railings of the ship, your back slamming into it. An audible crack emits from the collision and your spine screams out in agony. Lifting yourself into a crawling position, you glance up at the havoc over the deck. 

A bit close to you is your captain, fighting against a white-haired woman. Given the striking polearm she wields, that must be the Knave, one of the eleven Harbingers of the Fatui pirates. Her movements are graceful, every thrust and slash calculated and precise. In contrast, your captain’s movements are botched, desperate. Every output of effort from him is just for another instance of him scraping by with his life. Each parry with his saber leaves his arms trembling. He is a bumbling mess compared to the Knave. Easily, you can tell it’s a losing battle for your captain. He’s outclassed. 

You’re about to rise when a flicker of bright light catches your gaze. Your eyes widen as you turn your head to spot a bright orange mass covering a part of the deck, and it only grows the longer you gaze at it. The flames stalk towards you with a terrifying space. Despite your body’s protest, you beckon your body to stand. When you have both feet on the wooden planks, you head towards your captain to assist him in his battle. Abruptly, the Marine ship shakes, another current assaulting its side. Swept off your feet, your body is flung, your lower abdomen hitting the top of the railings while you roll off of the ship. It’s only by sheer luck that your hand catches the base of the railing, holding onto it with all the strength you could muster in your left arm. The rest of your body hangs over the ever-swallowing sea. 

Your grasp is slipping because of the rain. You grunt as you try to lift yourself with just one arm. Opening your mouth, you clench your teeth onto the spine of your cutlass, freeing up your right arm to grip onto the base of another fence. With much effort, you’re able to heave your head up so that your eyesight is just over the floor. You can spot the familiar boots of the captain. Every muscle in your arm is straining, burning painfully. Holding on for much longer is impossible.

The cutlass has to go. You let the weapon fall from your mouth, and it plunges into the waters below. 

“Captain! Captain!” The guttural outcry comes from your lips. There’s the groaning of wood breaking. A large shadow looms over you, and you lift your gaze. The mast above tilts down, forewarning its collapse on top of you. 

“CAPTAIN!” You scream out, no longer having the strength to lift your head above the deck. You dangle helplessly, your grip slacking with each second. 

You hear thumping footsteps towards you, and you have never been more grateful to see the unsightliness of your captain’s face peering over the railings. 

For a moment, he does nothing, viewing your vulnerable state. His lips twitch, a small smile stretches over his face. He turns away briefly, glancing in both the right and left direction, before focusing on you again. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that they know you fought honorably,” he says, venom in his voice. “So go ahead and let go.”

Your blood freezes, and his face disappears. Your arms can no longer continue and you let up. 

You fall, plunging into the icy cold waters. The iciness does not just seep into your blood, but your muscles and tendons too, making your body heavy. Air is stolen away from you and you flail and kick to the surface for air. Everything hurts. As you sputter for oxygen, coughing out the saltwater, your vision catches the glimpse of a long brown mass toppling down onto you. It’s the last thing you see when something hits the back of your head, and everything fades into an inky abyss. 

—

Everything hurts. It's the first thing that comes to you when you are able to grasp even a bit of consciousness. You feel it in your limbs, your back, your abdomen, essentially anything above your waist has a stabbing sensation in it. A groan, followed by a deep suction of air, emerges from you, and you lift your head up. Your eyes flutter open, bright light stabbing into your eyes. You let out a pained groan, rolling your neck to ease its discomfort but find it unhelpful. 

Your eyes adjust to the orange glow of your surroundings. You blink several times to relieve the blurriness in your vision, able to see more clearly. Given the rocking motion and the familiar sound of waves crashing, you would reckon you're on a ship. Looking down at yourself, you're seated on a chair. You attempt to sit up, only to find yourself unable to. Rope digs into the skin of your bound wrists, and you let out a string of expletives in a single defeated sigh. 

“Did you learn that tongue from the Marines?” A cutthroat voice resounds through the room. 

You dip your head, turning towards the figure. A tall woman leans against the wall in the corner, a good bit of distance away. White and black strands, charcoal hands, crimson crossed-pupils, and the epitome of beauty and refinement that marks the appearance of the Knave. Strange to find that among pirates, of all brutish people. Your hazy mind clears in an instant, and you sit up straighter. The pirate captain's presence brings about your most recent memories onto the forefront of your mind in short bursts. With a forceful swallow, you recognize that you have been captured by the Hearth pirates. If you're alive rather than dead, that means they have some use for you. Whatever it is, you need to escape from this. You can only do that when you fish for enough information. 

Taking in your surroundings, you'd have to guess you're in some storage room. Stacked barrels make up the majority of the room. Perhaps if you're able to access the contents of the barrels, you can use them to escape. If not, you could easily ruin their supplies, including food and water. 

“I just thought communicating would be easier in your language,” you snark back, observing the Harbinger's reaction. Expectedly, she remains inexpressive, revealing nothing. She leans away from the wall, stalking towards you. Heels click against the floorboards. Only pirates would have the audacity to be wearing such compromising shoes out on the sea. 

She stands before you, unmoving, her piercing gaze smiliarly fixated on your form. When nothing comes from her lips, you make conversation first.

“Admiring me?” 

This earns a humorless chuckle. “There's nothing to admire.” 

Ow. 

A frown comes across your face. Acting coy does not work on pirates like the Knave. The Knave seems like someone who only responds to directness. No use in stalling. 

“What happened to my crew?”

“They were alive when we left them.” 

“And are they still alive?”

“Presumably.” 

You grit your teeth, lunging at her in anger. Your bounds don't allow for much movement, and it only makes your chair screech across the floor boards towards the pirate. “You left them in the middle of the storm with a ruined ship! You killed them!” 

“You were the fools that decided to attack us.”

“You would have attacked us first! You scum aren't above anything! How can I even trust your word? How do I not know you're not lying to my face?! How do I know you haven't slaughtered them all?!” You scream, thrashing against the ropes wildly.  

“I doubt any persuasion could relieve your distrust. I see that any sort of conversation with you will be futile,” the pirate remarks. She spins on her heel, heading towards the door. You're almost tempted to let her if it means the chance of never seeing her face again, until another thought crosses your mind. 

Why did she want some sort of conversation with you?

“Wait.”

The Knave stops in her tracks. “Are you choosing to be civil for once?” 

You scrunch your nose. “Never mind. I can't bear seeing your face again.” 

An audible huff comes from the pirate before she does face back towards. 

“Why did you… why did you keep me alive? Why did you spare me? Why did you…” You pause, recalling back to your last memories. You were knocked unconscious by falling debris, that you were sure of. You should have drowned by all accounts. You doubt your crewmates have saved you–you hate to admit it, but you would have sunk to the seabed before one of them had noticed. Your crewmates would have been too focused on the pirates to have. If it wasn't any one from your party, then that only leaves the opposing party. However, there is no logical reason for them to. You'd sooner accept divine intervention rather than pirates having rescued you. 

The voice in your head, the voice that has been fostered since your childhood, tells you that it is neither of those two, just a sick sense of karma. Pirates aren't capable of any good doing. If they've kept you alive, it's because they intend to hurt you even more. They're inhuman monsters who only know how to steal and steal, until nothing of you is left. Wretched people that shouldn't even have the luxury of being labeled as ‘humans.’ 

“Why am I here?” You finally settle on those words. 

Silence stretches for a single moment before she begins. “You encountered two of my children, yes?” 

You raise your eyebrows at the mention of ‘children.’ You're aware that some captains likened themselves to a parental figure of their crew–it seems like the Knave is one of those cases. You think back to the young ash blond pirates you briefly fought. 

“The swordswoman and the dagger thrower,” you reply.

“Correct. I found Lyney as a child, when I was wandering the alleys of a shoretown. He bumped into me because he was in a hurry to save his sister from being sold to a high ranking Marine.”

Shock envelopes your face as you process those words. A Marine? Someone whose duty is to protect citizens? A high ranking Marine? Someone whose performance and power is praiseworthy and yet they would do something like that? The thought sickens you. That kind of behavior… that can only pertain to a pirate right? It is not possible for a Marine to act that way. Other Marine officials would have never allowed it. She must be feeding falsehoods to trick you, to get you to betray your family and duty. There's no way this would happen. 

Despite your inner turmoil, Arlecchino continues. “When I took them in, fed them and gave them somewhere to sleep, it took several months for Lyney to sleep in his own quarters. He couldn't be torn away from his sister's quarters. Any chore assigned to him, Lynette had to be beside him. You would have to possess a superhuman strength to separate him from her.”

You could imagine why. Your stomach churns uncomfortably, hating the fact that with every word, her story seems more and more plausible. Why were you even considering this fabricated story? Why were you being swayed by a pirate's tongue?

“Why are you telling me this? You didn't take me to tell your kids’ sob story,” you remark. 

“Every single person on this ship has been dealt an unfortunate hand by the Marines. My children,” she speaks with a hint of indignation, her voice chillingly sincere, “have suffered and wept because of a Marine. Not one of them has ever had a good history with a Marine.” 

She gives you a pointed look, one that makes your blood boil. You hate it, you want to gauge her eyes out because you can see the glint of sympathy in them. “I see now that it's not just people having been harmed by the Marines. But their own people too.” 

“I am not some pitiful stray you found on the street!” You scream, having heard enough of this. “I have not been wronged by-” 

“Your captain abandoned you.” That is all it takes to silence you, and your outburst dies the instant it comes. Any protests on your lips is pummeled away by the heaviness in your chest that forms whenever you think back to that moment. Arms aching, helpless and dangling, and the man you relied upon to lead you and guide you, turns away. He left you, simple as that, to die. Why? You couldn't even fathom a reason. How could a captain do that? After all your service, after all you've done for him, he leaves you.

“You would have died because of a self-serving captain.” 

And you still have the audacity to try and defend him. The Marines are all you know. He was just one man. That did not mean all the Marines were like that. “He was just one man.”

“One man is all it takes. One man is one too many. And if that were true, no one else would be on my ship. I do not believe that all Marines are as revolting as him. Quite the opposite. But there is enough and that's the problem. 

“You may find it hard to believe, but we want to welcome you. If you choose to so stubbornly reject our hospitality and company, we will drop you off at the nearest island so you may return to your duty. But here, we at least know of loyalty and family, I assure you that.” 

The Knave approaches you. You hear the unsheathing of a blade and you feel your wrists relieved from their bounds. You gape at her. 

“Welcome to the House of the Hearth.” 

More A/N: I know this was really long, and not at all romantic, but I got way too invested into the plot of it all to actually focus on the romance. Please someone request a part two because I haven't enjoyed writing a piece this much in a while (i know my inbox is closed for requests but I will make this an exception. This was such a fun piece that really had me invested the entire time while writing. I would love to see Arlecchino's and Reader's relationship develop more. I hope you guys enjoyed this because it's now the longest request I've ever written.

I'm not done yapping, unfortunately. To address anon's commentary. First of all, never be sorry for the commentary. I love yapping, as you may be able to tell. I love hearing your guys' ideas and I think they're all so cool!! (I'm also lonely :v pls talk to me anons).

I love, love, love Arlecchino's character, and I so wish to see it more explored in x Reader fics (I have something like this in the works ehehe) and I totally see the comparison between Furina and Clervie (even though I don't ship Arlefuri).

I've already written Goddess! Arlecchino x Reader! I've linked it in case you haven't seen it before. I'm also working on an Alien! Arlecchino x Human! Reader, so not quite like the Alien AU! Arlevie, but I thought it's something you might be interested. I think that Bunny! Arle would be more like her plush in the Arlecchino animation, but seeing her with floppy ears is such a cute image. With the Isekai AU, I guess it really depends on my mood. (I've also put a different concept for an Arlecchino Isekai-ed AU in the same post), but likely the one mentioned in your asks will have more crack.

I really want to think you for your conideration of my ideas!! It means a lot to me that people actually see them and like can envision it and feel the raw potential for that story like I do. I know it took super long for me to get to this request and it might not even be how you wanted but I hope you like it. <333

Note to future requests: if you guys give me a list of ideas you want me to do (bc you're as indecisive as I am), I can pick one to write :33)

[starrihan]

https://www.tumblr.com/starrihan/778415657483190272/scenario-a-nerdy-girl-who-is-secretly-obsessed?source=share Give me part two or I'll kidnap you? 🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

Ah listen to me. Maybe part two should have aftercare too🌝! Taesan will hug you and say "no need to cry, I won't leave you, pretty,"

Forgive me because I'm crazy 😔🙏

You’re forgiven because I’m also crazy? (but kidnap me if you must i will not object)

Idk something about mean dom! Taesan making you cry and then being so nice and caring afterwards is delicious 😋

Also are you the same anon that requested the original post??

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

༄ ༄ ༄

You're shaking in the bathroom, still shocked at the events that just occurred. You frantically clean up your mess, the embarrassment washing over you again as you recall the way you came all over his fingers. Looking in the mirror you gasp at your current state. Hair frizzy and messed up, mascara running down your cheeks and eyeliner smudged in the corners.

You quickly dry your still-wet face and use the napkins to get rid of any smudging, trying to salvage what's left of your makeup by patting the surrounding foundation onto the stained areas. You try to calm your nerves but it fails as you find yourself slightly shaking as you walk back into the large lecture hall. You look around, finding Taesan already staring at the door, the smirk on his face as he keeps eye contact with you a little overwhelming.

༄ ༄ ༄

Your nervousness never settles as the clock ticks seem louder than usual, serving as a constant reminder at how agonizingly slow time seemed to be going by. You were nervous for what Taesan wanted from you after class, but you were even more nervous at the fact that you've been growing increasingly needier as time went on, panties ruined.

The sound of students closing their laptops and zipping up their bags snapped you out of your thoughts. You quickly packed up your things, not that there was any point in bringing them out anyways since you didn't even pay attention. Hopefully today's material wouldn't be on your next exam.

You take your time, waiting for everyone to leave the hall before making your way down the ramp, scanning the hall for Taesan. You furrow your brows as you see no sign of anyone outside the classroom, your need being replaced by irritation.

"Did you think I left? That wouldn't be very nice of me, would it?"

His voice behind you made you jump, noticing that his hands look wet and blushing as you realized that he just came from the bathroom, your neediness clouding your judgement. You turn around, shaking your head as you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"You're awfully quiet now that you're not moaning my name."

You burn up even more, not knowing how to act around the one person that's made you cum more times than you know, more times than he knows. But his cockiness just brought something out of you that you couldn't figure out. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, feisty are we?"

"Shut up..."

He chuckles, getting close to your face, lips just barely ghosting over your own.

"And if I don't? Then what? Will you take away the honor of letting me hear your sweet voice moan my name again?"

You look away, not being able to stare at his captivating eyes any longer.

"C'mon sweetheart, I will get you to moan my name again."

He grabs your wrist, smooth but gentle as he walks you to what you assume is his apartment building. Once inside his room, you can't help but stare at all of his posters. Black walls adorned with posters of My Chemical Romance, Mötley Crüe and other bands that you didn't recognize.

A yelp leaves your body as he suddenly appears behind you, hands wrapping around your figure, sliding the backpack off of your shoulders.

"Relax baby, why are you so nervous?'

The way he makes you feel, how your burns up at just the slightest touch by him. None of this felt real.

"This is my first time ever doing something like this... with someone I've just met."

"For someone who you just met you sure acted like you knew me, at least well enough to moan my name in the bathrooms for anyone to hear."

"Will you let that go?"

You scoffed, getting tired of the constant waves of embarrassment crashing over you.

"I can't. Usually the girls that want me say it to my face. You're... interesting. Maybe you're a stalker for all I know."

You can't deny how he must've felt, knowing you'd probably feel weirded out if you heard a stranger moaning your name in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for anyone, esepcially you, to hear me being—"

"—a pervert?"

Like a mallet to a gong, you feel your heart pang in your chest. The idea of being called a pervert by your crush was the ultimate form of humiliation, the tears flowing from your eyes instantly.

"I— I'm s-so... sorry, I— I can't believe I—"

But he didn't seem angry or weirded out. Instead, he walked over to you, placing a hand on your waist before leaning in to close the gap between you. You breath hitches in your throat, unable to process his actions, eyes fluttering shut.

"Don't be embarrassed baby, I liked it."

He says after pulling away, diving back in to kiss along your jaw and neck. His actions now are much gentler than they were before, hands slowly moving down to cup your ass under your skirt. You gasp, moving your head to the side to allow him more room to continue his kisses on your neck, hands brushing through his hair as you pull him in closer, your front pressing against his hardening length.

"Fuck Y/N,"

He growls into your neck. He moves one hand to your clothed clit, smirking into your neck when he feels how soaked you are through your panties, your almost silent moans like candy to his ears.

"Oh you must really like me,"

The tears are still steadily flowing down your cheeks, not able to conceal your shame. But the more humiliated you feel, the more turned-on you find yourself getting, and he notices it too with the way you grind your hips into his fingers.

He leads you to the bed, lips never leaving your neck as you feel the back of your legs hit the bed. He instructs you to lay down, laughing as you try to wipe away the tears. He takes his pants off before kneeling on the ground, pulling you down towards his mouth. His fingers ghost over your pussy, his breath hot against your core.

"What a crybaby. But you like it when I shame you, don't you? You like when I call you a little pervert, huh?"

He moves your panties to the side, pressing his fingers against your now-exposed slit and rubbing along your folds. You violently shake your head 'no.'

"Oh yeah? Then why are you so restless every time I say something to embarrass you? You like crying for me? You like it when I humiliate you."

You continue to shake your head, but you know he's right and he knows he's right, watching as you squirm at the contact.

"Should I give my little crybaby what she wants? Or should I punish her for being a little creep who cums to the thought of me, a stranger, when she's alone?"

Again, shaking your head no, you throw your head back when his lips touch your clit in a gentle kiss, praising the small contact for keeping you sane. He moves your panties to the side, teasing your clit with his tongue as his fingers swirl over your sopping hole.

"T-Taesan..."

You moan and it's like a band snaps within him, pushing two fingers past your walls and sucking on your clit like its a ring pop (😉). Arching your back off of the bed, you cry out his name even louder, tears flowing from raging pleasure instead of shame. Your orgasm is quickly approaching, but he notices, pulling out before you can release.

The salty taste from your tears permeates your mouth, choking back sobs as he rips your orgasm away from you. But he stands up, quickly discarding his boxers and your panties before pulling you close by your thighs, lining up his dick with your entrance. He teases you more leaving you to grip the sheets, white-knuckling them as he slowly pushes himself in you. The sigh of relief you let out brings a smile to both of your faces, both entirely too worked up.

He feels your walls pulsing around him, relishing in the feeling before thrusting slowly at first, waiting for you to adjust before picking up the pace.

“Fuck… Taesan…”

“Shit princess, you sound like an angel with my name rolling off your tongue,”

He grunts between thrusts causing you to whimper and whine for him. He takes the chance to lean down, scooping you up to press another kiss to your lips. You moan into his mouth, allowing him to explore with his tongue. You take note of how strong he actually, something that’s not very noticeable about him upon first glance. The constant flutter of your walls around him let him know that you’re close, slowing down his thrusts.

“Tell me, do you think you deserve to cum after being a freak in the bathroom? After shamelessly grinding into my hands when I was degrading you? Don’t you think you should at least apologize?”

You try your best to form words for an apology, but the only thing on your mind is him, the words lost on your tongue as his slow yet deep thrusts cloud your mind.

“Seems that you’ve gone stupid from my questions,”

He tsks but speeds up again, watching as you cry harder for him. With a couple more thrusts, you’re screaming his name like it’s the only word you know. Jolts running up and down your body as you continue to cum for another 20 seconds, hitting even harder since he denied you of it earlier. He quickly pulls out of you, dropping your thighs and stroking himself a few more times, finishing on your skirt.

“I bet you won’t even wash it when you get home. You’ll probably use it to get off again, am I right? My little perverted girl.”

You felt like you were going to pass out from heat exhaustion, the heat of your embarrassment and shame continuing to run through you at his constant degrading. You find it in yourself to sit up, but harder being able to hold it together, the overwhelming feelings of pleasure, guilt and shame washing over you and culminating in a waterfall of tears pouring from your eyes.

“I— I’m really sorry Taesan… for being a creep and moaning for you in the school bathrooms. I feel so ashamed and I understand if you think I’m weird and gross. I can leave, I—“

He leans over you, shushing you by placing his finger over your mouth.

“Shh, no need to cry pretty, I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

He looks at you, wiping the never-ending tears off your face.

“It’s really okay, I’m kinda perverted myself for liking it and walking in on you if you think about it.”

He laughs, making you feel a little better as you start to smile with him. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, grabbing tissues to help clean you up.

“And I’m sorry about the skirt, I can wash it if you’d like.”

You wince at his touch, but let him clean you as you sit up. Once the both of you are fully cleaned off, he stands you up, giving you a hug, much to your confusion.

“I don’t really know you Y/N, but this was the best sex I’ve had with a stranger.”

You relax into his touch, hugging him back.

“Thank you? I guess I can say the same, I’ve never had sex with a stranger before.”

He laughs at your honesty, pulling away and smiling down at you.

“We should hang out again, like this or just as friends. I mean, perverts should hang out with other perverts, right?”

And you slap his chest, still embarrassed about the whole situation.

“I’m not sleeping with you again.”

You tease, but you both know this isn’t the last you’re going to be seeing of each other.

༄ ༄ ༄

Zoo wee mama

I did not expect to add this much crying and degradation but, oops? (take a shot every time the words 'embarrassed,' 'shame,' or its variants are used) this was longer than the original post but I will be thinking about this for the rest of the night, thank you

-> Here's a link to all my other masterlists!

[orangeytree]

Game Changer

I always struggled to live in the end as the 3D was literally so overwhelming and completely un-ignorable. I was constantly in a cycle of: affirm, persist, fall back into old habits, and then restart the cycle all over again. It became a pattern within my life.

Whenever I felt like I was out of this pattern, I ended up right back in it. Constantly in a viscous cycle of depression and anxiety.

A massive thing I needed to overcome was the need and desperation to get my desires. I constantly felt like I was lacking what I wanted.

How did I overcome this feeling? I started to distance myself from the 3D. However I didn’t distance myself as much as I once did. I used to feel like nothing was real and everything was fake. This decimated my mental health and made me feel completely alone. I now live my life with the belief that every undesirable thing is simply a past assumption. It’s not something I need to pay attention to, it’s simply an old idea that I can leave to die.

I started to focus on my 4D self, the man with everything he wants. I know I have my desired appearance and I know my life is perfect.

(I saw a few posts about past assumptions so credit to those posters…sadly I can’t remember their accounts)

[weevil-writes]

Am I annoying?

Rottmnt Leo x reader

Today, boys. Today is the day the last of few slivers of dignity I have left are ripped away from me. But hey, we all gotta post a character X reader at some point in our lives, right…? Right?

this is my first post. My first attempt at actually writing. So here goes.

warnings: none. I absolutely hate anything nsfw and will not ever post it. Just some angst, fluff. Unconfessed feelings.

…gosh. 

When was the last time you slept?

Not last night. The night before was fitful and blurry and you weren’t sure you got any sleep then either.

It was noon now. And being awake for 32 straight now hit like a pile of bricks. 

Dull pain echoed around your head and your limbs were sore. Occasional shivers and tremors ran through your body, and your hand would spasm and drop whatever it was you were holding.

Right now, you slowly climbed down the sewer ladder- on your way to your hangout you were invited to by the turtles today. 

Despite having to share your conscience with insomnia, you felt so tired. But you could never fall asleep…

Head going slack for a moment, you momentarily closed your eyes…just a second, just one second………just-

Your sneaker slipped on one of the mossy ladder bars, and you nearly lost your grip. 

Crap, I need sleep, you mumbled to yourself as you gripped onto the ladder, watching each slow and cautious step as you descended. If you had dozed off for a second longer, you would’ve fell down 15 feet.

You imagined the turtles grimacing at the sight of you splattered across the cement, having to scrape you off like a burnt pancake.

Gross. And humiliating, especially if Leo was there. 

Your thoughts wandered as you lowered to the sewer ground, step by step.

Step by step. Step by-

Oh. Right. You’re on the ground now.

You walked the familiar route, crossing over a small bridge over flowing water and into a circular entrance.

You tried ignoring the million little thoughts prodding at your head, teasing you, patronizing you-

The homework due tomorrow, the essay that needed to be turned in on Friday- and it was Thursday, and you hadn’t even touched it!! Gosh, and that horrible grade you got today on the quiz, it would probably affect your grade report…

The familiar sounds of the lair grew louder as you drew nearer.

The volunteer work you promised to pitch in for, that you completely forgot about..dang it, I’m such a jerk! And you can’t just do it tomorrow, they would be done by now without you. Because you had school again.

That annoying cramp in your back, it wouldn’t go away, and it was growing stronger than your migraine… that gross splash of the sticky sewer puddle you stepped in that now clung to your brand new pants. 

It was all itching at your bones, pulling at your nerves—

You finally walked into the lair/subway tunnel like you had a million times before. The familiar lights, posters, comic books and Lou jitsu memorabilia scattered all over the place. But it just made it worse. Everything felt so overstimulating. So, so- so much you can’t even think straight! How long have I slept? How? W Wh- 

Leo, seeing you finally arrived, perked up from his spot on the beanbag and ran over to greet you. Never mind that you looked like you were run over by a subway train, he smiled wider than  he ever had today! His heart did little flutters and he tried to think of a funny, witty thing to open with.

Grinning, he poked at your face and joked,

“Hey, someone’s looking grumpy~!”

You weren’t thinking straight, all you could process was Leo’s annoying quip and tease. It was the little butterfly that landed on the heap of Jenga blocks that sent it all crumbling down. In other words, your final straw had snapped.

��What dark cloud decided to hover ov-“

Before Leo could finish another cheeky tease, you cut him off in a frustrated, loud voice, almost a yell. 

“ Will you shut up, for ONCE?”

Leo’s smile quickly fell. 

He looked small, and confused, and guilty.

It had escaped, without a thought. You were overwhelmed. You covered your eyes and ran your hands over your face in exasperation. 

Leo quickly stuttered out an apology.

“I-I, I’m sorry. S-sorry.”

He quickly walked away, out of sight. He was probably the last person you wanted to see right now.

Once Leo made himself scarce, he let his mind wander. run a mile a minute.

Was that annoying?

‘For ONCE?’

….Was he…always annoying?

He loved teasing and prodding his brothers, sure. It was almost like a sport to him.

But you? No, he wanted you to admire him. He wanted to make you laugh and smile and he wanted to hear your rare obnoxious snort. 

Maybe even try making your heart flutter. He tried so hard to fluster you, and yet you flustered him effortlessly. Just by looking at him and smiling.

And yet he let his false hope fall. He wanted your affection and love so much and yet he made himself look like an annoying jerk around you. 

You never snapped at him like that. 

Leo itched his neck, spacing out as he blankly stared at the wall. His lip wobbled at the thought  of you, hating him. Please don’t hate him. Please please please.

You now stood alone, and the harshness of your own words just now hitting you. 

No, nonono! That was so rude! That made it sound like you wanted him to shut it every time he started talking and joking around you! Which was the last thing you wanted. You could listen to him talk and laugh forever.

Rubbing the sleep and buzzing away from your eyes, you trudged around the lair- looking for Leo so you could apologize. You tried thinking of what to say, how to explain.

Really? You snapped because you were tired? Sounded like an excuse.

You rubbed the static off your arms as you tiredly swayed into the kitchen traincar. No, nobody was there. Dragging yourself into another hallway, you peered into their arcade filled with loud game machines and lights and lasers. It was a good thing you didn’t see Leo among the other three, because that was too much stimulation right now.

You stumbled into the entry of the dining car.

Then Leo’s room. Surprisingly, he wasn’t there.

Then Raph’s room.

Then Mikey’s.

Donnie’s.

The welding lab.

The bathroom.

Other bathroom.

Was he even in the lair? Did he leave…? Did you upset him that much? No, you never wanted to hurt Leo in any way.

Another yawn escaped for the 50th time. Your vision grew dark and blurry around the edges and sometimes little colorful spots would dance in edges of your eyes.

The projector room. Only splinter sat there on his recliner, dozing off.

The entrance again.

Why was being awake…so hard…?

Even though you thought it was a little disrespectful, anxiousness drove you to peer into splinter’s room.

 No Leo.

You tripped on nothing as you wandered around pointlessly, disoriented.

Looking at the rooms you had already peered in through half open eyes, you spotted the tunnel entrance to a room you hadn’t thought of.

Dragging yourself into the car, you recognized the pipes and the washing and dryer machines. Stacks of towels and blankets and clothes. Chemicals and soaps and an ironing rack.

And Leo, with a miserable and contemplative face and wobbly expression, or lack of. He usually wore the flashiest grin, but now he looked null and void.

He sat among soft blankets and towels, but he didn’t hear you enter. 

So you called out to him to grab his attention. Or mumbled.

“….Leo…hey…”

He looked up, flinching at hearing his name. How did you sneak up on him? That was his thing!

His bandana that covered his non-existent brows rose apologetically. Like he was about to say sorry again.

Hold on. Time out- just-

You couldn’t hold up anymore. Your legs buckled uselessly underneath and you crumpled to the ground. Ironically missing the plush piles of blankets and fabrics and instead hitting the cold tiles.

Leo jumped over to you, scrambling in a small panic and pulling you up.

“Hey, h-hey! Are you ok? What’s going on? Wake up!”

He shook you in his arms, hoping for an answer now.

You very slowly opened your eyes halfway and tried sitting up.

“….I-I’m…. So tired, Leo….and I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to yell. I didn’t- I-I’m…I’m so, just, stimulated, too, too much is going on. I’m sorry.”

Leo’s expression somehow grew even more miserable. But instead in empathy, watching tears of exhaustion forming at the corners of your eyes. 

“Hey, it’s ok. I understand, ok? Relax…You need to take a nap.”

He gave you a small smile before he grabbed a warm blanket and tenderly wrapped it around you. 

You tried mumbling incoherent objections and “I can do it myself”s, but he only shushed you and picked you up like a bride.

Effortlessly carrying you into his room, he gently placed down on the bed and sat next to you awkwardly.

“…you need a nap, so don’t even try escaping.”

He gave you a quick teasing glare, but it only lasted a moment before his expression softened and he brushed a couple strands away from your face.

his face grew warm and pinkish, which was strange for someone with green skin.

“…do you want anything? I-I’ll just let you sleep in peace-

But before he could stand up, you wrapped your arms around him with what strength you had left and latched on.

“…don’t, don’t go…please…”

You rubbing your face against his shell only served to weaken his knees and prevent him from going anywhere. 

“…I-I- ok…”

He smiled and laid down next to you, leaving a reasonable space between you both.

But still pretty close. Pulling out his phone, he started playing some Jupiter Jim spin-off cartoon. 

You scooted and shuffled closer, as if you couldn’t properly see the phone screen. But it was his warmth by his side you were after, because your eyes skimmed over the animation on his phone without a thought.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. He couldn’t stop that stupid warmth from leaving his cheeks, but he didn’t exactly hate this, either. In fact, he had dreamed of a moment like this. 

Except he wished you weren’t sleep deprived and on the brink of shutting down.

But it didn’t take long for you to be fast asleep, nestled right into his side. 

He admired your peaceful face. Heck, you didn’t even have to be conscious to fluster him! 

He turned his gaze back to his phone, watching the episode but still thinking about you.

And how tired he was.

When was the last time He slept?

Yawn.

His eyelids grew too heavy and he dropped his phone.

It was 20 minutes until Raph found you both, tucked in like lovey cats.

He cooed and tried not to squeal in adoration. He quickly whipped out his phone, silently taking a picture from every angle. 

And once he was done, he left Leo’s car to tell everyone to quiet down.

 And to entertain them with the cutest pictures ever. 

hope you enjoyed! please PLEASE let me know if there are spelling grammar mistakes!

@likablemuffin hey it’s me! Anon! I made a blog wahoo

[ladyaldhelm]

Other places to find me online

I hope to God that this Hellsite never goes away, because there is no viable alternative to Tumblr for fandom community, especially with how it is set up for reblogs, asks, and longform posts. Bluesky and Mastodon have very short character limits and are more like Twitter; Instagram has no sharing function; Dreamwidth also has no sharing function; Facebook groups are great but you lose anonymity and also asks and the ability to curate a blog. Not to mention the fact that many people have been on this site since 2007 and do not fancy starting all over again somewhere new. Even the TLK community here is 10 years old, and many of the OG posters are not active on here anymore so all those gifsets, edits, memes, and other stuff will just vanish; even if someone starts a new TLK community somewhere else online it will not be the same.

I am still trying to figure out something, but I feel kind of deflated and overwhelmed by it. But in case my moots want to keep in touch with me (and perhaps brainstorm ideas about a new TLK community somewhere else online) here are other places you can find me:

Instagram BlueSky Mastodon Started a new Dreamwidth account (nothing there yet) My fics on AO3 And I am LadyAldhelm on Discord (look me up).

Please keep in mind that most of these accounts are art related (except Dreamwidth and AO3) but I am happy to start a TLK community somewhere else if need be.

@gemini-mama @thelettersfromnoone @thenameswinter99 @mrsarnasdelicious

@bagheerita @solinarimoon @errruvande @paula-in-dreamland @aneurins-barnard

@waterfallsilverberrywrites @holy3cake @whitedarkmoonflower @bilbotargaryen @lady-wyrd

@grinningkatz @ladyinred2248 @hikaruchen @st-eve-barnes @alexagirlie

@leftoverp1zza @persephones-journey @legitalicat @grlwtskulltattoo @soulhollow

@royalnavyart @zaldritzosrose @daethelflaed @roamingbadger @foxyanon

@brayinghorses @synintheraven @northbndtrain @lonnson @lllostgirlll

@charming-merlin @kingslionheart

[messyhairedhazeleyeddude]

Ache // Yandere! Ticci Toby x

Fem! Reader {SMUT}

[Hello, this will be the first fic that I post. What I'm going to give you guys beforehand is some trigger warnings before we get on to it. Other than that, I hope you enjoy it and give me some feedback whenever you're done if you feel in the mood.]

TW // Violence, r@pe, and a whole lotta mention of murder as always.

𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ 𓌏 ☒ - First P.O.V

Every day, it started like this. Planted in my bed, tangled in my grey sheets, waiting for that one sliver of motivation to get out of my blankets. My room was a mess. Pieces of clothing scattered across the floor, piling up around my dresser, and hanging off of places I tossed them.

I stared over the rest of what I could see while trying to get rid of the bitter taste of soda left on my tongue from last night. The posters I've collected of my favorite bands clung onto the wall for dear life, fading away from how long they had been there. An empty Sprite can stood on my nightstand, left there after my body decided to have its third caffeine crash this week.

It was getting so warm where I was lying that I was starting to overheat, making me shuffle around to stay cold. That wasn't too hard because of how freezing my room was.

When I looked at my window, I noticed it was cracked open. If I didn't shut it soon, it would get worse. But minutes were melting into each other and I didn't want to get up. Why did I love to procrastinate so much? It shouldn't be this hard to move on with my day.

Silence filled every corner of my apartment, leaving me to peacefully rot. Was it selfish of me to be like this? That's what it felt like they were trying to say when I talked to relatives. But that's the reason why I prefer to be shut-in. I never had to hear that about myself. The world outside would remain indifferent. And hopefully, by the time I had to move, I was swallowed into the Earth below.

A sudden vibration of my phone startled me. I mumbled a barrage of curses and reached for it slowly, furrowing my brows and groaning. I could only pray that it wasn't him trying to contact me.

The last time he visited, I no longer felt safe outside. I would check behind me constantly, feeling as if his light brown eyes were glued to my back, and at any moment, he could come back and chop off my limbs until I was a headless torso. Remembering that he existed caused that horrible anxiety to spread goosebumps across my skin. I was shaking as I tried to unlock my phone.

Hundreds of notifications popped up that I had been ignoring, some of them messages from my mom, and the rest were emails. I almost accidentally clicked on one before I found the most recent. "Return library books today," it read. Fuck, I forgot today was the due date for those. Despite not wanting to, I had to get up. I did promise that if I had a reason to, I would.

I peeled myself from the comfort of my bed. My sheets clung to me like glue, trying to pull me back as if it were a bad idea. Fighting against it, I shivered at the sudden change in temperature and pulled down the bottoms of my shorts so they weren't wedged in between my ass.

After not walking for what felt like forever, I took my first steps, a soreness on my left thigh making me place a hand on my dresser for support. I looked down at a bruise from that encounter, biting my lip to distract myself from thinking about it. I need to take my pills or I'll get suicidal. So many things to do. So overwhelmed.

Encouraging myself in my head, I found the strength to go for the door. I opened it and turned down my hallway, going for the bathroom with quick and light steps.

Many pictures of family and portraits were loosely decorated on the wall, a pit in my stomach opened when I stared at them. I lingered on my dad and had to tear myself away from the picture before I felt the need to cry.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I flicked on the harsh yellow light and stood before the mirror, running a hand through my disheveled hair. I reached for the medicine cabinet, the hinges squeaking as I rummaged through it. I grabbed my medication and popped the bottle open, tossing out a tiny pill into my palm. I swallowed the bitter capsule and cringed as it slowly went down.

Turning my attention to the sink, I turned on the cold water and brought my mouth to the tap to take a sip. Then I splashed it on my face after I was done, relieved that the pill was no longer there. On the counter, I focused on the facewash I hadn't used in god knows how long. I missed the feeling of my face being clean. At least, I can't forget about it now.

I poured the runny liquid into my hands and rubbed them together, slapping it on my face and rubbing it in circles to get deep in my pores. It foamed up a bit and burned. If I'm going to be honest, I don't know if I'm supposed to be using this, but it works.

As I was splashing the water on my face again to clean it off, I opened my eyes to a man staring at me in the mirror, causing me to freeze. I could see the glisten of his goggles from here, that blue hood covering his messy hair, but it didn't contain enough around the edges. It was him. The man who attacked me and my dad a couple of days ago.

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but before the sound could escape, I reached for something. Grab anything to protect myself, that's all I needed to do. But before I could, the room blurred as I twisted, my hand grasping a razor for a split second.

I was torn away from it. I felt a hard impact on my back as I was slammed against the wall, the air forcing out of my lungs in a sharp gasp. I struggled to breathe, my hands grabbing onto his wrists while they dug into my neck.

He had me pinned against it and struggling to get any sort of noise out. Slowly, I was dragged up upward and lifted off of the ground. I choked, my vision was fading as his glare burned into mine. He's going to kill me. Just like he did to Dad. He's going to get away with it. I pulled my head back against the wall before lunging it forward to collide it with the serial killer's, his hands faltering their hold and dropping me from the force of it.

I collapsed to the floor and sputtered out several coughs, hunched up in a ball and desperately trying to regain the oxygen he took from me. My neck felt numb, the indents of his fingers bruising and stung like a bitch.

He crouched down to me. I closed my eyes and thought he would finish it right there. But when I suddenly felt his lips press against mine, they shot back open. Breathing heavily through my nose, I stared at his shut eyelids. I glanced down at his lashes, feeling his breath as he sighed. He relaxed into me for a split second before pulling away, lowering his voice to a rough whisper to introduce himself, "It's nice to meet you finally, {F/N}. The name's Tobias."

Struggling to get myself sitting up, I made it by resting on the wall and using my hands to keep me there. My chest rapidly went up and down as I watched his every move. He backed away a bit, but not enough to give me leverage. I repeated, "Tobias?" And his eyebrow quirked up like he was questioning my reaction.

"I can also go by Toby. Whatever you prefer. But I gave you my full name because I really like you, [F/N]," he added. I knitted my brows and shook my head, unable to understand what he was saying. He liked me? He just kissed me? What the fuck?

I pushed myself away from him and got back up, running for it and successfully escaping the bathroom. The front door was right in front of me, I barely got to reach for it before I felt a hand grab a fistful of my hair. No, I almost had it!

Strands of my hair were ripped out as I was yanked backward and thrown onto the couch, falling onto it and yelping in pain. Tears fell from my eyes and I clutched my head, grabbing the part that hurt the most. A headache was coming on and I couldn't help but rock myself to soothe it. I sobbed, "Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone..." I twisted myself to let out the rest in the cushions, hearing him approach behind me.

After crying for a bit and nothing was happening to me, I hesitantly lifted myself to take a peek. Toby was sitting next to me, almost as if he was waiting patiently for me to finish. When he saw that I was staring at him, he patted his lap and said, "Here. Rest your pretty head and we can get to talking about this, sweetheart."

I was too scared of him to tell him no. It was the first time I felt pure terror from somebody. Like I would never be able to fight back with him. And I was right. I couldn't. The sad truth was that if my dad had fallen to this man, I'm sure I would live the same fate if I didn't listen. Dragging myself, I cringed while laying my head onto his leg, feeling his hand rest on my head and causing me to flinch. "Sh, sh, I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I told you, I really adore you, [F/N]," he reassured me. A part of me wanted to bite his leg to pieces, but if I went along with this until he fell asleep or left, then I could escape and possibly go to the police.

Deciding to go with it, I pretended to enjoy the warmth and snuggled into him. I wouldn't call it pretending actually, he was pretty warm. Toby hummed and it stayed like this for some time. He kept petting me, brushing my hair out of the way, soothing me from the chase earlier.

Eventually, he got bored of it and nudged me to sit back up. I tilted my head and asked, "What?" His hand went to rest on my lower back, applying pressure around it, pushing me forward until I was easing into sitting on him. A smile crossed his face at the compliance. He seemed intrigued by it.

"I didn't think you would give up this quick. I thought I was going to have to give you a couple more marks for memories," he sounded pleased as both of his arms wrapped around my waist. They were much bigger than mine, with a couple of veins etched up around them like vines, and faded scars littering everywhere on his skin. He had been doing this for years by the looks of it. There was no way in hell I was going to escape, huh?

Placing another kiss on my cheek, soft and gentle, his eyelashes brushed against me before he pulled away to speak again, "Do you know what I've been picturing every night to the thought of you, [F/N]?" His hands dropped lower to skim over my ass, lightly gripping, and dragging me toward him. My breath hitched. I didn't say a word.

Toby answered for me, "I've been picturing taking these off..." His fingers gripped around the waistband of my shorts and teased me about taking them off by pushing them down lightly. Continuing that, he said, "Have you to myself for a couple of hours..."

There were so many reasons why I should say no to him and why I shouldn't allow him to touch me like this. For one, he killed my father. He broke into my house and he was physically violent to me. I felt disgusting that he had gotten to this level too. But, I didn't stop him. I didn't say no and I didn't deny it. I looked into this killer's eyes and I leaned onto his chest, giving into what he wanted

When we kissed for the second time, I noticed how chapped his lips were, and opened my mouth a little to swipe my tongue across his bottom one. Toby tensed up. And without warning, I felt his tongue use the opportunity to have an exchange with mine. I gasped through my nose, the escalation getting worse and worse. A blush began to spread across my face.

He lifted me off of his lap to flip me onto the couch, putting both of his palms by either side of my head. I was back to being pinned underneath him. I don't know what was happening to me. Something was wrong with me, I was sick for this. I was sick... because I enjoyed this.

His sweater and shirt fell to the floor as we fought each other with kisses. His teeth bit into my lower lip and pulled it back while I moved to unbuckle his belt. I was giving in to this. I was really fucking the guy that took away everybody I loved in my life.

Barely in any clothes, we both took a moment to stare at each other, oddly feeling like he was admiring me from how he looked up and down my body. Toby took his time, pressing small pecks across my chest up to my neck, snaking his arms around to my back. He unclipped my bra and slipped it off of me. I wanted to cover myself, but I no longer wanted to move. I didn't have any motivation. There was nothing left to fight for.

The gloves and bandages around his fingers felt weird against my skin especially when he played with my chest. He squeezed one, bit the other, and once he heard a moan slip out of me, he stopped to let me process. He complimented me, his voice a bit raspy like he was fighting the urge to do something to me already, "You look even better so close like this, with how foggy those windows would get. It would make me want to break them and threaten you then and there."

I bit the inside of my cheek and he got closer, hooking onto my panties and pulling them down as a smirk spread on his face. My lack of response didn't concern him. He kept going despite that, throwing the thin fabric somewhere in the room before he looked up at me. His hair was in his face and the eyebags around his eyes told me he was more than dangerous. How many times has he done this?

Toby muttered seriously, breaking me out of the moment, "Who do you belong to?" I blankly gazed at him, watching as he stood up and slowly inched his boxers down. I can't speak. I can't tell him that. More scars appeared, his v-line making my eyes linger, and I got distracted. His dick was let out before I could respond.

My eyes widened and I tried to squeeze my legs shut, but he kept them apart as soon as they moved, holding both of my knees up to my shoulders. I was breathing super fast, my heart raced, and I was feeling the ache in between both of my legs. It was nothing compared to when he positioned himself and pushed the tip inside.

Digging my nails into his arms, I cried out in pain and threw my head back, looking up at his satisfied face. Toby groaned, a laugh following behind it, "You don't have to answer. I'll do it for you." He rammed most of what he could, grabbing both of my thighs so tightly that it was guaranteed to be bruised. I screamed out. He was too rough and too much for me to take like this. It hurt. It fucking ached. I was being drilled into the cushions.

Trying to handle it was impossible. He made it impossible for me. His hips connected as he went deeper, loud slaps coming from it, bouncing off and echoing. I didn't want to think about the neighbors hearing me lose my dignity like this. I didn't want to think about the fact my dad could be witnessing this. But it was starting to feel good. Really fucking good. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and after that, I didn't care anymore.

I wrapped my legs and arms around him, pulling him closer and savoring his dick carving into the parts I didn't know were there. Moaning, swearing, and muttering filled the room. We were getting lost in the bliss and saying whatever was on the mind. Or I was. His name left me a couple of times and so did encouragement, "More.. More, please, Toby!"

Flipping around again when he got a little tired, I gyrated my hips and sat on his lap so I could bounce, sliding up and down until I could feel my walls beginning to squeeze. I was close and this position wasn't helping. I held my breath and Toby took notice, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Let it out for me, baby. Don't be shy," he cooed, sweat dripping down his forehead like he was holding back his own. I bit the inside of my cheek and a desperate moan came out, "Fuuuuuck, cummm with! Please!"

He didn't listen to me and lifted me off of the couch with him, holding me up in the air while guiding me down onto his shaft. I went limp and drool fell down the side of my chin as I buried myself into the crook of his neck, biting it a little to vent out the overwhelming pleasure. Toby didn't let up until a couple of more minutes of fucking me passed and I was fucked out enough that my legs were shaking.

When he was about to cum himself, he set me back down, rushing up to my face to give me a facial. My mouth was open from panting and I caught a bit on my tongue, swallowing it when we were back to locking eyes. The rest landed on my nose, cheeks, and lips. He let out a loud groan as he unwinded, pulling away to see the display once he was done.

I lay there. Used. I lay there for him to stare at. Until he walked away for cleaning supplies. To think about what I was doing. To come back down and face the new reality I was in. I was his now and he was mine. And there was nothing I could do about it.

[theprettynosferatu]

I Had Ice-Cream (The Election Post)

I had ice-cream yesterday.

I've following a very strict diet because I'm trying to eat in a healthy manner and, let's not lie here, because I am quite vain and wanted to lose a few pounds. And if there was one thing I stayed away from, it was ice-cream. But yesterday I had to. Eating my feelings, I suppose.

The reason I felt so bad should be obvious. And I'm not even American! But I lived there. I made friends there. I still have friends there. Gay, straight, cis, trans... my heart breaks for them all. It feels like something horrid, something primal and evil and dark won. A fear turned into anger and selfish lashing out. It's hard to believe, right now, that love will always conquer hate.

I intended to make a few captions yesterday, but I couldn't. And I am well aware you don't come here to see me whine and weep and rant. But I don't think I can make more content without addressing this first.

This blog plays with ideas of power- in fact, the main aesthetic and tone for captions is inspired very directly by propaganda. I imagine them as posters from another, fictional reality. Hard to see it as so fictional right now.

Let me be absolutely clear: if you truly think women are lesser, if you let hate take root in your heart, if you are a real authoritarian, this blog is not for you.

What can I do? Not much. Not much except providing, perhaps, a bit of escapism- hoping people understand the difference between kink and reality, hoping I haven't done harm with my work (although I doubt captions and kink stories moved a lot of votes in this election).

I feel we need to take our small joys wherever we can find them. You can't fight if you are a burnt-out, overwhelmed mess. So, don't feel bad about cutting yourself some slack. Do something that brings you joy, even for a moment, because we need you. You matter. And you deserve that joy, and so much more.

So, I had ice-cream. Find your ice-cream, and eat a bit without shame.

Take care of yourself. And now more than ever, we need to help take care of each other.

Kink content will resume soon. I just needed to clear the air and vent a bit. Thank you for understanding.

-Nos

[sanvcnblvd]

[pañuelo melody] by acastle

[pañuelo melody] by acastle

There are aspects about this story that really hit home for me. (Forgive me, I'm dumping a lot of feelings without proofreading–I'm probably rambling).

There is a running theme of hidden connections and destiny that acastle wrote in their fic. It may just be headcanon, but afaik Casey has mentioned that Alex and Henry are destined to be together in any universe, this fic really drives that idea home.

Mild spoilers below, but acastle referenced Utada Hikaru in their story multiple times, and I grew up listening to them (HUGE Kingdom Hearts fan here). The feeling I had when acastle referenced one of their songs–through the opening lyrics that I recognized (First Love by Utada Hikaru) , I literally went "nooooooo wayyyyyyyy.......???!!!!"

And then acastle referenced Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence by Ryuichi Sakamoto (amazing piano instrumental written for the movie of the same name). Utada also wrote a song and sampled Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence (also same title). I wish I could truly describe when all the pieces connected together, it was like greeting an old friend. It was also like getting hit by a truck. It was all very overwhelming (I may or may not have started tearing up writing this portion.)

This story takes place in winter in Japan, and it's chilly, and icy, and the angst is dialled up to eleven, but like with all of acastle's stories, there is so much love.

The main inspiration for this cover is Japanese artist Ikenaga Yasunari (examples below). I wanted to replicate the vibe, but I opted for more colour. I was also inspired by traditional Japanese paintings, especially with how soft and delicate snow is often painted.

I chose the promotional image of Alex and Henry in the V&A as the pose. I had initially planned to have Alex and Henry walking in the Higashiyama Ward at night (location described in the fic) , illuminated by streetlights and joined by the red string of fate, but it didn't materialize.

The Japanese in the front translates literally to "Handkerchief melody – hankachi and 旋律 (Kanji for melody/tune). Handkerchief from pañuelo (the Spanish meaning, not Filipino ) references the one that Alex uses to wipe his mouth as a child before giving his relatives a kiss on the cheek. It is also the title of the song Alex writes and releases before running away to Japan.

The characters in the corner is 禁色 is from the novel that Henry read that inspired his work trip to Japan. Context is in the story. It's very poignant and melancholic.

Thank you so much to Louie (@hrhprinceacd on Twitter) for helping me with the Japanese title, and for @ash-morrison for blind-choosing this cover to release from my vault.

Just adding that the gingko branch background is from an adobe stock photo that I didn't really want to pay for so I designed my own version from scratch (original reference below).

The full poster that can be added to the .epub file for your kindle/e-book reader is at the end of the post! If you need any assistance, please don't be afraid to ask!

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

It Was Supposed To Be You | Kim Hongjoong

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!Reader 

Synopsis: Y/N runs into her ex the night before she's meant to be getting married.

Warnings: Angst turned to fluff. Ex-lovers to lovers. Swearing. Kinda run-away brideish. This is a repost from my now deactivated blog. More of an explanation in my pinned post.

Word Count: 3,013 - this is the longest imagine I've ever written. It took 4-5 days and a lot of editing. I hope you all enjoy. 

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Y/N can't help but laugh at a joke told by her maid of honour. She is out for dinner and cocktails, celebrating what her friends and her older sister affectionately refer to as her "last night of freedom". Shes getting married tomorrow afternoon. Everything appears to be going well until she sees someone she never expected to see again.  

Kim Hongjoong, her first and former love, is seated at a nearby table with his friends. Filled with a mix of emotions, she excuses herself from the group of women she's with, mentioning that she needs to use the restroom. She politely declines her sister’s offer to accompany her, and she walks in the opposite direction of the restrooms.  

Stepping outside the restaurant into the cool night air, hoping the gentle breeze will help alleviate her overwhelming feelings, she doesn’t notice she's being followed until she hears his familiar voice. It's the same voice that she once adored and found comfort in, whether he was talking, rapping, singing, or shouting at his fellow members.  

She turns to face him, unsure of what to say or do. The last time they had seen each other, it had been a whirlwind of anger and heartbreak. Determined to keep her composure, she acts as she hadn’t just seen him a minute ago. "Kim Hongjoong?"  

"I heard you were back in town," he says, a look of surprise on his face. His eyes drift towards her hand, fixating on her large engagement ring. "I heard you're getting married." His eyes met hers again with a mix uncertainty and a hint of sadness. "Congratulations."    

Avoiding his gaze, she glances down at her shoes and quietly thanks him.   

"Are you happy?" Hongjoong is unable to stop himself from asking. Thoughts of her, her happiness, and the impending wedding have consumed his mind ever since Wooyoung shared the news with him last night.  

Tears threaten to fall as she struggles to hold back her feeling as she continues to avoid his intense stare and nodded her head. She knows as soon as she looks at him, he will see the doubt written all over her face.  

In the weeks leading up to her wedding day, she has been plagued with self-doubt. Is she happy? She believes so. Her fiancé is a good man who treats her well and cares for her. However, deep down, she knows he is not the one she always pictured marrying. The painful truth is that he will never be.  

Because the man she had once imagined spending her life with now stands before her, igniting a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Memories of their past relationship flood her mind, reminding her of the deep and unconditional love they once shared. It was a love that was abruptly cut short, leaving her heartbroken and longing for what could have been.  

Even after meeting her fiancée and allowing herself to move on, her thoughts wandered back to Hongjoong often. But it was never intentional. She'd hear his songs on the radio, overhear teenagers at the coffee shop she worked at discussing ATEEZ's latest comeback, posters would be hung up in the music store she walked past on her way to work, and her younger sister, who was a toddler when she and Hongjoong met, will ask about him every time she visits her parent’s home.  

She shakes her head, as she gathers the strength to confront her feelings. "I... I'm happy, but not as happy as I used to be," she confesses, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear her. "I was happier when we were together."  

Hongjoong's eyes widen as her confession weighs heavily in the air between them. He takes a step closer, his presence enveloping her in a familiar warmth that she has missed. It's as if time stood still, and they are transported back to when their love was all-consuming.    

Reaching out, he gently places a hand on her arm, offering her a comforting touch. He smiles, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and understanding. “I was happier when I was with you too.”  

It was at that moment the tears began to fall as she finally embraced the truth – she only settled for a good man, because her heart will always belong to Hongjoong. The thought of calling off her engagement crosses her mind. Immediately after, a wave of guilt washes over her.  

"It was supposed to be you," she reminds him. "I was supposed to marry you."  

 "I know," he says, hanging his head in shame. "But I fucked up and now you're marrying someone else."  

"I am," she says trying to sound confident as she lifts her head but still won't look at him, knowing if she did, she wouldn’t be able to contain herself. "It was nice seeing you again."  

Before he can reply, she turns on her heel and starts walking away from the restaurant, unable to go back inside and pretend nothing just happened.  

Y/N enters her parent's home well past midnight, only to find her sister anxiously waiting for her. With a deadly expression, her sister rises from the couch to confront her.   

"Where the hell have you been?" She whispers yells, making sure not to wake their parents and younger sister. “You took off from the restaurant and we couldn’t call you because you left your phone at the restaurant. We’ve been worried sick about you. I only just managed to get mum and dad to go to bed. I promised them I would stay up and wait for you.”  

"I’m," Y/N lowers her head in embarrassment. She intended to message her sister, but upon reaching the park, she realized she had left her phone behind.   

"What's wrong with you? Does it have something to do with Hongjoong? I saw him at the restaurant and wondered if you had seen him too."   

Y/N nods in response. Even after leaving Hongjoong at the restaurant, he continued to occupy her thoughts. The more she thought about him, the more she contemplated calling off the wedding. However, guilt would always creep in, reminding her that she is marrying the man that she’s supposed to marry.  

 "What happened?" her sister asks, her angry expression transforming into one of concern. She’d witnessed the aftermath of Y/N and Hongjoong's breakup, so she knows how heartbroken Y/N was and hoped Hongjoong was just as heartbroken, if not more.  

"Nothing," Y/N lies, brushing past her sister and heading towards her old bedroom. "I'll see you in the morning."   

"But-"  

Y/N cuts her sister off by closing the door, knowing that it wasn't just "nothing".  Y/N had been fine before she left. Her sister was determined to uncover the truth in the morning, one way or another.  

“Oh, sweetie, you look absolutely beautiful,” Y/N’s mother gushes as they stand in the living room, admiring her in the full-length mirror. Y/N just finished getting ready, with her hair and makeup perfectly done.  

Y/N attempts to smile, but it quickly falters. The thought of calling off the wedding haunted her all night, as she struggled to push Hongjoong out of her mind.   

She’s tried to convince herself that she is ready to move on, that her love for Hongjoong is a thing of the past. And for a while, it seemed like she had succeeded. Her fiancée become her everything.  

But, as the wedding day grew nearer, doubts began to creep into her mind. She couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that maybe she hasn't fully let go of her past. When thoughts of Hongjoong resurfaced, she would find herself questioning if she was truly ready to commit her life to someone else.  

It isn't fair to her fiancée, who has done nothing but love and support her. She remembers the way her fiancée's eyes light up when she said yes to marrying him. Calling of the wedding, would be an act of betrayal. But is it a betrayal she’s willing to commit?   

No matter how much time passes, the memories of Hongjoong refuse to fade. From the early mornings spent together before he had to be at the studio to the late nights she’d stay awake just to make sure he went to bed and got a decent amount of sleep, to being his biggest support during his trainee days. They lingered in the deepest corners of her mind, like a constant presence that she couldn’t escape.   

Their relationship had been built on love, trust, understanding, and a shared passion for everything they loved and enjoyed. It was a relationship that evolved into something more meaningful than they ever imagined it would. Despite the challenges they encountered, their commitment to each other never faltered. When he left school to pursue his dreams of becoming an idol, she was there, as his biggest supporter. Likewise, he was there as she pursued her passion in photography, a shared interest they both loved. Every moment they spent together, the good and the bad, left a mark on her heart. After their breakup, she spent so many nights replaying their memories over and over again, wondering where it all went wrong and how they could have fixed it.  

With a heavy heart and tears streaming down her face, she desperately reaches behind her, struggling to find the zipper of her dress so she can take it off.  

 "What's the matter?" Her mom inquires, taken aback by her daughter's behaviour. She noticed her acting strangely throughout the morning, but assumed it was just pre-wedding nerves. Now, she thinks that something more that is troubling her.  

The only word that she can get out is, "Hongjoong."    

"What does Hongjoong have to do with anything?"   

"Please just unzip my dress," Y/N pleads, frustrated with her own failed attempts and her mom's lack of help. "I need to take it off." Her voice grows louder with each word as she becomes more desperate to remove the white garment. Her cries catch the attention of her older sister, who rushes into the room concerned.  

“What’s going on?”  

“I don’t know,” her mom replies, “Something about Hongjoong?”  

At the mention of his name, Y/N collapses to the floor, sobbing. Everything from the past few weeks comes rushing to the surface.   

Her sister kneels beside her, embracing her tightly, doing her best to provide some comfort. It's been a while since she's seen Y/N this distraught. Their mother joins them, wrapping her arms around her two eldest daughters.   

"Tell us what's going on, sweetheart," her mom coos, concern filling her voice. She motions for everyone else to leave the room to give them privacy. The last thing she wants is for Y/N to feel embarrassed when the gossip train, especially her cousin, starts spreading rumours.  

Y/N, through her tears, lets it all out. She tells them about what happened the night before and all the ways she's felt recently. Her sister and mother listen patiently, giving her the room to speak without any interruption. As she finishes telling them everything, a feeling of calmness comes over her.  

Y/N's mother, broke the silence that had fallen over them as they tried to think of something to say. "what are the odds of him showing up like that? You haven’t seen him in three years and last night he just so happened to be at the restaurant you’re at. It's like fate was giving you one last chance to reconsider.”  

Her mother's words seemed to validate everything Y/N was thinking. The encounter with her ex-boyfriend, just hours before she was set to marry another man, felt like more than just a mere coincidence.   

And this wasn’t coming from a place of hate, disappointment or unsupportiveness, on her mother’s behalf. While her parents think that her fiancée is a good and decent man, they had witnessed their her previous relationship, and couldn't help but notice the subtle hints that suggest she is not completely over Hongjoong. When they confronted her about it, she would shrug it off, making it seem like there is nothing to be concerned about. Their advice was not meant to discourage her from moving forward with her fiancée, but rather to ensure that she went into this new relationship with a clear and open heart.  

"You're right," Y/N whispers, her voice barely loud enough for her mom and sister to hear.   

Her mom reaches out and gently squeezes her hand, offering her support. "Sweetheart, sometimes we get so caught up in what we think we should do, that we forget to listen to our own hearts. It's okay to question things and to take a step back to rethink it over. This is your life. You get to choose who to spend it with.”  

Tears form in Y/N's eyes once again, but this time they are tears of relief from having her family’s support. With nothing more to be said, she quickly stands up and rushes to her bedroom, searching for some clothes to change into. Her mother follows behind her and helps her out of the dress. She quickly changes and goes to leave the room but hesitates.  

“What about the wedding?” she asks.  

“Your father and I will handle it,” Her mom assures her. “Now go work it out with Hongjoong and call us later.”  

Her hand still on the doorknob, she hesitates again as her gaze falls on the beautiful engagement ring adorning her finger. With a sigh, she gently slides the ring off her finger, feeling the weight of her decision in her hands.  

Turning towards her mom, she hands her the ring. As she speaks, her words are filled with guilt, "Let him know that he deserves someone who is sure of what she wants and can give him the same love that he has given me. Tell him that I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person for him.”  

Her mom nods and takes the ring. She hugs her before going back to the door. Taking a deep breath, she turns the doorknob and leaves the room.  

Arriving at Hongjoong's dorm, she anxiously knocks on the door, hoping he's inside. As the door swings open, her excitement fades seeing Wooyoung standing there. It's not that she doesn’t want to see Wooyoung, she would be thrilled to see all the guys again, she was really hoping it would be Hongjoong that answered the door.  

“Y/N?” Wooyoung asks with a look of disbelief. “I thought you were getting married today,” he continues as he takes her in. She’s standing there in an oversized t-shirt, a pair of denim shorts, her hair a mess and her make up smudged from the all the crying and then trying to fix it. A look of empathy crosses his face. “Are you okay?”  

“Is uh… is Hongjoong here?” She asks as her, her anxiousness growing but the second.   

He nods looking back towards the inside of the dorm, “I’ll go get him for you. Did you want to come in?”  

She shakes her head, “I’ll stay here.”  

He nods again and leaves, leaving the door open, to get Hongjoong.  

A minute or so later, Hongjoong arrives at the door, the same look of surprise on his face as last night. “Shouldn’t you be getting married right now?”  

Shaking her head, “I couldn’t marry him, not when the man I want to spend the rest of my life with is right here, in front of me.”  

“But after everything that happened, you should hate me.”  

“You weren’t the only one who fucked up, Hongjoong,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. “Leaving you instead of fighting for you, is the biggest regret of my life. We could have worked it out but instead we let each other go. But I haven’t been able to let you go. You’re always in my mind, in my dreams and everywhere I go. Seeing you last night, made me realize that you’re the still the one who I can see myself spending the rest of my life with.”  

Hongjoong's surprised expression slowly transforms into a mixture of hope and uncertainty. He takes a step closer, closing the door behind him so they could talk without the other guys being nosy. His eyes search hers for any sign of doubt.   

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice filled with a vulnerability he often doesn’t express. She reaches out and gently takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.   

"I’ve never been more sure," she replies, her voice steady. "I love you, Hongjoong, and I want to be with you."   

A wave of relief washes over Hongjoong, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I couldn't let you go either. And I never stopped loving you."   

They stand there, eyes locked together, and fingers entwined. Their past mistakes and the uncertainty of their future hangs in the air, but they both willing to fight for their love.   

"Let’s start over," he finally says, with a new sense of determination.    

A single tear of joy escapes her eye. Without hesitation, he reaches out, and lightly brushes away the tear. With his hand cupping her face, he leans in closer, his lips planting to hers in a soft and lingering kiss.   

As they part, a smile spreads across his face, showing the happiness he's feeling right now. Seeing him smile, causes her to smile, her own happiness mirroring his.  

 "What's the bet the guys have are up against the door trying to listen in, right now," he chuckles, knowing his group members well enough to know they will be.   

 "I wouldn't past them," she agrees just as there is a loud shout from Wooyoung telling someone off for standing on his hand.  

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests, “I’m not ready to share you with them yet,” he adds earning another shout from Wooyoung and groan from the others before the door swings open and arguing ensues.  

Y/N and Hongjoong, quietly sneak away, wanting to be alone for a little while longer as they talk and get to know each other again. 

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. 

©️ 2024 CRAZYFORMFICS. NO ONE HAS PERMISSION TO COPY, TRANSLATE AND/OR REPOST MY WORKS ON HERE OR ANY OTHER SITE.

TAGGED: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups - @green-agent

[shawnxstyles]

we need a part two when they finish the project please

sweetheart (part 2)

warnings: smut; (f- receiving [fingering, clit stimulation], praise kink, protected sex, slight cock-warming, dirty talk), and tiny fluff

note: i’m soooo sorry i haven’t been as active. once june starts i’ll be able to write more and post more stories, but right now i’m super busy. i have a few fics right now that i’ve started, but haven’t gotten the chance to sit down and finish them. so for now, please accept this blurb 😖 sweetheart part 1

—

you’ve always had a liking for school, in every aspect. unlike most people, you enjoyed doing homework and projects because it helped you understand the material you were learning. specifically, you adored science. you thought that the facts and what-ifs of the universe were fascinating, and you wouldn’t mind spending your whole life experimenting to discover new things. you absolutely loved chemistry and found it fun to analyze different equations to see what substance creates which reaction.

but right now, you’ve never hated science more.

peter is sitting on his computer typing away on the essay portion while you’re trying to focus on writing the poster. in all honesty, he gave you the easier job and you’re grateful, but you can’t seem to focus. not after he had his warm mouth on your pussy only two hours ago. every few moments, you would peek at peter’s fingers typing. you were getting so desperate to the point that each word he typed sent a tingle down your belly. when you two made light conversation, you swear his voice got a little deeper each time, and the rumbly rasp nearly sent you flying onto his lap.

“y/n, did you hear me?” you did not hear him.

“huh?” you blinked a few times, shaking all your dirty thoughts of his fingers from you. but they looked so rough and they moved so quickly, just like they did in you—

“are you okay?” no, you were not okay.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you lied because you just wanted to finish the project, so peter could withhold his promise. that promise was the only thing getting you through this poster. there seemed to be a million facts and a lot of diagrams.

“what’d i say about lying?” peter asked with a head tilt and an octave-lower voice, his fingers halting on the keyboard. your heart skipped an erratic beat and your pencil dropped onto the poster paper.

“d-don’t do it.”

“good, you remembered,” he smirked subtly before typing away again. you take shallow breaths, wondering how he takes away your breath so easily.

the pulsing need of your clit and the burning of your stomach keep you from focusing. after ten minutes of hazily writing and sketching nonsense, you swallow your fear.

“peter, i was wondering if…we could take a break?” you suggested, pencil spinning around your anxious finger.

“sure, that sounds good,” he replies, but not the way you wanted him to. you watch as he saves his progress and closes his computer before walking around the kitchen island. he grabs two cups of water and hands one over to you when you appear at his side.

“oh, i’m not thirsty,” you smile to deny his offer.

“but you will be,” peter says nonchalantly before taking a smooth sip of his water. you feel the all-too familiar blush cascade across your neck as your eyes wander around the floor.

“are you all shy now? you didn’t seem to be when you were checking me out earlier,” peter taunts with a fake-innocent smile and places his glass on the counter. your eyes go wide for a moment, embarrassed that you were caught. “what? you didn’t think i saw you looking at me like you were going to jump on me? i know needy eyes when i see them, baby.”

the overwhelming heat of your skin fogs up your brain, making it impossible to focus on anything but the words leaving his lips. you’re silently begging him to touch you, to mend that ache in your cunt with his rough fingers. and hopefully, his cock. god, you want to see and feel his cock more than anything. you bet it would stretch you out for a whole week.

you swear you’re not normally like this.

“something’s on your mind,” peter observes with squinted eyes and a hand under his chin. “what is it?”

oh, just the idea of you fucking me into oblivion that’s all is what you wanted to say, but of course you didn’t. you mumbled out some gibberish that he couldn’t understand.

“i can’t hear you, sweetheart,” his words were so condescending, and in some twisted way, it turned you on so much.

“your promise,” you finally said, looking at his eyes. with each passing moment they grew from brown to shades darker.

“oh, i see,” peter tsks, “please, remind me what my promise was again? i seem to have forgotten.”

peter just loves games. especially the ones where he can feel your skin radiating fiery heat and watch your body squirm in its place. like he has all night, he’s been able to smell your arousal throughout the two hours you’ve been working. it utterly killed him to sit steady and type some scientific essay that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as your moans or ogasmic face. it was even worse knowing that you were just as desperate, but most likely didn’t want to interrupt your guys’ work time. what an angel you were.

but right now, peter’s never wanted to do more sinful things.

“you said…” how does he say such dirty words with ease? “you said we could continue what we were doing earlier.”

you lean your back against the counter, heart beating erratically in your chest as you try to remain cool. but your entire body was on fire and your clit was throbbing in your soaked underwear, so it was pretty difficult to stay focused.

“and what was that? use your words,” peter softly demands, licking his lips smugly. a never-ending heat cascades through your body, making your heart beat faster than ever. you breathe in, trying to get the courage to be so upfront.

“you said you would…fuck me,” you surprised yourself when you said the words. they sounded even bolder than you would have thought. every little moment he doesn’t say anything makes you think he’s just going to laugh at you. at this point, you think you’ve gone insane because you can no longer feel your heart beating. just the impending silence dangling between you two.

“good girl. now i remember,” peter smiles proudly and inches his way closer to you. his hand snakes up your neck and caresses your jaw. his thumb plays innocently with your bottom lip as your trembling breath huffs out. he could do whatever he wanted to you, and you would let him. “it wouldn’t be very nice if i didn’t keep my promise, would it?”

“no,” you waver out. your legs are stiffened together and your eyes are straining on his every move.

peter solely smirks before leaning down to kiss you. like the movies, his kiss is soft and pleasant. the way your lips molded together caused such an intense chemical reaction, and you would love to experiment on it. multiple times. every day. you would kiss him as many times as you could. you never would forget the magnetic feeling of his lips on yours.

your hands get lost in his brown hair, twisting their way through his ends. you’re so lost within his kiss that you didn’t even comprehend when he said “jump,” but you subconsciously listened and leaped into his hold. peter carried you to his bedroom, which you have been dying to see since you walked through the door. you believed someone’s bedroom said a lot about them.

however, you were too focused on other things to analyze peter’s bedroom. peter delicately lays you onto his black sheets, still kissing you like the world is ending. he slowly makes his way down your warm neck as you hum at the feeling. knowing what’s coming, you don’t wait for peter to ask permission behind discarding your own shirt. you close your eyes and tell yourself to not be self-conscious. he’s already seen you naked, so why be nervous?

seeing this, peter frowns slightly. his rough fingertip taps lightly on your temple. “open. wanna see your pretty eyes.”

your stomach tingles at his words before obeying his request. instead of smirking, peter smiles goofily and then kisses your cheek. a wave of warmth erupts through your skin at his affection. your entire body was covered in flames at this point, and you wondered if you would even be alive to get to the good part.

his tough hands roam your supple skin in hopes of exploring every inch. the rough texture left tingles in its trail.

“jeans?” he asks, looking up at you for approval.

“yes. please, peter,” you rushed and pleaded. your clit was begging for some friction, and you were about to start crying if you didn’t get something.

“gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart,” peter sang, thumbs rubbing the supple skin of your inner thighs teasingly. you wavered out a shaky breath, trying to conjure up the words.

“i need you so bad it hurts,” you whimpered. you were honest with peter, but your words weren’t what he wanted.

“i bet it does, baby. but that’s not what i asked,” peter flicks your clit through your underwear causing you to gasp at this unexpected movement. your thighs twitch and tighten at his teasing. he does it a few more times, just to get your body even more excited, and to get you to finally speak up.

“f-fuck! peter, i need your cock. i-i need you to fuck me,” you shouted, louder than you intended, but that was even better for peter.

“look who’s using her words,” peter says smugly, making your roll your eyes. you both assist in shrugging your panties off, making you completely naked while peter is still fully dressed. you reach for his shirt, but he’s already a step ahead of you and pulls it off himself.

when you see his body, you swear you almost faint. peter had six bulky packs of muscle on his abdomen and lumps of muscle on his arms. his chest was buff and tight, yet looked soft all at the same time. you had to blink a few times to make sure he was real. you even poked a finger at his stomach just to make sure it didn’t go through him like a ghost or a hologram. peter chuckles at your antics before grabbing your hand and kissing it, just like he had done earlier in the evening. and just like earlier, you felt yourself blush profusely and feel tingly all over again.

while you’re smiling like a goof, peter’s hands resume on your body. you instantly stop smiling because you remembered just how much he’s deprived you. but he’s also given you more than anyone else has in the past…

his digits caress your soaking slit between your crossed legs. you gasp because he’s finally touching you bare.

“open,” he demands softly, voice deep and lustful. shakily, you listen and do so. peter doesn’t hesitate to find your lips again with his fingers.

you quietly moan at the delicate pressure, feeling the smallest bit of friction. just as you were about to beg him for more, or to hurry up, his middle finger slips inside of you. it was almost embarrassing how easy it was. the amount of wetness you were leaking could fix the california drought.

“god, you’re so wet. what made you like this?” peter slowly pushed his finger in and out, thumb circling your puffy clit at the same time.

“you, peter! fuck,” you clenched around his digit, needing release already.

“are you thinking about my cock? hmm?” peter questioned, voice gravely as he leans over you. “are you thinking about me inside of you? thinking about how much i’m going to stretch your little pussy out?”

you groan at his foul language, pulsing barbarically. you’re straining to keep your eyes open, trying to obey his earlier request and to intake the moment. peter urges you to come, increasing his thrusts and pace. before you know it, your core is tightening and you’re squeezing peter’s fingers until you do. you thought you cut off his circulation from how hard you were clutching onto him, but when he pulls his fingers away and licks them proudly, you knew he was just fine.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” a smirk dances upon his lips as your taste lingers in his mouth. he’ll never forget that taste, no matter what happens after tonight. he’s hoping there will be more nights like these. more days too.

“can you please fuck me now, peter?–”

he holds up a finger to your lips.

“all of a sudden you know how to use your words and it still sounds so dirty coming from your pretty lips.”

in the blink of an eye, peter is reaching over to his night stand to grab a condom (hopefully). when you see the tinfoil wrapping, he stuffs it between your teeth, making you hold onto it. you then watch as he undresses his pants, clearly taking all the time in the world like he has it.

the smell of your orgasm and your wetness is haunting peter’s senses. the scent of you is never going to rid from his body or his room. he also doesn’t ever want you to leave, so he’s going to drag this out as long as possible.

once his pants are finally off, you get the courage to undo the wrapper while he’s taking his underwear off. holding the condom, you almost drop it once you see his length. he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had. the tip of cock is bright red and leaking a bit of pre-cum, clearly just as desperate as you.

“fuck,” you mumble when looking at him. all he does is smirk before taking the condom from your hand and putting it over himself. peter leans over you again, face over face.

“ready, sweetheart?” his smirk lingers while you clench around nothing. you can feel the overwhelming sensation of your clit throbbing and you just want him to mend it. “ready to be fucked so hard you can’t leave?”

“yes, peter. fuck me hard.”

with your final words, peter is gently sinking into you. your wet folds encompass his cock snuggly causing you both to groan in delight. after a few moments, he starts to rock his body and you release a string of moans with every thrust. you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, but fail to do so. the sensations are indescribable throughout your body.

peter’s actions get harder, rougher. just like you wanted. he’s flicking his hips into yours with skilled movements while his face is relaxing in the crease of your neck. you feel his warm breath on you as he groans into your ear, lighting your whole body on fire.

“shit, peter, it feels so good. don’t stop,” you whine when he hits a certain part inside of you. your hand creeps down in between you both to rub the ache in your clit, but peter stops you.

“love when you touch yourself,” he grunts, never halting his movements, “but that’s my job right now.”

so, peter begins harshing rubbing your clit to no end. instead, your hands squeeze tightly on his biceps while he pounds into you so hard, you see stars. your never-ending wetness makes it so easy for him to slip in and out.

you feel yourself clutch onto his cock and when he moans, he sounded like the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“i-i love when you moan,” you croaked out, feeling too blissful to speak coherently.

“yeah? what else do you like?” peter huffs out, still smug as ever, even when he’s deep inside of you.

“l-love when you talk dirty, peter.”

“knew you were fucking filthy.”

with his rough words, you’re on the brink of your orgasm. your core tightens like it did earlier and your nails are digging deliciously into his skin. peter hisses in pleasurable pain, loving what you’re doing to him.

as your orgasm flows over you, your heart beats a million miles an hour and your breathing becomes staggered. the moans you elicit were just as filthy and pornographic as…well a porno. as you came, peter was smiling the whole time.

peter twitched inside of you and that’s when you knew he was close. you tangled your hands in his hair one last time and gave a single tug. that simple movement caused him to groan deeply and bring him to his release.

he doesn’t pull out quite yet. he just rests inside of you with his head on your chest. then after a few moments, he goes to get up.

“don’t leave,” you whisper and slide your hand through his locks again.

“it’s my place, baby, i’m not leaving,” he chuckles and slowly pulls out. you whimper at the loss of his cock, and at the feeling of being stretched out to the max.

“peter, i think you ruined me,” your voice cracked because it was hoarse and dry. you definitely needed some water now.

“good. are you thirsty now, sweetheart?”

—

tags: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

[sudokufriend]

disrespectfully, posting on the internet during a mental breakdown, or when you’re experiencing difficult emotions is not going to worsen your ‘spiralling’. when people frame their support by saying ‘get off the internet, it’s not helping you’ i really do believe that it’s more to get the person’s ‘difficult’ emotions out of their feed, because people who say this shit have no intention of comforting the person who’s experiencing a crisis. you (the poster) might want to remove some posts when you feel better, but no one should be telling you to sanitise yourself for your loved ones (on personal social media) or even for your followers.

this thought wasn’t even brought on by my own experiences of this, but when i do ‘crash out’ on my personal social media, the overwhelming reaction is inaction due to discomfort. people are afraid and disgusted by displays of negative emotion and don’t want that mess in front of them. and this is ostensibly from ‘autistics’ and ‘neurodivergents’ who say that they hate the question ‘how has your day been’ or ‘how are you’ because of its incuriosity. it doesn’t matter how ‘valid’ the struggling individual’s problems are, putting them on the internet or ‘inconveniencing’ your friends with them is an egregious faux pas and a sign that your distress is greatly exaggerated. like because the poster dared ask for attention they are no longer worthy of it.

you guys want to do mutual aid and community work so badly but you can’t even support a loved one who’s experiencing a crisis. many such cases!

advice below the cut

also if you respond to someone’s vent with ‘i don’t know what this is about but-’ or ‘i’m bad at comforting people but-’ i genuinely want you to stop and think about what the fuck you’re saying and how it would feel if someone said that same shit to you. like let’s use our brains here. if you’re responding to someone, you don’t need to add a disclaimer that you’re sooooo far removed from their personal demons that you couldn’t POSSIBLY fathom what they’re talking about. just be specific about their post. ‘i’m sorry that you’re struggling, and i want you to know that you can call on me any time you need. i love you and you will never be a burden to me.’ is way more effective than some useless ass ‘here for you xx’ that could not be more impersonal even if you sent a get better card with their name spelled wrong. like honestly people have you never comforted anyone before in your lives?

in igbo, our word for sorry is ‘ndo’. it is saying sorry without taking responsibility for the persons pain or the situation in and of itself. anglophones don’t have such a word so they default to ‘are you alright?’ which makes me see red. like no bitch i’m bleeding in front of you and you’re asking me if i’m ok. i’ll hit you. DONT send advice unless the person is actively looking for it. you telling them that they should leave the house more often or just ‘be active’ is so fucking victim blamey its insane. ‘hey man maybe you wouldn’t have been bullied in childhood if you exercised more <33’ like what the fuck. you can even extend an offer to meet up in person and hang out to distract them, or ask to hear what’s going on if you have the time and capacity to listen. even asking what would be most useful can be helpful. just do SOMETHING. a cry for help or attention is morally neutral, and caring about your community means internalising this.

[craykaycee]

sneaks onto ur dash to talk ab one of my aus with these magma doodles------

This is a Street Artist AU I-- basically adopted from @starrspice (thank you, lovelyy!!) This is a post-fire AU where the DCA escapes the fire themselves and into the city. They're stripped of the proper prompts and triggers for their childcare and entertainment programming, but are able to find something their coding can latch onto: a group of children who need entertainment. They modified their performance and entertainment programming with their arts and crafts protocols to create art as a performance!

More details (so many details-- I went off xDD) and designs of the AU, of which I've titled "City Lights and Paint Water", under the cut :3c

They're pretty beat-up from the fire, and without proper access to maintenance, they've retained the burn marks, splattered paint, and other grime associated with being outdoors. Over the months as street artists, passersby donate their old paints and other supplies, hence the oversized trousers and worn apron! (P.S.: cloth placement is more accurate in the magma doodles)

Sun and Moon each have preferred mediums and styles!

Sun prefers acrylic paints and spray paint, his paintings a controlled chaos with loud, scattered colors, large brushstrokes, and splatters. His paintings always have a lot of movement due to his freeform painting style, splattering paint and getting a laugh from the kids.

Moon like to work with watercolors and colored pencil, the colors more muted with small pops of brighter colors (such as lights within windows). He likes to capture the lights of the streets, wondering what the true night sky looks like, his art giving a soft and ethereal mood.

Then we have our Main Character (MC), the viewer/reader! They're a graphic designer for a big corporate tech company, tasked with making pamphlets, brochures, posters, et cetera for the company. Though they do good work as a graphic designer, their true passion is fine arts, but their work isn't taken seriously due to its "childish" appearance despite the real-life deeper meanings. In the meantime, they create for themself, crafting and making trinkets for their apartment. They even make some of their own clothes, made up of several different garments to make something one-of-a-kind. Their outfits are fairly chaotic, typically accompanied by a hair accessory, but the patterns and colors compliment each other well.

MC grew up in a rural area, and still love the open and free areas it provides, but they had to move to an urban city for work and better opportunities. It's a big step up from their small town, overwhelmed by the activity. At the start of the story, they feel disconnected from their work, drained by the cookie-cutter bland work of their graphic designer job, but it's the only way they can reliably earn income.

The story starts with Sun spotting MC beyond the crowd, rushing somewhere. He continues to see them in the distance, unable to approach them due to their haste. He's mesmerized by their appearance, drawn to their creative expression just in their outfit. Moon catches a few glances of MC in the evenings, but doesn't have the same draw to them as Sun, figuring them as just another "everyman" in the crowd. One day, in MC's haste, they lose a paper from their portfolio. When Sun catches it, he sees a presentation sheet of several different designs meant for a business card or a t-shirt emblem. Sun is astounded by them, making MC more interesting than they already were.

It's not until about a week later that Sun takes an opportunity to return the paper and give his compliments. When he does this, however, MC's face falls before forcing a polite smile, thanking him. Before Sun could say anything more, they're gone.

There's so many small moments I'd like to explore, but that's the set-up :3cc I nearly have chapter one (1) completed, two (2) chapters after that already planned. The chapter length is pretty short right now, but I don't know if I wanna beef them up or keep them at this shorter length. We'll see! :D

Welp, these are my boios! I hold them gently in my hands and present them like a proud parent

[nerdishpursuits]

Okay, this post is all over the place. Meaning it's a collection of thoughts that span over the last couple of weeks. Simply jotting things down as I watched and as they occurred to me. So, ye be warned. Here be a case of the verbose. It never ceases to baffle me, truly, how even the best content can trigger malcontent. And when it comes to this show the best example remains Twitter: the poster app for a flaming dumpster fire. Why people don’t just migrate over to BlueSky is just as dumbfounding. Oh well. Muting and blocking certainly helps curate the experience.

By all means, shall we vent (a little?)

1. Apparently Marta and Fina are too cringe-worthy in their dialogue now, as no one in real life would ever talk to their partner that way. Do I agree with this assessment? Most certainly not.

If anything, I find such scenes supremely satisfying. They reinforce the depth of their love and commitment to each other and manage to, somehow, always sound like wedding vows. At this point, honestly, I’d take this kind of scene over the more explicit ones reserved for the family values crowd. I prefer it because those other couples lack this in-depth emotional journey that we’re being treated to with Mafin.

The way Fina adores and cherishes Marta, how she supports her unconditionally. The reverence Marta holds for Fina, how she sees in her the embodiment of peace, of home, of love, of all that is well and good in the world. They are strong on their own, but together? Together they are invincible.

To me it’s obvious you can only have this kind of relationship with your partner if your level of comfort and trust in each other is absolute (nudge nudge wink wink @midniteowlet) And this is how Marta and Fina come across to me: beautifully at ease in each other’s presence, wonderfully supportive of one another, always nurturing and speaking a language of their own. A language of the heart that's intrinsically theirs.

So when they hold each other and confess their love in such a pure, unadulterated way, holding nothing back and simply allowing themselves to speak their truth? It’s a thing of beauty.

You are my example, Marta, my inspiration. You are the staff upon which I lean, whenever I feel myself fading. You are like a bird in flight, battered by the winds that try to bring you down. But always, always you soar again

You are a water lily, for the dirtier the water, the more beautiful the flower grows, so elegant, so serene

You are my strength. I need your embraces, your kisses. To rest in your arms, if only for a few hours, for they are the only place I find solace

To me these kind of dialogues and confessions never feel saccharine. It’s an expression of longing and love, of trust and admiration. And they stay true to the essence of a relationship between two women, where such displays of emotional and psychological authenticity take center stage.

And then we get a kiss. How nuanced the meeting of their lips. For Marta, the profound need to drink from this love that soothes her, cradles her, embraces her, ignites her and brings light and joy to an ever increasing darkness. For Fina, the selfless surrender, the ardent devotion, the intense admiration and the purest love. Theirs is a kiss that heals. A kiss that is home.

Bonus. Fina defending Marta against anyone who dares question her integrity and feeling so protective of her wife who often carries the weight of her family on her shoulders.

2. Optical delusions during the Marta & Pelayo scenes? Mind boggling. Personally, I'm quite enjoying them. I mean ... Fina's gentle touch has rubbed off on Marta 😌

3. Marta sarcastically saying she'll have to meet her future mother in law? Apparently not sitting well with some people. Sarcasm and irony have always been Marta's way of dealing with stressful situations. She's always been shown to awkwardly crack a joke, especially when things feel overwhelming and depressing. Seeing anything else in that? Claiming that she was all happy at the prospect of meeting that woman? Way off mark, imho. Marta and Fina are trying to make the best of an unpleasant reality. They have accepted this is the path they need to walk, but they also admit it's a painful one. I wish people would stop seeing things that aren't there. Considering they've done nothing but reinforce how much Marta & Fina are married to each other? Maybe one day it'll resonate that Marta's marriage to Pelayo is solely for convenience and something to, hopefully, offer protection.

Will they suffer because of it? Yes. Will they be dealing with the contraptions of a marriage, even though it's a fake one? Yes. Will their time be cut short, leaving them desperate to interact with each other? Also yes. In theory, this marriage will solve x and y. In practice, it will bring a host of problems they've not dealt with before: Pelayo's political career will place them under a microscope, Marta will be expected to play the dutiful wife in public, Fina will again feel like the odd one out (even though she is the sole reason Marta agreed to remarry). The world they want to fence out is very much pressing in, invading a space they want to call their own. The world will always demand its pound of flesh. But as long as they hold steady, hold fast and hold onto each other? They can make it work.

On to greener pastures.

Marta wanting to help Gema because she understands her need and desire to work, to feel useful and in control of ones life? I really loved their scene together and I don't think they've ever had a tête-à-tête before. I also love the fact that Gema doesn't aim for a position where she'd be in charge and doesn't shy away from hard work. I think that speaks well of her character. That being said? While I love Marta interceding for Gema with Joaquin, once again proving that her generosity and kindness knows no bounds? I do worry abut one thing with Gema: she's made of gossip. She'll be poking her nose into everyone's business, soon learning that Marta & Fina are together and who knows what she'll do with that information. To be frank, I'd been hoping Gema becomes the store overseer and robs Carmen of her position. That would have made for good drama and would have served as another lesson for Tasio, given he was loudly proclaiming he voted against Marta to secure Carmen's position. We shall see what this move holds in store and if Fina warms up to her. Gema is not a bad person. Let's trust she'll make the right choice. At least we got some peak comedy from the scene between Gema, Claudia & Fina.

Speaking of. Marta is too kind. Too kind to Andres, to Joaquin, to Tasio. However, in the long run she stands to win more if she's gracious and understanding. Hatred never leads anywhere good and Marta? Marta simply isn't made that way.

Still? Team Fina here. Fina and her perpetual hatred of anyone who hurts Marta. True to her feisty nature, Fina's there, representing, staring daggers into traitors. She's strong enough to hate them all, for the both of them. Forza, Fina!!!

Honestly though, I'd dearly love a scene where these a-holes apologize to Marta. But, hey. She's smarter than I am. Picking her battles and all that. Certainly not worth it to rage against the windmills. Better to sit it out and bide her time. Her moment will come again.

I suppose it just irks me somewhat when certain plot-points, that carry weight, seem to fall to the wayside. Or do they? Time will tell.

Curious about Irene. I suspect, long-term, she'll be against her brother. It would seem she does not approve of his methods.

Best thing about the Andres drama? Not seeing Andres. I guess Marta lost the directorship so she could play detective in his case. Too bad he's back now and comes up with brilliant ideas like the families rotating leadership every 6 months. The one great thing about Marta not being in charge was Joaquin having to struggle with the damn bathhouse on his own. Remains to be seen if anything comes of that. I'm not much of a business mind but this suggestion seems off to me. It can only work if there is trust and a willingness to cooperate. Given all the bad blood between these families right now? Maybe it's not such a good idea. Curious if they'll take this idea and run with it. Oh, well. Some Mafin goodness today. A sprinkle of sour'n'sweet, a pinch of shared concerns, a dash of comfort and some good ol' domestic ribbing.

[asgoodeasgold]

Cin fuckin' cin! 🍸

Incredibly, this post concludes my epic scene-by-scene rewarch of The Offer which I started in August 2022! Yes I am a slow coach but there were many distractions along the way.

Bob is what got me started in making and posting Matthew Goode edits (my first posts were 'For Your Consideration' posters for the HCA Awards), so he is very special to me 💝. At this point, I would like to say a big, big thank you to my goode friend and role model @pleasereadmeok for being so welcoming and encouraging of me as a newbie, she is the reason why I am here today still posting. I was clueless and feeling a bit overwhelmed and would have given up many times over without her kind support! 🙏🩷😘

115 Offer posts, almost 200 Bob GIFs, 1 YouTube video, this has been a joyous ride in celebration of Matthew's breathtaking performance, one of his best. I have laughed with Bob, ugly-cried with him, and felt very emotion in-between. I am so glad Matthew's stellar performance got him noticed and opened doors for him, utterly deserved.

Matthew was, unbelievably, snubbed by the Emmys (they can go to hell 😁) but no matter, he is going places through the sheer force of his talent and hard work and bringing joy to many, and who knows, one day he will be holding a little 'sexy eunuch' statue of his own.

Needless to say, there will still be a lot of Offer posts in the future, I need my regular fix of Bob, as I am sure you do too! So until then, cin fuckin' cin 🍸

📷 My edits from Paramount+ The Offer (2022) ep10