#I know I don’t post my own content off but this is really encouraging

[draw-of-the-moon]

I need more from your chimera parents au I HUNGER

Alright Anon, just for you, take this comic i made inspired by the episode where Jay’s parents visit him during season 1 💕

I imagine empty nest syndrome hits chimera hard- I mean it’s not everyday both your kid suddenly move to another country to fight some villains outside of your usual peanut gallery. MK finds himself a lot more sympathetic to what Pigsy had to go through when he became Wukong’s successor. But Chimera has one trick up their sleeve normal parents don’t- namely the ability to summon a magical cloud with super speed meaning Chimera can pay a visit to their kiddos whenever they want. Suddenly Jay’s parents don’t seem so smothering.

(Don’t worry, Kai and Nya are happy to see their parents too)

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

First off, not to kiss ass, but I really love your writing! I follow three people, one of which is my best friend, and you’re one of them. I always come back to your account for content! Anyways, I just wanted to voice my appreciation real quick. lmao

Aside from all that yapping, if you’re alright with it, I’d love to read some Alastor x reader headcanons, specifically about Alastor’s shadows, and how they act (and if they’re a little naughty sometimes with the reader 😏💀) before Alastor and reader start dating. Maybe they try to encourage him to ask her out? Idk, I just have random ideas floating around in my head. I completely understand if you’re uncomfortable with the idea or just too busy with others, but I just wanted to request since I saw your post about it!

Anyways, ily! ❤️

A/N: i appreciate you so much omg 🫶, thank you sm im so glad you like my writing it honestly means so much. I feel like Alastor’s shadows are so under appreciated but they’re also probably the biggest Alastor haters out here, like they probably piss him off a lot of the time when he isn’t doing business. As for the reader, they definitely steal Alastor’s girl 😏. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this!!

Warnings: shadow magic, AFAB reader, use of she/her pronouns, mentions of death, Alastor being Alastor, his shadows love you <3

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Alastor’s shadows are almost always out to get him

Maybe it’s revenge, who knows, but Alastor hates it

When he first met you his shadows were over the moon about it

They always know what he’s feeling, even before he’s ready to admit them

So after you two first met they started to approach you more

You didn’t notice them at first, going on about your tasks in the hotel

Until you were cleaning a mirror and saw them behind you dancing

You just laughed and shooed them away lightheartedly, but it didn’t work

They tended to bounce between following Alastor and following you around

You had been taking a bath when one of them showed up, peering above the side of the tub

“Go away you, I need some sort of privacy” You said laughing, a bit of water spilling over the tub and within seconds the shadow was gone

Now we all know his shadows tell him any and everything

But they’re just as involved in the gossip as Angel

They’ll go to him and tell him things about you, who you were with, what you were doing, even down to the scent of your perfume

“Hello dear!”

“ Hello Alastor. Anything I can help with?” You asked. He grinned, his smile stretching ear to ear

“ Well I was just curious if you happen to know where the princess could be?”

He asks, his eyes flicking to the wall behind you for a minute.

The shadows dancing in with your own, making cringy gestures to Alastor, teasing him.

“ Oh actually I think she left to an interview with Vaggie earlier today. But that was the last I’d seen her.” You reply, but you don’t notice them behind you. His smile strains, pulling you close and walking down the hall.

“ Well my dear since we are under unsupervised vision why don’t we go out for lunch! My treat of course.”

He’s casual, as if he didn’t just steal you away from his shadows who still wanted to mingle in your presence more.

Whenever he talks to you they’ll just get really excited and cheer a lot behind you, pointing to you and making little kissy faces

he hates it

When you two start dating they only get worse in their antics

They constantly follow you around, acting as if they’re your shadows

Sometimes they take things from you to mess with you but it’s all in friendly spirit

You were doing your hair once and got distracted because one hand insisted on dancing with you

Alastor can never really have you to himself thanks to them, which he absolutely hates

“ Do you mind?”

He’ll ask, the static in his voice only louder as he clutches you to his side. The shadows stand and cross their arms, giving him the sass right back

“ They’re just having fun.” You say, and he lets it slide only because it doesn’t entirely bother you

Now they have joined in whenever Alastor and you try to get alone time

This is also the only time they aren’t against Alastor but more against you

If you ever thought of backing up into a wall to get away from Alastor think again because he’s right behind you sweetheart ;)

If you ever do flirt with them they’ll get really excited and run to Alastor about it, excitedly whispering what you’ve done

If you ever need Alastor and he isn’t near, you’ll usually have his shadows bring him to you

The perks of being with Alastor is he can never really run as long as his shadows are wrapped around your finger ;)

It was late and the hotel was quiet. Sitting in a warm bath Y/n ran the soap over her arms and down her torso, unwinding from the busy day. Until she saw shadowy eyes staring at her from above the rim of the bathtub.

“ Oh hello.” She said smiling, pausing in her actions. The shadow did nothing, sitting still and watching her shyly. “Do you happen to know where Alastor is?” She asked, leaning over a bit so the water flowed off her body easily, her torso now visible.

The shadows eyes went wide, nodding furiously. “Hmm, how about you,” she said, now eye level with the shadow, getting closer. “ bring him to me.”

The shadow had never disappeared quicker, and in its place was a confused Alastor, now kneeling in front of the tub, noticeably lost.

“Oh, Hello my dear! Something the matter?”

He asked, before she grinned, her hand reaching forward to pull him to her by the tie.

“ You’ll find out.”

Bonus:

“Dear they are actively trying to take you from me.” Alastor says, his smile strained and eyes twitching.

“Don’t be so mean, they just need some love too that’s all. Isn’t that right?” You coo, the shadows huddling around you more in a group hug. You giggle as some tickle your sides.

“This is criminal.”

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 3 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments on the couch

warnings (TW): mdni, contains mature/suggestive content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

tags: mature/suggestive content (in act iii), fluff, early relationship described, pining, affection

notes: please note that there is heavily implied/suggestive/mature content in act iii of this posting (after the second break)- if you do not wish to interact with this type of content i swear to you you can completely skip it if you like, i attempt to not tie TOO much significance to the written scene- and if you would prefer that the postings stray away from this kind of content i will attempt to better balance it in the future! i am in no shape or form a very “smutty” writer (mainly bc i have never written it), so i hope the scene isnt like… terrible ya know lol (also i don’t consider it much for “smut”- i am def using said word very loosly). annnnyyywayyys hope you enjoy and as always my dms are open for suggestions in the future and general conversation and encouragement! enjoy!

also to note! I believe the story is best read in order- i put certain dependences on certain words and bring descriptions back to really solidify the importance of certain scenes/interactions ! but completely up to you, lol

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked the up to date masterlist for this series- thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

| masterlist | part iv |

She had caught him sleeping on the couch in the early heat of June. 

They had a late night on the couch, discussing Ford’s margin notes and rewatching The Price is Wrong. Stan had a certain affinity for price matching, and she was more than a little stunned to learn of it the first couple of months they resided in the shack together. 

She just didn’t expect this 30-year-old man to know the price of most common household appliances. 

After his divulgence last month, in which he had confided a little bit of his background in sales, she began to piece together that although Stan considered himself a conman in every way but words, she considered it pure brilliance. 

So she quickly got used to late-night T.V. shows, as they discussed next steps back and forth, with Stan interrupting conversations to yell out extremely accurate prices at the small box T.V. in front of the couch. It had grown on her, actually, and had turned rather… endearing. 

If not also incredibly hilarious, as he was so passionate about his own accuracy he usually forgot his volume, and sometimes took to ranting at her. 

“Hun! Hun! This is a load of malarkey I tell ya! That vacuum price is way too high! It don’t even come with added nozzle attachments!” 

She would laugh, and he would revel in making her do so. 

They had concluded the night in a similar fashion, and she had stumbled up to her bedroom. The first one on the right from the stairs. But he had lingered in the living room, muttering about tidying up some soda cans and taking the trash out quickly. 

She had shrugged it off, giving her goodnight, and made her way up the stairs. She had fallen asleep so quickly, she hadn’t heard the usual meandering steps of Stan as he made for his own room across the hall from her. 

She almost never woke up before him, another thing that surprised her. She figured he was the type to doze in and out in the early morning, but he seemed to be quick to rise and even quicker to make a pot of coffee, usually stumbling down the stairs thirty minutes before she could manage to roll out of bed. 

So she thought it odd to look down the stairs and not see the usual kitchen light on, and the usual grumble of the shitty coffee machine either. 

She found him snoring on his back, the throw blanket she had brought with her half on half off him. It had grown a little muggy in the shack, due to the distinct lack of central air, but Stan’s solution seemed to be very simple. 

Just wear less clothes. 

Something that wouldn’t disturb her in the slightest, if it were not for, well… Stan. 

She was a scientist, a usual logical thinker, and only slightly prude (due to her upbringing), but she was no idiot, and she knew the man she was cohabitating with was attractive. 

I mean, he was also funny- made her laugh more times than she could count. He was oddly sincere for his age and even more oddly protective. He was flippantly affectionate and even more flippantly kind to her. 

And he was also shirtless. 

Something she takes note of instantly, instinctually. Whipping her head to make for the kitchen, and trying to forget the curve of his broad shoulders and the slight swell of his stomach. The smattering of dark hair on his chest all the way down to the crisp edge of the boxers she had folded two days ago. 

Coffee, coffee coffee! 

She didn’t make as good of a cup as he did, she had never had to before. Something he scoffed at, but quickly took to doing himself. He made it every morning, now. Always up before her, with her mug waiting for her by her worn kitchen chair. 

She turned to the stove instead, moving pans and turning on the burner. She’d make breakfast for them instead of her shitty burnt coffee special. Pulling eggs and bacon out of the small fridge she went to work. 

The smell woke him up, and she noted his groggy fumbling to redress himself. Glancing out the archway from kitchen to living room she watched him pass to the stairs, still shirtless. He takes the stairs two at a time, back up to his room to retrieve new clothes she presumed. 

He returns in minutes, in typical fashion it took him not too long to get ready in the morning. 

He walks in, still stretching, with hair muddled from sleep. A pair of work jeans that had seen a lot of love in the past month, and a shirt that was quickly growing too tight around his arms and shoulders. She decided to ignore that sliver of stomach that peaked out when he raised his arms a little too high, otherwise, the bacon would burn. 

He made his way to the coffee machine, beginning the usual morning routine as it spurred to life. Moving to the sink he began washing their shared mugs. 

Breakfast was always a little quiet like they both couldn’t be bothered to open their mouths beyond sating their appetite. They still moved the same, instinctually and without words. Falling into their unassigned assigned seats, Stan moving to grab her feet and drag them across his lap, while she moved the salt and pepper between them both. She always reached across to his plate, grabbing his toast to butter first and then moving to her own. 

She had decided to interrupt their usual silence this morning, looking across to Stan as he fumbled with the morning paper. He always went straight to the comics in the morning, hoping to pick up on a joke to read to her that day, hoping to make her laugh first before anything else in the morning. 

But she had thrown a wrench in his usual plan (that she still hadn’t picked up on yet). 

“Why were you on the couch?” She asked, biting around her toast. 

“It’s cooler down here hun.” 

“I know heat rises Stan, but the sun rises on my side of the house in the morning. It ain’t that hot upstairs yet. Is there something wrong with your bed?” 

When first rearranging rooms he had resolved to take Stanford's old one. He didn’t want her to have to live in the shell his brother had left behind. His more intimate nick-nacks and sticky notes had been scattered around what is now Stan’s room. Along with his random mismatched socks and sweater vests, and his cologne. And he didn’t want to think about having her live around the last remnants of Stanford, because she got this weird look in her eyes already when she retraced his brother's writings and he couldn’t stand it. He had lived with Stanford for eighteen years, and sometimes entering the room was at least therapeutic. 

Except Stanford always had a weird affinity for sleeping on the ground. 

It’s the main reason Stanley even had the top bunk during their preteen years to begin with, because Stanford would find himself stiff on the floor most mornings. His brother had a tendency to doze away on any hard surface he could rest his head on, starting at his desk most nights, moving to his bed, but usually rolling off it in favor of the floor. Stanford was… not one for restful sleep. And his hard ass mattress showed it. 

“Ya.” Stan muttered behind the newspaper. “‘Ford trying to fuck my back up from another dimension.” 

“You can have my bed?” She offered up her own mattress, one she had splurged on with her own money. He still remembers her playing Goldilocks that day at the flash mattress sale she had circled in the classifieds the week before. 

He shook his head at the memory, them both laying side by side on each bed as she had discussed odds and ends. She had argued that she needed approximately 5 minutes on each mattress to sink into each, and that she couldn’t be intrinsically thinking about her comfort when doing so. So she had him lay beside her and talk to her, as she flipped from her back to her side testing out her comfort and considered the gravelness of his voice. Until she had landed on the right bed, the tenth one, declaring it her perfect match as she looked over at him beside her. 

“Nah, I can’t take your perfect match, hun, your one true love.” He joked, folding up the newspaper with the comics up, setting it aside in favor of looking at her. “Besides my bed is fine for now. I just… sometimes I like being close to the door.” 

She hummed. “I can rearrange the living room today? Do you want to move your bed downstairs?” She hadn’t even questioned it, still searching for something to sate his comfort. 

He laughed at this, he would never let her rearrange things without him and she knew it. He had hovered something harsh those first three months, moving around most things for her as she pointed from object to object. 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I just, I ain’t used to sleeping in a room without a straight way out of it yet.” He admits, munching on his bacon, shrugging like he was discussing the weather. “So sometimes I just, sleep on the couch. No big deal.” 

She sits back in her seat, shock marring her face. He had spent so long hopping from place to place she had forgotten he hadn’t had a place to call home in a decade- besides his car. Something that may have four walls, but had no heart. 

Hotels, to cars, to floors of shelters, he had slept in questionable places for far too long, and in some cases Stanford’s room sometimes felt like a new prison, or at least reminded him of a certain Colombian one. Except this one contained taunting memories and a stupid amount of sweaters. 

It hurt more, to open his door to find hers closed, for some reason. He didn’t like the thought of her trapped either, nestled in a part of the house he couldn’t get to. But he didn’t know how to voice this to her without sounding mad in a way. Or obsessive maybe. 

She digs her toes into the junction of his ribs, grabbing his attention. She’s smiling across from him, and standing before he can ask why. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him up the stairs to their own parallel doors, not even hesitating to walk through the door Stanford used to call his own. 

She’s muttering under her breath as he stands in the doorway, landlocked by witnessing her in this exact space for some reason. She moves to the window, opening it all the way and fumbling with the screen. She gets it off and makes to climb out the window before he can protest. 

“If you want a way out, you got it right here!” She grunts, footing her way through to the shingled roof, his protests falling on deaf ears. 

“Get the fuck back in here!” He leans out, making to grab her. “Ain’t no way this shack's roof is any good!” 

She prances around, slightly mocking him by moving away from his waving arm. “Stan! It’s fine!” She laughs, the sun shining on her figure. Suddenly serious she stops, hands on her hips. “Seriously, if you need a way out, keep the window open, okay?” 

She crawls back through the window a moment later, using Stan’s hand as a weight as she balances back on the wooden floor. 

Still serious, she continues, “Stan if you need to keep the window open, you can keep the door open also if you feel like it.” 

She smiles like she has a brilliant idea, moving across the hall she opens her own room to display her own mess of things. “I can keep mine open also if it helps.” 

How the fuck had she read his mind? He was continually dumbfounded by her unquantifiable amounts of patience she had for him. Like it was a reserve she tapped into, to specifically deal with all his dumb bullshit. He would let it pile in the back of his head, but she’d reach back in and shake him awake, present him with a solution, and he forgets himself in his need to question “why?”. 

He had taken too long to respond, and she stands in the hall, hands wringing her too large t-shirt and looking surprisingly bashful. “Is this okay?” She asks, is this what you need? Vying for his approval as she continues. “Because really I don’t mind you sleeping on the couch, I really don’t, you can keep doing it if you like! Really! I just… I just…” 

Unspoken between them, he already knew. She meant well, she meant the best actually. She wanted him to be comfortable, here, with her. Wanted him to stop moving from place to place in the house because no where felt right because it all felt like a trap. Wanted him to know the four walls they shared could never be a prison, and that she didn’t want him to hop around anymore searching and clawing his way out of it. To not have to Goldilocks around the house, because across the hall from her had to be just right. 

And it was. Because she had read his mind as usual, and he was almost tired of being absolutely astounded by it. 

He nodded, smiling across from her, his confirmation in the squeeze he gave her hand as he reached for her again, and in the ruffling of her hair he gave her as he slipped from the house later. Making his way outside to his work, somehow lighter than usual.

They ended up on the couch most weekends, or at least most Saturday nights. 

She had insisted, against his better nature, that it was not appropriate to drink yourself into a stupor on a weekday. So he had gotten used to the shared moments on the weekend, routinely looking forward to shitty VHS movies and even shittier boxed wine and beer. 

She laughed at fucking everything when she was drunk. He almost wondered if she had ever been high, or if she even needed to be. He might as well be a stand up comedian most weekends, because if he thought he had a great audience Monday through Friday, well he had an even more endearing one on the weekends. 

It was a hot July night, and she had scoffed at his light beer that resided in the back of the fridge. Tisking at him as she danced around the kitchen, pouring sweet red wine into mugs (their only cups), and shooing him back to the couch. Only wine in the summer, only wine when it was this hot.

And it was hot, and humid, unsurprising for Oregon really. So hot in fact, that she had decided pjs were appropriate attire for the night, luckily for him. So he shed his jeans in favor of loose boxers and a well worn shirt. Unluckily for him, she had decided upon much the same wardrobe, which was odd for her and only uncomfortable for sober him. 

But he wasn’t sober anymore, and he had to admit she was rather enchanting hunched over on the couch, laughing at his shitty jokes with one of his old band t-shirts on, shorts that she made no indication of even owning, bagging up around the tops of her thighs. 

He had been intoxicated on numerous amounts of things, nothing, of course, too hard or addictive per say, but it’d be the first time he was this drunk on wine. 

And it was… different. 

He had scoffed at the movie she chose originally tonight. She always chose the second movie, and he chose the first. They had a habit of in depth discussing during films, especially when more intoxicated. 

But he had never been so incredibly invested in a romantic comedy in his entire life, he blamed his company and the alcohol. 

“I can’t believe that he thinks he stands a chance with the likes of her! She’s sacrificed so much! Her jobs on the line here and he won’t even consider marrying her for a green card!” He yelled, just about jumping at the screen. This man in the movie was ridiculous, demanding things from his assistant and throwing her away the next. 

She ran back into the room, mugs full with their next round. She had become the bartender tonight, waiting on him and grabbing snacks when he’d ask in exchange for rubbing her aching shoulders. 

“What did I miss!” She rushed back, handing him his mug and taking her seat back in front of him on the floor, her throw blanket being used as a cushion. 

He takes a sip, setting the mug aside her own on the floor and moving back to place his hands on her tense shoulders. 

“She’s being kicked out of the country right in front of her boss and he ain’t gonna do anything about it! She basically does everything for this man, why doesn’t he see he needs her?” 

She groans below him, her head rocking back as she takes her own drink. “Are we gonna discuss the intricates of them having a relationship though? I love marriage of convenience, don’t get me wrong, but that’s her boss! Isn’t there a weird power dynamic here?” 

“Oh ya!” He agrees, nodding along as his fingers began to dig into her muscles. “We gotta talk about that because if this gets creepy we gotta pick out a different one. He’s already pissing me off!” 

She looks up at him, eyes glowing with an idea. Enchanted, she moves away from him, crawling to the cabinet beside the T.V., and he really swears that he tries to look away. But he also reasons that it’ll be a while before he gets the chance to see her in shorts again. And fuck. 

She turns back, a new VHS in hand. “This!” She exclaims. “Now this is my favorite rom-com!” 

A shitty picture is well worn on the front of the movie sleeve, a VHS he doesn’t recognize from the donation bin sitting in her hands. She must have brought it with her, and she must have had it for a while. 

She crawls forward, movie in hand and a bright, flushed smile on her face. 

“Please, please, please Stanley! This one!” She all but yelled as she leaned up into him. His legs had already been parted to accommodate her sitting in front of him, but now were warm with her torso between them, as she crawled into his lap, movie still in hand and smile still on her face. She leaned up onto his chest, a fake pout on her lips as she looked up at him. 

He forgot himself for a minute, excusing her silently for calling him Stanley in her drunken plee. His hand finding her waist as he answered. 

“Okay, okay!” He snorted. “Better be a better love interest because this guy sucks.” 

He missed her as soon as she left, but his heart still felt something sick when she yelled victoriously on the ground, hand raised in celebration, movie clutched to her chest. Rolling from her current position to the VHS player and popping out the current horrendous movie. All the while she giggled, and he followed in much the same manner. Laughing while running his hand through his hair, trying to soothe himself to forget her warmth. 

She crawled back to him (fuck) settling back into his knees from her position on the ground. The title screen flashed, but he was much too busy watching it illuminate her face. Heart sick again when she leaned her head all the way back, hair across his knees and thighs, she smiles up at him, a thank you on her lips. Clutching his mug in her hands, bringing it to her lips for a sip before passing it up to him too. 

And when he carried her to bed that night he wondered when the tight sickness would leave him. He never closed either of their doors. 

It didn’t happen like this, that night. 

Not from what he could remember anyway, but he felt too groggy to care about accuracy and too intoxicated by the image of her to care much for what was right. 

Her hands had continued up his thighs from her place knelt in front of him, his back hot against the living room couch. She had climbed up on top of him, creeping up to sit on his knees and thighs like she had been there before. Her smile turned sweet into something twisted as she leaned in close to his face, the closest she had ever gotten to it. Whispering something between the heat between the two of them, something lost on him, as he tried to lean closer, tried to bridge the gap between their chests, aching to feel her against the very front of him. 

He knew it was different because she had never worn this in front of him before, at least willingly. He had caught her in the middle of the night, stumbling from her open bedroom door to the bathroom down the hall, panties striped and endearing on her ass. He had seen them in the washer, had seen her fold them and tuck them away. And she was in them, sitting on his fucking lap. 

His hands made for her, reaching behind her and dragging her close, his fingers edging the back of the band of her striped panties. 

She gasps like she does when she’s happy for him, always jumping from her position on the couch cheering along with him when he gets a stupid fucking The Price is Wrong answer right. 

And it’s how he imagined it, fuck, how he was currently dreaming of her noises. In bits and pieces he could remember, his brain scrambling to paint an image of her wanting him.  

Her hands edge along the back of his head, running through his long hair, and tracing to the front along his jaw. Mouth open, her fingers glide along the bottom of his lip, teasing. 

She whispers again, closer now. Her chest heaving against his own, her ass waits precariously positioned above right where he dreamt of her being. Right along the space he places her feet every morning, right where he thought she may kill him.

He catches it this time, between them. Her voice wavering like it had that day in the car when she had apologized for calling him him. He thought of begging for it, allowing her to say his name, but she had read his mind like she always fucking managed to do. 

“Please, Stanley.” 

He had surged forward like his own tidal wave, meeting her in the hot space between them. But he could only imagine a kiss with her, dream of it here. 

He imagined it slow, and building. Imagined her hesitation and the pout of her lip between his fucking teeth, imagined her moan when he eventually came back for more. 

Her hands pulled at his fucking hair, the only time she had placed them there to harm, and he groaned as she pulled him forward, meeting again in the middle of the heat they shared there on the couch. She moaned, her hips rushing to his own, making a new heat between them. 

The friction between them was the same as the kiss, slow and building. Grinding herself in the curve of his lap, right where they both needed each other. Every pass slightly faster, every groan from her more imagined, more unreal. 

The pressure felt real though, and her fingers in his hair felt even more so. His head thrown back on the couch, he looked down his nose at her, a groan leaving his throat as she makes a home in his shoulder, as her hips cause waves against his fucking lap. 

Her breath is hot on his neck, something real, and her echoing noises move up his shoulder to his ear and it makes him hotter than he could imagine. Her groans come to a precipice, getting higher in octave and volume and she thinks to fucking bite him there, right on his shoulder. 

The image she makes shakes him, his hands remembering where they are on her ass and hips, as he makes to work them harder, to somehow bring her closer and harder to the crook of his boxers. Her teeth nestle into him, and it makes him groan more, her hot breath and aching moans reverb off his skin back to him. 

It sends him reeling forward, his own head rushing off the back of the couch, groaning in heat, moving in blind passion. His head rests against the top of her own, his big hands digging into the fat of her behind, finger creeping in through the top of her panties. 

“Fuck.” He groans between them. “Fuck, honey.” His hips canting up, her moans echoing again, her teeth unlaching, like she can’t ground herself to him anymore, because all the movement is him now. He’s fucking using her, the pressure hot, and she peels back to look at him, a heat in her eyes he can’t have imagined. He must have seen it before, marring her face. He had, he swears, seen her with this heat in her eyes before.

He was using her. 

It stops just as abruptly as it began, and he wakes to his discomfort. His room is cool despite the morning sun, the curtains by his windows billowing out with September wind. His door wide open, and his hand curled around something that no longer needed relief. 

His other hand, clutching his hair in a fist. The back of his head tender from the pressure, and his fingers heavy from sleep. 

He got up quicker than usual, his heart still pounding oddly in his chest as he attempted to catch a breath he didn’t remember losing. On his way out of his room, dresssed for the day, he peaks into her parallel room, her door wide open like it was every day now. 

He groans low, she’s wearing the fucking stripes. 

He tries not to think about it the rest of the day, tries not to be disgusted with himself, but his chest aches something odd and his stride is somehow uneven for the rest of the day. His heart carries something sickly when he sees her that day, and she pretends it doesn’t hurt he’s oddly quiet that day, or that he doesn’t read her the morning comics like usual. 

She thinks it has something to do with how flushed he is, when she catches his staring that evening, as they sit beside each other on the couch, T.V. echoing in the background.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you know if Riddle, or Tray, ever stands up to his mother? I think i saw it in a Pinterest post once of teen Riddle being slapped by his mom and Tray taking him away.

His background is sadder than Shoto Todoroki from BNHA

We don’t really get to hear about how things are going back home with Mrs. Rosehearts outside of one brief instance. In 4-3, Riddle is leaving for winter break and mentions he intends on speaking with his mother, though he isn’t optimistic about her listening.

Trey states in the same part of the story that he isn’t allowed at Riddle’s house (because Mrs. Rosehearts has banned him). However, Riddle is still invited to visit him and Chenya at the Clover family bakery (though it’s very unlikely Riddle would be able to, since he hasn’t canonically seen Chenya again since the unbirthday party of book 1).

We never get a follow-up on how the conversation between Riddle and his mother went. It’s never touched upon again, and his mom isn’t really brought up beyond this case. (I did happen to write a short piece about Trey, Riddle, and Mrs. Rosehearts interacting though, if you were interested in seeing my own interpretation of this idea.)

Riddle spends most of his time at NRC since it’s a boarding school, meaning there are few opportunities for him to directly interact with his mother. Even if Mrs. Rosehearts were readily accessible to him, I highly doubt we would get to witness Riddle or Trey doing much to talk back to her. As we see in book 4, Riddle is still quite meek and uncertain when it comes to speaking with his mom. Trey, meanwhile, is generally very non-confrontational and may still be dealing with his own complicated feelings about interfering with what are family matters. (Recall that the last time he encouraged Riddle to be adventurous, it resulted in his friend being severely punished and Trey may harbor guilt over this occurrence.) I feel that neither of them would realistically develop the courage to talk back to Mrs. Rosehearts when only like half a year has passed since Riddle’s OB incident as opposed to like seventeen years of Riddle living under her rules.

***CONTENT WARNING: I will be discussing abuse at length under the cut, so please be advised to avoid reading further if the topic makes you uncomfortable.***

Regarding the comic you saw on Pinterest, it is fan art. That is in no way canonical; Mrs. Rosehearts may be very stern and have a temper, but she has never slapped or otherwise put a hand on Riddle. The closest thing we get to a slap is this panel from the manga adaptation, which isn’t even a slap. You can tell from the movement lines and the FWP sfx that Mrs. Rosehearts is just quickly pulling her arm away since Riddle is trying to latch onto it in an attempt to get her to listen to his protests. There is also no mark on Riddle or harsh slap sfx to indicate contact was made.

Now then 💦 There's something very serious and relevant to this ask I'd actually like to discuss, so I hope you'll stick around to hear me out on this.

I know none of us really like Mrs. Rosehearts (which is fair, she has done a lot of terrible things to her son). However, I think it's dangerous for us to speak about her as though she's a total monster and nothing more than a monster. I'm NOT going to stand here and advocate that she has done nothing wrong (she definitely has committed many wrongs). What I'm saying is that I don't agree with her being treated like "just" an abuser.

Let's say we do demonize Mrs. Rosehearts. We see only her negative traits and allow those to define her entire character. This creates a scenario in which she is alienated and dehumanized, left as a caricature of a woman that is solely known for hurting her child. But the thing is, this ISN’T how abuse really works. Few abusers are completely wicked people through and through. Part of the reason why it is so difficult for victims to leave their abusers is because abusers almost never start off abusive. They usually act totally normal, and the abuse often doesn’t come until later or specific situations arise. It creeps up on you in an almost insidious manner, and you don’t expect it coming. I’d also like to mention that abusers often don’t act with the intentional thought of, “Yeah, what I’m doing/saying is abusive”. Abusers typically justify their actions or convince themselves they are acting out of goodness. They don’t do bad things “because they’re bad people”, they do bad things because they think they’re GOOD people. Some abusers may even be victims themselves.

By painting abusers (even fictional ones) as cartoonishly evil, irredeemable, or always cruel, it makes it harder for us to believe the very real danger that we, whom we see as “good” people, could become “bad” ourselves. It makes it harder to believe victims when they report abuse because “oh, the abuse isn’t THAT bad”. It erases the idea that abusers are also human, and that humans have the capacity to be awful sometimes or to perpetuate hurt. It makes it so much harder to identify abuse because we’d only be looking for the most extreme examples of it rather than noticing the small, subtle signs. By “othering” abusers, it’s inadvertently denying so many nuances of abuse... which ultimately is counterproductive.

I would like to point out that even in the example provided of another abusive parent, Endeavor is portrayed with some nuance. He physically and verbally abused his wife, neglected the children he deemed worthless, and pushed the child he deemed to be his successor to the brink. However, Endeavor is also shown to remember a detail as small as his (arranged) wife’s favorite flower when she only told him about it once. He is notably much more lenient when training his first son, who didn’t have the ideal Quirk he sought. Endeavor at one point even confesses to pursuing being a hero in order to avoid the demands of fatherhood, which demonstrates a realistic insecurity and vulnerability… his humanity.

The same could be true for Mrs. Rosehearts. We only assume he is “just an abuser” because we see her in such a limited scope. There are valid reasons to believe why she is a “good” person outside of how we see her acting in Riddle’s recollections, and this may help to explain why Riddle feels so hesitant to “stand up” to her. I would really recommend reading this post, which goes a lot more in-depth about the complications surrounding Riddle’s relationship with his mother. Again, I am in NO WAY defending Mrs. Rosehearts; I am only pointing out that abusers—no matter how horrible their actions—have identities beyond the label of “abuser” that should be acknowledged.

[sister-lucifer]

READ THE FIRST PART HERE 

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending. 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air. 

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze. 

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new. 

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that. 

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly? 

You don’t really have an answer to that. 

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think. 

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose. 

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice. 

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one. 

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch. 

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything. 

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods. 

But you can’t. 

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him. 

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all. 

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.” 

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him. 

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?” 

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all. 

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer. 

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable. 

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face. 

“…Do I think what?” He asks. 

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second. 

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this. 

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.” 

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’ 

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out. 

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments. 

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable. 

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you. 

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.” 

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that. 

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.” 

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues. 

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“ 

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause. 

“…What did you say?” 

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…” 

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’ 

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here. 

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit. 

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse. 

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.” 

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him. 

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean. 

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.” 

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues. 

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.” 

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink. 

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that? 

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent. 

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze. 

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.” 

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you. 

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house. 

You’re alone again.

Now what? 

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you. 

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside. 

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems. 

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice. 

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[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b.) - part two

previous part | series masterlist

soundtrack: lavender haze - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: you and Bradley go on a date. they say the wrong things --or right things-- and surprise each other as they get to know each other better. warnings: language, so much unresolved tension, mentions of character deaths, fluffy heartfelt stuff, but also like sexy stuff 👀 notes: i had so much fun writing this! special shoutout to @gretagerwigsmuse who had to deal with my annoying thots at all hours. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always. happy reading! <3

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Subject: Guest Attendance Confirmation From: management@annabels.co.uk

Dear Madam,

Thank you for confirming your information regarding your upcoming visit to Annabel’s.

It is our pleasure to host you for your dinner reservation on the 23rd of March, 2023, as a guest of our member Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. We hope that you have a wonderful experience dining and entertaining at the Club with us.

In order to ensure your positive and memorable experience with us, we kindly ask all members and guests to be aware of a few key rules of the Club:

DRESS CODE. We encourage individuality and style in your smart attire. After 6PM, gentlemen are required to wear jackets. Read the full dress code guidelines here.

PHONE & PHOTOGRAPHY. As a Private Members’ Club, we kindly ask Members and Guests to refrain from taking photographs within the Club’s premises. Posting content to your social media from your visit to the Club is not permitted. Phones must be kept on silent at all times and are only permitted for use in limited areas of the Club.

For guidance, read the Rules & Bylaws of the Club here.

If you require further information or assistance, please do not hesitate to reach out through this email address or by phone at +44 20 7946 0011.

Thank you and see you soon.

Best wishes, Maude Adams Floor Manager.

***

You’re not sure why you’re bracing for something to go wrong.

The restaurant is rife with opulence, with rich chartreuse and bronze walls and Japanese-style paintings over classic British architecture. Bradley booked a little corner booth just off the fireplace, the privacy still granting a nice view of the grandiose bar across the room. He pulled up your chair and told you that you look beautiful—a good three or four times, and it feels just as genuine as the first. With your show and his training the next day, you both had to pass on the booze and settle with some green tea to go with your food. Conversation flows effortlessly, exploring easy topics like your shared love of old movies, the Venn diagram of your music tastes, the novelty of the sport that he plays…

“Okay, but how did you get into soccer—I mean, football?” You smile sheepishly as you correct yourself. “Sorry. Wouldn’t wanna get maimed to death by the locals.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” And then he takes a deep breath as his finger toys with the condensation on the side of his glass. “It’s… uh, my dad, actually. He bought me a soccer ball for Christmas when I was like 2 and… it’s most of the memories I had with him, playing kickabout in the backyard.”

“Oh?”

He smiles—diplomatically, all things considered. “He died when I was 4.”

Your face falls. Fuck. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It was a long time ago. And I feel like he’s with me every time I step on the pitch.” Bradley nods, ever so reassuring. He’s had enough ‘I’m sorry’s’ for every time his dad comes up in conversation, and he doesn’t want you to feel obliged to do the same.

“But hey, I think it’s wonderful… that he’s right there in spirit with you every game.” You smile back, trying to save this slip-up in conversation. “And I bet your mom’s really proud of you, right?”

To his own surprise, he chuckles. It really is true that tragedy plus time equals comedy. “I mean, I like to think so.” He notices your questioning look, and realizes he needs to let you in on the joke too. “My mom died when I was 17. Cancer. I moved out here and lived with my godfather. Got scouted for Arsenal.”

And there it is.

You’ve been so worried about all the external factors going wrong, that you didn’t consider that the faulty one might be you. 

The clinks of plates and cutleries suddenly become so loud. The subtle piano playing over the speakers sound garbled, like you’re underwater. And the salmon sashimi in your mouth tastes like lead now. How the fuck does lightning manage to strike twice?! 

“I’m sorry, I…” and now you can’t even muster up a proper apology, because what do you even say?! The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a lame excuse, “I… thought it was a good idea not to Google you.”

His heart catches at the sight of you, all wide-eyed and dumbstruck. You wouldn’t believe it if he told you, but he thinks he might have just fallen in love with you there. Foot in mouth and all.

But you… you think you must’ve looked so stupid right now. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, no, no. It’s alright!” Bradley quickly interjects, that twinkle of amusement in his eyes still lingers. “I appreciate it, actually. I’ll take awkward moments with you over anything else you can Google about me.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Of course. I mean… it’s not like you killed them, did you?”

There’s a split second of silence, when you meet his playful gaze, and his mouth pulls into a grin over your petrified look, and then… the tension simply melts away in a sigh of tentative laughs. The garbled underwater music has come up to the surface, the dining noises dissipates, and everything turns back to normal… ish.

“Anyway, what about yourself? How did you get into… all of this?”

“Oh, it’s all I’ve ever known, really. Pretty sure I sang before I knew how to talk. I was always pestering my mom about ballet and piano lessons and living room concerts… I was that kid, you know?”

The image makes him smile, and it sends butterflies to your stomach. “Your mom must’ve been thrilled.”

“Eh.” You shrug flippantly, and that non-answer is enough of an answer for Bradley. “But she knew I was stubborn as hell, and she’s better off letting me tire myself out than trying to stop me, so…”

“But you didn’t.”

You shake your head. “By 5, I was on Broadway—”

His jaw falls open, and he looks at you like grew a new head. “I’m sorry. Five years old?”

You raise your hand in defense, not wanting to oversell yourself. “To be fair, though, it was mostly luck. My mom was working in the theater company and they needed a kid, so I volunteered to stand in—I mean, naturally,” you roll your eyes at yourself, “And they liked me. So they put me on. But I didn’t have to do anything but pretend to be asleep while the adult cast carried me around.”

“Still. That’s more than most people can say. You continued doing it afterwards, right?”

“Mm-hm. Stage, commercials, TV, the occasional movies… anything I could get my hands on.”

Bradley studies you with this look of awe—not an unusual reaction, he’s sure; it’s a pretty impressive feat. But he also catches a lost sense of melancholy in the way you say it, and he can’t help but ask, “Did you have a childhood at all?”

And your heart catches. That’s something nobody ever asked you before… “What do you mean?”

He pauses, realizing he may have inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject with this line of questioning. So he tries again more carefully. “I just meant… you’ve been working most of your life. Did you ever just get to be a kid?”

“I…” you trail off, considering your answer. You want to say yes, of course you did, but the little sting in your throat makes you question yourself: did you?

And with the soft look in his eyes, you know he knows the real answer to that. Both of you do.

It’s alarming how disarming he can be, and you would hate it… except you don’t. At least not enough to make you run off. “I guess, being in that kind of environment, I didn’t really know how to be a kid…? If that makes any sense.”

Bradley nods, understanding. He’s not entirely sure how to respond, but he wants to be empathetic.

“I went to school and made friends for a while, but…” Normally this would be an uphill point in your story, but tonight… this part is tinged with distant sorrow. “I got a record deal when I was 15, and suddenly I was living in LA and working in the studio or going on tours and… I just wasn’t a kid anymore.”

It breaks his heart, the thought of a childhood lost on you like that. “Wow. You really have lived a life, haven’t you?” He can’t resist but reaches out for your hand. 

The touch makes your heart catch, and it feels overwhelming. It feels like you’re gonna burst, so you chicken out with a lame joke. “Haven’t slept in 22 years.”

Bradley can’t help but smile at that, squeezing your hand three times in comfort. And just like that, the bubble bursts and the world continues on its axis once again. He finishes his last slice of tuna tataki and washes it down with his konacha.

“You know, for how much you’ve done since you started out, I thought you’d be more… Hollywood.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “Hollywood?”

“Okay, that came out wrong,” he admits bashfully. “I just… you’re very down-to-earth. And real. I guess I expected more, like, an attitude?”

“Oh? I can have an attitude…” you smirk coyly over your tea, “...if you can handle it.”

Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of him. It’s insane how easily you switch from being sweet and vulnerable, to flirty and borderline devilish. But he wasn’t born yesterday, and he knows he’s well-equipped to handle this back-and-forth.

“I think you’d be surprised by what I can handle.”

Oh, here comes the fun part. “Is that right?”

He nods, leaning into you a little bit from across the table. “I think you’d find a lot about me surprising.”

If the whiff of his Tom Ford Black Orchid catches you off-guard, you don’t show it. Instead, you mirror his body language, propping your chin on your knuckles for good measure. “Like what?”

God, he really wants to kiss you… but it’s way too soon, and he doesn’t know how you feel about public displays of affection. “Like… I’m a pretty decent cook. And I like reading.”

“An athlete who can read? My, my…” you smirk teasingly.

Bradley laughs. He walked right into that one. But he’s not ready to admit defeat yet. Instead, he makes use of that bedroom voice girls like so much to push the point further. “That’s right. I know how to use the washing machine, too.”

You bite your lower lip and sigh, shuddering a little from his low rasp but definitely playing up the dramatics. “You do? Mmh…” 

Jesus. If that’s you faking it, he can’t wait to make you all wet and needy for real. “And you wanna know the best part?”

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, the lustful tension is real. “Yeah?”

He leans in just a little closer, head tilting as if he’s moving in for a kiss. Maybe if he throws it out there… “I can put together Ikea furniture.” 

You throw your head back and feigns a quiet but dramatic moan for your one-man audience. “Oh my gosh, I think I just came in my pants a little.”

Fuck. He really wants to make you come now. With his fingers, his tongue, his cock—

Your gaze drops to his mouth, the stupid 80’s pornstache you’ve never been into before this, the soft inviting lips underneath. The ball is in your court now, and you know he would kiss you earnestly if you close the distance…

But you burst out laughing instead. Bradley releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, although your bright laughter doesn’t deter him from thinking dirty thoughts about you. If anything, it just makes you ten times hotter in his eyes.

“Well played. That was a good one,” Bradley concedes, his face turning just a little bit pink.

“We should probably stop before the staff kicks us out for having too much fun,” you lean back into your seat, looking around the restaurant, making sure no one is listening. Squeezing his hand three times as the next course arrives… not entirely putting the kiss off of the table either.

Bradley recommends the vanilla mille crepe to close the meal, and you come up with the idea of sharing a slice. The dessert arrives, a lush little golden brown thing with thin layers of cream in between, so simple and so intricate at the same time. He lets you take the first bite—insists upon it, actually. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.

That, and he wants to watch your face twist in pleasure again. Eyes fluttering closed, chest falling in a sigh, lips parted ever so slightly... God, he can’t wait to be the one responsible for it.

“Amazing, right?” He beams at you, very pleased with himself.

“Mm, it truly is,” you hum in agreement, watching him take a bite. It gives you a naughty idea… “It’s so amazing, I might just hijack this whole thing.” You jokingly pull the plate a little closer to you.

Bradley playfully holds the plate back, looking faux offended. “Hey! Come on. You know I’m a little bit stronger than you, right?”

“Please. That’s never stopped me before.” 

“Really?”

“I have my ways…” your finger reaches out just enough to touch his, just slightly.

Between that and your eyes darkening in mischief, Bradley fights hard not to turn into goo under your slightest touch. He bites the inside of his cheek to contain himself. “You’re really making me earn this, aren’t you?”

“Why? Girls never gave you a hard time before, Mr. Big Time Football Man?”

He laughs. “No. But you’re probably the only one giving me this hard a time for a bite of dessert.”

“Is that all we’re playing for? A bite of dessert?” you smirk, egging him on.

“What else do you think we’re playing for here?” He takes a second bite, maintaining eye contact as he does so.

You take another bite and lick the cream off of your fork. “I don’t know. A bite of… something else?”

Ah. So we are interested. Bradley is unfazed as he gently warns you, “Careful. I might take you up on that.”

“Good. I was hoping you would.”

The tension rises as reality sinks in. You both want to fuck, and looking at the trajectory of the evening, there’s a good chance you will. And it sobers you the hell up, pulling you both straighter in your seats. Sharing the slice of cake in quiet civility. Keeping a completely respectable distance, as if worried you don’t trust yourself not to climb over the table and kiss him senseless. 

But the game… oh, the game is on.

“I don’t know about you, but… I was thinking maybe a few bites, though.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yeah. I intend to explore every part of this… dessert.”

You stop chewing for a moment. There’s something so hot about how he says it so casually. “That’s… very optimistic of you.”

“Not optimistic enough to decide if kissing you out here was a good idea,” he admits sheepishly.

“Why is that?”

Bradley shrugs. “Just a hunch.”

He’s right, of course. He didn’t choose an ultra-exclusive, members-only establishment with a no-phone policy just for kicks. He sees the security detail that follows you around, lurking at a safe distance—from back at the club. And tonight, you’re traveling light with just two bodyguards, each strategically posted near you and the exit, but it’s still more than he’s ever encountered. There’s no way you would risk a first kiss in public, no matter how discreet the place is. No matter how much you like him.

And you like him a whole lot.

“Tell you what…” you put the fork down as quietly as you can. This is the moment of truth. “I’ll let you kiss me all you want back at my hotel, hm?”

Bradley’s eyes light up instantly. He takes a moment, not so much to consider his options, but to process what’s about to happen. “I would like that very much, yes.”

“Alright, then. Shall we?” you smile brightly, flagging the waiter for the check.

“Uh, yeah. Totally. We shall,” he stammers a little, recovering fast enough to snatch the check and slips his credit card in the tab. Barely addressing the waiter as they walk back to the till.

It all happens so fast, and you whine in complaint. “Oh, come on!”

“What, was I supposed to let you pay or something?”

“You were supposed to let me pretend to fight for it, at least…” you huff.

He smiles in amusement. You are so adorable, it makes his heart fucking swell. “Okay. Next time I’ll let you pretend. I’ll even give you a little pushback for good measure, how about that?”

“Perfect.”

“Now, let’s go back to your hotel and… I don’t know, pretend you have to try really hard to resist my charms.”

“Yeah, okay.” You chuckle in agreement. This is really happening. Wow. And just as the excitement sets in, another point of concern pops up in your head, like a really annoying notification. “Did you drive here or…?”

He nods. “You wanna take my car?”

“No, I got a car waiting for me…” you smile apologetically, glancing at her bodyguard. There’s no way they’re gonna let you jump into some guy’s car. “And there’s gonna be paps out front…” Here comes the tricky part. “Would you… mind if we… go separately and meet up at my hotel?”

Oh. Bradley’s face falls a little upon realizing that he can’t just walk out the door with you. He sees how this works. You don’t want the media to jump on this first date, and it’s actually a smart move. Besides, what’s a few more minutes to a whole night of complete privacy? “Sure, no problem.”

You nod tentatively. Well, that was surprisingly easy… “And just to be clear, this has nothing to do with you. It’s just… this whole thing can be a circus, and I don’t want you to deal with anything you didn’t sign up for.”

He smiles at you. Bless you for being so thoughtful, but it does make him wonder if other people have had trouble with it. But maybe that’s a question for another time. “Hey, I totally understand. We’ll just meet up at the hotel and leave it at that.”

“I’ll text you, okay?”

You squeeze his hand gently before you get up, making your way out of the restaurant. Powering through the camera flashes as soon as you walk out of the front door. Giddy because you know something these vultures don’t.

Meanwhile, Bradley sits. Waits. For one minute, and two, and three. Looking at people walking in and out, wondering how inconspicuous he would be if he walks out now.

And then…

His phone buzzes.

[theeternalwombtarot]

why are they silent?

message: I’m feeling called to do this reading so I’m doing it. My posting and content schedule was literally all planned out and organized but I am unfortunately the embodiment of chaos however organized so now everything is all jumbled up. I think I’d love to have a little schedule and do all these wonderful things but I don’t believe that it’s really indefinitely the right direction for me to go in. I’m naturally spontaneous, I kind of go against the grain and go my own way all the time naturally and have done so since I was a child and so I think it’s time I live in my reality and find some acceptance here lol. I’m in the process of working through my drafts I have countless readings set up to be written and posted that I haven’t even tackled yet. Well anyways, hope this brings you peace and clarity.

***

i.

Guys, *deep dramatic sigh”, this person has a lot to say. I can’t stop channeling. It’s running through me like water lol. You could’ve stopped speaking to this person, cut them off, or cut them off from your energy all together here. Someone feels like something is incredibly unfair or unjust. They may feel like the world or the most high is against them and they feel like you slipping away from them is a manifestation of what it means to hit rock bottom. But , I don’t see you able to romanticize this, this person, this behavior, their feelings for you (any longer) you’ve expanded much too big or experienced what it means to be valued and you’re never going back there or you simply don’t resonate with this at this time.

channeled:

teenage dirt bag

I smoked away my brain- asap rocky

“Lowlife energy”

Disrespectful/disrespect

Peter Pan syndrome

“I don’t want to grow up.”

Catalyst

Life lessons

“Bigger than me” “you’re bigger than me.” “Larger than life.”

“It’s above me now.” “It’s out of my hands.”

Looking to the moon for answers

666- “a reminder to refocus and find balance in your life.” “a positive and transformative message from the celestial realm, representing self-discovery and spiritual essence.”

777- “linked to self-discovery and personal growth” “a signal to get present with what's going on between you and your significant other”

8891- “centers around personal growth and development”

786- “centers around personal growth and development” “healing and self-care. This number encourages you to take time for yourself and to focus on your own well-being”

**the angel numbers were insane, confirmation on confirmation***

Temptation

“The devil”

Forbidden fruit

Forbidden love

Unrequited. Unrequited love

“Are you finished with me?”

“Can I be your shadow?”

“Within you.”

Karmic cycles

Mirror

“See you again” -Tyler the creator, kali uchis

“Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever? Because, I’m about to go to war and I don’t know if im going to see you again.”

“La la la” “ok ok ok”

Feminine/masculine

Opposites

Ends of the spectrum

Redbone- childish gambino

***

Someone is coming to a conclusion about you and about themselves through you. I get mirror energy here this could be twin flame connection that you’re keeping small here. There’s imagery of someone trying to blow out a candle, or a flame that’s flickering and small. It’s not being fed. A fire that’s dying. Whomever this person is, they’re receiving their karma for who they were to you, for not making the right decisions, for being disrespectful, for stumbling through life like it’s a joke. Your spirit guides, ancestors, deities, the divine, stand behind you so fiercely. Someone is feeling some sort of wrath here for who they were to you or what they’ve done to you. I just heard, “you’ll know loss.” Someone is going to have to rise out of the ashes like a phoenix, exorcise parts of them that have kept them stuck, be physically pulled away from karmic cycles and habits. Someone says, “they aren’t learning. They aren’t moving.”

They’re feeling very restless and burnt out here. Someone’s tired of fighting. Someone’s being brought to their knees. “I hear you haven’t seen or felt rock bottom yet.” I even hear an ancestor saying, “watch this.” I’m getting the imagery of very divine and large beings sitting in a row of chairs. Almost like the last supper or the imagery of it and looking down on what’s happening attentively. This person is undergoing large heart chakra openings or having an awakening here. The imagery of the ace of swords gives me the energy of someone pulling a sword from the earth, after it’s been buried for ages. Someone is finally picking up their sword or stepping into their power here. But I see you being completely inattentive to this here. If you’re even reading this right now this is a privilege to them to have you sit and see what it is they’re going through. Someone’s not available and has made themselves unavailable or out of reach.

This person is so stubborn, they’re hard headed, and they’ve sorted planted themselves firmly in their place and have refused to move. They’re obsessed with status or are obsessed with keeping up some sort of facade or reputation to protect themselves or make them appear invulnerable, heartless, reckless and damaging. This person could like to fight, could be someone whose met with a lot of criticism or always is pushing up against or things. Using or manipulating some sort of influence. I see you coming to terms with this person and not resonating with who they are and not seeing any admirable qualities within this person any longer. This person is going to have to fight their way through the thick of the situation that they’ve built for themselves, undergoing inner purging, arising out of karmic cycles, disconnecting from karmic connections in all sorts and shapes.

This person is avoiding making hard decisions and setting themselves apart from others and owning up to their mistakes and actions. Something about this persons lack of accountability may trigger deep childhood wounds within you of some sort or be a pet peeve that you dislike very intensely in others that you now dislike very intensely within them. This person has to make a choice. The right one this time after a long time of playing games with the divine and playing games within the lives of others. They’re going to have to be reborn and undergo immense transformation and change. And this is what is going on. There’s a massive tower moment in store for them they you won’t be there for or won’t be a bystander in. This is for them to experience all on their own. It’s very likely that you may find this persons demise satisfying or be apathetic towards their hard ship at this time, I almost typed heart ship. You may be apathetic toward their internal conflict and heartbreak as well. It’s a long time coming I heard.

Someone is allowing the scales to be balanced out and protecting themselves by being nowhere near this incoming explosion or tower moment. They won’t be stepping in, helping to protect this person from their karma, or hiding this person away from their shadows. I’m getting imagery of the shadow man or Dr. facilliers death in the princess and the frog. This person is so unattractive to you right now. After a long time potentially of being your wish fulfillment and end all be all.

Messages:

“ I’m scared somebody will take you from me.”

“ I let others interfere with our connection.”

“Go back to our spot.”

“I want to call/text you, but I’m afraid you won’t answer.”

“The warmth of your hands keeps my insecurities away.”

“Don’t give my love to anybody else.”

“I was too stubborn to admit that you were my person.”

“I need closure from you.”

***

ii.

everything is okay pile two, you can relax. You may feel tension in your neck, your back, and feel a lack of energy in your legs or have some leg pain. You’re purging energies, undergoing transformation, and getting ready to accept more gifts and more happiness. Make sure you prioritize your rest, your eating and your overall health. The color blue could be significant, beige or light shades of brown, the color white, doves, crows, cats, and spiders. Snakes as well. If you feel lost, answers are on the way. If you feel alone and/or abandoned, spirit is always standing with you and protecting you. Spirit will not allow you to be mislead, be hurt, or be put in situations that will destroy you. Your spirit guides and ancestors commend you. I hear round of applause, whistling, and chants of encouragement. I actually left and took my ass to bed after pile one because pile one’s energy was crazy asl, I actually know pile one in real life. Bless their heart for real. ANYWAYS!!

channeled:

Tangled up in you- the Alton’s

Heart to heart- Mac Demarco

Let’s stay together- al green

Tell it like it is- Aaron Neville

I put a spell on you- Nina Simone

Fade into you- mazzy star

Relaxation

Inner peace

Fulfillment

222 - you’re on the right path. “signifies good fortune in finances, relationships, and career, as well as a reminder to work towards your soul's purpose.” “symbolize balance, harmony, and spiritual alignment” “the time has come for you to be more self-reflective, and focused on the duality of situations”

444 - your spirit guides are protecting and supporting you. “conveys a powerful message of love, support, and guidance from your angels”

22 - “welcome balance, wisdom, and divine transformation into your life.”

12 - “something in your life has been completed, and it's time to turn your attention away from the past and look into the future.”

896 - personal growth & development. “896 encourages you to put your devotion and efforts towards your spiritual passions and interests, in turn, manifesting abundance and plenty into your life”

888 - “positive flow, abundance, and rewards are coming your way.” “Stay open to abundance in whatever form it appears, not just what we expect or want”

8 - infinite possibilities

0 - “the number 0 is ultimately about unconditional love. "The force of love is around you all the time, taking the form of other people, opportunities, and even moments of clarity”

65 - “Angel Number 65 is giving you a message from the guardian angels that your efforts to transform and improve your life are being appreciated by the divine energies.”

100 - “symbol of new beginnings, manifestation, and spiritual guidance.” “aligning oneself with eternity while finding balance between our inner world and outer reality so that true harmony may exist within us.”

110 - “it’s time to manifest your dreams.”

Sleep

Relaxation

Careful consumption of media

Deciding on morals & boundaries

Candles

Journaling

Shadow work

Smoke cleansing

Water cleansing

Detox

Rejuvenation

Chrysalis

Hibernation

Mother Nature

Mother Earth

The Moon

Menstrual cycle

Divine feminine energy

The metaphysical

Inner child

Inner compass

Erykah badu

***

pile two… this person.. this person.. I’m so obsessed. This person is open and genuine. They may have expressed to you so much already but anything their withholding is more and further confirmation of deeper feelings and desire to do more for you and offer you more love and more peace. You may be in a relationship with this person, this gives committed relationship vibes, it doesn’t give situationship vibes, nothing is in the air, there’s no dust kicked up or fog that’s obstructing the clarity of the situation. It is what the two of you say it is, it looks like exactly what it is. It sounds like exactly what it is, devotion. Amy winehouse “love is a losing game” just came on, I have it playing on my tv and I just turned it up because it’s playing so quietly all of a sudden when my volume is already high and everything else was loud and clear.

It kind of gives me the impression that anything within the energy of loss and heartbreak is over and silenced. Spirit is covering your ears and covering your eyes to perspectives and ideas that aren’t in alignment with this connection and the love you share. The song just ended, “tell it like it is” just came on, blaring loud I was like 🫨🫨🫨. This person is a real man or a real woman. They’re ready to love you, to give you everything. They’re asking that you be honest and bare your soul and tell me them how you feel. Pride aside, fear aside. This person loves you beyond the fear and ego. I’m getting sensual energy, it’s deep and it’s passionate lol I feel like someone is squeezing my heart right now. This person applies pressure or they really get you riled up. I’m feeling all of this persons feelings. I hear my heart in my ears, you know those chills you get when you listen to oldies, the blues, or that STANK face you make when you feel something deep in your spirit. This person is in your spirit, coursing through your veins right now lol. I haven’t even began reading through the cards. UGH! Unhand me immediately!!!

This is like an intensely passionate saxophone solo. If this person is silent in any way, it’s because they’re trying to take action in their lives to get themselves in a position to show you how much they love you in a material and physical aspect. They already have laid out so much love for you to have but they want to give you more. They want to over fill your cup. They fill your cup. Your cup is full but I keep hearing “more.” I’m seeing imagery here of a divine masculine giving you everything in his pockets or anything that he has and carries with him. For some of you this is a divine masculine energy. They know your love and devotion isn’t free and isn’t cheap. They’re willing to put it all on the line. They’re even becoming more enlightened spiritually. I see the imagery of the five of pentacles and one of the men on the card is looking up the sky here. This person is looking to the heavens behind you, looking to the divine, to the moon, to spirit. Showing their gratitude, asking for and manifesting success for them to give you, asking for and manifesting safety and protection over this connection.

This person is not undecided about you, they’ve made a decision. They have some self doubt about how well they’ll be able to show up for you or how able they will be to provide you with everything you deserve because they smell your divinity, they wouldn’t do wrong by you, betray you, or give you less than what you deserve. I’m hearing “don’t” by Bryson tiller. This person feels sorry for your exes. This person is ready to give you everything and do anything on your behalf and it only gets more intense everyday. This person is in their bag or about to be, making plans for the two of you, planning a future for the two of you, making decisions and making choices behind you and your influence and your presence in their life. Financial choices, spiritual choices, emotional choices.

This person is thinking of all the things the two of you can do together or build together it’s their primary focus. Any of this persons silence is them exercising self restraint or making room for you or for this connection to unfold and blossom naturally. They want you to feel safe and feel valued despite how passionate they feel or how much they want to envelope you in all of their love and desire. This person is levitating right now. They often feel they have to take moments to pull back and gather up their energy and bring themselves down from a high or an obsessive part of them that feels driven to you.

This person, in their silence, is constantly thinking about more ways to be honest with you, value your boundaries, express their own, communicate their feelings to you. This person wants to earn your trust and your devotion.

messages:

“ save the date.”

“ will you marry me?”

This person is most definitely thinking long term commitment, sees you as someone who could be their wife or husband. Wants to live harmoniously with you and have you for a long time ❤️

“you’re a witch.”

This person feels as though you have so much power over them. They constantly feel your influence. You could be into witchcraft or be into spirituality and manifestation and they believe in your power and divinity wholeheartedly. They don’t doubt you.

“You have so much power over me.”

“Healing my mother wound.”

You could’ve brought to light some maternal issues within this person or opened their eyes to the gravity of a situation regarding their mother.

“Sending you all my love.”

“You have my undivided attention.”

“Open your heart to me. Let me in.”

“Please wait for me.”

***

iii.

This reading is being done in such immensely high and free floating energy. Someone is relaxing into something or surrendering, I’m getting imagery of someone being fully submerged into something warm or something with healing properties or that has the intention of transforming and rejuvenating them and restoring magic within the spirit. I’m getting Steve lacy - infrunami. Someone was hiding in plain sight here or may have been hiding away on purpose but the both of you are being met with true devotion from one another. There’s a lot of passion and longing I’m feeling. Someone misses someone or has plans to come to someone and be near them. Spirit is telling me, “I’m giving you space to miss one another or come to terms with who one another really are and what you meant to one another after a long time of being right underneath each others noses” there’s this energy of truths being revealed, the light or divinity in someone or the both of you being revealed. Someone within this collective may be drawn to pile two or have messages in two piles.

channeled:

Love on the brain - Rihanna

Infrunami - Steve Lacy

Tears dry on their own - Amy winehouse

Mercy mercy - Marvin Gaye

Let’s stay together - Al Green

Wet dreamz - J. Cole

CPR - Summer Walker

Trust - Brent Faiyaz

(There is) no greater love - amy winehouse

Just another interlude- Bryson tiller

Glory box- Portishead

Wholeness

Accepting love

Energy of recieving

Gifts

Divine timing

Divine plan

“Proud of you.”

Appreciation

Music

66 - “a powerful symbol of balance and harmony.”

67 - “you are on the right path and to keep going.” “prosperity and good fortune are on their way.”

68 - “your angels are encouraging you to take a leap of faith and start something new”

88 - “great success, abundance, and prosperity.” “ This number's presence is a positive sign for matters of the heart, often associated with the abundance of love and blessings.”

99 - “spiritual growth and awakening” “it confirms that your bond is based on mutual respect, understanding, and love. But, there's always an opportunity to enter a new phase of even deeper connection.”

600 - “Your material security and wellbeing are protected. Balance, harmony, and stability in your relationships. Spiritual growth and higher understanding.”

666 - “ a positive and transformative message from the celestial realm, representing self-discovery and spiritual essence”

789 - “number centers around healing and self-care. This number encourages you to take time for yourself and to focus on your own well-being. It serves as a reminder that it's important to make sure your emotional, physical, and spiritual health are all taken care of.”

884 - “ a powerful reminder that you should stay open to what life brings your way. It's time to trust that everything is happening for a reason. The angels are reminding you to stay in alignment with your heart and soul. If you do, the universe will aspire to bring you what you need.”

200 - “conveys a message of hope and optimism for your future endeavors”

211 - “guides us to maintain balance and harmony within our relationships.” “a positive omen that learning to trust yourself will set you free”

Equal give & take

Space to be yourself

Satisfaction

Overcoming fears

Emotional stability

Messages/calls

Abundance

Self-care

Singing

Throat chakra

Chakra activation

Kundalini activation

Intense physical & emotional intimacy

Support

Devotion

Red roses

Vinyl records

1970s

History

***

This person is carrying with them a lot of emotional stress and burdens here but I also see them carrying themselves almost. Like they’re trying to hold themselves back from coming face to face with you on a deep and personal level. This person is having hard time and is tired and a little burnt out from feeling as though they have to suppress their devotion or their love for you. This person is incredibly attached to you as well as sexually attracted to you. They may hide from you or try to create space between the two of you so that you won’t see just how much they like you or how much they want to be with you, how much they want to be intensely intimate with you. This person overthinks a lot, they’re an anxious person and they’re afraid of embarrassing themselves in front of you or disappointing you. This person also feels like they might inconvenience you greatly by being authentic with you due to past connections and heart break that made them seem or feel like they weren’t important or valued or weren’t owed loyalty or devotion because of the way they were when they they showed up honestly. This persons needs weren’t met and their nervous system is in overdrive trying to overcome their fear of being close to someone again despite how much they love they hold for you in their heart.

Someone in this persons past may have gaslit them or told them that they weren’t as special as they advertised themselves to be or that their love and support wasn’t genuine or wasn’t worth fighting for or sticking around for or their portrayed this to them through actions. This person has been tired, carrying a lot of tension in their bodies, or are burnt out from how much energy it takes for them to keep themselves from you. Heard the worst by Jhene aiko, not necessarily the whole entire song but “I don’t need you but I want you.” And “I don’t mean to, but I love you.” But this person, they’re afraid, because they think that they love you but are afraid to tell you or reveal their love to you through words and action. This person feels as though you’re meant for them and they constantly feel the need to apologize for pushing you away or holding off from you out of fear.

This person adores you, they care for you genuinely, and they feel they’ve been blessed with and given divine love. You may come as a surprise to this person, you catch them off guard, or appeal to them in a profound way due to past experiences. I hear this person hoping and wishing that nothing takes you away from them. This person is in a constant state of healing and transformation in order to accept you. Manifesting their fear away, taking steps to let you see them, practicing putting down their weapons, leaving their past in the past, and breaking down the walls they’ve built around themselves in order to call and manifest true love and now you’ve arrived and the walls are ready to come crashing down. This person is reprioritizing things within their life as well. They could’ve had to shift into their dark feminine energy if this is a feminine energy. This person could’ve had to remove people from their lives, undergo a lot of purging, awakening and healing in order to put themselves in their divinely ordained position to receive love and love themselves.

This person is coming to terms with the fact that the worst is over and they won’t have to fight anymore and that they can fall into you finally and be taken care of and loved correctly. They’re in the process of coming to terms with the fact that the past is in the past and they no longer have to revisit it or hold onto it. That they’re safe. That nothing else can harm them any longer.

messages:

“Every song reminds me of you.”

“You taught me what real love is.”

“Divine masculine.”

you represent true masculine energy to this person. True divine masculine energy. Especially if you identify as the divine masculine within this connection.

“You have a lot of heart.”

“Lover.”

“I’m sorry I pushed you away. I didn’t understand you, I didn’t understand my feelings.”

“Forgive me.”

“My souls purpose is to love you & be loved by you.”

*double confirmation about spending time apart.*

***

Hope this served you right and brought you Justice and true clarity! I enjoyed curating this reading, thank you for co-creating my reading by being apart of the beautiful collective, by loving my work, by being patient with me! You are so loved and valued. ❤️!

[beybaldes]

I know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand

summer sleepover masterlist

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary : “am i supposed to just let you go?” / “for what it’s worth, i really am sorry”

content warning : technically a part 2 ‘I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t,’ can be read stand alone, more protective!roy and bestfriend!colin, Jamie’s past is held against him and it hurts his feelings because he has changed, two uses of yn, jamie being clueless, angstyish

an : can you tell I’m obsessed with Taylor’s music? Better man is one of the best vault tracks to exist fight me I listened to it the whole time writing this fic.

Christmas and New years come and go and when the first day back at the dog track comes around you’ve almost forgotten about Jamie entirely.

You haven’t spent a single minute of the holidays thinking of him, and yet, he’s spent every single minute of it thinking about you. In no more then 10 seconds, you’d shattered whatever hope he’d had left that maybe, just maybe, he could heal things over between the two of you. And even after that, you’d still wished him a merry Christmas. He was going to get fucking whiplash if things carried on like this.

It was exactly that which had brought him to Keeley’s doorstep at 6am on New Year’s Day. Roy answers the door and he’s still in what he assumes is lasts nights clothes. Even though Roy doesn’t particularly like Jamie, not after what he did to you, he knows Jamie wouldn’t show up here without reason, so he invites him in. He guides Jamie through to the living room and says he’s going to get Keeley but that they’ll be right back. Jamie knows he must look rough if Roy wants to sit in on the conversation too.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party Jamie wasn’t invited to. He’s knows you were here last night. You may still have him blocked on everything, but Colin doesn’t, and fuck, does Colin love posting you. Posting pictures of you all dressed up for the new year, looking perfect as ever, posting videos of the two of you on his story, taking shots together or dancing ridiculously around Keeley’s living room. Part of him knows that in another life, one where he had been a better man sooner, it would’ve been him in Colin’s place; dancing with you at a party, sharing drinks with you, and if he was really lucky, maybe even sharing a kiss at midnight.

“Jamie! Hi! Hey! What are- what are you doing here, babe?” Jamie can tell she’s just as surprised as Roy was to find him here, but that doesn’t deter him from why he came. He knows there’s only one way that he can become a better man, and that’s by trying. “Here, have a pillow.”

Keeley makes sure each of them have a bright, pink pillow in their laps before she encourages Jamie to talk, leaning forward across her own pillow to show Jamie she’s really listening. Even Roy seems open to hearing him out, stretching his arms out across the back of Keeley’s sofa.

“I need to know how I can make things better with yn.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Jamie’s barely got his words out when Roy’s growled at him and Keeley’s smacked Roy in his chest. He takes her hand gently in his and holds it in his lap and Jamie almost winces at the sweet nothingness of the action. “I mean, they’ve told you to leave them alone, so, leave them alone.” Jamie thinks Roy’s changed too, until a mere second later, he lets out the fakest cough known to mankind. “Prick.”

“Oi, I didn’t come here to get bullied by a pensioner, I came here for actual advice.” And just like that Jamie had slipped back into the shell of the person he’d been trying to leave behind. People like Roy made it all too easy, picking on his weak spots with the smallest of words, and causing all his progress to come crashing down.

“What Roy means…” Keeley interrupted, breaking up the bickering before it could ever even really begin. “Is that you made your bed Jamie, now you’ve got to lie in it. If they don’t want to forgive you, or most on from the past, then that’s their choice. You can’t force anyone to forgive you.”

“But everyone else has.” Jamie whined, head thrown back against one of Keeley’s many throw pillows as he took to lying on the settee instead. “I don’t understand why they won’t. I’m trying so…” Jamie paused, sucking in a long breath. He was trying so hard to be better and he couldn’t say that because strong men didn’t need to be better, strong men didn’t want to change for the people they loved. The smaller voice, the one that grew a little louder day in and day out, said the opposite; strong men do change for the people they love, they apologise and they acknowledge their mistakes (even when it hurts to do so). “I just don’t get why they won’t forgive me when almost everyone else has.”

“Did you happen to forget that, out of everyone, yn is the one you actually, literally, cheated on?” Silence fell over Keeley’s living room for the first time in almost 24 hours, and Jamie was sure he’d never heard something so loud in his life. “That maybe, more then anything, more then an apology, what they want is for you to explain why you did what you did?”

“No one wants to know why.” Jamie scoffed, thinking of the multiple apologies he’d make to partners in his lifetime. Each and everyone wanted an apology, he would give it to them, they’d fuck one last time, and then break up on ‘mutual’ terms claiming that it was ‘for the best’. Obviously, he didn’t want things to go like that with you, he wanted to really apologise and for you to really forgive him, and then for the two of you to work on building a friendship between the two of you. But that didn’t mean he’d ever have expect you to want to know why he did what he did. “They want an apology, and for you to seem sorry, and then that’s usually it.”

Keeley eyed him suspiciously, eyes like daggers in a way unusual and unnerving to Jamie. “You don’t know why you did it, do you?”

Jamie can feel Roy’s hand curl into a fist from across the room and he’s sure that if he was any closer he’d be able to hear his blood boiling. “No.” Jamie answers instantly and honestly. “No. I don’t. That’s just who I was then.”

“That’s bullshit.” Roy’s been speaking more then Keeley has and Jamie’s wishing he’d come over for the help at a different time. “You had a year? Two years? To come up with a reason, and that’s all you’ve got?”

Jamie wants to argue. It’s his instinct to argue. To get in some brutal back and forth debating which of them was right about the matter, ultimately say something he shouldn’t, and upset Keeley by upsetting Roy just so he can get out of the conversation. The smaller voice inside his head that’s getting louder tells him the right thing to do, the thing a good man would do, is be honest. So that’s what he does. “They really cared about me, more then anyone ever had, yeah?” Jamie sits up on the sofa, leans his elbows against his knees and hangs his joined hands between his open legs, pulling at his fingers. “Do you know how scary that is? Everyone who was supposed to care about me just ends up hurting me. So, I beat them to it. Hurt them before they can hurt me.”

Keeley and Roy try and get more out of Jamie but he decides he’s been vulnerable enough today and that he has a lot to think about. He spends the remainder of his time off before the season begins again hiding in his bedroom, and thinking about what he did wrong like a told off child.

He decides that on the first day back at the dog track, he’s going to explain everything to you. He’s going to fully embody the better man he’s been trying to become, the man he knows, that once upon a time you knew, he could be.

Thankfully, you have a very peaceful first day back at the dog track. Colin and Isaac come and eat lunch in your office with you, Will hangs around throughout the afternoon helping you with some errands, and Roy brings you coffee at 4 when he knows he’s heading out for the day but you’ve still got some work to do. You’ve barely taken a sip of the saving grace when Jamie enters your office and locks the door behind him. You simply ignore him, continuing to tap away on your laptop and blocking out the image of his puppy dog eyes from your brain.

“Look, can we just talk, yeah?” It seemed Jamie had a way of making you angry by even suggesting he had a right to your time; you stopped typing even though you didn’t mean to. “I want to apologise, and explain, and even if we can’t be friends again, I just don’t want things to be weird anymore.”

“And who’s fault is it that things are weird?” You asked, closing your laptop and leaning back in your chair, creating as much space between the two of you as possible.

“I know, mine, just let me talk, yeah?” Jamie knew he had to get the words out before you interrupted him again or he’d never say them, never give you the explanation Roy had explained, and Jamie had come to understand, you deserved. “I hurt you because I didn’t want you to hurt me. You know what my dads like, what the other people I’ve dated have been like, and every single one of them leaves. And you didn’t, and you didn’t look like you were going too either.” Jamie took a deep breath, holding his own hands to stop them from shaking. “That was so scary, to me, to have someone care about me like that. And, I don’t know, my brain made me think, like, that you were just waiting to hurt me sooner or later, so I should hurt you first.”

You’d fallen completely silent and it entirely unnerved Jamie. All of it made too much sense and a part of you felt so bad for the way you’d acted these past few months. However, you also knew that while Jamie’s insecurities was an explanation to why he did what he did, that it wasn’t an excuse.

“And I couldn’t just break up with you, because I didn’t want to, and I know my actions might not have show it, but I really loved you. And, yeah, I should’ve talked about it instead of sleeping with someone else and getting you to end things, but I didn’t know how to do that back then.” Jamie sucks in a shaky breath and a part of you yearns to hug him, to tell him to not get worked up about it, but you stay in your seat. “And it fucking sucked because I got what I wanted. And I felt so good about it, that you’d hurt me by breaking up with me and that I’d been right, and then I just felt sad.” For the first time since entering your office, Jamie looks at you. “And I just wanted to let you know, that it was never your fault that I did it, it was mine.”

A long silence took over the office, neither you nor Jamie speaking or even breathing as you took in the weight of the words just said to you. Everyone had been telling you for months now that Jamie had changed and you’d been so adamant it was a ruse, but here he was, pouring his heart out to you with the best apology you think he’s ever given, and proving he was a better man.

You stood from your chair, grabbed your bag and half drunk coffee, and tucked the chair under the desk. As you grabbed your laptop and notebook to take home with you, you finally spoke up. “Thank you for explaining Jamie, you don’t know how good it is to hear that after everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jamie brow creased and he moved to step closer to the door, stopping you from leaving immediately. “What? So, that’s it?” When you didn’t answer, Jamie took a step forward, reaching his hand out for yours and finding himself surprised when you didn’t push him away. “Am I supposed to just let you go?”

“You know, Jamie, I missed you every minute of every day for the first 8 months, and then I just wished you had been better.” You squeezed his hand gently and for a moment Jamie felt like he’d woken up from some bad dream and he was still where he was 2 years ago. “And then, I woke up one day, and I didn’t think of you at all.” Jamie knew he’d been a dick, he knew he’d hurt you in a way no one deserved to be hurt, he knew you loved him and he pushed that love away like you’d been offering him a loaded gun instead of the key to your heart. “You would’ve been the one if things had been different, but they weren’t different. And that’s okay, but that means you need to let me go.”

Jamie felt sick to his stomach, god, he couldn’t imagine anything worse to happen to him, and yet, he’d done it all to himself. “Im always going to love you, J.” For 2 years Jamie had imagined you saying those exact words to him, forgiving him for his mistakes and turning things back to how they used to be. It shouldn’t be breaking his heart to hear what he’d hoped, and dreamt, and spent sleepless nights praying for.

Jamie let you leave then, stepping away from the door with a downcast look across his face, and finally pulling himself away from your touch. What if he never got to touch you so softly again? What if this was the last time he ever heard you tell him you loved him? What if this was the last time you let him in your door? “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

“I know Jamie, I am too.” You took a step forward, but not towards the door, wrapping your arms gently around Jamie, humming against his neck when his fingers clawed into your shirt and his lips trembled against your temple. “I am too.”

You left your office together and walked Jamie to his car, you said no when he offered you a lift home and he didn’t beg you to accept it. Even if you had said yes, you doubted he knew the drive from the dog track to your new place, and you didn’t want to hurt him more by letting him find out he didn’t know you like he knew the back of his hand anymore.

Tomorrow morning the team will be surprised by the fact you say good morning to everyone including Jamie, but for right now, alone in the empty Nelson Road car park, Jamie finally gets it, and he finally mourns the love he once lost.

[crayonbunnyagere]

Big long ramble about some stuff below. TLDR of it is “I think we should make this community a SFW 18+ one, instead of just a SFW one.”

Yesterday’s ask has had me thinking a bit about the age regression community, and how there does appear to be a fair amount of minors in it. This is something that makes me a bit concerned for their safety. Simply put, no matter how much you argue it isn’t, we have to acknowledge that this community, the agere community, isn’t that far from the AB/DL community. For those unaware, that community is made up of people who are either Adult Babies (the AB portion, made up of people who are also age regressors, but also age players, and caregivers), Diaper Lovers (the DL portion, made up of people who love to wear diapers, either for sexual or non sexual reasons), a bit of both AB and DL. Now the AB/DL community is a kink community, and thus it only allows people who are 18 or older. Despite this, as with any kink, it can be sexual or nonsexual. There is a not so insignificant portion of the AB/DL community who are fully non sexual age regressors who are fully SFW people. But because they identify with a kink community and identity, any space they run is 18+ only, once again highlighting the Adult part of Adult Baby. Now, personally, I don’t like interacting with minors, in fact I prefer the people i interact with personally be at least 21 nowadays, as i feel teenagers, even 18 and 19 year olds, aren’t mature enough. This is a personal preference based off of my own lived experience, and because of it, i had decided a few years ago to make my personal social media accounts 18+ pages. I also wanted to make more mature art at the time (I’m an artist irl), so i felt it was also worth removing those under 18 so I could explore more mature and personal topics. When making this account, @crayonbunnyagere, i had very simple plans for it. I would model it after agre blogs on this platform, tumblr, but content wise it would basically be an art blog with occasional posts of gif sets from movies and shows i saw as a kid. It would evolve with some encouragement from my therapist, and become more blog like, with some occasional posts like the Bunny posts. Whenever i do something like go to build-a-bear or i do something like play with play dough, i would post here. Furthermore i decided to expand Crayon Bunny to Bluesky and Twitter. On those platforms I noticed the agere community is SFW, but many accounts are 18+, and I felt like on those platforms, the agere community is much closer to the AB/DL community than it is here. As such, I felt it made sense to make my agere spaces 18+ too, and honestly, I’m wondering if the community in general should be 18+. Seeing the first search results and uh…

Yeah… like, i don’t know, it just makes sense to me, to make this space 18+. I don’t really know, like, can i get some other opinions on this? Do y’all agree? Disagree? Why do you feel that way?

[jellalism]

Diluc x GN!Reader fic: In safe hands

You are having a depressive episode. Diluc takes care of you.

Word count: 1018

Genre: Comfort

Content warnings: Depression, not wanting to eat, and anti-natalist thinking (i.e. thinking it is better not to be born).

Notes: First published on AO3 a year and a half ago. Thought I'd finally post it on here, too.

Read below or on AO3.

You sit on the couch of the Dawn Winery Manor. Knees up, nestled under a blanket, staring into space. Comfy, but you’re not happy. It isn’t that anything is particularly wrong, but you’ve been feeling down today. The whole week, really. It’s just one of those episodes you have every once in a while. You know you’ll get through it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. On the worst days, you can barely drag yourself out of bed, eating is a chore, and doing any actual work is an impossible task. Today is perhaps not that bad, but not much better either. Add to that, the terrible boredom. If you had anything to distract yourself with, it might be bearable – but what do you do if your very diversions seem insurmountable tasks themselves? You sigh.

“y/n?” Diluc stands in the middle of the room, taking his coat off. You hadn’t even noticed him coming in.

“Hey,” you say. You wish you could be more outwardly enthusiastic, but you’re too sapped of energy. Inwardly, though, you are quite happy to see him.

“I see you are not doing so well.” He pauses, then walks up to you, bends over, and kisses your forehead. “Hold on, I will make you some tea.”

You murmur a word of thanks, but probably too softly for him to hear as he leaves the room. He could just have one of the servants make the tea, but he prefers to care for you with his own hands. Besides, his expertise doesn’t only pertain alcoholic drinks. He knows the exact right way to make tea, too. None of the servants’ tea can match the Master’s.

You listen to Diluc making noises in the kitchen, as he left the door open. Bringing the water to a boil, measuring the amount of tea, taking the pot from the cabinet – all the while humming a soft tune. Diluc has told you before that humming is an indispensable part of making good tea. You have your doubts, but have no reason to complain; you’re quite content listening to his song. Diluc isn’t free of his own demons, but he can get into the tasks at hand and lose himself in it, which allows him to hum in such a carefree way.

After a couple of minutes, Diluc returns, carrying a tray. On it, a pot of tea, two cups, and… a croissant. Why must he be so perceptive? you wonder. He definitely noticed you haven’t eaten – it is like a sixth sense he has. Diluc places the tray on the table and, without a word, starts pouring the tea. Then he puts one cup in front of you, giving you a smile and a wink. The second cup he places next to yours, and then he seats himself next to you on the couch. His arm goes over your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. You relax, leaning against his body. It’s warm, comfortably warm. You close your eyes.

“Tell me what is on your mind.”

You are silent for a moment, collecting your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you start softly. Diluc murmurs an encouraging sound. Still trying to find the right words, you continue: “Sometimes I just feel so down without an apparent reason. And once I’m that way, the negative thoughts come pouring in, to keep me held down. I fear that I’m never gonna be alright. That I’m not worthy of love. That I’ve misled people into loving me, because if they truly knew me, they wouldn’t stick around. That it'd be better for everyone if I were never born.”

“I respectfully disagree, my love.” Diluc replied. “You are… quite someone, you know? There is no need to be afraid that people would cower at the sight of the ‘real you’. I have been with you for some time, and you have bared your soul. And I am still here, remember? I love you with all your insecurities and wounds, all your mistakes and the things you think are imperfections. I have seen all of you, and I am ‘sticking around’. I love you, and I love being with you.”

A single tear runs over your cheek. “Thank you,” you say. The response feels inadequate, but you can’t quite put your feelings into words. “That means a lot,” you add, turning to face him. He smiles at you in a loving way. His right arm still wrapped around your shoulders, he brings his left hand to your face, holding your chin. His touch is ever so gentle, like you’re a beautiful yet fragile flower. You close your eyes as he leans in. His lips touch yours, press upon them with reservation betraying unparalleled devotion. He tastes like apple cider, with that slight taste of cinnamon.

As the kiss comes to an end, Diluc doesn’t lean back, but rather embraces you tightly. “You mean a lot to me,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

You make no sound, letting yourself melt in his arms. They are so warm, so safe. Diluc breath tickles your neck.

After a while, Diluc lets go of the embrace, though one of his hands searches yours and holds it. With the other hand, he reaches for the plate with the croissant and picks it up. “Eat something, sweetheart.” You look at the pastry with aversion. Diluc doesn’t fail to notice. “I know you do not want to, but I do not wish to see you neglect your body. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for me, alright?” He looks at you imploringly and softly squeezes your hand.

“Alright.” You remove your hand from his hold, take the croissant from the plate and take a small bite.

“Good,” Diluc mumbles under his breath. His now-freed hand goes to your head, and starts playing with your hair. “It’s so soft.”

As you slowly eat the pastry, Diluc continues his play with your hair. His fingers are so delicate, so careful. If it’s under his care, eating isn’t all that bad, you suppose.

Notes

Thanks for reading! I really enjoy reading your comments, whether that's as an actual comment or just your reactions in the tags of a reblog. So if you enjoyed, please leave a comment!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Why do you only post 1 request/nrc family in one day? I remember you saying you finished all of it and it's in your scheduled. Why not post NRC fam twice a day?

[Referencing this blog update!]

Hey, so 💦 I’m sure it wasn’t your (the anon’s) intention for the suggestion to come off as a entitled or rude. However, it certainly didn’t make me feel good to read, especially since I was not asking for advice in the first place.

This blog is my own space in the fandom, so it’s only natural that I decide the pace of my posts and what kind of content is put out there. Whether I decide to post one, two, none, or more creative writing pieces a day is entirely up to my discretion and no one else’s. I don’t think it should warrant any further explanation—but let this be the one and only time I have to.

I understand that you may be eager for more content or for another masterlist to be put out. (Those are the only reasons I can think of for wanting 2 interactions posting a day instead of 1.) But I have my own reasons for why I don’t cram all my writing pieces to post in a short span of time. I want to leave breathing space between them and have time to casually talk about Twst. Regardless of whether or not I have finished pieces on the backburner to put up, I intentionally space my creative writing work out so people can sit with them, digest them, and (I hope) better appreciate them.

You don’t know this because you don’t see my queue, but I don’t have ONLY the remaining NRC Family Day interactions scheduled. I have 60ish other asks queued (3-4 per day). This isn’t even accounting for new asks I may get + reply to and add to the queue. Part of what I like about running this blog is the interaction and the discussion we can have on here, and I want to continue being able to do that. To post more creative works a day would mess up my preferred rhythm for the blog.

I ask that you try to put yourself in the shoes of the creator—be it be or someone else whose work you consume. Creators are putting out art, writing, etc., typically for free, for any fan passing by to enjoy (should they choose to). We are not beholden to this, but we choose to do it anyway out of love and passion for Twst. Now how do you think we feel when someone comes up to us after already gobbling up our creations and asking (sometimes demanding) for more? Does that not read as… I don’t know, a little callous and ungrateful? It dehumanizes the creator and makes them little more than a content farm churning out the next hit of dopamine. That’s so incredibly demoralizing 😔 It grossly undervalues what we do. And it definitely does not encourage us to want to continue creating.

At one point, I was satisfied frequently posting multiple writing pieces a day. That is no longer true. It had become stifling and thankless so I intentionally stepped back and have been much happier since.

I hope I was able to get my thoughts across well 💦 It’s just a really frustrating sentiment…

[sister-lucifer]

Hiya, hope you're having a pog day <3

I wanted to make a request if possible (also if you're comfortable with it, if not, feel free to ignore this ask!! no worries)

nsfw headcanons for Hoodie and Masky with a trans masc s/o (with top surgery scars)

Masky + Hoodie w/ a trans masc partner who has top surgery scars 

Masky + Hoodie x Reader (separately) 

Genre: Fluff + NSFW, headcanons 

Content/warnings: There’s a lot of talk of reader’s body but it’s all positive, Tim is insecure about his scars, chest + tummy kisses, tooth rotting fluff AND some soft romantic NSFW 😌 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

A/N: Sorry if you wanted like…hardcore nasty NSFW, this is really sweet 😔 

Tim Wright/Masky 

Although I don’t personally headcanon Tim as trans (though i definitely enjoy trans tim content 👌😋), he certainly has his fair share of scars 

They’re mostly on his arms and hands

Some are from fights, others are from miscellaneous accidents, some have been there as long as he can remember and he’s not even sure where they came from

But theres one thing he knows for sure:

He HATES when people point them out 

He can’t really explain it, he just hates having attention drawn to them 

You may not feel the same way, but even if you say you don’t mind he’ll be careful not to point them out 

That’s not to say you won’t catch him staring when he thinks you’re not looking, though 

The scars just look so…natural, on you 

Like they’ve always been there 

He forgets that they’re scars, really 

He’s not sure why he feels so different about scars on you than he does on him 

The longer he’s with you the less he notices your scars anymore 

And the less he notices his own too 

Over time he becomes less insecure about them as he watches you not only live with but accept and maybe even embrace your scars 

And there’s something he loves about being able to run his hand down your bare chest, the marks on his hand matching with your scars 

Especially when he finds you in bed with him, climbing on top of him and straddling his lap 

He cant stop himself from reaching out and pulling your shirt off, his large hands splaying out over your torso as he admires you, feeling your heartbeat thump behind your ribs 

If your position allows him to see your chest, don’t be surprised if he can’t pull his eyes away 

He’s not very talkative during sex, but he’s always sure to remind you how handsome you are 

He knows sex can sometimes trigger dysphoria, and he doesn’t want you to forget that you’re his sweet boy, forever and always

You can thank him for the praise by taking one of his scarred hands and pressing a soft kiss to it, a silent reassurance that his feelings about you are not unrequited 

Brian Thomas/Hoodie 

Brian, on the other hand, is very vocal about how attractive he finds your scars 

Although he’s got a few of his own, they’re generally not very noticeable 

And even if someone did point them out, he’d simply laugh them off 

So he feels comfortable telling you how much he loves your scars 

They’re a reminder of how strong you are, he says 

It’s not easy embracing your true trans self in this world, and you should wear your scars with pride 

He’s got an artistic streak, so don’t be surprised if he asks to draw on them 

He may even suggest getting a cool tattoo to emphasize them! 

Like barbed wire or a flower chain or something 

But if you don’t want that, he’s perfectly content simply being allowed to run his fingers over your scars 

He’ll often absentmindedly begin tracing them whenever you’re laying together, sometimes not even realizing he’s doing it 

He loves to kiss your chest too 

He’s a romantic type, what can I say 🤷 

He just loves to give your scars all the gentle attention they deserve, he can’t help it 

Don’t be surprised if his hands find your scars as if they have a mind of their own, always wandering to your chest whenever you’re standing at the counter or sitting on the couch with him 

And don’t be surprised if those wandering hands lead to more than just gentle touches 

If you allow him his way during sex, he’ll always insist on having you on your back 

He’ll pay extra attention to your chest, and i don’t just mean your scars (although they certainly aren’t ignored) 

He’s much more vocal than Tim, a constant stream of praises and reassurances spilling from his mouth and he drones on and on about how handsome you are and how lucky he is to have such a beautiful boy like you to take care of 

You’re an absolute beauty to him, and he’s going to make sure he tells you every chance he gets  

Brian Thomas: The Dysphoria Miracle Cure 

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 144 🔞

Prompt: Secret OnlyFans Account

Tags: Watching porn, reference to the pandemic, unprotected sex (it’s me y’all), daddy kink, Kevin is exactly the whiny bottom you expect (said lovingly), pet names

A/N: I hope you enjoy Sangyeon’s username. Likes, reblogs, & comments welcome & encouraged.

Network(s): @tbz-network

Kevin needed new material. New material for his spank bank, specifically. He sighed as he scrolled through the free previews on his porn site of choice. A very toned torso and thighs caught his attention. The man wasn’t showing his face, just completely naked with one hand wrapped around his cock and the other resting on his thigh. He wasn’t making much noise to the point Kevin wondered if he needed to check his speakers. He preferred them loud. Whatever, call him a cliche. There was a ring on the man’s right index finger that looked familiar. The light periodically caught it when he’d buck his hips. But it was the soft “fuck” in English that made Kevin freeze. He paused the video and tried to zoom in on the ring. It only made it blurry, but it was enough. It appeared to match the one on Kevin’s own right hand. He glanced at the username - Daddy LoveLee. He slammed his laptop shut and power walked to the leader’s room.

“What?” Sangyeon asked when he opened the door to Kevin pounding on it.

“Do you have an OnlyFans account?” Kevin hissed. Sangyeon slapped his hand over Kevin’s mouth and pulled him into the room.

“How did you know that?” he demanded.

“I’m a dude. I watch porn,” Kevin replied.

“Yes, but how did you find me?” Sangyeon pressed.

“I was just scrolling. It came up on the free previews,” Kevin told him.

“Oh god,” Sangyeon put his head in his hands.

“You forgot to take off your ring. And I recognized your voice,” Kevin continued.

“I only speak English on there…I mean…shit,” Sangyeon stared at him.

“Who taught you most of your English?” Kevin asked.

“Fair,” Sangyeon sighed. “Don’t tell anyone?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Though if you ever want to have a guest appearance, I’m happy to do it,” Kevin smirked. Sangyeon’s jaw dropped.

“What?”

“I’d bottom for you, if you ever wanted to mix things up,” he shrugged. “I would, of course, expect a cut of the profits from that video.”

“You already see the profits from it. Every time I pay for dinner or drinks,” Sangyeon told him.

“How long have you had it?” Kevin asked.

“Since 2020. Money was tight because of the pandemic and I knew how I looked naked so I set it up. It was profitable pretty much from the outset. Now I’m in the top 1%,” Sangyeon replied.

“You’re the second to last one of us I would’ve expected to do that,” Kevin said.

“Who’s the last?” Sangyeon asked.

“Really?” Kevin raised an eyebrow.

“Younghoon,” they said in unison.

“Did you mean what you said? About going on the channel?” Sangyeon questioned.

“I did,” Kevin nodded.

“You’d let me fuck you and post it on the Internet?” Sangyeon continued.

“Yes, if you insist on spelling it out,” Kevin said. “I’ve always thought about trying porn and why not have it be my leader railing me? I have to warn you though, I’m loud.”

“Let me see what my subscribers think and if they’re up for it then we’ll do it,” Sangyeon replied.

“Show them a couple pictures of my abs and they’ll agree,” Kevin stepped closer to Sangyeon and kissed him. Sangyeon leaned into the kiss, walking Kevin back toward his bed.

“How about a test run?” Sangyeon suggested when they parted, his body firmly on top of Kevin’s.

“You want to fuck me for free?” Kevin teased.

“I think you want to be fucked for free,” Sangyeon smirked. This wasn’t a side of Sangyeon that Kevin saw often. He was cocky and self assured when they were filming content or playing a game he knew he’d win, but rarely when they were in the dorms just being themselves. Of course, that was before Kevin discovered his secret.

“And if it’s no good then I rescind my offer,” Kevin snarked back.

“I doubt that. I’ve seen the guys you bring home when you’re not fucking Jacob. You’ll be begging for me to fuck you every night,” Sangyeon nipped at Kevin’s jaw.

“What are you implying?” Kevin asked, enjoying Sangyeon’s weight on him a little too much.

“That you settle and now that I know you’re interested, you don’t have to,” the elder replied. Kevin knew it was true. He was more annoyed that Sangyeon clocked him on it.

“Fine, show me how you got to 1%,” Kevin said.

“Take off your clothes,” Sangyeon sat up.

“Yes Daddy,” it came out far more whiny and far less snarky than Kevin interned.

“Good boy,” Sangyeon grinned as he pulled off his shirt. Kevin whined at the pet name. Sangyeon smirked.

“I knew that would work on you,” he said, shucking off his sweats and underwear.

“You…you…are stereotyping me,” Kevin huffed as he got undressed.

“Was I wrong?” Sangyeon taunted, getting the lube out from next to the bed. Kevin tried to glare, but he knew it looked pathetic rather than annoyed. “So tell me darling, when’s the last time you took a dick?”

“Last week,” Kevin admitted. “But you don’t have to take forever to prep me. I like it when it burns a little.”

“You like when Daddy’s rough with you?” Sangyeon held Kevin’s chin between his index finger and thumb.

“I’ll tell you if I can’t,” Kevin replied, getting uncomfortably hot and hard from Sangyeon staring at him.

“Good, now on your front,” he instructed.

“You’re gonna take me from behind?” Kevin asked.

“If I’m gonna fuck you in front of a camera then yes, I’m gonna take you from behind. Viewers love to watch a useless cock bouncing while you’re being fucked,” Sangyeon hissed in his ear. Kevin swallowed hard.

“Okay,” he breathed.

“Unless you’re too embarrassed,” Sangyeon suggested.

“I’m not embarrassed! I just…haven’t been taken from behind in a while,” Kevin replied. The truth was he’d never been taken from behind. All his partners, especially Jacob, wanted to see his face when they were fucking him. Something about Sangyeon taking him from behind made it seem more illicit, more dangerous. It was hot.

“You’ll like it,” he felt Sangyeon smile next to his ear. Then he reached down between Kevin’s asscheeks and lubed his hole. He quickly prepped him then had Kevin face down, ass up on his bed. “Ready?”

“Yes Daddy,” Kevin whined. He felt the dull pop of a cockhead in his entrance. Damn Sangyeon was thick. He could tell in the video and he’d seen Sangyeon’s dick more times than he could count, but feeling his thick cock push into him was something even his wildest dreams couldn’t conjure. “Fuck.”

“You okay?” Sangyeon asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Kevin panted.

“I can wait,” Sangyeon replied.

“No, no keep going,” Kevin insisted.

“Okay,” Sangyeon agreed and bottomed out. This was easily the biggest dick he’d ever taken. Part of him hated that he now knew what two of his elder bandmates’ cocks felt like in his ass, but the whore part of him didn’t care. Sangyeon grabbed onto Kevin’s hips and fucked into him hard. Kevin buried his face in the sheets to muffle his moans. He had no idea if any of the others were home, but he didn’t want to expose himself just yet. The leader wasn’t showing him any mercy as he fucked into Kevin like he was a toy.

“Daddy…” Kevin whined.

“Yes baby?” Sangyeon asked.

“Touch me,” he said.

“Nope, you’re coming only on my dick. Subscribers love that too,” Sangyeon admonished. Kevin had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who suggested it in the first place. Sangyeon was gonna fuck him like a porn star not like a casual hookup or, god forbid, a boyfriend. As he gripped the sheets, he found he didn’t mind. Kevin didn’t know if minutes, hours, or years passed before he felt that distinctive heat in his hips.

“I’m gonna come,” he panted.

“Good,” Sangyeon said, changing the angle of Kevin’s hips so he was grazing his prostate. Kevin almost choked on his own spit as he came all over the bed. Sangyeon pulled out and Kevin felt hot come land all over his back. Part of him wished Sangyeon had come inside him, but that didn’t make for a good show. Kevin fell forward when he finished, careful to avoid the wet spot he’d created. He flopped on his back and looked up at Sangyeon. The older man lied down next to him and weaved their fingers together.

“So, still wanna be my guest star?” he grinned.

“Yeah,” Kevin smiled back.

“Good,” Sangyeon kissed him softly. “You need a shower.”

“God, I know,” Kevin laughed a little.

A few weeks later when they were waiting at a music show, Kevin’s phone dinged.

Transfer request: 675 million won

Then a message popped up.

Sangyeon: Your half of the video. Wanna make it permanent?

Kevin looked across the room at Sangyeon. The older man caught his eye and smiled.

Kevin: When do we start?

[badscientist]

author ask tag

tagged by @the-inkwell-variable – thank you! ill take a quick break from editing part 6 to fill this out. this will be filled out with dead meat in mind, for that matter.

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

Tricky to explain. Theres no ‘lesson’ I guess, so much as...know you can never truly go back. Time marches on and you gotta keep moving. You cant undo what youve done, no matter how much you ruminate or try to recapture that spark. You can only grow around it. Yeah. Thats what im going with LOL. Im sure readers have already taken their own lesson or message from it anyway, or will when this thing wraps up, and I think thats cool in its own right. I don’t wanna tell people what they should be taking away from this - I want them to figure that out through the lens with which they view the world.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

Its our world, but adjacent. Dead meat takes place in a North America where the us kind of only exists in name only. I have a Vision for the world in which this all takes place, but it doesn’t immediately impact the events of dead meat to where ive sat down and figured it all out.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

First half Betsy was just trying to get home. Then she finds out home isn’t exactly safe either. I don’t wanna spoil it for those who arent caught up, though. Dead meat started as like a monster romance story and evolved into this whole other thing entirely (for the better). Mostly im telling a story I think is kinda cool.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

At the time im answering this, dead meat currently has 5 ‘parts’ out, and part 6 is on the verge of release – I don’t write in a chapter format necessarily, because I hate having my thoughts interrupted. Id rather keep a series of congruous events going Together. Anyway its going to have 7 parts, with a bonus 8th part acting as a ‘field guide’ for a species thats prominent in the story.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

I exclusively write original work at this time – fanfic isn’t of much interest to me unless im really taken with explorations of a particular media, or if im invested in the person writing it, ie, youre a friend of mine and I wanna support your work. I have no intents of formally publishing my work because I resent the idea of an editor or publisher telling me what I can and cant do with my shit, so you can find dead meat on my website.

When did you start writing?

Ive been writing off and on since I was a kid, really. I read and roleplayed a lot in my teens and early twenties and that built up the foundation...i had a really long lull and thought my writing days were even over like right around summer of 2023. I was wrong. Obviously.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Just write it, and write what you want. Your audience will find you, especially if youre loud and obnoxious about your work. Also I follow far too many writers to begin to list them all here (and I don’t want this random ass post appearing in their notifs en masse), but I appreciate them all.

[finzphoenix]

Hi just a question I had about art on Tumblr because I'm fairly new and you seem like you know what your doing. I know that the art on here is very fandom oriented and people usually stick to a theme with their blog or art (ex. DC, Scarecrow ect) but I don't really have one main fandom that I want to draw all the time, I like a lot of different things. basically what I'm asking is how do I balance drawing on a theme and drawing other things that I enjoy while still hoping that people want to see it. sorry this is so long and probably doesn't make sense. thanks for supporting my art.

Hi there! Omg, no need to apologize, it totally makes sense! First off, it's an honour to have you in my inbox: Your art is stunning and your AK Scarecrow piece is drop-dead gorgeous! Big fan of your style! 👀👀👀

That being said, Tumblr is a wonderful place for fandom content, yeah, but it’s also super flexible and supportive of artists exploring different things (multi-fandom blogs)!

First of all:

Don’t stress about themes too much. While some people focus heavily on one fandom or topic, plenty of artists thrive by sharing a mix of content!! If you’re passionate about what you’re creating, that will resonate with people more than sticking rigidly to one thing. Take me for example: I love multi-fandom blogs! They've introduced me to so many new interests and inspirational art because people I followed for one fandom started sharing content from others as their hyperfixations and interests shifted.

Use tags to your advantage! When you post art, tag it thoroughly so it reaches the right audiences. For example, if you draw DC one day and a totally different fandom the next, make sure both are properly tagged (#DC, #Batman, #Arkhamverse, #Arkham Knight, #Scarecrow, #GoodOmens, #Aziraphale etc, and some generals like #drawing #art #artists on tumblr). The more specific the better; that way, people who follow those interests can find your work!

Create for yourself first! Draw what makes you happy! You’re more likely to stay inspired and grow as an artist if you’re enjoying the process tbh.

Build a personal connection. Engage with others! Share a bit about yourself and your interests on your blog, or reblog some fun ask games if that's your cup of tea, and people will be more likely to stick around for you as much as for your art ^-^.

And experiment with themes in small ways. If you feel like exploring a theme while still branching out, consider connecting your interests. For example, if you like drawing Scarecrow, maybe experiment with a crossover, or imagine characters from different fandoms in a shared universe? I mean why the heck not, Tumblr is a great platform for the creative mind and encourages individualism - so go ham, be crazy and weird, and it’ll all be good! 😊💖💖

Note: Some pieces might not receive that much attention but don't let that discourage you! It can have plenty of different reasons like: Tumblr isn't showing your post (which often happens to new blogs), the morning or evening crowd hasn't seen it yet (in which case don't be afraid to reblog your own post for them <3), bigger artists' art gets more traction because they're well known and often times have collected many followers from different fandoms over the years which stick around for the amazing art rather than the topic - so if you see their art getting, like, 500 impressions and yours has only 5, than that's the reason. Or: the fandom is just not very big and/or active on Tumblr, it could also be that it's holiday season and a lot of folks are simply too busy to check their phones! ^-^

[xoxoemynn]

Em!!

Hello lovely, I know I wrote you a lovely letter recently during your own love fest but I still wanted to pop in and say hi and spread some more love and give some hugs.

So, just to reiterate what I’ve said a million times before:

Thank you so much for sharing your work with us and for being so awesome and supportive. It’s so beautiful to have people like you in our fandom who do so much to help uplift others and stay positive. Honestly, idk how you do it sometimes, this world can be so nasty and whenever things kinda go sideways you’re always there with the just right thing to say to bring that little spark of hope back. For me at least.

Your post about the show yesterday really hit me hard bc I was feeling pretty low and it’s just nice to know that we have such passionate fans who are willing to stick around and keep this fandom running, even if we don’t get our show back.

Thank you again 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope you have a lovely rest of your sunday evening. 💜

Awwww lovely, this is so extremely kind of you to say. And I'm glad you found comfort in that post. Truthfully, I do still circle through all the stages of grief in losing OFMD. Some days are better than others. I know everyone handles it differently — some people go full clown, others prefer to accept that it's over for good. We've all got to do whatever is best for our mental health. For me, that does mean keeping a bit of hope alive. That spark, no matter how faint it may be at times, is what keeps me going. I lose hope, I'm just straight into the abyss.

But hope doesn't just happen. You do have to nurture it. I've gotten much more protective of my fandom space since the cancellation. We live in a reality where it's very likely we will never get more canonical content for this show. Fandom is the only guarantee we have left, and even that will only last so long as we tend to it with love.

Because of that, it's just not fun to me to be a hater, or to spend time dwelling on the parts of the show/fandom that I dislike or wish would be different. It's just not interesting to me and, frankly, I think nearly every round of discourse we get is just a weak rehash of discourse we've been through a dozen times already and that's very boring to me. So I just don't engage. I block and filter liberally. If shit starts getting to me, I log off and come back when I'm ready.

I prefer to spend my time celebrating all the art and fic and meta that comes out of this fandom, or sharing fun head canons, or laughing at shitposts. And I have very selfish reasons for doing that because usually that inspires people to do MORE of it, so I get to enjoy it even MORE, even when I'm busy or emotionally drained and can't offer much myself.

It's a common phrase that you get out of fandom what you put into it, and I do think that's true, but I also think it's only half of the equation. I think you also get out of fandom what you take out of it. And so that's why I spend my time in places and with people that spark joy and creativity and love, because that fuels my own, and that's what keeps my spark of hope burning. That's what encourages me to continue sharing my love for the show and all the fans, because I see it in so many others. And if anybody or anything gets in the way of that? Fuck'em. They serve no purpose to me and are in fact counterproductive to the reason I'm in this fandom at all. Fare thee well.

And so when I see you going around spreading kindness, and dropping these really thoughtful notes in people's inboxes, and reaching out to people who are struggling, and leaving really sweet replies on posts and the BEST comments on fics? That's IT. That's what fandom is. That's the whole heart of it. That's what gives me hope. That's what keeps me going. That's what keeps me out of the abyss.

So thank YOU for all that you do, thank you for showing your love for the show, thank you for showing your love to the fans. That's why we're still here. And that's the only way we'll continue to be here years upon years after the Revenge sets sail for the final time. 💕