#and all the well-wishes and personal notes

[inhogf]

Gong Yoo nsfw headcanons ♡

· contains: purely nsfw, gun-play, he has a thing for your period UMM · note: its like 5 am but i HAD to post this

·⠀The Salesman/Gong Yoo's not the type to call you ‘baby, princess, honey’ during sex. no; his dignity is higher than that. he'd be more of a name user or would call you his ‘slut, whore, bitch’.

·⠀barely has personal preference for positions, as long as he’s in full control. just as eager to have you ride him as he is to flip you over. just as long as he's inside you. big fan of face fucking though! holds your hair as you're doing it :3

·⠀has a libido bigger than his dick. practically using you almost every night as his sex doll; his stress relieve toy. makes sure to use you till the last drop when he finally gets his hands on you, due to the disappointingly lack of free time to sate his urges w/ you. has a shocking amount of stamina too :3. he definitely initiates things more than you do. he's suuuchhh a horny little boy for you OMDSSSS.

·⠀not a surprise but he's totally into gun play— fucks u w/ his glock, adoring the expression you make as he thrusts every single length of the gun into your pussy. holds his gun against your temple as he makes you bounce on his dick, getting off ⠀to your increasing fear. may even shoot a single bullet across the room to show you that the one against your skull is still functional and still a threat to your well-being.

·⠀i feel like he'd have a fetish for periods. doesn't like eating you out but as soon as he finds out you're menstruating, he'd BEG you to let him give you head and always find a way into your pants strategically. keeps a tight grip on your waist to hold you against his mouth ♡ & the mere smell of your blood is enough to get his dick sprung up.

·⠀this MIGHT be controversial but he'd be the type to beg you to send him nudes of your bare body. especially when he's out at work. his gallery is all pictures of your body and he's always shamelessly scrolling through them— palming away vigorously at his dick, wishing it was your mouth wrapped around his tip instead.

·⠀he's 100% a moaner. not high and squeaky moans, low ones; groans low enough only for you to hear. very vocal and mouthy, he's not scared to let you know how much of a good job you're doing, how pretty and fuckable you look doing it.

·⠀he's sooo harsh with you, spanking you on your plump ass until there's a visible red handprint, manhandling your hips off the bed to get a good angle to fuck, slapping your face every chance he gets. he's so mean.

·⠀he's big on degrading, is talking shit any chance he gets. “you can't even take me properly, useless little thing.“ and he's soo mean and criticizes every move you make. by the end of it all you’ll be nodding with tears streaming down your face (he gets off to it), lost to the pleasure he’s giving you and only able to apologise for being such a pathetic and stupid little baby!

·⠀owns multiple toys— gags (dog bone gags to be specific), ropes, blindfolds, vibrators, beads, dildos, you name it. he's a spender. ties you up with his ropes to feel the control that he craves so much.

cr @inhogf dont steal

[thinkingaboutbees]

Hi, I'm the OP of this thread on Bluesky. I thought I'd come on here and upload some of the analysis I've done in later-additions to this thread, which weren't online when Tumblr-OP @carucath made this post, as well as a recent interaction with Rhianna Pratchett, all of which I think are useful bits of contextual info/expansion. I've seen a few people in the notes/reblogs saying things about the fan-desire to rush to defend their faves etc., and kind of discounting my analysis because of that. While I agree that fandom spaces absolutely do have a huge problem with that, and that retrospectively reading Neil Gaiman's work looking for 'signs' that he was a piece of shit the whole time isn't actually constructive/doesn't really add anything useful to the discourse, my intent with this thread wasn't to try to absolve PTerry or put distance between him and Gaiman (though I can see how it reads that way). I'm more interested in looking at how 'known' people like Gaiman move within fandom spaces, as well as how our parasocial relationships with public figures, and the cult of personality which some people build up around them, can often help to protect them or even enable their behaviour (worth remembering that a number of the women Gaiman assaulted/abused have talked about being fans of his work, or meeting him through fandom spaces, or, even when not fans of his work as in the case of Scarlett, still being a bit over-awed by his fame and reputation). I suspect that Gaiman's embellishment of his relationship with PTerry helped to build up his persona in SF/Fantasy fandom spaces after Pratchett's death, contributing to his personal Cult of Personality and fandom parasocial relationships with him. Over the last 5 years especially, Gaiman has had a pretty meteoric rise in the public eye outside of online SF/Fantasy fandom spaces & conventions. In particular a number of his works have been adapted for TV across various large streaming-platforms following the success of Good Omens, with high-profile names attached to them, and large marketing campaigns. By positioning his Good Omens adaptation as 'Terry's dying wish' of him, Gaiman has gained a lot of attention for it and for his other work, increased his own public standing, and thus directly profited off of Pratchett's legacy and the public perception that the two were close friends. (Obviously GO was adapted with the support of Rhianna & Rob, but, as you'll see in these other threads, we probably should think of it as being primarily a PTerry novel, with some minor input from Gaiman). Some personal context: I hold two degrees in English literature (both with Firsts, or a 3.7-4.0 GPA for the Americans on this thread), as well as a research-Masters degree in Creative Writing (with a high 2.1, because I developed a chronic illness which made me bedbound for 6 months of that degree lmao). I have a long-standing personal and academic interest in both Gaiman and Pratchett's work, and have written multiple essays on Terry Pratchett's style & his approach to genre, including some for my Masters degree. I generally stay out of fandom spaces these days, and these threads have sprung out of my own prior research and academic work. While I'm yet to seek a PhD, I have previously been employed by the English Literature department of the main university in my city, where I was the tutor for one of their undergraduate courses (this means I was responsible for organising and running the weekly group tutorials/workshops which make up the other contact-hours for students outside of lectures, providing one-on-one support and feedback for students who asked for extra guidance but didn't feel it was complex enough to go to the head lecturer, and for marking student-essays). I do eventually hope to go in to academia/lecturing, but right now am taking a few years off from studying since finishing my Masters to pay off some of my student loan debt, get my health back on track, and to focus on my creative practice and writing career.

There was an interesting thread on Bluesky dissecting Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's relationship

TL:DR - It seems like Gaiman has been exaggerating the level of closeness between them for YEARS

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Beyond The Bat

(Neglected reader x Yandere batfam)

Prologue: Why me?

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!

Why is this happening?

The woman in front of me stood close. Too close. A hand was outstretched in an attempt to comfort me. I don't want her fucking comfort. I want answers.

"Why..."

The word left my lips before I could process it. My world was crashing. The room was spinning. It was getting hard to breath. I knew I sounded pathetic. I know I look pathetic. God I'm pathetic. Why can't I fight for this? Why does it seem like the only thing I can do right is fall behind as the world moves on without me.

"I'm sorry (Y/N), but we found someone better suiting of your position. We had no choice, the whole student body petitioned for Tim to become president of the student body."

Tim Drake. God I loathed that name. Every time I have something good one of those bat bastards has to make my life miserable again. For as long as I could remember I had been alone. I had to be the perfect child and yet I was never praised for the things I've done right, only punished for the things I've done wrong. Is this another punishment... Did I linger too long during diner yesterday? Did I not provide a good enough reaction during Damian's beating? Did I not hide my exhaustion well enough? Did I accidentally start a scandal?

"God (Y/N) what are you still doing here? We both know you have things to do at home. Plus you're not needed here anymore."

I heard his voice before I saw him. His condescending tone never ceases to send a chill down my spine. I steeled myself and turned to face my brother.

"I'm sorry Tim. looks like I lost track of time, I'll head back now"

I returned his dark look with a cold look of my own. I will not let him, or anyone for that matter, have the pleasure of seeing me break. I may have lost but I will not give him the chance to laugh and jeer at my failure. I turned and left the room, my posture straight and my head held high. I don't know what I'll do now but I will not let myself be seen as some pathetic hopeless child with no potential or worth. I ignored the feeling of Tim's calculating gaze boring holes through my figure and continued to walk on. Maybe I should take that person up on their offer. Maybe I could use their help...

Authors note: Omg prologue is done! Thank you all for participating in the polls and reading! I hope this is a good prologue, I'm super excited for this story. Thank you all for your support and please feel free to send me any asks I love hearing y'all's thoughts! Anyways with nothing else to say I wish you all a good day/night and I'll update you all on chapter 1 soon, until next time!

@simpingpandas

[aninipanin1]

MY BUMBLEBEE

Notes: Nothing just pure fluff and a lil jealousy, This is Miss Manager Junior btw:> And I got this idea from MemeSuga01's book titler "Blue Lock Specials" Special 18 in Wattpad! Please check out their books and account. They make really good stories!

"Bachira-san-"

"Y/N!!!!"

You were tackled with a hug that almost knocked the wind out of you. There were times like these where you remembered that Bachira was like the rest of the players in the facility, absolutely tall and built.

"Um...hi, how may I help you..?"

"Nothing! I just wanted to hug you!! You don't visit our stratum much anymore hmp!!"

He pouted, arms still around your neck as he happily cheered and tattled whatever was in his mind away. Seeing the excited look in Bachira's eyes made you quite happy and a bit guilty if you were to interrupt with whatever he was saying, so you nodded your head at whatever he was saying, even if it does not make sense at times.

As he talked, arms still around you, you started to let your eyes wonder about his features. You never noticed it, but the yellow in his hair was really bright and matched his pretty eyes. You think deep down that everyone has really pretty eyes, but the ones in the Blue Lock's facility take the cake, the variety of colors are all comparable to literal gems.

Bachira's looked like one of an amber, one preserved after so many years because of its shine and beauty. But it's not just beautiful but resilient as well, surviving whatever weather, temperature or disaster may occur around it. And it's not that far from Bachira's own story.

As you thought deeper, you then noticed how the black part of his hair mixed well with his yellow hair and eyes. He looks like a honeybee! Or even a-

"Bumblebee..." You ditzily whispered, not knowing you said it outloud, and unfortunately for you, Bachira heard it too.

"Eh? What did you say, Y/n-chan?" He tilted his head, his arms loosening a bit around your neck. Your ears and cheeks immediately flushed in embarrassment thay you said something so embarrassing out loud without a thought.

'Stupid Y/n...'

"Aww cmon Y/n-chan! What was it?"

"I..I said...you looked like a honeybee...I mean...I think you look closer to a bumblebee because of your personality! And because bumblebees are so chubby and cute and-" you covered your mouth, catching yourself talking too much again. There were moments like these where you would forget that you were talking to someone and you needed to filter out your words, and would instead talk their ears off with your unfiltered thoughts.

But, instead of being mad like you thought, Bachira's cheeks turned really pink before he hugged you even tighter than before.

"Aww Y/n-chan!! You're so cuteeee!! I like that nickname so much! I like it!" He cheered, jumping around as his arms were still around you making you a bit dizzy, before blinking at his words.

"Really? You don't mind I called you bumblebee?"

"Nope! I like it! Say, say, do you have nicknames like that for the others?" He asked, his smile still wide and the same but his eyes held some sort of hidden agenda. And he desperately wished that you only had a nickname for him and no one else.

"Uh nope! It just came out of me...!"

With that answer, his eyes became even brighter. He felt really special that you called him that, especially since bumblebee sounded so cute in his ears, giving him tingles on his heart.

"Sooo can you start calling me Bumblebee instead of Bachira-san?" He said excitedly, and you, being so oblivious at his hidden agenda immediately nodded at the idea. After all, you liked cute things and cute nicknames to your friends made you so happy and satisfied.

"Okay! You're my bumblebee from now on, Bachira-san!"

"Yay! I'm your bumblebee!!"

What you did not expect however was the reaction that the supposed innocent and cute nickname you gave the yellow and brown-haired striker.

You currently joined the boys in eating their lunch. Every Sunday, all the boys would share a cafeteria to eat lunch together for the sanitization of the other's they use everyday and for better bonding moments too (althoug Ego hides the latter reason). Picking your food tray, you tried to find a good spot to sit and enjoy your food. As always most of the tables had a vacant seat (which most would leave open in hopes you'd choose their table and sit with them).

But, before you can find a seat, you found Bachira entering the cafeteria and him being him, immediately ran to you and greeted you. He looked to be happier than he usually is, and he was. Deep down, Bachira was quite happy and flustered at the nickname you gave him. Even if a few hours had passed and training had done and went, he still could not keep it off his mind.

He really liked the way your tongue said his name, but the tone, the sheepish mutter of the word "bumblebee," calling to him and him alone made him feel so jittery and excited in a different way that he ever felt before.

"Hi Y/n-chan!!"

"Hi Bachira-san! Are you going to eat yet?"

"Awww...why did you call me that?"

He pouted at you, a little disappointed that you did not call him the nickname you gave him. Mostly because he really did like it and wanted you to call him that always, but also because he knew that the rest of the boys were listening and wanted you to call him thay in front of them to indirectly tell them that he was really special to you.

Tilting your head, you were a little confused as to what he was talking about until you remembered the conversation you had with him earlier. Your eyes brightened at the memory and looked a bit apologetic for forgeting.

"Oh, I forgot...'m so sorry, Bachira-san- I mean, my bumblebee!"

Crickets and silence.

That was all that was heard in the cafeteria the moment you called Bachira the nickname. The conviction and softness in your voice when you called him along with the sweet meaning that the nickname held, with the addition of the 'my' in the beginning made it feel so personal and possessive.

It can even be a nickname one gives to their significant other. And that did not sit right with them.

"Eh..? Did I say something wrong?" You wondered as you sat beside Bachira in the large table most of your friends sat in, yes even people like Rin, Barou and Kunigami who didn't think they were 'friends.'

"No fair, why does he get a nickname, while I don't Y/n-chan?" Nagi said from the other side of your chair as he rested his head on your shoulder, looking up at you with his sleepy eyes that held some sort of hidden conviction and annoyance.

"Yeah, Nagi's right, Y/n-chan! I want a nickname too!" Hiori raised his hand.

"Me too! Me too!" Kurona pitched softly.

"When did you even start calling Bachira that, Y/n-chan?" Isagi asked, feeling the familiar green face of jealousy. The question made you smile softly, because you thought that the nickname was just for friends, finding it absolutely adorable.

"I was talking with Bachira-san earlier this morning, and I kinda uttered how he looked like a bumblebee because bumblebees are so cute, fuzzy and chubby and his personality feels like one! So we agreed his nickname from me will be bumblebee from now on. Isn't it cute?" The happy and satisfied look in your face lessened the annoyance they felt to the brunette striker who just ate happily beside you.

"Yeah, cute." Rin said, his tone hid a sassy and annoyed tone.

"Can I still get a nickname, Y/n-chan?" Nagi asked, his stubbornness shining through at such a trivial thing. But to him, it was less than trivial. He wanted a personalize nickname from you, one that felt special to him especially because it was coming from you.

"Eh really? Um okay...uh you can be Ice Bear from We Bare Bears! You remind me of him, Nagi-san!" You offered with a bright smile. Finding his snow white hair, tall build and lazy personality mirroring the cute bear character.

Nagi seemee satisfied enough with the nickname, finding it endearing, but most especially because it came from you.

"Yay...I'm your Ice Bear."

Everyone else frowned at that, even Bachira who wanted to be the only one who had a nickname. But, hey he was not selfish like thay so he just continued eating.

And with that, the rest of the guys on the table started to ask you for nicknames too. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt so happy and excited in giving them the silliest and cutest nicknames your mind can think of. You feel like your inner kid (that you lack) was brought out by the moment, and well, you loved your friends so you were more than happy to give each of them a nickname!

"Um...Rin-san can be Keroppi...!"

The rest of the boys laughed at the comparison between Keroppi and Rin.

"Rin-chan is not cute at all like Keroppi!" Bachira laughed as the rest agreed, pissing Rin off.

"Hmm, I don't know why I called Rin-san Keroppi, but it just sounds right to me! My Keroppi!" At the final sentence, Rin's full cheeks from his food turned red in a snap, almost choking on his food due to being so flustered and shocked at the nickname.

"Um, and this is ashi which means leg!"

You were currently holding a newspaper that Loki tried reading and explained what some of the worrd meant, since he was curious. But to your suprise, all the foreign players crowded next to you to listen to the explanation. Sure, they were not really thay ready to learn another language altogether, but they were curious and spending time with you at the same time was not exactly a bad combo.

On the field sat Lorenzo, Ness, Charles, Loki and Kaiser around you as you pointed at the words that was foreign to all of them as you slowly explained each of the symbol and what it meant. They were listening, well until Rin entered the field to look for you. And well, you made a mistake in acknowledging him in the new nickname you gave to them infront of the foreign players.

"Oh um sorry, my Keroppi! I'll start doing the laundry later!" As if clockwork anytime you used that word, Rin turned a bright red before leaving the field to try and cool off and try to find a way to not get flustered like a damn fuse everytime you use that nickname.

But, the rest of the players noticed the rather cute nickname and well, they were less than pleased and more envious.

"Ehhh why does Rin-Rin have a cute nickname from you but I don't? Y/n-chaaannn please give me one too!!" Charles said as he clung to your arm.

"Eh..?"

"I agree with the kid, Y/n." Michael said with a smirk. You felt like a trapped mouse under the expecting gaze of the players. Loki noticed this and sighed before hitting Charles's head which made the midfielder let out an 'ow.'

"Don't harass her, you fools. If she wants, she'll give us one. Geez."

"Uh thank you, Loki-san. But it's really fine! I'll give you guys nicknames too!" You started to think for one as they all watched you, then you looked at Charles and fangs when a genius strike hit your head.

"Charles-san can be Meowth from Pokemon!"

"Yey! I'm fine with that! Thank you, Y/n-chan!"

He said as he hugged you even tighter which just made you smile, but when you turned to Kaiser, you remembered a memory about the time Isagi was ranting to you about Kaiser.

"Yeah, and he even has that annoying rat-hair! I hate him SO much, Y/n-chan!"

The word rat repeated in your head, and a character appeared in your head, but before you can filter your thoughts into words, you said what you thought out loud.

"Jaq-jaq from Cinderella."

And well, the entire field ended up in laughter. Loud and hard laughter. Even Ness could not help the chuckle that left his mouth, remembering the familiar mouse character.

And well, that pissed Kaiser a bit. Which made you panic a bit.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Kaiser-san! I just remember Isagi-san calling you a rat and well...it ran in my mind..."

"HAHAHHAA IT FITS! HOLY SHIT IT FITS!" Lorenzo laughed and hugged his stomach which made Kaiser even angrier.

"Shut up! You are more of a rat than I am!"

"I'm sorry! Pfftt-" Loki said as he continued laughing, meanwhile Charles had tears in his eyes from laughter. Was it just from the nickname? Or even from the way you said it with such seriousness and conviction that made them laugh?

"Ehhh 'm so sorry, Kaiser-san..." you said, animated tears running down your face because, well an angry Kaiser was a scary Kaiser.

"Its fine, dear...but if just some of you will shut up!" He said with pointed looks at Lorenzo and Charles.

In the end, you settled with Kaiser being Cinnamoroll in your eyes. Finding his aesthetic and his hair color similar to the color scheme of the cute character.

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BLUE LOCK TV COMMENT SECTION:

User01: Awww but Kaiser fits the first nickname better🥺

Reply:

-> user02: right?! My favourite part of today's episode AHAHHAHA

User03: I want more behind the scenes moment wth?! Cmon editors and directors! I wanna see more of these moments lmao

User04: I don't think the Blue Lockers themselves, the directors and even the editors can deny that theyre all whipped for Miss Manager

-> User06: I super agree! Like, anyone with eyes can see that Miss Manager built herself a reverse harem in that place

User05: Nagi as Ice Bear is actually a really good nickname for him, but the Keroppi with Rin took me out for a bit LMAO maybe his behind the scenes personality is a bit more different to be guaranteed that nickname?

LMAO THIS ONE TOOK ME OUT but like help me out here, I wanna use these nicknames in the futhre so please do comment what you think the nicknames for the other Blue Lock players can be because I legit ran out of brainjuice just to think about it. But also, in the future Additional times I wiuld be putting the Blue Lock TV commment section buuut as a twist, I would be using some of my followers' username (if thats fine with you guys huhu) as the usernames, it would be used as some sort of shoutout and all, but also as a small thank you for all of you!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[bueckersbitch]

Grace and Grit - paige bueckers x oc

chapter four: so high school

𐙚 grace and grit masterlist

𐙚 characters: hopkins!paige x oc

𐙚 warnings: none!

𐙚 word count: 2.4k

𐙚 authors note: here it is!! long awaited and i’m so sorry i haven’t put out a new chapter, life caught up to me unfortunately. anyway in this au larkin dance studio is in hopkins and jalen goes to school with paige. this is all fiction!!! enjoy <3

𐙚 taglist: @rosemariiaa @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @bueckersfive @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt

The consistent hum of Blaire’s alarm woke her from dreamland. Her last first day. One more year, then she wouldn’t have to step foot in her confining high school ever again.

Blaire brings her hands up to rub her eyes, trying to exude sleep from herself. After failed attempts to wake her up, defeated, Blaire gets up slowly, trudging her way over to her vanity. Sitting down in the pink padded chair. Her seventeen years of dance experience had trained her makeup skills, the requirement of knowing how to do a full face in less than ten minutes was something she had to learn how to do on her own. While her dance friends sat restless in front of their moms at the ripe age of eight, getting their makeup done and being gushed over, Blaire simply watched, longed, and yearned for that experience that was stripped away from her. But she was never one to complain, so she did it on her own, learning how to contour, winged eyeliner, and apply false lashes all by the time she was nine.

Blaire turned her vanity mirror light on, the soft white illuminating her puffy face. She reached for her skincare, the coolness of the serums and moisturizers working to depuff her face. Swiping on some concealer, bronzer, blush, and mascara, was all Blaire could bring herself to do. Shoving herself up from her vanity, she goes to brush her teeth, breakfast in the morning makes her sick. The fresh mint hit her teeth, a slow moment finally found after a rushed morning, but when her mind slowed, she could only think of one thing, well, one person, Paige.

She recalled that night in the ice cream shop, a small gesture, sure. But Blaire had never experienced someone so interested in her before. Everything was perfect, like everything Blaire had been waiting for in a girlfriend was presented to her in a beautiful, bubbly, blonde, package. Blaire tried to focus on the task at hand, she really did. But something about the thought of the way Paige’s eyes scrunched up when she smiled, and the way her cheeks showed a tinge of pink whenever she looked at Blaire, was enough for Blaire to lose track of time. Glancing at the clock, Blaire was now off schedule, running late by three minutes. She quickly spits into the sink, swishing mouthwash into her mouth before expelling that from her mouth as well.

Blaire stumbles on her rug, grabbing onto the door frame as she drives herself into her closet. Regaining her balance, she flicks the light on. Pink bow wallpaper adorns the four walls. She reaches for the outfit she had picked out last night, black flare leggings, a white tank top, a light grey shrug, and a black headband. Boring, maybe, but Blaire couldn’t really care less what people thought of her outfit.

Blaire slid on her shrug, the last piece of her outfit. Realizing she had a bit of down time before she had to leave, she wonders if she should peek at Paige’s socials, something she had been doing a bit too much recently. It’s almost as if her fingers have a mind of their own, skidding across the screen to pull up Paige’s profile before she could even finish her thought.

She studied her profile. In a way, it almost exactly mirrored Blaire’s. A different sport, of course. But the posts wishing her friends happy birthday, photos from past state championships, the trophy being held up to the sky, ones where her and her teammates are biting their medals. Blaire knew the feeling all too well. It was just an instagram profile, but the memories of Paige’s time in high school flood her phone. It was sweet, the way she looked so intimidating on the court, her taunts cracking the confidence of her opponents, all for her to really just be a normal girl going through high school.

—

It was the end of fifth period now, Blaire’s AP Chemistry class ending with her teacher wishing them a good rest of their first day. It was lunch period now, all of Blaire’s friends either had schedules that let them out early, or a different lunch period. Blaire scratched her scalp, a consistent throbbing settling into the rear of her head. Continual reviews of class syllabi meant her teachers repeating the same rules like a mantra, late work policies, honor code, extra credit assignments, and test outlines were all things Blaire had grown bored of. Sighing, she hops down from the stool, picking up her Larkin Dance Studio backpack, the thread at the straps fraying from being her companion the last three years. Blaire stilled, the air around her restricting her, but also allowing her a chance to breathe. She moves one ugg clad foot in front of the other, making her way to the door, annunciating a quick “Have a good day Mr. Stone.” with a smile, pushing the door handle and stepping out into the hallway.

It was overwhelming, really. Looking out into the hallway. Blaire had navigated these hallways more times than she could count, but something about the masses of people bumping into each other, clueless as to where they were going, hurdled her anxiety into overdrive. All she needed to do was walk herself to her car, where she would eat her lunch, after, she had two more periods. Almost to the finish line, the wiring of school could be erased from her mind when she stepped back into her studio, being able to regain her consciousness.

Blaire gripped her phone in her hands tightly, her earbuds in her ears as an attempt to drown out the surrounding noise. It was no use though, the shrieking of high pitched voices cut through her soft music like nails on a chalkboard. In the midst of all the chaos, Blaire swears she hears her name called out. Glancing around, she’s met with nothing but bodies of teenagers. Brushing it off, Blaire keeps moving, shuffling slowly towards the doors that lead out to the parking lot.

Blaire feels a tug at her shoulder, yanking her earbuds out from her ears, turning to see what the fuss was about. Instead, she’s met with the smile and scrunched eyes she had been musing about in the earliest hours of the day. Paige and Blaire’s schedules had matched up for one period so far, study hall. Now, it seems that they had lunch together too.”Blaire! Who are you sitting with at lunch?” A curious Paige asked, Jalen poking her arm, ushering her towards a clear path to the doors. “I was just planning on sitting in my car, all my friends have different lunches.” Blaire responded with. Before she could register what was happening, she felt the comforting warmth of Paige’s fingers wrapping around hers, subtly dragging her along with herself and Jalen, while saying, “S’You’re sitting with us in my car now.” Blaire couldn’t help the soft smile that wound up on her face, her cheeks heating up at the kind gesture by the girl, something that hadn’t happened since their study hall during third period.

The three of them walked together to Paige’s car, Jalen walking backwards in front of them to talk to the two girls. “Soooooo… You’re Blaire, right?” He started. Paige groaned, trying to shut him down with a, “Jalen, bro.” while her hand ran over her face. Blaire observed the two, she knew what it meant, Jalen, Paige’s best friend, knowing who she was. Blaire pushed the thoughts of her heart gushing to the back of her mind, trying to focus on not messing up first impressions.

“The one and only, and you’re Jalen?” Paige’s eyes peek from in between her fingers, widened at the fact Blaire wasn’t weirded out by the prodding. Blaire wasn’t weirded out, in fact, she was overjoyed by the fact she seemed important enough to Paige to be mentioned to her closest friend. The boy smiles, his hands in his pockets, “Sure am, hear you’re a dancer. You tryna do that in college?” Blaire nods, “God Willing, something about Juilliard is calling me, but it’s nice to know I have U of Minny and Ohio State as cushion if that plan falls through.” Jalen’s mouth drops open at that, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Damn, so you’re like, good good, then?” Paige smiles, wrapping an arm around Blaire, patting her head with the other, “Hey! I told you she was good. You doubting me is disrespectful.” The blonde says. Blaire shrugs, slightly surprised by the fact Jalen even knows how major of a deal both colleges are. “You could say that. How do you know about dance anyway?” Jalen responds without a beat, “I got sisters, they don’t dance but they like watching uda nationals.” Blaire smiles, it seemed being welcoming was something prominent found in Paige’s friends too.

As they got to Paige’s car, Jalen started to swing around to the passenger side, a routine perfected since Paige got her license. He whips his head around though, the blonde pointing at him saying, “Jalen, you’re sitting in the back.” Jalen’s face showed confusion, Blaire didn’t want to intrude, so she tugs at Paige’s shirt, “Hey, I can sit in the back, it’s okay.” She assured. Paige let out a laugh at that, an obvious fake one, “collecting” herself, she turns to Blaire, telling her, “You gotta be crazy, what kinda host would I be if I didn’t let you sit in the passenger seat?” Blaire scoffs, but under the front she put up, she liked the fact Paige was so persistent with her, really liked it. “Host? It’s your car.” Blaire said with a playful attitude. Paige cocks her head, “Whatever.” She says to the dark haired girl.

“Ooo, P’s got a crushhhh.” Jalen gets out, the two girls' eyes break away from each other, pulling to look at the boy waiting outside the back car door. “Seriously, stop.” Paige says, annoyed.

–

The loudspeaker starts up, it was eighth period, Paige sat clad in her Nike shirt and basketball shorts, Playing with the loose string that had managed to unravel from the hem of her shirt. Her calculus teacher was cut off by the announcement, “Good Afternoon Royals! I am overjoyed to welcome you all back to campus!...” Paige tuned out the voice of her principal, opting to look around at her classmates around her, all working on the pre-assessment for the class. Her eyes are drawn to the bulletin board, full of clubs and different volunteer opportunities. But one poster stands out, a specific dark haired girl that had been consuming her thoughts. Her teeth in a smile as the words around her talked about a dance gala, auctions being held at it to raise money for cancer research. Paige took a mental note of it, being snapped back to reality when she heard the euphony of backpack zippers, “Just like always, seniors will be dismissed first, if you’re a senior, you may make your way over to your car now!” Paige closed her eyes for a moment, the stress easing away from her as realization dawned upon her. She made it through the first day.

Pulling out her phone, she makes a new group chat with Blaire and Jalen, shooting a text about grabbing food at Panda Express, the Chinese food sounding awfully good to soothe the hunger that had settled into her stomach, she didn’t eat during her lunch period, wanting to talk Blaire’s ear off as much as possible in the allotted time.

–

Paige rushes towards the door, wanting to reach it before Blaire, stumbling over her excited feet, she yanks the door open, flashing a smile and wiggling her eyebrows at Blaire.

Jalen had gotten roped into helping his parents with stuff at home, but the two girls decided to grab food before Blaire’s practice anyway, the two of them both agreeing that Panda Express sounded too good to pass up.

Paige watches Blaire order, a simple bowl of white rice with some honey sesame chicken, and while she trains her ears on what Blaire was ordering, she couldn’t help but notice the small details about the girl beside her. How her nose moved slightly while she talked, her hands picking at the nail polish that slightly flooded over the sides, her legs crossed, and her eyes squinting to see the menu a little better. The truth is, Paige hadn’t felt this in a long time, her last relationship had lasted a while, but honestly the two of them had been done for a while, just not having the guts to call it quits, Paige was dragged through an emotional rollercoaster, but the familiarity of it comforted her enough to get her to stay. That was over now though, Paige felt grateful that it was, because the girl in front of her was so intriguing to her, she hadn’t known her for long, but she wanted to peel back all her layers.

Paige and Blaire slid into high stools, well, Blaire had slid onto her stool, and Paige had sat right next to her, scooching hers close enough for their legs to touch. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Blaire said, referring to when they were up at the register. Paige shoved her card into the reader before Blaire could pull out her wallet, murmuring a slick, “You don’t gotta pay when you’re with me ma.” Paige shovels her food into her mouth, swallowing and licking her lips, “Stop pretending like you don’t like it.” Blaire rolls her eyes at that.

Paige holds the trash can open, Blaire disposes her bowl and fork. “Sooooo… I know parties aren’t your thing, but you gotta come to senior bonfire. It’s tradition” Paige perks up as she says this, hoping that Blaire will cave in. “Paige, you know I don’t do well with those kinds of things, too much opportunity for things to go wrong.” Blaire reasons, Paige fakes a pout, “Oh c’monnnnn, if you worry too much about ‘what can go wrong’ you’ll miss out on experiences that’ll go right!” Blaire gives a puzzled look to the taller girl. “Okay, that didn’t really make sense, but you get what I mean.” Paige answers to Blaire’s questioning look, Paige is persistent, tugging on Blaire’s shrug sleeve while repeating the word “please” more than one should say in a lifetime. “OKAY! Fine, I’ll go, but you have to promise to stay with me. If something happens, I’ll never forgive you.” Blaire pointedly says. Paige’s hands shoot up in defense, silence between them before a notification sounds from Paige’s phone, “Deal.” The blonde says, smiling in triumph.

[idylls-of-the-divine-romance]

I never said he was political. What I said was "His followers then went on to live in voluntary communism", which is an objective fact of the Jerusalem centered community of the Early Jesus Movement.

The definition of communism (lowercase c): "a form of economic organization in which private goods are held in common by a community"

Twice in the Book of Acts does it say that the "And the multitude of those who believed were of one heart and being; and not one was saying that anything belonging to them was their own, but all things were common property to them. And with great power the apostles were giving testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and abundant grace was upon them all. For there was not a needy person among them, for all who were owners of land or houses would sell them and bring the prices of the things being sold and lay them at the apostles’ feet, and they would be distributed to each to the extent that any had need."

Now, one of my bible commentaries (NIV) would say this isn't communism because:

"the sharing was voluntary" This doesn't make it not communism - a form of economic organization in which private goods are held in common by a community. That is literally what this is.

"it didn't involve all private property, but only as much as was needed" Scripture doesn't say that, nor are their any hints or hyperlinks that suggest such. We could reason that this is an example of exaggeration to make a point (see: Solomon's wealth) but I don't really think that's necessary. It is quite possible that in fact most of the people in the Jerusalem district of the Early Jesus Movement decided that the best way to live at the teachings and message of Jesus, the Torah and the prophets, was to live together as a communal group.

"it was not a membership requirement to be a part of the church" Ofc not, which is what makes it better! This wasn't motivated by any political or economic theory, any more than Jesus' life was motivated by political philosophy: it was koinonia rooted by agape - other centered, life giving love from me to you that causes me to lay down my life for you.

(Side note: I do not think it's a coincidence that Jacob/James who was leader of the Jerusalem church wrote the way he did on wealth. It is clear that there was some sort of issue in the socio-economic reality of Jerusalem, likely centered in oppression of employees and heavy taxes as well as ethnic differences, that the early Christians were NOT a fan of).

Also all of this makes perfect sense tho. You can say whatever you want about Jesus not being political (and I won't address that because we'll need to define that word and this post is long enough) but there is something undeniable: Jesus, and also the rest of his Galilean disciples, were not a fan of people who lived comfortably on their wealth while other's went hungry. Which is incredibly uncomfortable for me (it actually put the fear of God in me a few weeks ago) but it is what it is.

Now. I am not a communist and never have been, not because the scriptures ever condemn communism, but because the human heart is wicked above all things and is irreversibly sick without the Spirit giving them a new one (see: the entire Tanakh). I do think there is a reason why when the government decides to implement communism it ends in dictatorship. Instead, I've been looking into Catholic Social Teaching and find Distributism to be interesting.

That said, I think local Christian communities can and should absolutely consider whether they wish to live communally together and what that would look like for them. And no matter what all Christians must change the way they look at their possessions.

Other Christians: Yeah I’m a Christian, but don’t worry, I’m normal.

Meanwhile, Christian Tumblr: I worship a triune God who emptied themself to become a human. He was born a poor teenager and grew up in poverty and at risk of homelessness. He was fully God and fully Human. He taught and lived in radical indiscriminate self giving love and subversive peaceful resistance of oppression. He fought the cause of the widow, orphan, immigrant, poor, and oppressed. He loved the sinner so much they left their sin and followed him, and reconciled both the government allying capitalist and the rebel freedom fighter to harmony in himself. He invites us to take his prescience into ourselves by eating his flesh and drinking his blood. My God then enthroned himself as the exalted king of the world by dying the death of a cursed blaspheming slave. He then rose from the dead and decided his first witnesses would be women, whose witness is worthless in court. His followers then went on to live in voluntary communism, to advocate radical generosity, to destroy ethnic barriers, to elevate the inherent humanity of women and the enslaved, to self identify as exiled and enslaved refugees and pilgrims, to equate God with Love, to diagnose the government as a necessary evil worth responding to with equal parts submission and resistance, and to make the preposterous claim that we conquer the world by giving our lives in self sacrificing love. In my faith, normalcy is heresy.

[boybandbaby]

Best of My Life (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Non-BAU!Reader)

guess this is a 5 times hotch let’s the team see his relationship

word count: 1676

warnings: unspecified brutal case, alcohol, tattoos, established relationship, axes, sweet!hotch

note: the bar scene is from my favorite scene in one of my favorite movies check it out here (all credits to the movie) frank farmer gives me hotch vibes

tag: @bernelflo based on your request though I did go off track I’m so sorry I tried my best

1️⃣

Hotch finally got a break from the team’s badgering after they met you. Well kind of. While they finally got to see you and meet you in person, they were still curious about your relationship and dynamic.

Once Penelope asked if you had met Jack yet, Hotch wouldn’t shut up about you two.

“Oh my god, he’s worse than Spencer.” Derek shook his head, leaning against his desk as he watched Hotch tell the girls another story about you. Something about you being good with an axe.

“Hey!” Spencer yelped.

When Hotch introduced you to Jack for the first time, you’d all went axe throwing. You picked the activity not wanting Jack to think you were boring. Jack ended up loving it and loving you.

Spencer’s mouth gaped as he watched Hotch pull his phone out to show the girls a video of you and him taken by Jack during that date. While Jack’s teenager instincts told him it was gross, he thought it was nice to see his dad so sweet so he recorded it. The video showed you pressed up against Hotch’s back as you moved his arm in the correct position to throw the axe. You kissed his cheek and gave Aaron space to throw the axe and for your safety. When Aaron hit the target, you cheered and clapped your hands. “Your dad isn’t too bad, huh Jack?” You stated before the video ended.

Hotch tucked the phone away before heading back up into his office.

“I would never have thought Hotch would be sharing his private life with us.” JJ smiled into her mug.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Penelope sighed, dreamily. “They’re so cute together. Oh shoot, he forgot his coffee.”

Penelope picked up the black travel mug adorned with “best boyfriend ever” in cursive on the side.

“Look!” JJ pointed at the words. “He’s so whipped!”

Penelope took the cup up to his office not bothering to knock. “Here Hotch, wouldn’t want you to forgot that you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” Hotch smiles, doesn’t even comment on her light teasing.

2️⃣

While away on a case, the team noticed Hotch had stepped away to answer a phone call. Assuming it was work related they didn’t say anything until 10 minutes later, he still hadn’t come back.

“You think he’s okay?” Emily asked.

“Let’s go check on him.” Derek urges.

Much to their surprise. Hotch is seated in an empty room, legs kicked up on the table, leaned back, and phone to his ear.

While he’s happy to hear from you and listen to you ramble about your day, he does know there’s a case to be solved and an unsub to be stopped. There’s a sparkle in his eye though his lips aren’t smiling. He wouldn’t want anyone to see him smiling during a case so brutal and get the wrong idea.

Derek and Emily hear snippets of his side of the conversation.

So, you took him to the zoo and aquarium? You’re spoiling him too much.

I know I wish I was there with you both

Where are you going to dinner? Use my credit car. It’s in my nightstand

When I get back, how about we go to that spa you’ve been talking about? We can get a couples massage

Why wait until Valentine’s Day when we can go now?

Okay, we’ll stop by the pie shop on our way back. I’ve got to head back the team is probably looking for me.

I love you.

Hotch looks up to see the amused faces of his two agents.

He stands from the chair and straightens his tie. “Sorry about that, y/n has been calling me to make sure I take at least 10 minutes a day for myself during cases. She says I’ve been working too hard.”

“Happiness looks nice on you, Hotch.” Derek states and it’s definitely not his normal teasing.

3️⃣

When they’re back in the office and it’s a paperwork day, the team decides to order in for lunch.

Penelope knocks on his door to get his order and sees he’s already eating. “Already got lunch, sir?”

“Yes, y/n made this incredible meal last night and packed me some for lunch. Come give it a try.” He pulls out a spoon from his lunchbox. Garcia internally squeals. Her boss, Aaron Hotchner has a lunch box. She can see that it’s a plain black lunchbox. On the right side there’s a small net holding a few napkins, a set of reusable utensils, and a folded sheet of binder paper with ‘A <3’ on it. On the right side, there’s an open Tupperware with some chicken, rice, and vegetable dish. There’s a granola bar, bottle of water and cup of yogurt.

Garcia approaches the desk as Hotch scoops a little bit of everything on the spoon and hands it to her. He continues eating as he reads a document on his desk. Garcia hands him back the spoon and agrees at how tasty it is. She leaves Hotch alone to enjoy his home cooked meal.

4️⃣

Hotch laid on his right side, propped on one elbow and feet crossed at the ankle. You sat on the same lounge chair in front of him but facing away. Hotch had his free hand rubbing at the lower half of your back while you talked to JJ and Will about the concert you and Aaron had went to last weekend.

“You should’ve seen him! I mean I didn’t know the frozen margaritas would get him so drunk!” You laughed. “Aaron danced and sang the whole time.”

“I really liked the music.” He shrugged. You had introduced him to one of your favorite bands and he had gotten you tickets.

“I had to massage his knees the next day.” You laugh. “Poor baby was so sore.”

“I was more than sore. I was in pain.” He smiles. “Not to mention we had gotten tattoos that day.”

Record scratch. The other members of the team pause their separate conversations to inquire more.

“You got a tattoo?” Garcia squealed.

“Nothing too flashy.” He smiles, “something tasteful.”

“Well let’s see it!” Emily gushes.

You show them your leg, a small ‘AH’ in something similar to Times New Roman inked onto the back of your left ankle.

Aaron sits up, rolls his sleeves up, and shows his forearms. On the right is a small ‘J’ and on the other side in the same font, your initial, etched just below his elbow crease. He wanted something he could cover during work, like he said, nothing too flashy.

“That’s insane.” Spencer mumbles. “I am actually speechless.”

“Very tasteful, Aaron.” Dave raises his drink to Aaron.

5️⃣

You’d been invited by Hotch to join an after work outing to get some drinks.

Hotch and Dave stood at the bar, discussing Rossi’s upcoming vacation plans. Hotch listens but keeps his eyes on you. Partially for safety reasons but mainly because he loves looking at you.

While you dance with the girls, twirling and smiling, a woman slowly comes up to him.

“Hi.” She says breathy and sultry.

Aaron takes a sip of his drink, his eyes barely flickering to the woman before narrowing back on you. You throw your head back and grip Emily’s bicep as you laugh at a particularly raunchy dance move from Penelope.

Aaron thinks, just ignore her and she’ll go away. She unfortunately doesn’t get the message and squeezes herself between Dave and Aaron.

“I couldn’t help but notice how handsome you are.” The woman coos as she begins to press her body into Hotch’s side. “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room.”

“Why don’t you go back there and keep watching.” Aaron roughly pulls his arm so it’s not touching the woman. She’s taken aback and rushes back to where she’d come from, clearly embarrassed and humiliated.

“Brutal, Aaron.” Rossi laughs.

“Not interested, Dave.” Hotch meets his eyes.

“Clearly.” Rossi nods his head in your direction. Aaron’s eyes turn back just as you’re approaching.

You’re not quite drunk but not quite tipsy either as you stumble towards him. “Hi handsome!”

“Hi honey.” He sets his drink on the table and his hands immediately find your hips.

“Did you see Penelope? Her moves attracted a new friend.” You laugh and turn in his arms to watch Penelope and said new friend, Willard. Aaron’s not shy in pulling your back into his chest. You willingly lean back into his chest.

Aaron follows your gaze as he watches an older man, white hair with a big cowboy hat and boots spin Penelope around. It’s all just fun, nothing serious.

“You know, I’d like to see you in a cowboy hat. Bet you’d look real good.” You state.

“Me? In a big hat like that?” He chuckles. “I don’t think so.”

“No? Maybe those dark blue jeans I like on you but no shirt.”

“You want me to be a shirtless cowboy? That’s way too out of character for me.”

“What if you wear a flannel but not an undershirt? You can keep some of your modesty while keeping me satisfied.” You pull his arms around your stomach and run your fingertips through his arm hair. Yes, he decided to wear a short sleeve shirt to the bar just for you because you told him he has “delicious arms.”

“That sounds like a reasonable compromise.” He whispers into your ear.

“If I could persuade you to wear all that, can I persuade you into a dance with me?” You turn back to him, giving him the best puppy eyes you can with the tips Jack gave you. Jack swore that if you pout your bottom lip just a smidge and force a bit of tears in your eyes, Aaron gives in immediately.

“Only if you do that move Penelope did before.”

“Aaron!” You gasp. “I didn’t know you could be so dirty!”

“You have your fantasies and I have mine.” He winks before taking the lead to pull you onto the dance floor.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

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Chapter 12

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: consumption of alcohol, Reader gets drunk, mention of self-harm (wanting to bite thumb. Again.), thinking of self-harm (Reader wants to make herself pass out by smashing her head against something), probably near panic attack, one (1) tiny undescriptive vomit scene, kind of implied death threat/threat(s) in general (?),  slight obsessive and possessive themes, overall slight yandere themes near the end, toxic relationship/marriage, underage drinking (only a sip but still), Lant being the POS he always have been. Please tell me if I missed any.

Not exactly NSFW warnings: encouraging implied non-con

NOTE: if he’s completely out of character, just pretend Dion’s sleep deprivation is finally catching up to him.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICW, ART, ETC.) DNI

= = =  

The walk to the dining room feels like a death march. Every step makes your legs grow weaker, knees throbbing harder. The echo of your heels sets your nerves on fire, imagining it getting louder and louder as you run away, until you reach the front doors. But, of course, you would only get lost in this maze-like structure. And if you somehow manage to reach the front door, you would be killed on sight.

That much is obvious. 

The truth of the fact only makes you crave to bite your thumb. Almost giving in until you see Hana shake her head no once she notices.

You wish you were back in the room with Anne and Charis. To hear them gush over ‘girly’ things while Hana scolds them for not doing their job. 

You wish you were home. 

Your mouth is shut tight, shoulders stiff as your head hangs low. Like you were being led to your own execution, Lant giving the order as Dion carried it out. You wouldn’t be surprised if that were to happen, someday. Sooner rather than later.

The black lace at the hem of your dress covers your shoes, barely grazing the floor. The cold air nips at your exposed skin. Your bun is starting to feel a little too tight, pulling at your scalp despite Hana being extremely careful with it. The neck piece has been choking you, but now it’s suffocating. 

You feel light headed. 

You’re on the verge of panting, flight-or-fight response knocking on the door of your sanity. Legs stiff, begging you to stay in place before your heart gives out from the stress, you continue on despite the way your head starts to feel dizzy. No, you think, no.

If you faint, it’s all over. If you faint, Dion may become brasher with his advances on making you as crazy as he is. If you faint, Lant might decide you’re not worth the trouble and give you to someone as a toy. 

Or hand you back to your parents in a bodybag. 

“-Lady? My Lady?” 

“Huh? Wh-what?” Owlishly blinking, your thoughts are driven away at the sound of Hana’s ‘concerned’ voice - you look ahead of you. A single door.* Wait.

No. 

This - this -

“This isn’t the dining room, is it, Hana?” It comes out more as a statement rather than a question, voice low as your entire body becomes rigid. This looks more like a personal room. Important.

“...yes, my Lady. It’s where they hold the grand feast.” You think there’s slight guilt in her voice, and the thought does little to ease your nerves. Well, you think, it’s not like she told you you were going to the dining room. Your idiotic self just assumed so. And perhaps, out of pity, Hana didn’t tell you, giving you the illusion of being in an open space and not in a closed off room.

…yeah, God really does hate me. 

Then you remember that you shouldn't know what the grand feast was - thus, you ask her about it a moment later. 

“It takes place once a month. Each month, the siblings are evaluated based on their accomplishments for the month - there are three top spots. Whoever does the best are evaluated highly, making them the most useful to the Agriche family.”

The most useful to Lant.

She continues, “young master Dion is always at first place, Lady Roxana second, and the third place tends to be a different sibling every other month. I heard a rumor that young Master Fontaine may be at third spot this month.” Once she’s done giving you information about it, you nod your head, hiding the fact you already knew that with a small gulp.

If anyone were to find out you did, your head may roll off your shoulders. After they question you, of course. Torture you too.

“I see. Interesting. I didn’t expect any less from those two,” you lifelessly chuckle out, ignoring the odd look Hana gives you. She doesn’t question you, instead knocking on the door before opening it after Lant gave permission loud enough to be heard from the other side. You can hear the pulsation of both your blood and heart in your ears. It almost drowns out all other noises. 

Lant is the first one to make eye contact with you. They remind you of a snake, already squeezing you alive as his presence wraps itself around your body, restricting movement and threatening to choke you. You can barely breathe, lungs working overtime just to take in oxygen.

You feel faint. 

“Congratulations on joining the Agrich family,” your twisted father-in-law begins as he stands in front of the window, “I heard you’re adapting rather quickly. An accomplishment, all things considered.” His grin spells egotistical as his hands remain in his pockets. 

Go kill yourself.

Too much of a coward to say your true thoughts, you give a wavering smile. Keep your head upright. Straighten your back. Feed into his ego. 

“Thank you, father-in-law,” you bow, wanting to smash your head against the floor so hard you’ll pass out. “It’s truly an honor to be here - both as your daughter-in-law and as Dion’s wife.” When you lift your head your smile becomes pretty, just as you practiced. But the corners of your lips threaten to fall into a frown. It becomes more painful as the seconds pass. 

This alone reminds you that you are not Roxana. Cunning and manipulative - none of which describe you. You’re nothing more than a rabbit about to be torn into by a hungry pack of wolves. 

Your skin crawls when he smiles.

“And you already know your place - I knew I made a good choice in choosing you.” His smugness only adds fuel to your fear along with finding the idiotic fool even more detestable. However, Lant is the one in power here, not you. You have to play under and by his rules. 

Even if it means bearing a child you might not be able to love. 

Freezing fear starts to collide with heated hatred the longer he fuels his self-conceit, marveling over his ‘brilliant’ idea. Yet when he smiles at you again, eyeing you, gaze scanning your entire body, it makes your hairs stand on edge. Thankfully, there is no lust in those eyes - rather, pending judgement. 

He nods his head in approval as your husband keeps his attention on his father. Quickly glancing over at him in his seat, you notice that his eyes don’t hold indifference as they did in the manhwa - no, rather, it was -

“Come sit down; our introduction as true in-laws is long overdue.” At his command you take a seat across from Dion as Lant sits at the end of the table near the window. Any thoughts about Dion are driven away as Lant continues to talk. 

His voice makes your head hurt and your ears bleed. 

“You were one out of three girls I had my sights on. The first one was too haughty and the second wasn’t even allowed to attend public events more often than not - it was hard to gather any information on her.” He picks up his wine glass and takes a sip. 

Three girls…? I didn’t know about this… wait, why is he even telling me this -

Oh. 

He’s saying I’m replaceable. 

The realization hits you like a truck, leaving you a mental mess as you keep - attempt to - appearance. Your hands shake almost violently in their place under the table and on your lap. Sweat starts to pool on the back of your neck as you pat your temples down with a napkin the second the death flag turns his attention to Dion, your husband staring right back - after he takes a glance at you, and you shudder at the look he gives.

You can’t tell what he’s thinking and you’re not sure if you want to. After all, ignorance is bliss. 

And it’s that same ignorance that prevents you from seeing how those scarlet eyes soften ever so slightly, unaware of how beautiful he finds you. Well, even if you did, you would just say it’s part of your imagination. 

The idea of someone like Dion harboring any romantic feelings towards anyone - yourself included - nearly makes you sick to your stomach. So, therefore, your truth must be the right one.

Dion switches his attention to his father when he asks him a question.

“So, son? How well is her training going?” The bastard really did see you as nothing other than a pet. The metaphorical leash around your neck tightens. You can basically feel Lant tugging at it. 

You wait with baited breath for your husband’s answer - you weren’t exactly… ‘obedient.’ Avoiding him, refusing and rejecting his advances that took place on the second day, ‘talked back’ during the thumb incident, pretending to be asleep the second you heard and felt the bed creak when he woke up. Unable to act like the ‘perfect wife,’ shivering in fear even when he’s not doing anything, just laying with his back towards you on your shared bed. 

Wait, he’s a sadist, you tell yourself. But he’s also a perverted creep. Wanting to touch you despite knowing your dislike for it and -

“She wouldn’t be here if you didn’t approve of her,” is his answer as he takes a sip of his drink. He doesn’t even bother to make eye contact with him while answering. “She would be dead.” 

Your mind shatters as your heart drops. You’re forced to bite your lip just so you wouldn’t become hysterical with tears. You already expected this interaction to flow in a similar direction.

Even so, it doesn’t stop your anxiety.

So, he really was only keeping you to study how a sane mind breaks. Little by little, he’ll observe you until the day you either become like them or kill yourself. And then what?

The answer is unknown to you. But did they already have it?

Of course they do.

They’re Agriches.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Lant raises an eyebrow only for his face to draw into a disgusting grin. “That’s an interesting answer. But yes, you’re right; the girl wouldn’t be breathing right now if she disappointed me.” They’re talking as though you were not in the same room as them.

No-one has touched their food, only the wine that was already served. You take a sip yourself, holding back the grimace from the bitterness. They don’t notice, lost in their own little world. But the topic - you - doesn’t change. 

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to wed you off - but I’m glad I did now. The younger the better, right?” Chuckling out the last part, your father-in-law leans over to pat your husband’s shoulder and you swore that he twitched just a bit.

The stress must be making you see things. 

Another sip as you slowly start to mentally check out. If you don’t you really will lose your mind and sanity. After considering it, you start to poke at your food before cutting into the steak and taking a bite. Juicy and delicious, the flavor only reminds you of just how rich this family is - how easy it was for them to handcuff you with a shiny little pretty ring.

Neither you nor your husband wear the damn thing, the cursed item still in the deep blue box in some drawer. The memory of it makes you take another bite, hoping that you’ll be distracted by the delicious meal. 

The pieces threaten to choke you as they slide down your throat, taking another swing of the bitter, red wine to wash it down. You don’t even notice that Dion was starting to eat as well, leaving Lant the only one who wasn’t. 

Drinking some more wine to overthrow the sour taste of vomit as you throw up in your mouth, quickly swallowing it down before it threatens to overflow and drip down your chin. Holding back the gag reflex caused by the repulsive taste, a buzz is starting to fill your head. It’s barely there, faint in the background, your hand wrapping around the stem, swishing the liquid around, studying the color through the transparent glass.

A rich red.

The wine you drank on your eighteenth birthday was sweeter than this. You also didn’t drink much of it, preferring the tea your father gifted you. The memory of placing it on the table, only for Zac to taste the alcoholic drink only for you to scold you as soon as noticed it surfacing. 

The memory contracts the current situation so vastly. It only reminds you of how fucked you are, toes curling in your heels. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should.

Blinking, you continue on your journey to finish the drink, keeping your mouth busy before you start to beg and beg and beg for the two men to release you peacefully. 

Suddenly remembering there was a plate of flavorful food in front of you, you resume eating it.

Your fork and knife clink against the plate, sound echoing in your ears as the two male voices drown out in the background. Stabbing the steak with your fork, you fail to notice your husband taking a quick glance at you only for his eyes to land on his father when he addresses him. 

Another sip of wine. 

Another bite of meat.

The more you eat the more you drink. 

The buzz in your head is only starting to get stronger, accepting a refill a servant offers. While he pours it, the voices of Dion and Lant starts to become distant, their figures slightly blurry but not by much. Lant doesn’t look your away the entire time, praising his son about a mission he completed not too long ago. Since when did the topic change?

It’s becoming harder not to down the drink, vaguely aware of the confused and concerned look from the servant. However, he doesn’t deny you a second refill much less than a third, keeping an eye on your behavior, worried you’ll act out of line. It wasn’t for your safety but rather his - there’s no telling if your father-in-law would blame him for your drunk behavior. And yet, despite knowing this, the worried man still doesn’t deny you the drink that’s only making the buzz get stronger, cheeks feeling hot and a feeling of relaxation you oh so needed. 

It’s a miracle you’re able to lift your fork effortlessly and not choke on your meal. 

Their conversation is one-sided, with Lant doing all the talking as Dion listens. Quickly, your eye flicks upwards and across from you, curiosity biting at your fuzzy mind. It’s almost becoming a need to see your husband’s stoic face, slight amusement at the thought of him not caring and maybe even resentful towards and for his father.

Only to be met with scarlet.

How pretty.

Your head tilts, pondering why you’re so interesting to him - always catching his attention these days. Yet before being wed to him, you were nothing more than a plain and common flower in the garden; there, playing your role but unnoticeable. Only noticed once in a while when he had to turn his head. 

The more you think about it, the more you question it -was it really only to study how your sanity dwindles?

He confuses you.

He scares you.

He annoys you. 

Every emotion he stirs from within you is never positive. You wonder just how aware he is of that fact. If he enjoyed it, even. 

You blink once. Twice. A third time brings out a small smile - the alcohol has finally run its course, your judgment impaired, nothing but confusement and pity forming for the horrible man. 

Does he know you’re planning on asking Roxana for help to divorce him? To escape from this torturous place and start a new life, not wanting to drag your family further into this mess?

Does he know his ‘kindness’ is only driving you away? That you’re so sure he’s only keeping you around willingly to see how you bend and break?

Does he know your ‘affection’ will never be earned if some small part of him is also hoping for that?

The longer you smile the more his eyes widen, surprised you were able to show him a genuine one. However, neither of you keep it up for long, quickly returning to your practice and his default expressions. Lant doesn’t notice this, too busy commanding the servant for a light once everyone is done eating. 

The older man puffs it before talking once more. The room starts to smell like heavy smoke. Thanks to your drunkenness it doesn’t bother you as much.

“But yes, that’s what I’m planning. Not anytime soon but in a few months. I expect you to help prepare the preparations before taking care of the vermin once everything is said and done.” His cocky demeanor is gone, serious as he talks about…

Actually, what is he talking about?

Does it involve you? If not, why bother having you here with him? To use it as a scare tactic? If so, it’s not like he needed one - you’re already terrified of them as is. 

Feeling eyes on you you turn your head, making eye contact with Lant. taking in your appearance, he grins, turning to Dion next. You don’t understand what he means with his next words directed at your husband.

“Girls like her are easier when drunk. It’s best to get busy with her already - to get her used to it. We’ll put her on contraceptives for now until it’s time.” Your drunken state entertains him and you’re not sure why. 

However, your (e/c) eyes travel to Dion, curious as to why his grip on his fork tightens just the slightest bit. Eyes only narrowing for a split second, a faint scowl across his handsome features. It quickly goes away before Lant notices, the man chuckling at his own ‘advice.’ 

Oh well, you think. Your glass is almost empty, accepting your last refill for the night. The bitterness doesn’t go away. You only got used to it.

Will it be the same for you towards your husband? 

“While it’s amusing to see her get drunk, it’s time to cut her off.” Lant gestures to the servant to put the bottles of wine away after getting his own refill. The dinner is about to come to an end, it seems. 

At the ring of a bell two maids come in, cleaning up. You take one last swing before they take away the glass from your loose grip. Head softly rocking back and forth, the buzz and warmth of your person starts to make your eyes feel heavy. 

When was the last time you got drunk? Probably in your previous life, right before -

“Let’s call it a day.” Both daughter-in-law and son look at the oldest with the highest authority in the room. Facial muscles relaxing, one could almost confuse him for a normal man. 

“You’re both dismissed.”

- - -

You can barely walk on your own two feet. Supporting yourself on Dion’s arm, your own looped with his, your vision slightly blurry. Had you been fully aware of your surroundings, you would have noticed the small shudders he would give each and every time your head leans into his arm. 

Meanwhile, your husband is having a dilemma. He should carry you. You would weigh nothing to him, and it would be faster. Maybe too fast. 

Dion has no intention of sleeping with you in your state, the thought distasteful. But the suggestion from Lant was only to be expected, his morals worse than the majority of the family’s. It wasn’t a surprise but it doesn’t make it any less worse.

Annoyed doesn’t even begin to describe his feelings towards it. His face has been looking rather punchable lately and -

His thoughts are disrupted as you trip on your own feet, and had you not been holding onto him, your face would have kissed the floor. After a blink you look up at him and drunkenly giggle. You reek of alcohol.

In spite of that, he can’t help but to find you cute - his eye twitches. He wasn’t raised this way. He didn’t desire much if anything, going along with the flow. Even after seeing Roxana cry for the first and only time, the void that is him never truly got filled. 

He’s a horrible person. He knows that much, hands stained red and sins etched into his bones, hell already reserving a spot for him. The day he dies will be the day he’ll willingly walk into the fiery pits of hell, expecting to see the rest of his family there. 

He’s startled when you nuzzle your head into his arm, looking up at him with such dreamy eyes. But there’s also a hint of something close to resentment, not fully clear as it’s also mixed with something else he can’t put his finger on.  

Like you know him. 

But it’s not as clear as his own gaze, it’s not as certain whenever he gives into temptation and looks at you. You sigh out his name, breathless but oh so familiar, like you’ve known him for years and not months. 

Then, it hits him - you know little bits and pieces about him, but not enough to see the full picture. Aware that something is off despite only meeting him a handful of times. 

That night where your guard was down was already pointing in that direction, but now it’s confirmed. There is no fear inside him at the realization, but rather he grins - how long until you come to accept and acknowledge his feelings? 

Or rather, will you be capable of that? To accept everything that is him - the sins, the crimes, the blood and sadistic tendencies that are unremovable from him. 

He finally decides to pick you up when you start to doze off, your head fuzzy and judgement impaired. Maybe he’ll keep this part of the night a secret - it would only serve to drive you away further. Dion thinks about taking a bite when you snuggle into his chest, yawning as you do so. 

But then your eyes open again, looking up at him as you say -

“You’re horrible.”

He’s a horrible husband. For finding your words amusing despite how honestly you say them. He can’t tell if he’s smirking or giving a rather ugly grin, all things considered. Obsession and possessiveness are both dangerous things. Combine the two together and add him to mix, it only makes Dion Agriche all the more detestable. 

Even more so when his grip on you tightens, unrelenting, not giving you any room to wiggle out of his grasp, the one and only time he’s able to hold you so close without his lovely wife overthinking his every action. Not that you do, sighing as your eyes flutter close, sleep finally taking over. You look so pretty in his arms and the urge to hide you away gets stronger. And had you opened those pretty eyes to look at your husband, you wouldn’t be able to deny that he’s absolutely obsessed and he’d rather die than let you go, scarlet eyes unblinking as he admires you. 

And perhaps that was for the best, the twenty-year-old male knowing it would only scare you off more. 

“That doesn’t and won’t change things, wife.”

Even so, it’s hard to ignore the small sting of your honesty.

===

Note: *in the manhwa  it looks like it’s just one door in chapter 4 when Roxana and Jeremy go to attend the great feast or whatever. I also don't know if it's his office or not.

tags: @tiny-mimi

[chanranghaeys]

😭

i've been putting off reblogging this because 1) i was busy AS A WORKING GIRLIE, 2) i was busy as a working girlie wishing for CHAN AS MY WORK SPOUSE, and 3) svt con weekend in my country haha

I'm Annotating my going insane because I Want To (below the cut~)

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?” 

i hate how kae clocked me for this as a nonprofit programs girlie hate it hate it hate it LOVE IT SO MUCH I COULD CRY. chan would be such a good programs person if he worked hard on it i can See it.

He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

wow. wow. just imagine arriving to THIS at the office in the morning. i'd faint on the spot. or just outright kiss him—office etiquette be damned.

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.” 

i've always maintained that i'd be so good friends with the maknae line irl as a forever svt maknae line truther. I Love Them.

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that.

LIKE WHAT CHAN?? LIKE WHAT??

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard. 

i swear to have someone just know intimate details like this about you god i swear how was this not a giveaway???

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing.

sorry it's so funny to me that the ceo seems privy to these things seemingly evident in these little actions but of course she won't let anyone know about it my god it's so accurate imo

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary. 

these small details gaaaahh me me me it's me i would so do this

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two.

CHAN IS ALSO ME I SWEAR

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.”

/kinilig/ 🫠

You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy.  “Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.” 

something about vernon being the one to list all of this down makes me feel like he's doing this in tandem with seungkwan. or maybe a bet to see who will come up with a list first. idk. it's fun to imagine really.

this whole fic made me so warm inside my little fuzzy and fluffy heart. thanks kae for this wonderful little gift huhu bless u forever ✨

the way of the work husband 📋 chan x reader.

going back to work after the holidays sucks, but at least you've got your 'work husband' lee chan to get you through it.

★ office worker!chan x f!reader. ★ word count: 1.8k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: office, alternate universe: co-workers, fluff/romance. vernon is a menace (affectionately). not proofread. ★ footnotes: been itching to write chan lately and this was the result. dedicating this to my favorite corporate girlie!dinonara @chanranghaeys, who i have been threatening a chan fic with for a little over a week now ෆ sana all may lee chan sa office. 😔 + a special shoutout to @diamonddaze01 for educating me on the how work spouses operate. 🙏

“Is Lee Chan, like, your work husband or something?” 

The look on Vernon’s face is perfectly innocent, but his arched eyebrow gives some indication of just how amused he is. You shoot him a scathing glare before turning back to your work-sanctioned laptop. 

You don’t answer Vernon’s question. Not at first, anyway. Instead, you opt to wryly ask, “Why do you always have to use his full government name whenever you’re talking about him?” 

“Eh. Just ‘Chan’ is too short,” Vernon responds noncommittally. He should be focusing on the grant that he has to write, but he seems intent on quizzing you on your relationship with the company’s newest program assistant. 

Vernon leans a little further into his computer chair. He’s always been a pretty amicable seatmate; he just liked to poke the bear every so often. 

“So?” he prompts. “Are you and Lee Chan… you know.” 

When Vernon makes a vague, crude gesture with his hands, you groan out loud. “Don’t make it weird,” you snap. “And no. Chan and I are just friends, asswipe.”

“But you guys display peak work spouse behavior.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be grant writing?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting your afternoon coffee with Mr. Program Assistant?” 

Vernon’s rebuttal has you glancing at the digital clock on your desk. Shit. 

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you say as you grab your wallet and get to your feet. You hate to admit it, but Vernon is right. You’ve started dedicating your fifteen-minute afternoon breaks to cafeteria trips with Chan. 

All in the name of friendship, you insist.

“‘Course it doesn’t,” Vernon sing-songs. Just when you think he’s done, he throws in a final jab. 

“I’ll have an itemized list of my observations,” he calls after your retreating back. “Just you wait!” 

You don’t turn around to dignify Vernon’s taunt with a response. Instead, you flip him off over your shoulder as you contemplate what coffee to get with Chan today.

Rarely are you late to work. Some mornings are just harrowing, littered with minor inconveniences like your alarm not going off or the bus making one too many stops. 

When you finally make it to the office, you can already imagine the CEO’s backhand comment about punctuality. Something like ‘early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,’ probably. 

That’s why you feel an immense pang of relief when you notice a vacant seat near the back of the room, one that you undoubtedly know is yours. 

You make your way to the chair as discreetly as you can. The bag atop it is taken off the moment that you arrive, and you flash an appreciative grin at the one who made it possible. 

Chan— who is already shifting his bag onto his lap— gives you an exaggerated wink in return. 

You mouth a wordless ‘thank you’ at him. He doesn’t respond verbally, just smiles at you in that way that lights up a whole room. It’s the type of grin that has you forgetting just how bad of a morning you had; you’d lose yourself in it if weren’t for the ominous presence of Vernon a couple of seats down.

The meeting grabs your attention soon enough, but not before you notice Vernon inconspicuously typing something into his phone. 

☑ You always sit next to each other at meetings

“Who’re you texting?” 

“Hm?” 

“Hellooo! Pay attention to me!” 

There’s a guilty expression on your face as you finally glance up at Seungkwan. “Sorry,” you say meekly. “What were you asking?” 

Vernon lets out a huff of laughter at Seungkwan’s side. “I’ll bet a dollar that it’s Lee Chan,” says Vernon. 

Seungkwan responds with a roll of his eyes. “That’s a given.” 

“Yah,” you begin to protest, ready to justify the way you’ve only been half-present throughout your entire lunch break. 

Your attempt falls flat when your phone pings, and the screen lights up. 

One (1) new text from Channie. 🦖LOLOL I have the perfect reel for this!! Wait a minute~~ 💖💙

Seungkwan scoffs. Vernon snickers. 

Your eye twitches, and you shoot back a text underneath the table in a bid to avoid your friends’ teasing. 

☑ You message each other all day long

It’s hard not to laugh when Chan is looking at you like that. 

Despite the fact that there’s a whole brainstorming session going on— preparation for the company’s next fundraising event— the two of you can’t help your silent communication. 

Especially when Soonyoung starts running his mouth about the fundraiser potentially being tiger-themed. 

One glance is all it takes. Chan’s lips are drawn into a thin line, and you know he’s also trying his darndest not to laugh. It’s a mammoth effort to hold back yourself, but you manage— not wanting to suffer from your eccentric boss’ line of questioning. 

It’s all free game once the session ends, though. 

You make a beeline for Chan. He takes one look at your quirked lip before jerking his head towards the door, urging the two of you to have this discussion somewhere you won’t be lynched.

Still, you and Chan can barely resist your peals of laughter as you leave the meeting room with your heads bowed together. Vernon watches with bemusement as the two of you trade incoherent mumblings about Tigger and Pompompurin. 

Not that Vernon has any idea what those have to do with anything. 

☑ You exchange knowing glances from across the room ☑ You share inside jokes about work and life

“Hey, Lee Chan, where’s your work wife?” 

Chan doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s in a meeting with finance,” he answers without even looking up from his keyboard. 

A corner of Vernon’s lip twitches upward. Aha. 

Chan seems to pick up on Vernon’s smug silence. The younger boy’s head snaps up, his expression quickly becoming guarded. “Not my work wife,” Chan sputters. “Just— I knew where she was, okay?” 

“Riiight.” 

There’s a redness in the tips of Chan’s ears as he goes back to the Google Doc he’d been slaving away on. Vernon doesn’t say anything more, but he does feign like he’s texting someone instead of adding to his ever-growing list.

☑ Your other colleagues wonder where the other’s at when you’re not together

It’s a bit of an epilogue in its own right, how Chan is the one to know why you’re out for the morning.

The CEO had asked it mostly as a rhetorical question— has anyone seen her?— but Chan’s easy answer has the meeting coming to a stuttering halt. 

“She got stuck at her dentist’s appointment,” he says. 

Several pairs of eyes turn to Chan. The look on his face is comically caught.

He fumbles for his phone and waves it around awkwardly. “We were texting,” he adds hastily. “That’s why I know.” 

How that was supposed to help Chan’s case, Vernon has no idea. 

“Well, tell her that we hope she gets better soon,” the CEO says coolly. A corner of her lip is upturned, like she’s finding this entire interaction a little too amusing. 

Chan manages a mumbled “Will do.” 

The meeting pushes through. Vernon watches Chan from the corner of his eye. Aside from looking absolutely mortified, there’s just a bit of dullness to the latter’s demeanor. A slower uptake, a dimmer grin. 

Gee, Vernon muses as he types away on his laptop. Wonder why. 

☑ You’re kind of bummed when they’re out of office ☑ You cover for each other when one is MIA

Vernon’s running list is a fun little gig, but it all comes to head on the evening of the company’s monthly night out.

The table at the speakeasy is full of boisterous laughter and greasy finger food. Everyone’s in high spirits for the upcoming weekend, and Vernon has to hold back on teasing those who he thinks are having just a little too much fun. 

You and Chan have spent much of the evening acting like you’re in your own world. Sure, you’re not touching each other— this is technically a work event, after all— but you’ve shared laughter and whispers throughout the night that nobody else is privy to. 

And, alright, fine. Maybe your knees knock into each other more often than not. Maybe Chan puts a hand over your ear whenever he wants to point something out, and maybe you lean in just a little more than necessary. 

It’s obvious to anybody with two eyes that you two are fond of each other. That much is certain.

That’s what gives Vernon the boost of confidence to play wingman by the end of the night. 

“You know,” he says coolly as your group spills out onto the sidewalk. “I think the two of you live in the same neighborhood.” 

What Vernon is scheming is plain as day to you. You narrow your eyes at him, but he’s undeterred. He only smiles at you and Chan like the menace that he is. 

Chan, for his part, raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. He glances at you with a quizzical expression. 

“You’ve never mentioned that.” He raises his hand to his chest, as if feigning hurt at being kept in the dark. 

A snort of laughter escapes you. “Didn’t feel like it was particularly important information,” you say dryly. 

“Of course it’s important!” Chan’s always been a little louder when he’s drunk, so his voice raises an octave or two. “‘Cause that means we can carpool together, or, like, y’know—” 

Vernon interrupts with a sage, “You can probably book the same cab for tonight, actually. Make it a double stop.” 

Chan’s face lights up. “Great idea, man!” 

Before you can protest, Chan is already whipping out his phone to pull up his ride-hailing app. This is not a battle that you’re going to win. 

All the while, Vernon grins triumphantly. 

☑ You go home together after happy hour 

“Can we—” 

“Shhh. No, not yet.” 

“But nobody’s looking!”

“Wait until we’ve rounded the corner, idiot—” 

And so he does. 

But the moment the corner has been rounded, Chan is sagging against your side like he’s wanted to the entire night. “Oh, thank God,” your boyfriend sighs. “I didn’t think I’d survive another minute without touching you.” 

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you. The feeling is mutual, though, so you reach out to rest your hand on his knee.

“Commendable self-control tonight,” you note. “All the whispering was a little too obvious, though.” 

Chan huffs in protest, but the sound loses its edge as he cuddles up to you in the back of the cab. “No one suspects us. It’s just Vernon,” he complains. 

“And Seungkwan,” you say. “And Jeonghan, and Minghao, and Wonwoo—” 

Your boyfriend gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “Doesn’t matter.” His hand rests on top of yours, just barely resisting the urge to intertwine your fingers. “They don’t know a thing about us, sweets.” 

The smile threatening to fill your face finally breaks. When you laugh, your shoulders shake against Chan’s body. You’re not sure if he’s entirely right— you know of Vernon’s whole iPhone note, after all— but you’re willing to indulge your boyfriend if it makes him happy. 

“Yeah,” you concede. “They don’t know a thing.” 

[inquisitornocturn]

We're a bit over the mark, but a celebration is a celebration and I cherish every person who follows me, likes, comments or reblogs my silly little fics (affectionately)! Thus, I want to appreciate my readers as much as they appreciate me, cue giweaway!~

Here's some things you need to know:

⋟ Prize of this giveaway is a fic, so you have a chance to have me tailor a fic for your tastes and preferences! (More details under the cut)

⋟ To enter you need to follow me, like this post and in replies tell me what you like about my writing!

⋟ Reblogs are NOT necessary and do not count for an entry. This giveaway is not to attract an audience, but to celebrate people who already love what I do. Although, you can still reblog if you wish~

⋟ The giveaway will run from today (1/20) until (2/3), for two weeks, then a winner will be picked at random

⋟ Once the winner is picked - I will contact them. They will have a total of three days (72 hours from the moment I contact them) to respond to me and claim the win, if not, I will randomly pick another person

That's it. Under the cut there are specifics for the prize to ensure that whoever wins knows in advance what to expect from me.

And once again, thank you so so much for being supportive, friendly and just overall wonderful to me. All of you make sharing my stories so much more worth it ♡♡♡

What the fic will be about, who, when and other details:

⋟ The winner will pick the fandom, the character(s), the plot, the kinks, the general setting etc. Which means all the power is in your hands and if you don't have anything to give me - then I won't have anything to work with, so make sure you have at least base details!

⋟ On that note, NSFW is totally okay and welcome!

⋟ The gift fic will be written as a reader insert. It will be a nameless female reader with 2nd POV. However, the winner will be able to pick the fantastical race if they wish. Couple examples: tieflings, elves, aeldari of each flavor, etc.

⋟ I am okay writing wlw per winner's request as well~

⋟ I will reserve a total of 6 weeks to fulfill the prize, and that means to write it. During that time I most likely will come to the winner to clarify details, especially if the fic will be smutty in nature. While it's a reader insert, I still want the winner to know it's written for them.

⋟ I will tag the winner when I post the fic and can gift it on AO3 as well, you will have to tell me your account on there so that I can do that.

⋟ The fandoms I'm writing for are the same three: Baldur's Gate 3, Vampire the Masquerade (with special emphasis on Bloodlines) and Warhammer 40,00: Rogue Trader. You can pick almost any character or several to participate in the fic for you. I have some I absolutely won't write but that depends on a plot so it's case-sensitive and we will have to discuss it together.

⋟ Pretty much same goes for kinks. I'm open to write a lot, but not everything. Again, this is case sensitive and we will discuss it. Additionally, I am a darkfic writer by nature so you will have to clarify to me just how light or dark you want the fic to be!

That's all!

[malk1ns]

Tbh I would love to be a fly on the wall to hear exactly what the Pens were promising Geno. Maybe even bringing Mario in to assure, reassure, and re-reassure Geno's people that Sidney is 100% an untouched virgin.

Anything to get Geno's breeding rights of course

of course!!!

Zhenya sighs as he drags his cursor over the screen, copying the email text and pasting it into the translation software he sprung for a few years ago.

He can speak English just fine. Has to, after all the people he's dealt with. Reading and writing, though, is an entirely different beast, and one he's not all that interested in dedicating much time to.

He just wishes the Penguins would bother to translate their little notes before sending them along.

Technically, they're not supposed to be sending him communications on the side at all. Zhenya's agent was very clear about that up front, when the Penguins front office first reached out—if Zhenya were to consider uprooting his entire life all for one omega, even one as exceptional as Sidney Crosby, everything was to be negotiated above-board and by the book. That means running everything through layers and layers of legal channels before anything gets decided.

Zhenya doesn't have much patience for that. He has hockey to play and other appointments to keep, and this whole hypothetical could drag out for years.

It appears that Mario Lemieux feels the same. He'd started emailing Zhenya on the side as soon as Zhenya's agent indicated he was interested in exploring the opportunity, straight from his personal email account. Sometimes he'll loop in other high-ups within the Penguins organization, but frequently it's just him, sharing footage of Crosby and tantalizing little details that are obviously couched to pique Zhenya's interest.

It bothers him that it works. Crosby is beautiful, of course, with big eyes and a plush red mouth and the ability to put together places on the ice that seems almost otherworldly, but Zhenya likes to think of himself as a professional, not one to have his head turned by an omega more than a decade his junior.

Mario, as an alpha himself, would know exactly how to push Zhenya's buttons. Zhenya would resent the consistent reminders that in the end we're all no more than our instincts, but he has to admire the persistence.

Today's letter, it appears, is about Crosby's experience. Zhenya had responded to Mario's last email with a crude sex joke, one that was frankly below him, but he'd been on his way to an appointment with a particularly well-paying omega, so he'd been bricked up and horny for days in preparation.

Sidney is no virgin, he'll be the first to tell you that, Mario's response starts. He's perhaps less proper than some of the European omegas you're accustomed to; you must understand that he's been through a lot in his career, ever since he was a little boy, and he's used to standing up for himself. He's enjoyed a robust social life since he's been in Pittsburgh— Zhenya snorts —and he's not ashamed of it. Nor should he be. If that's a deal-breaker, you should let your agent know now, because we have no intention of hiding that from you.

Zhenya raises an eyebrow. It might just be the translation software, but this is a slightly more defensive tone than he'd expect Mario Lemieux to take over a team asset. Then again, there was a rumor that Crosby spent time living with Mario's family when he first entered the league—perhaps there's some fondness there beyond what a team owner feels for a high-performing player.

One thing I can promise, though, is that Sidney has never been with an alpha. This has been something that was worked into his contract since his days in junior, and he's always been diligent. He avoids being around alphas when he's cycling, including me—and he's a son to me, there's no risk there. He takes that element of his chastity very seriously. I can assure you that when it comes to alphas, Sidney is entirely unspoiled. He would be yours first, and potentially for longer if things work out.

Both of Zhenya's eyebrows go up at that. It's true that omegas in Russia are generally expected to behave in the traditional fashion—demure, modest, chaste. Zhenya grew up believing that too. But he's a grown man now, he's traveled the continent and been to all sorts of cosmopolitan places and met all sorts of sophisticated people; it didn't take long for him to realize that an omega's worth doesn't necessarily lie in how virginal they've kept themselves.

Sidney Crosby is special, though. Zhenya's watched enough of his footage to know that. Any get of theirs would be extraordinary. And the idea of being the first to have Crosby that way, the first to awaken his instincts like only an alpha can in an omega...it's more tempting than it should be, considering how long Zhenya's been doing this.

He doesn't bother reading the rest of Mario's email. Instead, he sends a note to his agent requesting an update on the negotiations with Pittsburgh, as well as a copy of his current contract with Metallurg. He wants to take a look at the termination clause, so he's ready when the time comes.

He wants to go to Pittsburgh.

[curiositydoorunlocked]

That post I made about S4 pushing Will’s sadness was one made in jest. It was just a little joke post. I clicked the “post” button, closed the tab in my browser, and moved on with my very serious life. No more jokes for me.

But then something happened; permit me tell you a little story entitled “I spent too much time on YouTube, send help.”

…okay, now I’m done with the jokes 😅

In all seriousness, though: I’ve been watching a lot of ST reactions on YouTube lately and they’ve only served to show me just how effective that “WILL IS SAD! WILL IS SAD!” strategy was.

For real! Of course I haven’t seen all the S4 reaction videos out there, but I’ve watched far too many to reach my weekly screen-time goal, ugh plenty, and the trends were pretty damning. Every single creator I saw said “poor Will!” at least once during their watch. More often than not it was multiple times, actually. They were all rooting for him, feeling for him; they all saw his sadness, put the pieces together re: why he was sad (relatively) quickly, and went “No! Stop! I don’t like that Will is sad!”

This attitude was generally present across the whole season’s worth of reactions, but there are still some interesting takeaways re: what people responded to most that I’d like to share with you all.

First off the cartop talk in the desert seemed to resonate across the board. It wasn’t always included in videos, probably because it was a quieter scene sandwiched in between the gang literally burying a body, but when it was included it usually got a big response. Lots of nods and empathetic comments made at “…because what if���what if they don’t like the truth?” The van scene also hit hard for everyone, and I mean everyone. My personal favorite was this one dude that teared up and said something along the lines of “We’re only ten minutes into this episode, chill out!” while wiping his eyes!

Most of the reactors had a much stronger response to the Mike and Will scenes—and the associated Will sadness moments, of course—than they did the Mike and El scenes. Those elicited more frustration than anything—plenty of “God, why can’t you just say it, Mike??”s. One woman even gasped when Mike threw away the “From, El” note.

People smiled at the few cute moments El and Mike had; they empathized with El’s insecurities; they sighed at Mike’s hamfisted maneuvering.

What they didn’t do? Seem, well… invested. In the relationship. At all.

Even the cooing over Mike and El’s (very sweet) reunion was frequently overshadowed by joy at El and Will’s fraternal hug.

(It’s almost like putting something last telegraphs to the audience that it’s the most important…crazy how that works!)

But to wrap things up before this post gets too long…

I know “the talented creators of this historically well-written show decided to take the story in a particular direction and executed it such that it achieved the desired response from viewers” isn’t exactly a shocking revelation. Even still, it was nice to see, especially considering the following:

Most of these reactors were confident Will’s feelings wouldn’t be returned. The opinions were never phrased cruelly; they were always more along the lines of “it’s so sad that Will is in this situation, poor guy. I wish he could be happy but it doesn’t seem possible.”

In an odd roundabout way, those nervous, “where is this going to go?” vibes are omnipresent on Byler Tumblr too. (Or at least that’s the sense I’ve been getting since I returned from my hiatus—apologies if I’ve terribly mischaracterized you all!) I get that a lot of people are worried about the potential execution of a Mike/Will relationship, especially because the characters involved are so intertwined with the supernatural plot. We may see the writing on the wall re: the destination, but that doesn’t mean we know exactly what the journey will look like.

But guess what? These writers know how to disengage the audience from a couple that isn’t working, and engage it in a dynamic that is. They know how to stir up empathy for characters in different contexts. They know how to bring new information—in this case, Will’s feelings—to light and get people on board ASAP. These reaction videos are very encouraging proof of that—and in case it needs repeating, I watched so many of them, so I should know. (Why? God only knows.)

If these reactors were presented with a solution to this “problem” that would allow Will to get what he wanted without hurting anyone else… well, I’m confident they would jump right on board. And so would we, of course.

So, all of that is to say I encourage you to set the nitty gritty of it all aside every now and then. As a bunch of Youtubers have kindly demonstrated for us: everything’s going to be just fine 🙂

(And if you read this long for what was essentially just a positivity post, I commend you LOL. Thanks for sticking it out with me!)

[thegreyjoyed]

Hidden bird in a pub

John Price x Reader

Cw: Reader is called “Bonnie” and “Bonnie lass” /hinted at being a woman — NOT PROOFREAD or edited

Idk the word count because I wrote this in one sitting in the notes app

Reblogs and comments appreciated!

You and John had been married for several years now, having dealt with him and his bullshit (as you lovingly put it) for “far too long”.

You two had met when John had been freshly promoted to a lieutenant in the army. Actually, you had met the day he had become a lieutenant while he was out celebrating it at a local pub you worked for as a bartender and a busser on slower days.

You still remember his order, a pint of the most expensive beer you had at the time and the soup of the day- a loaded baked potato soup served with a quarter of a baguette and some bacon and chives.

It had been your recipe for the soup as the pub was family run and a well beloved place in the community. You were connected to some local breweries and bakeries who you would get freshly made bread from for your cheeseburger buns, bread bowls and sugary sweets.

You remember being rather enamored by this man- John, you learn later on in your shift. You thought he was handsome, and he had been hitting on you much of your shift either way. At the end of it, he had earned himself a date with you and from then on, it was history.

Now you and John had been married a decade and you had been there for all of his achievements and all of the military balls. However, once he became a captain and had his own team(with the exception of Simon) he had you carefully hidden away so he could truly separate his work and personal lives.

You and John had built a strong life together, if you so wished- you didn’t even have to work and could just be at home. You stayed at your job, eventually becoming a general manager and helping out wherever. You knew all of the regulars who had been there for many years now and some “newer” faces of regular’s wives and even children with how long you worked at the pub.

The bell rung around five in the evening. You looked up and chirped out a greeting, surprised at seeing your own husband followed by Simon with a black surgical face mask and two others you heard of. Johnny and Kyle, you would guess by the haircut on Johnny(?) and the darker skin on Kyle(?).

You picked up four menus and two drink menus and made your way over once the men seemingly got settled. It was slowly becoming busier, it was a Thursday night afterall.

“John! My favorite regular, Simon, how good to see the two of you. And some newcomers!” You said with a bright smile, handing over the menus to the men. Simon looked at you, his eyes narrowing at you. John smiled and nodded, “Aye. These are my sergeants, Johnny and Kyle.” He introduced, pointing to each of the two younger men.

“Hey there.” Kyle greeted nicely, a simple smile on his face before he returned his gaze to the menu to look over all of the food options. Johnny gave you a toothy grin, “Hey Bonnie.” He grinned in return, “Anything you recommend?” He questioned

You hummed, tapping your signature pen- an army green pen engraved with your husband’s initials in gold- on your chin as you thought. Something you had stolen from him a while ago- a pen he had actually been looking for. John narrowed his eyes a little at the sight of the pen, knowing damn well it was his.

You moved to the side a little and pointed at the menu. “Our soup of the day today is fantastic, it’s a loaded baked potato soup, can be served in a bread bowl or a normal bowl and comes with a quarter of a fresh baguette from a local bakery. It’s one of my favorites.” You say and pull back from the side.

“John, would you like your usual with the soup of the day today then? Simon, usual?” You question to the two men, pulling a little notebook out to write the order.

The two men nod and grunt out their yes’s. You write the order down, “Just let me know when you two are ready to order, I’ll put it all in at once.” You say with a smile as you pull away from the table.

Johnny and Kyle look at each other and then to the two older men. “How long have you two been coming here for that Bonnie lass to recognize you?” Johnny questioned as he leaned in a little. John gave the younger man a look, “Over a decade now.” He answered and Simon shrugged a little. “Seven years.” He grunted out as he pulled his surgical face mask off.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, “Over a decade, Cap? Is it that good of a pub?” He questioned. John hummed gruffly, “You’ll see.” He answered simply. “Kyle, did you see her pen?” Johnny questioned, nudging the man beside him.

“Yeah? What about it.” Kyle questioned as he flipped through the two menus presented. “Look at the damn menu, idiot.” Kyle muttered to Johnny, nudging him back. Johnny clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes as he looked at the menus as he was directed to.

John leaned back in his seat, taking the time to admire you as you helped around, budding food and taking orders and stepping behind the bar occasionally. A few minutes later you came back, pen and notebook in hand. “Everyone decide on what they want?” You question as you approach. “Birdie, you’ve got my order and Simon’s.” John murmured, earning a sweet smile from you before you turned to Johnny and Kyle.

The two men got their orders out before you smiled and dipped away. Kyle gave John a look, “Birdie?” He questioned, his gaze dipping to John’s left hand where his silicone wedding band was, the real ring sitting around a chain on his neck with a pair of his dog tags.

“Yeah? What about it?” John questioned in turn as their drinks were delivered by someone else, you were busy somewhere else and out of sight. Kyle hummed, gazing at the wedding band quietly before looking back to his captain and where you were, now in sight of the men.

John huffed a little, shaking his head, “You’re smart. You can figure it out.” He muttered into his drink, a tall pint. Johnny looked at Simon, who just gave him a look. A look like he thought Johnny was stupid.

“That’s your wife? How come we never met her before?” Johnny burst out, getting a glare from Simon. “Because I don’t want my bird in danger.” John grumbled as you came back over with a tray full of food. You began to set the food down carefully, giving each man their orders.

“Bird. When did you take this from my office?” John questioned, snatching the army green pen you had in-fact stolen from him. “Few months ago.” You answer with a sweet smile. “I’ll give you it back when we’re home.” You muse in return.

John rolled his eyes and gently squeezed your hip, you had to leave after a few minutes of conversing with the table to help the rush. Eventually the rush died down and your shift soon over. Your husband had left a bit ago after squeezing your hip and giving you a quick kiss after paying the bill for the lot of them.

Eventually you headed home, your husband had beaten you there. You shut off your car and head inside with the army green pen tucked into your pocket as you pull your keys out and unlock the door. You step out of your shoes and venture into your cozy home.

John came from upstairs, looking freshly showered in his boxers and a bit sleepy. “Hello there, my loving husband.” You muse as you approached and gently grabbed his waist, pressing a kiss to his lips.

John lazily smiled and kissed you in return, “birdie..” he rumbled lazily as he pressed kisses all over your face and your shoulders. “Y’smell like beer and grease.” John muttered, making you laugh. “Yeah okay, big bear. I need a shower.” You giggle and gently shove your husband away to go upstairs to shower in the lovely master bathroom the two of you had designed together.

You got your shower, your husband had been scrolling on your phone while sat on one of the plush shower mats there were. “Are you fucking up my algorithms, big bear?” You tease with a laugh as you dry off and dry your hair off. You got your pajamas on, one of his shirts and some of your underwear.

John grumbled and shrugged a little as he followed you like a lost puppy. “I like messing around on your phone.” He answered as he crawled into bed after putting your phone to charge.

You laugh a little as you got in beside him and earned yourself another kiss as he nuzzled into you. “You’re so lucky I love you far too much.” You mused softly as you two kissed gently on the lips, the taste of spearmint in both of your guys’s mouths.

John groaned into the kiss as he slowly rolled you over onto your back, flattening you as he always did. He nuzzled into your neck and kissed your throat. The two of you settled and eventually fell asleep, just like that.

[simp4konig]

Goodbye, tumblr.

Hey, everyone!

It's been a while since I've updated — and, I'll have you know, that this will be the last time that I'll be updating.

From 20th August 2023 to 9th November 2024 I've been posting fanfictions: first, with König; then, once with Ghost; finally, with Nikto. As of right now, I have 770 followers. At some point, I even had over 850.

First of all, thank you for these last seventeen months. Initially, I was a lurker here on tumblr. Aside from a single short, obscure fanfiction with König, I didn't post much else — that is, until @puff0o0 inspired me with her self-aware König au.

My self-aware König fanfiction exploded, and it remains my most popular post to this day. My other successes have been "König mistakenly shooting you on the battlefield" and "Intimate König headcanons". Another of my all-time most popular posts was "Zombie Apocalypse AU with Ghost" — that one made a lot of you cry. I am not sorry. Thank you for sharing your emotions with me, because seeing your comments made me smile, and satisfied that my work was poignant enough to invoke so many tears in many of you.

Finally, for Nikto, my "General headcanons", "Flirtatious Reader x ...Dense? Nikto", "Obsessed! Nikto", "Fem! Reader Asking Nikto To Clasp Her Bra", and "Reader fussing over Nikto's injury" all were popular, and these posts in particular received a lot of feedback, comments, reblogs, and asks afterwards, which I am thankful for.

My decision to quit tumblr isn't impulsive — I've been considering this ever since the AI craze was trending and the several times that COD drama was prevalent. Other reasons include the fact that I am bombarded with goddamn porn and NSFW content as soon as I open the app, wasting time scrolling absentmindedly when I could be more productive and accomplish something more, loss of interest in COD, loss of interest in posting publicly, a phobia of having my work copied and/or stolen, as well as my envy of other creators, which can write two paragraphs and receive thousands of notes, while I can pour my heart and soul into my stories, and receive a few hundred — the last point in particular was the most discouraging.

While all of these are factors contributing to my choice to leave, there's one that's far simpler than any of them: I just don't feel like it anymore.

Truth be told, writing has been and always will be a hobby. This blog was initially a hobby which I indulged in, yet it overtime became a chore. Nowadays, posting has been less for pleasure and more to satisfy you guys, because I hate to deprive you of content when you follow me and have been loyal for so long.

That's not to say that I'm quitting writing! Not at all. I'll still be writing! Writing stories is still my passion, as is reading. I just won't be posting publicly anymore.

Thank you all for supporting me during my teen years. 16 was — contrary to what pop culture would lead you to believe — not sweet. I'll be 18 soon, and the interactions that I've had with you all have shaped my view of people, and I have received so many kind comments, personal messages, asks, and reblogs. And no, I am not 18. I was 15 when I made this blog. Writing has been my passion since I was 12, or so? Since I have nothing to lose, I might as well be honest with everyone now.

Now, the thank yous to my mutuals:

@puff0o0 — was life a celebrity to me when I first started writing. 😱 When you followed me back, I was so so happy! You were my best friend, and even if we've drifted apart, I still wish you all the best. 🫂💞🩷💗❤️💖✨

@m-carriaga2021 — my first ever follower! 🥳🎉🎊

@best-soup — someone who was kind when I first started out, which meant a lot to me. ❤️💗🩷

@lvl3r-002 — my own No.1 fan?!! What an honour!!! 🥹🥹🥹 Thanks for your unconditional support and encouragement, Azzy. ❤️❤️❤️

@muffinscoffee, @allaboutirem0, @simpforkonig, @dustycrusty09, @thestirringpot, @god-o-bees — left comments which made me smile. ☺️💞💞💞

@nevadancitizen — wrote a self-aware au fanfiction inspired by me?!! 😭💘💘 Your reblogs were wonderful, too. The notes, comments, and even analysis that you added in the tags were really meaningful, and such feedback was so, so kind. 🥹💖✨

@aethelwyneleigh27 — also like a celebrity to me. I was SHOOK when I found out that you were following me?!! 😭😭😭💞💖 Will forever remember our boop wars. 🤭🩷😽😻🐾

@dobbie-doo — randomly started messaging me out of the blue on tumblr, and over-time, we became good friends. Thank you. 🤍❤️💙

@tomurderornottomurder — I couldn't stop thinking about your reblog of my Zombie Apocalypse AU with Ghost for a week straight. I'd open tumblr just to reread the tags. 🥹💗💞🩷

@zoloftwithdrawalnausea — an amazing artist. How I received the privilege of being mutuals with such a talented individual as yourself boggles the mind, honestly. 🤯💥 Wishing you all the best with all your studies, and maybe you'll one day meet your 100 Niktos goal! 🥰❤️💕💞🩷✍️

@willthegrouch — another exceptional artist. I have no fucking clue how I managed to become mutuals with someone who's painting digital masterpieces. 🤯💥 Good luck in your future, and all the best in your art. 🩷🙏

@dom-lly — Again?!! Another brilliant artist?!! 😭😭😭 When I got followed back I right about DIED. 🪦 Your art for Jujutsu Kaisen is SO fucking GOOD (and that isn't selling it enough). I have never watched JJK but seeing your art occasionally pop up was wonderful. Your work is awesome. 👏👏👏💖

@unhingedpolycule — amazing artist and witty writer. Love Love LOVEEE all of your content about Krueger x Nikto. Not only is your art stupendous, but your writing and ideas are clever, too. It was an honour to be your mutual. 🩷🩷🩷

@goarristars — you produce stunning artworks and I consider your rendition of Nikto's face as canon, full-stop. No one can tell me otherwise. 🗣️‼️ Your work is awesome, and I hope that you continue to pursue art, as you're really talented. 🎨❤️💛💚

Quiet lurkers include @marigoldpollen, @eevee-of-eternity, @miss-multi45, @bellaluvsmakarov, and @shroompette — I noticed you, and thank you for being here! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you to @revnatheshadow for your support and kind words, @kawaiiexpertcowboy for sending me a message and telling me how much you liked the Ghost faction, and @honeyandbiscuitandtea-cafe for your spam — unexpected, but extremely nice to see after having been absent for so long! ❤️❤️❤️

@itsagrimm — we've drifted apart, but it's for the best, since I was never sincere about my age to anyone, and not to you, either. Still, I will never forget our exchanges about Nikto and Metro that made us good friends for a while. Without meaning to, you taught me a lot about life, opened my eyes and made me less close-minded, offered me a ton of information I hadn't previously known, been strong support for me when things were rough with my parents, and have been kind, witty, clever, patient, interesting, and inspiring. Sure, you could say that you're ordinary and not extraordinary enough to be an inspiration, but you are to me. I'm actually studying Law now in college, and it's super interesting! I'm predicted to have an A*, and it's achievable! My dream is to study Russian alongside Spanish at university, and get a Modern Languages Degree. Thank you for everything — I wish you all the best.

And thank you to all of my followers — those that have been following me from the start, are still following me, were followers but unfollowed, and the recent ones.

Thank you everyone. For everything.

And goodbye.

[demigodofhoolemere]

Trying to find nice stuff for Wish but everywhere you go people are being painfully wrong in their interpretations of the movie

[13eyond13]

love it when a character that's hard to read intuitively for you has like a dedicated fandom interpreter who can just glance at their blank face in a panel and then give you a 3k word essay on their innermost thoughts & desires & fears and neatly tie it back into the themes & whatnot as if it's the most obvious thing in the world