#and so does like everything else your wrote

[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

I wish you would write a fic where Xaden accidently confesses his love to Violet in a casual conversation

Sure, anon! Have a 1k fic!

(some housekeeping: I don't know what "casual conversation" means, and I wrote this on my phone at midnight, so any typos...you don't see them. Set during the latter half of Fourth Wing, post sex scene #1. I don't actually know what else you're supposed to put with fics on tumblr, but!! here she is! Full fic below the cut)

When Xaden Riorson knocks on your door and tells you he’s taking somewhere, you listen. 

At least, Violet listens. She looks at it like doing a favor to the wing: no one likes a grumpy wingleader, and by hanging out with him while he gets tipsy in Chantarra, she’s avoiding just that perilous situation. 

He’s definitely not grumpy now. Not as he sits, whiskey in hand, eyes on Violet’s throwing stance. Not earlier, either, as he’d covered her in his cloak and coaxed her down Basgiath’s halls. It wasn’t even a Chantarra weekend for the upperclassmen who were allowed to go. Violet had zero reason to be here, in this Chantarra pub with Xaden Riorson. Xaden had his own reasons, but he was keeping them close to his chest, like everything else. 

She cocks her hand back, then throws the dart at the board. A perfect bullseye, nestled between her four other throws. 

She appraises her own work with a smile, though she takes care to keep it slight. She doesn’t need to get braggy now. Still, her cheeks are already pink, and they only grow more so when she hears slow clapping coming from Xaden’s seat at the closest table. 

“Excellent work, Violence,” he tells her, somehow sounding smug on her behalf. Under his breath, he continues, “Excellent.” 

He swirls his whiskey. The amber catches the low pub light. Violet’s eyes track his hands as they stretch around the glass, the veins shifting while he raises it to his lips, the bobbing of his throat that signifies his swallow. 

His glass clanks against the table. It’s rickety and sticky and she can’t believe he’s sitting there. The cheap wood doesn’t look right with him beside it. 

“Go on,” he says. “Give me another show.” 

She scoffs, but even as she does so, her feet march towards the board. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she insists, plucking her darts free. “It’s now a show for you.” 

She spins on her heel and backs up from the board once more. Doing so means she catches a glimpse of Xaden’s face, the upturn of his lips. 

“Can’t I enjoy myself?” 

His voice is rich. He doesn’t slur his words, but something in their quality makes it clear to Violet that the alcohol is making him be more honest, even if only slightly. 

She averts her eyes to the board. Heart racing, she throws her first dart. Just shy of a bullseye. 

“This can’t be your idea of an enjoyable night, Riorson.” 

He shuffles in his seat. She shouldn’t look at him—she should keep her eyes glued to the board. She should perfectly plot her next throw. 

She finds him staring at her, brows raised. He’d been awaiting her attention. 

“Can’t I?” 

She scoffs, refocusing on the board. Her next throw is better, but she’s still setting herself up to encircle the bullseye instead of truly hitting it. 

“You can do whatever you want.” Another throw, this one closer. “I just didn’t think you’d like to sit around and watch me play darts.”

Her next throw is her best. With every second, she gets better. Closer. Her heart has not calmed even a fraction.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have invited you.” He drums his fingers on the table Slowly, her eyes seek out the source of the sound, but Xaden makes a tsk-sound. “Finish your game, Violence. Let me see what you can do.” 

Her cheeks feel flushed beyond pink, and she hadn’t even had a sip to drink tonight. Xaden had offered—egregiously and at length—but she didn’t have a cent to her name, and she didn’t want to give the barkeep a good look at her hair. 

She throws her final two darts without further commentary. Finally, she gets her bullseye. 

She expects to hear Xaden’s voice. If not his voice, his applause, his raucous, ridiculous encouragement. But he’s silent, and because of that silence, she’s forced to look at him. 

He’s grinning, grinning at her. 

Her heart begins to seize in her chest. She feels it thrashing against her breast bone—it’s the only part of her that moves, that reacts in any discernible way. The rest of her is frozen.

Has she ever seen him grin? 

And suddenly, to top it all off, a chuckle slips through his lips. Her jaw drops, and he shakes his head, just as baffled as she is, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop laughing, and he doesn’t stop grinning. 

“What?” she demands “What is it?” 

“Nothing, Violence,” he insists, but she can hear the laughter in his voice, and the evidence is irrefutable. It can’t have been nothing. Not even close. “Go again. Let me watch.” 

She doesn’t go again. She approaches him, head held high, and orders him, “Tell me now.” 

His lips twist, but they stay upturned. She wants to glue her eyes to them, if not her own lips. She still remembers the searing burn of his kiss, how delicious that heat had been 

“I don’t think so, Violence.” He looks around at the pub behind her, the few patrons that line the stools. “Not really the time.” 

Fine, Violet thinks. She’ll make it the right time. 

She pulls out one of her knives from the sheaths at her ribs. A knife Xaden got her. Poetic justice, really. 

She slams it into the table, in the sliver of space between Xaden’s thumb and pointer finger. The blade sinks into the wood, splitting it. 

“You’ll tell me now.” 

Xaden only grins wider. His face practically glows with it, this foreign happiness. 

“You’re going to threaten me into telling you that I lo-”

His unfinished word hangs between them. Violet waits for those final two letters to come. She wants them out in the open so she can snatch at them, swallow them. 

He doesn’t give them to her. He stares at her face, lips parted. Xaden Riorson, who never makes a mistake. 

Of course, if he thinks that was a mistake, he’s completely and utterly wrong. 

Violet pounces on him. She bolsters herself with her dagger, but she doesn’t have to support herself for long. Her lips find Xaden’s and his arms find her waist, slotting her into the space between his legs. They kiss and kiss and kiss. She tastes his whiskey. He must taste her victory. 

When they part, it is only so that Violet can pant, “I am going to threaten you, actually.”  

She feels his laughter against her lips.

[delulustateofmind]

JJK x Reader: Christmas Edition

Just a few headcannons for the holidays!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Shoko

TW: FLUFF!

WC: 1.1k (short and sweet!)

A/n: Happy holidays everyone! Hope you all are having an amazing day and get to take time for yourselves. Thank you for all the love this year, appreciate you all!

Gojo

 Gojo is absolutely terrible at wrapping presents, and he knows it. He either gets them wrapped at the department store (when available) or just throws everything into festive bags with bows slapped on top. He’s the type to put way too much tape on a box if he does attempt wrapping—it’s endearing, really.

He loves spending Christmas with your family. It’s not that he dislikes his own—it’s just… complicated. Being surrounded by warmth and laughter is something he craves, even if he doesn’t say it outright. He’s like a big kid, buying way too many gifts for everyone but not knowing them well enough to make them personal. So instead, he turns it into a family-wide white elephant exchange, just to see everyone smile. (Also likes to playfully gossip with your family about you, LOVES to see the baby pictures, steals them and takes em home)

What he treasures most, though, is spending time with you. He thrives on simple moments—baking cookies together (where he definitely makes a mess), snuggling under a blanket to watch cheesy holiday movies, or stealing kisses under the mistletoe when no one’s looking. If he’s called out on a mission, his frustration is palpable, but he always makes it up to you with warm pastries, hot coffee, and an even warmer smile the next morning.

When it comes to gifts, Gojo is surprisingly sentimental. Handmade presents? He melts. There’s something about knowing you put effort and love into it that makes his heart ache in the best way. And when you both have kids one day, he’s all-in on the Santa act. He’ll dress up, bellow “Ho, ho, ho!” with way too much enthusiasm, and take an embarrassing amount of photos to show off to his students. Watching your kids’ faces light up on Christmas morning? That’s his favorite part of the holiday. He absolutely melts when they make him things, best believe he is wearing that macaroni necklace.

Geto

Geto doesn’t trust anyone else to wrap his gifts. He’s so meticulous about it—crisp corners, perfectly aligned patterns, and just the right amount of ribbon. It’s almost frustrating how good he is at it. (If you wrap something bad, like a single wrinkle bad, best believe that present is tucked in the very BACK of the tree and he just smiles when you ask about it)

He’s also the best gift giver. The kind who remembers that one thing you mentioned in passing months ago. Need a specific book? Done. Want to try crochet? Here’s an entire set, complete with a personalized guide he wrote himself. It’s never about the cost with him—it’s about the thought behind it.

Christmas Eve with him is peaceful. After the twins are fast asleep, you and Geto sit by the tree, wrapping gifts together. He’s quietly focused, assembling the big surprise gift for the girls—a playset, a dollhouse, something that requires way too many tiny screws. You laugh at how serious he gets, his brows furrowed as he carefully places every sticker. Between tasks, you talk. About life, about dreams, about how far you’ve come together. He enjoys the little life you both created. His little hallmark movie.

If your family is welcoming, he’s happy to visit with the girls. He’s a little reserved at first but softens quickly when he sees how much they’re loved. Still, his favorite Christmases are the intimate ones, just the four of you. The girls bring out a side of him that’s so gentle, so tender. He wants to give them the childhood he never had—filled with warmth and joy.

On Christmas morning, he’s in the kitchen flipping pancakes shaped like stars, hearts, and (attempted) snowmen. His laugh is soft but full when the girls giggle at his less successful attempts. The whole day is dedicated to family activities—decorating cookies, building gingerbread houses, and playing with new toys. At the end of the day, when the house is quiet again, he pulls you close, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Would be the type to propose on Christmas, he'd hide it in the tree or something. Asking you to come look at some random ornament only for you to look back at him on one knee. (Would do this when the girls are little so you both can have the perfect little flower girls)

Nanami

Nanami doesn’t mind wrapping gifts, but he just doesn’t have the time. The department store option is quick and efficient, so he takes it without a second thought.

He’s incredibly thoughtful when it comes to gifting. He always finds something that feels just right—a piece of jewelry that matches your style, a book you’ve been eyeing, or tickets to a show you casually mentioned once. He follows the “one big gift, one small gift” rule, careful not to go overboard, but everything he chooses feels like it was made for you.

Your family adores him. Even if you aren’t married yet, they’ve already claimed him. His stocking hangs next to yours, and your relatives fight over who gets to sit next to him at dinner. (Everybody wonders how you snagged such a good man) It’s heartwarming to see him so at ease, his usual stoicism softened by the warmth of your family’s love.

As for receiving gifts, Nanami values thoughtfulness over extravagance. He’s the type to sit quietly while you explain why you chose his gift, his gaze steady and full of affection. “You’re so thoughtful,” he says, his voice low and warm, “it means more to me than you know.” He's not the type to show emotion during gifts however so sometimes he has you questioning whether he actually likes it or not.

On Christmas morning, over breakfast, he lets himself dream aloud. “I can just imagine little ones running into the room, waking us up with their excitement,” he says, his lips curving into a rare, tender smile. When you do have kids, he’s exactly as you imagined—a doting father who loves every chaotic, joy-filled moment. Watching them tear into their presents, hearing their laughter, and cuddling up as a family on Christmas Eve—it’s everything to him. So much that he'll ask for another next Christmas.

Shoko 

Shoko isn’t big on holidays, but she’ll indulge for you. The festive spirit isn’t something she naturally gravitates toward, but seeing you light up makes it worth it.

She doesn’t wrap gifts—it’s just not her thing. Instead, she hands you an envelope with an experience inside—a luxurious trip, an all-inclusive cruise, or a spa day. “Merry Christmas,” she says with a smirk, pressing a kiss to your lips.

She’s not big on gifts for herself, but she treasures whatever you give her, whether it’s a handmade scarf or a store-bought trinket. She’ll smile, soft and genuine, and pull you into a hug. “You spoil me,” she murmurs, but there’s nothing but gratitude in her voice.

Shoko loves quality time. She’s not much of a homebody, so she’ll take you out to see Christmas lights, holding your hand the entire time. She’s quiet but content, stealing glances at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

Kids aren’t something she sees for herself. After everything she’s witnessed, the idea of raising a potential sorcerer terrifies her. Instead, the two of you pour your love into the students, making sure they feel cared for during the holidays.

On cold winter mornings, she’s impossible to get out of bed. She wraps herself around you, burying her face in your neck, and groans when you suggest getting up. “Five more minutes,” she pleads, her voice muffled against your skin. It’s in these quiet, intimate moments that she lets her walls down completely, because you make her feel human, despite everything she has to do. 

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

So, for starters, this entire post is incredibly condescending, and I fear you didn't read a word of it.

Going over the first paragraph: children shouldn't be online without safe search-like filters on. That is the fault of the child's parents, not any individual who posts porn of their fave characters, and people aren't just "talking about that making them uncomfortable or affecting their wellbeing in any way", they're actively talking down on people who share their sexuality online. It is not, in fact, difficult to find art that isn't sexual in nature, and sexuality is not the focus of everything like you pretend it is. If you hate something enough, you'll find it everywhere and in everything, and that's a *you* problem.

Second paragraph: It's not just "slightly negative" speech regarding people's kinks, it's slurs, racism, homophobia, transphobia, or at best, name-calling. This is very much Christian missionary "if you are a degenerate you are going to hell, and I'm praying that you do!" Examples below of exactly what I'm talking about. All referring to fiction/kink, all directed at trans women.

If you didn't act like Christians who believe that liking something slightly outside of "the norm" makes you a sinner, we wouldn't call you puritans. But as it stands, that shoe fits.

Third paragraph: for one, the block button exists. If you don't want to see people talk about their kinks, block them! Someone having an incest/rape kink does not mean they do not care about victims of incest/rape. They are not the same thing, and conflating the two is bad for a multitude of reasons. Porn is not inherently abusive. Is the porn industry bad? Yeah. Is porn itself bad? No. But again, people are going after *individuals*, not the industry. People also aren't "criticizing how modern sexuality enables rape culture, they're criticizing other people for being sexual, period. Why are you advocating for people to never talk about their kinks/sexuality/attractions? Why is sex inherently negative to you?

Fourth paragraph: none of this paragraph matters because, and I know this is hard to believe because you clearly can't scroll up and see what I wrote (/s), I didn't say any of that! No one said women had to "lighten up", no one said you couldn't talk about your sexual assault/trauma, no one said we should start protecting sex offenders, and no one said an individual's sexual interests matter over everything else! What my post did imply, however, is that if you have this much of an issue with someone's individual sexuality, the answer is not to berate or belittle them, it's to block them and move on, because the issue lies with you, not with them.

Fifth paragraph: This is projection, plain and simple. Have you considered that some people don't have shame regarding their sexuality, and are genuinely just very open? I have kinks. I have no shame. I have no trauma, I have no need to rebel or be contrarian, I just am, because that's how kinks work. Generalizing people to *this* degree is kinda crazy, and there's really no better way for me to say that.

In conclusion, you're directly advocating for the infantilization of women, you, again, didn't read the post, and you're being needlessly mean by insinuating that I don't care about victims of SA.

Then again, you're a radfem, so that's kinda your guys' modus operandi, isn't it?

I think it's genuinely concerning how sex-negative we, as a society, are becoming. (This post brought to you by a few tweets I saw)

Does no one else think it's genuinely worrying how if you even find a fictional character attractive, you're called a gooner, or a degenerate, or some other pejorative to indicate that being sexual in any way is gross and nasty and yucky? Why does art suddenly lack artistic value because it's sexual in nature? Why are we so obsessed with associating a core feature of the human condition with shame and guilt?

Even more concerning is that it isn't just some niche little group of people on the internet, it's rampant. Every nook and cranny of the internet has these people, ready and raring to call you names if you dare speak anything slightly not-safe-for-work.

Like the people on twitter openly calling trans women degenerates and freaks for having an incest/rape kink (I've seen this one A LOT), because how can you claim to be an ally, or lgbt-friendly, or a feminist, but get mad at a woman expressing her sexuality? Why does sexuality gross you out to the point you feel the need to demean people over it?

And where does it end? Are we going to start calling women who dress a little too revealing 'sluts' again? Are we going to ban sex scenes in movies? Start preaching abstinence, say sex outside of marriage is bad, that lust is immoral, and being gay is a sin?

I'm sure that a large part of the problem is that these people are generally children, and still in the "sex is gross" phase, but I know that's not the case with all of them. I'm just worried for the future, because all the people saying these things are just reinventing conservatism under the guise of progressivism, and are (intentionally or unintentionally, I'm not sure) causing more harm than good.

I know we talk about puritanism and stuff all the time, but in my opinion, it's gotten to a point even the actual puritans didn't get to.

[sinister-sincerely]

hi sin... :3c ... >:3c

we care youuuuuuu 💜💜💜

much sillies!! & much lovely art!! from @midnight-mourning @luckyyyduckyyy @soupdweller @wyervan & i, for you!!! 🫵

we hope that you are doing well! and that you are taking care, giving yourself grace through the highs & lows alike. it's not always easy, but you're not alone. hopefully this gets a laugh for ya to enjoy 💜

& in the future, if you'd like to draw together, or simply chill ambiently... the offer is always open!

... In full disclosure this took me a wretched amount of time to pull myself together to actually respond to.

(Its a long one, just a heads up. I do think its worth it though)

To say I was floored~ moved~ touched~ The words pale in comparison.

I believe the saying that a measure of someone being a good person is how they treat those that can do nothing for them.

And here I am, a stranger, being shown a kindness that I am not so sure I deserve but am grateful nonetheless.

To think that anyone, let alone all of you, amazing writers, artists, … people I respect and admire thought of me for even a moment to do something like this.

Depression- it holds me back a lot of the time.

It convinces me, like I am sure it does MANY of those readin' this, that your absence in this community, in this world, would not be felt.

There is a reason that I am a part of this community.

Its because it has a way of pulling together some of the most wonderful people I have ever had the pleasure of getting to know.

Now. I wanna return some of that kindness and talk specifically about the ones that pulled together to do this for me. (And also a few that are never far from my mind too)

@divinit3a

You are one of the only people I know that can just be there and your presence felt. Charismatic in the most brilliant way, I love the way your personality shines through everything you interact with (whether that be your writing or something as simple as a Tumblr post)

There is a reason that when you entered the community that people were drawn to you. You have an ability that is both captivating as it is striking in how powerful that magnetism is.

I am so grateful I get to know you, and I am so excited to see what else you create whether that be in this community or elsewhere.

I will always be a supporter, a fan, and most importantly a friend.

Read their stuff!

@midnight-mourning

Sometimes I get caught up in the fact I actually get to speak with the person who has wrote one of my favorite works on AO3.

I first stumbled upon your fic the day it was published and immediately fell in love with the snarky depiction of Sun (and the beautiful mysterious Moon) that you created in a world that has so much more left to be uncovered.

You manage to balance your life along side updating which in of itself seems like such a superpower that I envy to the core.

You also floored me with the kindness you've shown through out us chatting back and forth. Sometimes I feel just in awe that I can say we know eachother…

@luckyyyduckyyy

Talk about someone I've been actively following for awhile- Lucky, your ANE fanfic was one of the very first I read when stumbling upon the DCA community! It inspired me to take a chance at writing myself and posting it for the first time.

If I hadn't come across you- well, I wouldn't be here now… How do you even begin to pay that back?

I have no idea how I can thank you enough for doing that for me, let alone thank you for doing the above for me…

Its my hope that I get to continue to be friends with you, learn more from you and maybe one day manage to give back a fraction of what you've given me…

@soupdweller

AHH! Hi! So- I have no words but thank you.

I've admired your art for a very VERY long time and its such a cool, (and a bit) intimidating (but in a good way) gesture to have this coming from you too.

Your rendering is beautiful.

The way you laid out the DCA's internals still give me steampunk vibes in the BEST way with the colour palette~ I can gush forever but I also wanna seem cool and somewhat mysterious in that 'kinda quiet way'…

… I'll cut that out for now ^^

on a serious note, thank you, you don't know me very well but you still did this and what I mentioned before about the measure of being a good person- that describes you.

@wyervan

… Would it be weird for me to say that anytime I think of the DCA as humans I can't for the life of me not picture the AU forms that you created that has single handedly metamorphosized into a community Slasher Y/N multiverse?

That is an amazing talent, I am just in awe at what you've managed to not only do, but also how you've brought so many people together!

I have so much to say, and yet I don't wanna put my foot in my mouth by actually following through with the amount of admiration I wanna express.

Thank you for taking part in this for me, we don't really know each-other much just yet but I hope that changes. You seem like such an amazing person, I'd love to gossip about skinny, scrawny, somewhat unhinged guys with you sometime.

-

I have a few people I wanna shout out too

@amarynthian-chronicles:

Thank you for always supporting me, even when I don't think I deserve it. You've been an amazing person to me, and I hope I get more opportunities to return the favor

@gniteruirui

Gosh. You've been such a beautiful person to get to know this past year or so. Your artwork gives me life, and seeing your name pop up in all the ways it does makes me smile.

@lets-zofifi-stuff

I hope you continue to have more good days vs bad- I hope the sun shines on you and you always find random luck whenever its needed.

You were one of the first people I made friends with here on Tumblr… I may have also looked back and saw that you even made a post about me when I left Tumblr the first time.

@bubbiethesaur

I don't have enough words to express how much I adore you for just being you. Thank you, I hope I can be a friend that deserves you.

I just wanted to tag you- You are so talented, wonderful, and kind.

Something about you just makes me smile whenever I see your username come up. I've always wanted to get closer to you, friendship wise, but I also get scared because you're so cool.

I've been working on it.

Just know that our conversations in Qwille's discord have always been some of my favorite moments in this community.

@maldefekt

Thank you for reaching out to me- even that most recent time when you saved me from something I know would have haunted me forever!

I am looking forward to getting to know you more

[izzystradlingirl]

𝑰𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 ?

request: Izzy and reader (doesnt matter gender u pick) are married or gf/bf and they started to drift away from each other. They realized later on with an argument or not(lol)and make up for it. U can end it any way u want! @kay-random

A request from august I’m so sorry it took so long but after reading it again I found it pretty good and not as bad as I thought when I first wrote it. Not saying it’s that good cause I’m never satisfied with what I write but I hope you’ll enjoy it !! <3

Warnings : a little angsty, crying, grammar and conjugation

It’s been now almost a year that Izzy and I were married. At first everything was all roses and love. A young lovely and fresh couple. I’m wondering if all the excitement didn’t rush us and made us make a mistake.

I’m in the bathroom to change after coming back from work. I look at my ring on my finger. A beautiful ring, from a beautiful love… But does it still have the same meaning as the first day I had the honor to wear it? Thinking about it and my eyes got blurry and a tear slowly rolled down my face. Something is off. I can tell something is off between us. The most frustrating part is that I can’t tell what or why. Izzy and I are living together but it almost like we’re not, we barely talk. Don’t get me wrong he’s not a very talkative person but Izzy being dead silent like this is not okay. At first, when something was wrong, we were telling each other. We were having something called “a conversation". Now I feel like we’re strangers.

I live with a stranger I barely see, I barely talk to, I barely know… I can only imagine the worse but I’m trying to not. Maybe it’s just a down in our relationship that every average fresh couple have.

I have to admit it’s a strange life I chose to live here. Marrying a guy from one of the most popular band. A guy who was having all the girls he wanted (and probably still do at this point). We were probably blinded by love, I was probably blinded and didn’t see the problem who was probably there since the very first day.

I don’t know who I’m living with but it’s not the Izzy I know. As surprising as it could be, the Izzy I know is the sweetest person. Always supportive and caring, protecting you and wiping your tears for you when you cry.

I was wiping my own tears since a month now and today wasn’t an exception.

So, I wiped my tears away, refreshed my face with water and went down the stairs to the kitchen. Izzy was sat on a chair zoned out. I didn’t know if this view was sad, annoying, or whatever it could be it was for sure torturing. As I stop at the door frame, I look at him and he lift his head to look at me with his painted blank face. I felt weak after crying for half an hour, but I had to take all my courage in my hands.

“Can we talk?” I quietly ask.

He nods and looks down at the table. I walk to a chair, sit in front of him and look at him again. The silence was so heavy it could dig a hole in the floor for both our graves.

We kept staring at each other in the eyes without any emotions for a moment.

I take a deep breath and open my mouth to talk but nothing comes out. I was trying to find how to start

“I don’t know…” Izzy suddenly mutters cutting my thoughts.

I slightly frown my eyebrows, shake my head a bit and shrug. “You don’t know?” I mutter too, what does that mean? He shakes his head too.

I felt my tears coming back and Izzy avoiding eye contact was not helping. I tried not to cry in front of him but, some threatening tears found their way down my cheeks. The silence and the tension were pressuring me.

“Izzy… you know we can talk… you know we can trust each other… what’s going on?” I ask almost desperately. He nods and I see him try to smile at me but, it looked more like a painful move than anything else. “Please say something…” I need him to talk even if it’s to tell me to fuck off. It would be the longest sentence I would have had in a month.

“What do you want me to say?” He shakes his head almost pissed. “I don’t know, anything. What’s wrong?” He’s looking at me with a frown. Don’t tell me he didn’t notice something was wrong.

I think he just scoffed and now he shrugs “There’s nothing wrong…” he denied. I look at his face like he’s mad. “Are you kidding me? There’s clearly something wrong Izzy don’t try to deny it.” I tell him firmly. He shrugs again and say nothing. I scoff not believing the situation. “Seriously? Are you just going to deny it and wait for a miracle? We need to talk Izzy, really.”

“And about what?” No way he dares to ask and in a pissed tone to complete it. He absolutely knows about what.

“Don’t know maybe the weather and the sun?? Izzy.” I look at him startled. “We didn’t have a conversation this month! We barely talk or see each other.”

“Yeah, what do you want we’re both busy…” wow. Worst answer. Ever. “Busy? I wake up at 7, work from 9am to 8pm. You’re never around when I’m home! And don’t try to tell me you’re at the studio cause I’m waiting for you every night until I fall dead asleep at 2 or 3 in the morning. You’re yeah obviously very busy. You were never staying this late at the studio before it must be a very big project.”

He looks at me, narrow his eyes and brush his chin with his fingers. He nods and it’s so silent I can hear him gulp. I didn’t yell at him or anything. I just explained. I’m just worried right now. Worried about him, about us. What about us?

I keep looking at him waiting for an answer. After like a minute, he remains silent looking at the table. I sigh and look at the ceiling. I then lean my head in my hand, my elbow on the table, and I look at him again.

We look at each other’s eyes for a moment and suddenly he decides to mutter “I’m sorry…” sorry? “Why?” I whisper pleading.

He only shakes his head and looks like he’s trying to say something.

“We should take a break…” he finally says after a moment. My head snap at him and I’m hoping I heard it wrong. “What?” I ask in an almost inaudible whisper.

“We’re not… we’re just…” he sighs not finishing his sentence.

A break ? So no talking ? Just… a break ?

“Wow… okay…” I say fighting my tears back “yeah okay…” I repeat not finding anything else to say. I take a deep breath before getting up and going to our bedroom, I close the door and cry and sob silently. Again. I go to the closet and take a suitcase and start to pack some stuffs.

And with only a shared look I open the front door and walk out, to the nearest bus stop. When the bus arrives I get in and head to my parents.

a/n : I have a part 2 going on if anyone is interested :D

[deadstarsrisingsblog]

Whoever harassed @glimmerglanger to the point that they DELETED THEIR AO3 AND LEFT: count your motherfuckin days.

[fromwherespiralhill]

thank you, this series of posts is meaningful to us

we’re one of those who broadly prefer not to descrive their own path as “recovery”. honestly we hesitate to even call it a “path forward”, because it is omly truly forward through time: today comes before tomorrow

although so many of the things that others take, hopefully for themselves, as “recovery”, are experiences or “goals” which we do empathize with and may want/seek for ourselves�� even then we don’t see it as recovery, for us

we used to understand ourselves as broken, damaged, wounded. and it is true that we have been wounded, and that wounds take time and care to heal, and we give that to ourselves. but we do not feel our wounds are what define our life. neither do we feel recovery describes our experience

for one… wounds don’t heal “good as new”. no wound does; even a papercut, with all skin cells gone and replaced in a week, leaves a psychological and emotional-behavioral mark. there is not a “win” state. every wound we’ve ever had stays with us forever, always in many-faceted ways, no matter how long or shortly we take to conscously forget the wound

for two… we do not see wounds as independently living things, or as living at all, but they are called “wounds” and not “damage” because they affect living things. there may be a beginning to a wound, or else a critical moment, a point in time you describe as “the infliction”; but the boundary of the wound is never determinate. it sprawls and the things it touches touch other things in turn. it affects you, and you are an entire living organism. (for that matter it is entirely possible for wounds to spread beyond the organism, but that is… outside our realm of description right now)

for three, the experience of life is not in terms of things that are “good for you” and “bad for you”. if you learn from your mistake, was the mistake bad for you? if the loss of your past made you meet a hundred worlds anew, was the loss a net loss? and if you hurt yourself on the road to your dreams, were your dreams good for you? if you still fixate - and act compulsively - on an offhand comment by your therapist a decade later, was therapy good for you? — when we are pushed to seek recovery, we feel pushed to answer these questions. but there are not “true” answers to any of them, only ones which reinforce the basis: arbitrary and painstakingly discriminatory verdicts, good and bad, what’s right for you and what’s wrong. we do not experience life like that.

the truth is that on the outside we appear to move slowly, and on the inside we attempt to move gently. it is a form of rehabilitation after receiving countless so-painful wounds during very turbulent times. we do not think it is fundamentally good. we do feel it is adaptive, and that it appears to have been “good for us” - that it has effectively protected us from experiencing similar pains, and has helped us to find or approach many of the things which we desire.

to you, does this sound like recovery? because to us, it is not. it is only our way of being. it is not static, even though it may look so if you decline to zoom out and decline to zoom in. we are always changing on every scale, and it is a result not only of everything happening to us but everything that has happened to us.

to describe this process as “recovery” feels… well… we cannot put it in mere emotions. don’t really have the language - or maybe confidence - for that. but if you connect with anything we wrote above, you probably connect with this wordless feeling, too. it is not “recovery”.

I think the system & plural communities needs to get way more normal about people who are not ready to recover. ESPECIALLY if you label yourself as 'pro recovery'.

Is trying to fearmonger about recovery and/or convince other people not to try to do things that would help their recovery a dick move? Absolutely. But you know what else is a dick move? Trying to force someone who is not ready to start recovering into recovery. Treating people who haven't gotten far or aren't actively working on recovering like shit. It's not 'pro recovery' to do that shit. Doing that doesn't help those people recover. If someone is not ready for that, is not ready to work on recovering in xyz way, forcing it will do far more harm and likely push them in the opposite direction, away from recovering. And treating people in those situations like shit just harms their mental health further, it doesn't help them recover in any way.

Recovery works different for everyone. And sometimes, that means there's stages or points in time where little to no active work to recover is happening, because the person is not ready to move on yet. And that is okay, that is not something that should be shamed.

[elisedonut]

sudden itch to write a rare pair fic thats not Percy related

but like

the last time I did that it ended up becoming my top fic and lead to me deciding that you know... actually I hate that ship just out of spite so i'm not sure how good of an idea it is

maybe if i try like femslash or something super super rare with side characters or something

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[rememberedbyamark]

All of that time, all of those nights, and he still asked what the mark on my leg was. He didn't recognize my birthmark

He would've seen it so many times. It's in such an obvious spot, one that his hands have been on countless times. Yet, he asked what the mark was and then said that he has one too.

As if I didn't know that? Like I wouldn't be able to find that one blind, or the one on the second rib on his right side, or the small scar on the inner side of his left ring finger.

I was mapping out every detail, learning how he felt in my hands and where all the landmarks were, and he still asked what my fucking birthmark was

[eggmeralda]

spent an hour making a list related to That Fandom, followed by an hour listening to the haunting vibe playlist, followed by an hour reading the fanfic we wrote about my band and crying actual tears bc it's the peak of comedy, followed by an hour thinking about all the things I've ever created that will never be seen by anyone either bc I don't know how to show them to people or bc people just think they're bad but either way I'll never know the true answer, and now it's 10.30pm and I've basically experienced the full spectrum of emotions: autism, existential crisis, silly, and the feeling of being unseen

[hellogoodbyegirl]

I love watching live performances of Hide In Your Shell by Supertramp just to see THE Roger Hodgson sing and play his little keyboard so passionately.

[chxrryhansen]

okay but rafe shamelessly peeking up your skirt is something so personal to me

omg omg wait s1 golf frat boy rafe x cutesy kinda bimbo reader??? COUNT ME IN. p.s- i have no idea how to play golf so i wrote my best interpretation😭

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you sat in rafes private golf caddy watching as he lined up his next shot, his backwards cap keeping his hair out of his eyes and his muscular legs spread wide as he takes the shot.

rafe had asked (told) you to come watch him play, he thought it would be a cute date idea for you both to get out of the house since it was way too hot to stay cooped up inside all day… when in reality he just wanted to show off his skills and impress his girl.

“rafeeeeey.” you whined in a high pitch tone.

he turns to look back at you with a sour expression, wiping the sweat from his brows with one arm, using the other to lean against his golf club. “quit distracting me. what dya’ want?” he pants in the summer heat.

“i’m boreddddd” you moan again, standing from your seat in the cabby and bouncing over to him.

his free hand reaches out to grip your face, smushing your cheeks together tight “what’ve i told you about the whining? daddy’s tryna’ play a game here, sweetcheeks.”

you look up at him with big puppy dog eyes “can you teach me? please rafey…i’m so bored just sittin’ here, daddy please.”

he lets out an irritated groan, knowing you were too ditzy to understand how golf works and way too uncoordinated to actually putt a ball. he looks back at you giving you a once over, a smirk appearing on his face.

“you know what? sure pretty girl, c’mere.”

you yelp with excitement, moving to stand infront of him, your short pink skirt barely reaching your thighs as you bounce over and your tits jiggling, practically spilling out of your tight shirt.

rafe stands behind you as he passes you the golf club, quickly showing you the correct way to hold it before he moves onto your position. kicking your feet apart and pressing down on your back with his thick fingers, forcing you to arch your back as he bites his lip, his cock already growing hard.

“that’s it baby, stay just like that. now, lift your arm up like this, and strike.” you beam at him while he instructs you before focusing on the ball.

you raise your arm holding the club tight before you strike it. not even noticing rafe bending down slightly, his legs still spread wide around your figure and his fingers lifting your short skirt, peeking at your cute, pink panties underneath, he lets out a low “fuckkk.” at the sight, not loud enough for you to notice seeming as you were concentrating.

“rafey! look! i hit it. look how far it went!” you gasp, raising one arm to block the sun as you search for the ball with your eyes.

“yeah babe, daddy’s super proud of you.” he mutters, not paying attention to a word you said, instead focusing on the slightly damp patch on your panties.

he brings his thumb to your pussy, rubbing over the soaked material. your panties beginning to stick to your cunt as he thumbs your sensitive slit.

you whimper in surprise, your head spinning to look at him in shock. “daddy! wh-what are you doing?!” you hush, eyes wide, looking around quickly to see if anybody had noticed what he was doing, which they hadn’t… yet.

rafe hushes you before pulling your skirt back down and giving your ass a harsh smack. lifting up from his bent knees and looking down at you with a large smirk.

“nice panties, baby. where’d you get em?” he asks rhetorically, a sly smile appearing on his face.

knowing for a fine fact he bought them, as he does everything else, your clothes, food, shoes. you name it, he bought it. because that’s what wealthy daddy’s like him do. and rafe is without question, wholeheartedly, your daddy.

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”