#but it just makes me a little pissed on behalf of people who need the help

[elegyofthemoon]

actually scammers taking advantage of the genocide to make money are The Worst People

[solxamber]

Hi! Loved your villainess series and i can't wait for a Jamil chapter! In the meantime, do you mind if I request Jamil x a reader whom the Asims are absolutely terrified of? As in they're one of the most genuinely kind people out there but they could eradicate you with a snap of their fingers when pissed (though they only do that in extreme situations and are pretty reasonable). So as soon as Jamil starts dating them, everyone in the Asim household starts walking on eggshells around him cause they don't want to be eradicated off the face of the earth. He still has to do his job but the more dangerous aspects or any extra work is delegated to somebody else. Basically, Jamil can now be as overachieving as he wants since nobody has enough of a death wish to risk pissing off his lover.

Jamil Viper x Intimidating! reader

thank you for waiting <3 i hope you like it

The moment Jamil starts dating you, the entire Asim household becomes a drastically different place. It’s not like you’re a tyrant or anything—you’re the sweetest, kindest person they’ve ever met.

You’re always smiling, polite, and helpful. But everyone knows about that side of you. The side that only shows when something pushes too far, and you go from warm and gentle to terrifying in the blink of an eye.

It doesn���t happen often—really, it only ever happens in extreme situations—but one close encounter was more than enough to put the fear of you into the entire Asim household.

The first time it happened, one of the servants had accidentally endangered Jamil by not paying attention. Nothing too serious in hindsight, but in the heat of the moment, you had stepped in, voice cold and eyes sharp as you reprimanded the poor servant with an intensity no one expected from you.

You didn’t yell or make a huge scene, but the weight of your words and the terrifying calm in your expression was more than enough to send everyone scattering. And now, that incident has taken on a life of its own, becoming a whispered legend among the staff.

Jamil, however, is a little too amused by the whole situation. He’s never seen you lose your temper with him, and he finds it kind of satisfying watching everyone tiptoe around, desperate not to cross you.

Not to mention, it’s made his life a whole lot easier. Suddenly, all the extra dangerous or exhausting tasks that used to be piled on him are conveniently handled by someone else. No one dares to risk upsetting you by overworking him.

As you walk into the Asim estate one day, the staff noticeably scatter, heads ducked as they try not to make any mistakes in your presence. You exchange an amused look with Jamil as he walks beside you.

"Did I do something to terrify them today?" you whisper, half-joking.

Jamil smirks, clearly enjoying this more than he should. "No, they're just smart. Nobody wants to be the one responsible for angering you."

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. "I’m not that bad."

"Tell that to the servant who accidentally put me in danger last month. I think he’s still recovering," Jamil replies, his voice teasing.

You blush, feeling a little guilty. "I didn’t mean to scare him. He just needed to be more careful."

"Oh, you didn’t scare him. You petrified him," Jamil says, his smug grin growing wider. “Now, everyone’s scrambling to make sure I don’t get stuck with anything that could stress me out, all because they don’t want you to get upset on my behalf."

He’s not wrong. It’s like there’s an unspoken agreement among the staff that keeping Jamil stress-free is the key to survival.

Tasks that used to involve risky magic, late nights, or heavy lifting are reassigned before they even reach Jamil’s to-do list. And it’s not just because Jamil’s Kalim’s right-hand man; it’s because of you.

The thought of you unleashing your wrath is enough to keep the household running smoothly, with no one willing to take chances.

Jamil stretches, looking relaxed for the first time in what feels like years. “I could get used to this,” he mutters, clearly reveling in his newfound freedom from extra work.

You shoot him a playful glare. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Can you blame me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got more free time, no one’s shoving dangerous tasks my way, and I have the best motivation to keep it that way.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “That motivation being you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, warmth flooding your chest. Jamil isn’t always one for open displays of affection, but when he does say things like this, they hit hard. You can’t help but smile, reaching out to take his hand as you walk together.

"I didn’t mean to turn the whole household into a bunch of scaredy-cats," you admit, squeezing his hand.

Jamil chuckles softly, pulling you a little closer. “It’s not your fault they’re terrified. You just have... a certain presence when you’re angry.”

You snort, shaking your head. "I’m sure you’re not complaining, considering all the benefits."

"Not one bit," he says, his voice smooth and teasing. “Though I’ll admit, I don’t need them to be scared of you. I can handle my own problems.”

"Uh-huh, sure," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “And here I thought you were just enjoying the luxury of not being overworked.”

Jamil leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I enjoy being with you more.”

Your heart flips, and before you know it, you’re turning your head and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, unable to resist the moment. He seems a little taken aback, his smug exterior cracking for a second as he blinks in surprise. Then, a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face.

"Keep that up, and I might start making excuses to slack off even more," he teases.

You laugh, shaking your head. "I can’t believe you. I’m not your excuse to get out of work."

Jamil grins, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Maybe not. But you’re definitely the reason I’m a lot happier these days.”

He says it so casually, but the sincerity in his voice makes your chest feel tight with affection. You glance up at him, your hand still in his, and you realize just how much he’s changed since you started dating.

He’s still the same hardworking, overachieving Jamil, but now he’s more relaxed, more at ease. And you’re glad you can be a part of that.

Meanwhile, the staff is still scattering like leaves in the wind as you and Jamil stroll through the estate. Kalim, of course, is the only one who remains blissfully oblivious to the atmosphere.

"Hey, guys!" Kalim shouts, bounding over with a bright smile. “I just heard about a new event happening tonight! You two are coming, right?”

Jamil exchanges a glance with you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You know, Kalim, I think I’m going to take the night off. We have plans,” he says smoothly, pulling you a little closer.

Kalim grins, not missing a beat. “Oh! That’s awesome! Have fun!”

You can’t help but chuckle at Kalim’s eternal optimism, but as you walk away, you notice a few of the servants letting out relieved sighs. They clearly appreciate that Jamil is taking a break, but you’re well aware of what they’re really relieved about: keeping you happy.

Jamil’s smirk returns as you head back to your shared quarters. “I think I owe you for this.”

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For making my life a whole lot easier," he says, his voice low and teasing.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your lips as you lean into him. "Just don’t get too cocky."

Jamil grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Too late.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the Asim household will always be a little terrified of you, but if it means keeping Jamil happy and safe, you can live with that.

Masterlist

[brisquad-unit-4402]

taking care of drunk ike

today it is my birthday once more so here, i'm posting my favorite fic in my drafts. i'm not sure what i should do today...?!

i love honest thoughts while drunk but i wanted to keep the idea of consent in mind... this is my balance weeeee. the longer the fic goes the more dicey it gets. kinda like actual blackout drinkinggg. so if you need to dip no worriesssssssss

tags: gender neutral reader, pre-relationship, fluff and angst, pining, open ending, fluff with a sad ending, sick fic?, blackout drunk ike, ike is a cute drunk, and then an emotional drunk, emetophobia/vomit, unspecified if reader drinks or not, slightest hint of lucake and shuca if you squint while yaoipilled, one (1) swedish word

⚠️ drinking, emetophobia

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Long story short: Ike is sloshed and needs to get home.

Long story long: Luxiem just wrapped up an ambitious project, so naturally you and the rest of the guys spent all night celebrating. The evening started off with a good meal and blowing your lungs out on karaoke, but if someone told you earlier today that Ike of all people would get piss drunk, you would've laughed in their face. Dude's Scandinavian. He's not a heavy drinker by any means but Vox is the only one that can keep up with him. Even then, it usually ends up with the demon plastered by the time Ike starts slurring his words together.

Except for tonight, of course. All Vox had was a shot with the rest of the guys when the night started, so that initial effect faded ages ago.

You weren't set on getting drunk either, so you ended up being the responsible one too. Even Luca sobered up. He's usually the next to go after local lightweight Shu, but the bar appetizers must've soaked up the alcohol, and now at the wee hours of 2 AM, the other two guys were using Luca as a crutch. Seeing sleepy-drunk Shu rest his head on Luca's shoulder was common. Ike trying to break free from Luca's grasp? Completely different story.

"Luca, let me go."

"Are you going to trip in your heels if I do?"

"No."

Luca let go of Ike's hand. Ike stepped forward, stumbled, and nearly ate shit before he could even get to step number 2. Luckily, Luca figured that would happen and grabbed his arm before the novelist completely lost his balance. "See what I mean now, Ike?"

Ike just grunted in half-hearted protest.

Meanwhile, Vox closed his phone. "I don't want him walking home alone," he said. He glanced at the Luca-crutch and the rambunctious child dangling off his arm (plus the contented Shu on the other side). "Uber should be here in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Vox," you said on Ike's behalf.

"It's the least I can do. Still, do you think he can make it to his apartment? He can barely stand up straight."

You got an idea. "I can go with him and make sure he gets home in one piece."

Vox tilted his head. "What about you?"

"Please, don't sweat it! We live less than five minutes away from each other, so I'll be fine. We even have spare keys to each other's places,” you said. Behind you and Vox, Ike was trying to pull his hand out from Luca's grasp. No matter how hard he tried, he had about as much force as a wet piece of paper. Luca was immovable. You continued. "Besides, I'm a little worried too. I don't want him to trip on concrete or anything."

Which brings the long story to now: you sit in backseat of an Uber with Ike who, as mentioned, is sloshed and needs to get home.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Without Luca to hold him in place, Ike didn't have much of an authority to rebel against. He complied without much of a fight. It's endearing watching him switch up; one moment he's acting goofy with the boys and the next he's docile, staring intently at the back of the passenger seat.

"What're you looking at?" You ask.

"Pouh," he says informatively. When you don't respond immediately he pushes his head against your arm like a pillow and repeats himself. "Pughhh."

"What?"

"Pockets," he slurs. He points at the back of the passenger seat, which is as flat as a board. "This seat doesn't have them. Which is so sad. If it can have pockets we should always have pockets no matter what."

"I think you should talk to women's jeans manufacturers about that."

"I would be great at women's jeans," Ike agrees.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You thank the driver once the ride is done and open the door for Ike. Fortunately he's remembered how to walk but you support him as you climb the stairs to his apartment, one step at a time. His heels, usually quick and prompt, clunk on the ground. Ike sniffs.

Oh, no. He looks like a kicked puppy right now. Did something happen? You try to recount anything that might've upset him. "What's wrong, Ike?"

"I thought about it during the ride." He sniffs again. "Women's jeans don't have pockets and it’s making me sad."

“Sometimes they do!” You pat his back in a quick attempt to cheer him up. “I’ve even seen skirts with pockets.”

“Oh. That’s nice.” Ike smiles. “They should make more skirts with pockets.”

“Sure. Where’s your keys?”

Ike produces a key ring and misses the lock, so you open it for him. His apartment smells like cotton and the greasy hint of bacon, just like how you remember. It’s organized but clearly lived in, down to the folded laundry resting on a chair rather than their designated drawers.

“Come in,” he says, not at all surplussed by you. You visit each other often, after all. He ambles through the threshold and onto the couch with a satisfied “Oof.”

The first order of business is to get Ike some water. You don’t even have to guess which cabinet holds the glasses; you get it right on the first try. Once you’re done, you turn to the couch. Ike lays down on the couch, head plopped on the armrest and his folded hands, squishing his alcohol-flushed cheeks. His drooping eyes perk up as your get closer. He’s been watching you.

“Alright, you big dork, sit up properly so you can drink.” You nudge his shoulder, coaxing him up with a groan.

He straightens as you press the cold glass in his hand. With a wave of his free hand, he tries to say, “I shouldn’t, I’ve had a lot to drink.”

You raise the glass. Despite his protests, Ike wordlessly tilts it to his lip with your help. You must look like an alien species, a tangle of limbs holding a cup to a second mouth, but Ike closes his eyes as he sips. When he parts his lips are dewy. The center turns a brighter color, now glossy from the water, rosy red to accompany the flowery pink flush over his cheeks.

He glances at you. "Tastes watery."

"That's because it's water," you say, letting him get a grip on the cup by himself. "Go ahead, have some more. It'll help."

Ike lets out a tiny satisfied sound as he mumbles, “Only because you’re cute.”

Ah?

He drinks more of the water while you stare at him like an actual alien. His Adam's apple rises and falls with each gulp as you try to shake off your surprise. "I... I didn't know you were a flirty drunk, Ike."

Ike pouts at the implication. “I'm not! I’ve never flirted in my life.”

“What was that, then?”

“The truth,” he says plainly.

“Yep, you’ve had way too much to drink.” You rise up from the couch, refusing to let his unfiltered thoughts be detected as honest. However a weight holds you down. Ike clings to your legs, preventing you from getting up. "Wh—hey!"

"Nooo, don't go."

"What's the matter?" You try to wiggle him off, but Ike's grip tightens. Fluffy sand-and-sea hair rustles against your leg as Ike nuzzles you, face hot with liquor. Nerves kick in. Ike might be an affectionate drunk, but the most you've seen him is hug your friends with one arm and playfully sock them without much impact. There's no way he's thinking straight, not if he's intent on using your lap as a pillow. "Ike, I need to get up."

"I don't want you to go."

"I'm not going, I just need to get up."

"But that's the same thing."

"No, it's not. It's..." You inhale through your teeth as he tugs you back down. "Oh, Ike. I need to take care of you so you don’t regret this when you sober up."

Ike rests his cheek against your thigh now that you're back to sitting on the couch. He exhales. Warm breath settles over your clothes. "I regret everything I don't do with you."

Your furrow your brow. "That doesn’t make sense."

He raises his legs to his chest, curling up in your lap. "It makes sense to—to me." He hiccups. A hand brushes against your leg, then retracts as soon as Ike realizes he placed it there.

Drunkenness has granted him a dreamy tint to his jade eyes as he looks up to you, but you're starting to realize what's gotten into him. The weight of it presses down your back, just like how you support his head in your lap. "You make me want to do everything I wish I could do. If I was braver. Or honest." Ike sighs again. "I wish I was good enough for you."

You’re not sure if this is a conversation Ike wants to have drunk. You're not even sure if this is a conversation Ike wants to have sober. It's voyeuristic, listening to his thoughts out loud, the filter dividing personal and public nowhere to be seen. He's always been a private guy with his feelings—at least, he's never told you any of them. You think you understand why now. It makes you feel dirty. Like you've seen too much.

Ike blinks. Tentatively, his fingers brush your knee again. Eyelashes obscure the blue hope in his eyes, making way for the uncertainty laced in spring and jade green. The fear in ochre yellow.

He regains his sense of shame, closes his eyes, and tilts his head away, focusing on the threads on your clothing instead of his true feelings. They come out in a whisper. "I must be an awful friend for hiding from you."

"You're not awful," you say, just as hushed. He's never been. Ike's greatest critic has always been himself. He's never going to remember this, either. You're certain he's going to black out by morning, or pretend like he did, and that this never happened. You could too.

It's unclear if you're an awful friend for reaching out to Ike. You'll decide later.

But right now, all that matters is your nails light against his scalp, stroking his messy hair, smoothing down the strands like you’re brushing the thought away. Away. Let it go, Ike, I'll brush it away, away, away.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"Uggh," Ike says groggily.

He fell asleep in your lap while you consoled him. It made your heart hurt, but the pain ebbed by the time you could hear his soft snores. Now that he's stirring, the hurt has dulled to a slight, simple bruise on your heart: easy to ignore, tender when pressed.

"Something going on?" You ask, careful not to be too loud.

"Urggg," Ike repeats. It's not groggy, you realize. It's nauseous.

You snap up. "Oh, no no no no nonononononono. Keep it together, Ike, keep it together!" You help him up and guide him to the bathroom. Simply put, he gets there in time. You hold his hair away from his face as Ike leans over the toilet and empties his stomach's contents.

Naturally in a moment of sickness, Ike is inelegant. Earlier, he used his mantle as a blanket, and abandoned it on the couch when he woke up. One of his fishnet gloves is missing. He leans so deeply that you can see the ridges of his spine through his button-up shirt, wrinkled from rest. You smooth it down, brushing the nausea away by rubbing circles on your friend's back.

He expressed so much about what you mean to him, yet the only appropriate thing you can call him is a friend...

Ike gasps for air. "Hell," he slurs, just before spitting up more of his sickness. He weakly grabs at the nearest wall as support. You can feel his stomach shuddering just by stroking his back, coloring the toilet water each time he retches. "Hel-helvete..."

"Don't talk, just get it all out," you say. He makes an unflattering noise in response; the vomit splatters against the bowl.

And to think, you thought yourself alien before. Clumsiness is common for Ike, but now it’s like guiding an ungraceful animal. He plucks off his glasses, tosses them aside. It feels like holding a cat by the scruff, a bag of rice by its seam.

Ike rasps. “Don’t go,” he pleads, throaty from slumber, slurred from stomach acid. The thought has yet to go away. “Do-don’t go.”

“I’m not leaving.” You set his glasses on the counter, pat his shoulders, and rip off a square of toilet paper.

Now that he’s seemed to recover, you tilt his head to face you. Ike averts jade-green eyes as you pad at his lip with the makeshift napkin. For the first time tonight, proper embarrassment overtakes him. His lip parts to protest, but freezes before the words come out, mentally rejecting whatever is on his mind.

The freeze extends to the rest of his face as you wipe at it. You try not to focus on his eyes, scrunched up with shame. His brows lower as he shuts them. It's only when you can't see the color anymore that you realize you've been paying attention whether you like it or not.

At least now you can observe him without feeling too awkward. Ike's a wreck. Obviously. His hair sticks out from where you held it out of his face. You have to use another square of toilet paper to clean him up. Luckily he's regaining his sense of decency, despite how his face is too ghastly pale to blush.

Ike sighs, barely coherent. "I feel gross."

"It's okay, it happens," you console. Nearby on the counter is a cheap plastic cup. You fill it up with water, then offer it to him. "How are you feeling?"

"...Better." He grabs it with his gloved hand, and traces a bare finger around the edge with the other. "But still gross."

"It happens."

"And I feel bad." You spring up, ready for action, but Ike waves you off as he continues. "Not like that. Just bad."

Instead he takes the cup and swishes, trying to clear the taste of bile. He spits into the toilet (just saliva and water, thankfully). Without his glasses, it's easier to see his hooked nose, especially as he pinches the bridge of it. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"What? No, don't worry about it!" You pat Ike's back again. "I'm your friend, of course I want to make sure you're doing alright."

"I don't know how I thought I had a chance."

"It's okay, you just had too much. Don't beat yourself up over it."

"You're t-too good for me."

"No, I'm your friend."

"I should've figured." For the first time Ike seems to notice he only has one glove on. He rubs his thumb over the fishnet as he stares into the cheap plastic, the crystal water above it. "My imagination always gets the best of me and I have to pretend like I—like I didn't get my hopes up for nothing." He hiccups again. He already threw up all the booze, but you can still smell the alcohol on his breath as he stumbles through his words.

"You're drunk," you say, because now is not the time. No matter how much it pains him to express it, or how much it pains you to keep quiet, Ike deserves better than your true thoughts when he won't remember them at all. It would be cruel to play with his heart.

In the quiet introspection, Ike sits down on the bathroom tile and leans against the wall. He swallows down the alcohol taste. Shadows carve out his exhausted features, including the eye bags usually hidden by his glasses, and the lost, lamenting green of his eye. There's no way he can hear your thoughts, but the emotion sits heavy on his shoulders. He understands the hesitance.

Ike says, "I know." There's nothing to do about it. All you can do is pretend tonight never happened, or that Ike knew how to hold himself back, or that you never had these feelings to begin with.

"I wish I didn't," he adds. Already he protests the silence. It's an elaborate dance around the elephant in the room, but all he wants to do is get in his high heels and trip. If he could he would crash into everything, make a mess, stumble and slip and fall just as hard as he fell for you, over and over again, until he sprains his ankles and his body turns black and blue and the world swirls with dizziness. It wouldn’t be much of a difference. You make him go zero-gravity. Floating on air. The things he dreams of have wings in never-ending motion, away, away, away. "I think I need to lie down."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

should i make a part 2?

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

My cup runneth over with excellent jql, and we just got confirmation that Cosmetic Playlover will be joining the line up next week. All but one of these are on Gaga; I highly recommend picking them up!

Takara's Treasure

I really love this unassuming little show and how gently it's advancing this relationship. This week reinforced that Taishin is the only one who really sees Takara beyond his popular hot guy reputation. He can tell he is struggling and he notices when he is overcome by sadness. Their adventure helping the tiny child find his way home was a nice way for them to bond and see each other's good qualities, and also to prompt some reflection from Takara about his own relationship with his mother. I am still dying to know more about what happened there.

I Hear the Sunspot

Most of this episode had me chewing glass; I loved every single minute of their camping trip. Seeing Kohei's walls coming down was so rewarding, and I was relieved when he finally stopped holding back and let himself smile. Taichi's ongoing struggle with understanding what he feels for Kohei was also super compelling, and I liked that Kohei got to express some frustration at his obliviousness. He flirts all the time without seeming to realize he's doing it, both with Kohei and with other people, and it's hard for Kohei to hold back when his confession is already laying there between them. Taichi seemed to finally be putting some things together when he confessed that he doesn't hate Kohei's attention. And because I loved all of that so much, it was a bit of a womp womp to then do a time skip only to introduce a new third party to inspire jealousy and set them right back where they were last week. It feels like wheel spinning, so I do hope we'll be moving through that quickly.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Besties, I AM PISSED OFF. I cannot believe the behavior of the people around Hiroko this week, and I am ready to fight them on her behalf. Let me just say this real clearly: Hiroko does not owe anyone the truth about her sexuality, and if she doesn't want to be out at work, that is her choice and nobody else's goddamn business. Risa is off the best girl list forever after the shit she pulled today. Digging for gossip and outing Hiroko only so she could criticize her to try to sway Ayaka was some ugly shit, and I will not be forgetting it. And I am also side-eyeing Hiroko's "friends" at the bar, who saw Hiroko panic when she ran into those two, heard them call her senpai, and still spilled all her secrets when Risa came poking around (though I appreciate that at least Mama quickly realized they'd fucked up and apologized). I am sad that Hiroko doesn't actually have anyone on her side, and it's clear from the brief flashbacks we keep seeing that she has been betrayed in the past. I am curious to see where they go with Ayaka's quest from here, because continuing to push Hiroko when she's drawn a firm boundary is not the move. Something in the dynamic will need to shift.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

This shoooooooooow. I'm obsessed. Episode 2 is now available on @isaksbestpillow's blog. This week we got more hints about Mitsuya's past and other relationships (just how many boyfriends do you have, sir?), met my new favorite Shige, and learned about Ishida's past baseball career and why he's still feeling a little lost trying to establish himself in a new field. I loved following Mitsuya and Ishida on their long day together; their chemistry feels so natural and the whole sequence with Mitsuya making the tenshinhan was excellent. I was also super excited that Ishida has figured himself out quickly and knows he's crushing on Mitsuya. He's going to need that awareness because he appears to have a lot of competition.

Twilight Out of Focus

Tagging in @twig-tea to talk about this week's episode, which shifted the focus to a new couple.

[yawujin]

I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT, IT'S AWESOME😭

My request is..well, quite toxic(actually very). I want to see how characters from Hetalia(to your taste, but I would really like to see Turkey, Spain and France) would react that someone is being VERY RUDE to their S/o, not even letting them defend themselves, driving them to tears with words like "ugh, you're so fat and ugly, you should go on a diet" or "boo, fat slut is trying to say something again. Too bad no one cares about you.". Bonus points if the characters also fully aware that any topics about weight or appearance can be a huge trigger for their S/o.

If you don't like such topics and makes you uncomfortable, please forgive me and ignore my request . But I just want to see how this request will look like in your style (I love it so much😭)

hey thank you!! it's not toxic at all. i like writing for reqs such as these to put my writing skills to the test. that's what i'm here for after all 💁🏾‍♀️ that being said; here you go anon!! i hope you like it!!!

{ request } hetalia men x reader ♡

type • established relationship , they/them pronouns used , reaction , trigger warning for bodyshaming

turkey/sadık adnan

we've all seen how passionate turkey can get when it comes to arguing on the behalf of someone he really likes (ex: that ep when he and greece are fighting for dibs on japan 🤭)

he starts cussing out whoever is harassing his love, not letting them get a word in this time

some of what he says comes out in turkish, some of it in english. he's honestly so pissed at whoever this is that he doesn't care what language he swears in

he just needs them to gtfo

as soon as they leave, turkey wraps an arm around his love, bringing them in close to comfort them

he gives them a moment to cry before cracking a joke in efforts to lift their mood

spain/antonio f. carriedo

spain's a chill dude, so at first he calmly but firmly tries to get whoever is harrassing his partner to go away. just telling them to leave and holding onto his partner while he takes a few steps back

spain really doesn't like to get angry bc he feels like it brings out the worst in him

he's good at scaring people off with his passive aggressive tone most of the time, but this person who is harrassing his love just won't leave...

spain tells them to leave through gritted teeth. he gives them a death glare as they walk off...finally

spain turns to give his love a kiss, embracing them so their face goes into his chest. it's better for him not to see their tears

france/francis bonnefoy

france has a petty to side to him that he isn't afraid to show

so, because of that, his way of defending his partner is to throw petty, little insults back at whoever is harrassing them

he snickers and laughs at their humiliating excuse of an insult towards his partner's figure

he eventually just rolls his eyes, and takes his partner away...

they have much better things to do anyway!

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

I think I might sequester wip posts to once a week on a Thursday (coz it's Thursday). I'll post art and maybe a writing snippet if I'm up for it. Just gotta keep wips low-key.

anyway I got tagged by @skyrim-forever @firefly-factory @pocket-vvardvark Tagging @nyarevar and @archangelsunited. No pressure 🫂 The rest of the post is under the cut.

I've been working on the render that I started in December, just have his hair and some extra lighting details left.

And an idea for the next render

And a snippet from You, where Josh gets harassed by Hircine again.

“Fine,” I finally replied, shoving the ring back in my pocket, “What do you want me to do.”

The spectre nodded again, pleased with my answer, “I see you’ve matured since we last met, Blodskaal. I expected to hear protests?”

I sighed, “An what would refusing the Lord of the Hunt do? I’m old Hircine, I’m too fucking tired to argue.”

“You are a strange one, Nerevarine but I will make use of your—” The spectre paused for a moment and blinked its large eyes at me again, “Compliance.”

I grit my teeth as Hircine continued to rattle on, my hand still clasping the ring that I had shoved into my pocket.

“The one who stole my ring has fled to what he believes is his sanctuary,” Hircine continued, “Just as a bear climbs a tree to escape the hunter but only ends up trapping himself. Seek out this rogue shifter who has lost my favour, flay the skin from his body as you once did centuries ago and make it an offering to me.”

I shook my head as I finally let go of the ring in my pocket and folded my arms, “You want me to do what I did to Heart-Fang? Why should I do that? That kid’s done nothing to me.”

“Did Tharsten Heart-Fang do anything to you in the Hunting Grounds, Blodskaal?” Hircine countered, “Or was he acting on his nature?”

I rolled my eyes, “Heart-Fang attacked me in that maze, I don’t much care for his reasoning. That kid back in the gaols did nothing but annoy me a little. It’s not an equivalent.”

“It hasn’t stopped you before, Blodskaal.”

‘He’s right, Sero—'

‘Shut it,’ I mumbled under my breath. The last thing I needed was Nerevar’s input. It’s his bloodthirstiness that got me into that mess out on Solstheim in the first place. I was content pissing my time away watching that mine.

“Not an equivalent,” I spat, replying to the two of them. I’d killed my fair share of people for ridiculous reasons, sure but I didn’t relish in having blood on my hands. Well, not the part of me that I associated with my old self anyway. There was a part of me that relished it but I’d always attributed that to Nerevar’s influence. A partial melding between the two of us that didn’t quite work in his favour.

It's a part of me that does not mix well with who I want to be. It churns about in my gut and merges with my paranoia like a demented slurry. I’d always tried to push that desire out of my mind, but there's always something that grabs me and throws me back into wanton violence. Then I spend all my fucking time justifying to myself why I did it in the first place. If they attacked me, then I have a reason to kill as I wish.

The thought just makes me feel sick.

“There is no retribution in the hunt, Nerevarine. I do not seek vengeance as you do, no. Merely the glory of the hunt,” Hircine’s voice boomed throughout the clearing, and I struggled not to cup my hands around my ears. That kind of vulnerability in the face of the likes of Hircine would be a grave mistake on my behalf. Though it seems that the spectre noticed my discomfort regardless, “Nerevarine, there are countless others that would gladly accept my favour. They will hunt him while you delay. It is your choice.”

“I’m not looking for your favour,” I replied flatly, “If I recall you orchestrated this whole thing to lure me out of hiding. Why the fuck would I seek you out of my own volition?”

“Be careful with your words, Blodskaal,” Hircine threatened, “Do not think you have the upper hand here just because you possess my artifact. You may have once been favoured by Azura but she has long abandoned you. You crave that favour again. That is why you will do as I command, because you are compelled to do so by your very nature—”

I spat on the ground in front of me, the taste of ash burning in my throat as my fury rose. I hated this sort of tactic, insult aspects of myself that I had no fucking control over and attribute everything I do as an inevitability because of that. As if I was never capable of change. That I needed to be treated like shit just to get me to comply. I was no stranger to it, whether it was my bastard of a grandfather, Orvas Dren, Caius Cosades, Nerevar, the Daedric Princes, the fucking Tribunal! Fuck even you at the end reduced me to nothing but the curse that corrupts my flesh!

Everyone who ever believed in me is either dead or too far away to help me right now. All I had at the end of the day was myself and I’d been fighting alone for two human lifetimes at this point. The only person who could stand up for me is myself and I knew there was one thing this fucker was wrong about.

Azura never truly abandoned me, I abandoned her.

“Fuck this,” I growled, turning away from the spectre. I was done parlaying with a fucking Daedra. It’s rid myself of the ring in some cave or a deep hole or something and hope that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass again. I heard my guardian move and crackle as Hircine’s voice boomed through the clearing once again.

“You never had a choice.”

And my own voice echoed his words as I hit the forest floor.

[twiniverse]

Just to give it its own post, because it's important enough to warrant it:

I'm not "the person choosing the give the finger to people who need accessibility tools". I have not once said that people can't write ids on my posts. I didn't say I wouldn't look into having someone else do it. I said that I can't do it, that it is not my job, and that a certain someone's attitude is foul and that makes people less likely to want to do what they say.

I also have not thrown a little hissy fit because someone isn't doing what I want. I haven't literally told anyone that I wouldn't leave them alone until they did what I wanted them to do. I haven't used several different accounts and ips to evade being blocked in order to angrily yell about how superior I am to everyone else in the fandom, or to belittle anyone. I haven't gone to the side account of someone who has blocked me to continue my tantrum there.

I don't have a problem with accessibility, or with people who volunteer their time to give access to more people. Believe it or not, accessibility is something I'm highly dedicated to and something I am often finding new ways to implement in my actual job. My team is implementing on-site image blockers on the user side so they don't have to see things that upset them. We're making sure our on-site games aren't going to be triggering people's vertigo. We're making sure there are colour themes so that no one has to choose between blinding white light or blinding white letters, but the people who do like those options will have them, too! We're implementing high contrast mode! Our head coder is blind, in fact. We'll be working with her quite a bit to make the site- which is visual based- still accessible for those with screen readers and other aids. She has a braille display, isn't that cool? I didn't even know those were a thing until she told me.

My problem is specifically with the person who has not only harassed me, but other people in the fandom. My problem is specifically with the person who outright admitted that their reaction to being told "no" is to become aggressive and condescending. My problem is specifically with the person who thinks they're the only person who gives a damn. My problem is with the person who says that they don't have to do it, that they're volunteering their time because they care, but also says it's their job and we need to let them do it. My problem is with the person who speaks on behalf of others who do not want to be spoken for. My problem is specifically with the person who told me that they would continue harassing me unless I met their demands. My problem is specifically with the person who will read a fraction of what I actually said here and will respond with how horrible of a human I am because I focus on accessibility with my actual job and not my fancomic that I barely have the energy to work on in the first place.

My problem is specifically with the person who read everything I said and instead of recognising and accepting that they're the only one I have a problem with decided to start attacking me and accusing me of being ableist because they, and no one else, have pissed me off.

As I said to begin with, I blocked them because of their attitude and the way they harass people. The way they've harassed my friends, the way they've harassed people I don't like, the way they've harassed newbies, etc, etc. It had nothing to do with IDs, and it still doesn't. I blocked a shitty person, and that person made an assumption and is throwing a hissy fit about it. That's all there is to it. The bottom line is that genuinely anyone can add id's to my posts except for that specific person because I don't want that specific person interacting with me.

This next bit is for you, that specific person: "-but you blocked me after writing a single image description for your posts, for some stupid reason." It was not a stupid reason. And like I said in my response, it had nothing to do with you writing an image description for my post. It's because you're a foul, slimy little cockroach with a superiority complex. You think you're the hero but you're the villain here.

So, again, as disrespectfully as possible: Fuck. Off.

[cherubcameron]

Here with you

Steddie x reader

The boys knew something was going on between you, Eddie and Steve. They could see it from a mile away. Lucas was the first out of the bunch to bring it up to the older boys. Maybe they’ll be honest.

“So, you guys and y/n?” He asked, he knew it wasn’t a three way kind of thing. Only that the two boys had a thing for you. But he wanted to milk out as much as he could. Both boys looked at each other then at the younger boys in front of them.

“What about her?” Eddie asked, almost defensively. Oops, wrong way to approach this situation.

“Uh- just we noticed you guys have a-.”

“Jesus Christ, we know you both have a thing for her.” Dustin said bluntly. Mike hit Dustin on the shoulder and Dustin just shrugged. He wasn’t one to hold back and he wasn’t going to do that in this situation either.

“Uh-.” Steve said.

“You don’t have to tell us.” Will said, he didn’t like this. He felt like it was heading in unwanted territory. Eddie had been quiet before this now he felt the need to speak up.

“No no, what are you guys trying to ask? If we’re in a relationship together because we’re not. We just- we don’t know who she would pick if she had to.” Eddie said, he sounded anxious. Eddie Munson wasn’t the anxious type. Maybe in high stake situations but this wasn’t that.

“What do you mean pick?” Nancy and Robin had entered the room and looked between all the boys. Jonathan and Argyle close behind, Steve closed his eyes and put his hand on his temple.

“Pick what? Who’s picking?” Robin asked after Nancy. Eddie put his face in his hands. The younger boys recoiled at the way the older kids reacted. This wasn’t how they wanted to get information on the situation.

Before they knew it, Max and Eleven walked into the room. They were laughing at something they said to each other. Then they saw how everyone in the room looked.

“You guys okay?” Max asked.

“We’re trying to find out who’s picking whatever it is they’re picking.” Robin replied, Nancy nodded staring at both boys then at the younger ones.

“They both like y/n.” Dustin said.

“Dustin!” Steve and Eddie said in unison. Dustin rolled his eyes. “What! You morons wouldn’t say it.” Steve threw a paper at Dustin’s head, Dustin pull out his middle finger.

“What about her?” Jonathan asked, sitting on the couch. Arygle had gotten preoccupied in the kitchen to care about their conversation.

“We don’t know who she would choose if she had to between us.” Eddie said, he was looking down at the table. Nancy sat down next to Jonathan.

“Why not put it to a vote? We put down who we think she’ll choose.” Lucas said, he felt bad about the whole thing already. Maybe this would help things?

Oh how wrong he was, when everyone had written on their little papers and Lucas had collected them. Steve had won overall vote. He looked over at Eddie, it seemed like he knew what the paper said before Lucas said it out loud. Steve didn’t even look over at Eddie, he knew.

“Steve won overall vote.” The look of hurt was written on Eddie’s face. Eddie didn’t speak, he didn’t say anything. Almost like if he knew what the verdict was going to be before he said it. Lucas winced, he didn’t realize this idea made things even worse.

“Uh-.” Robin said. “Who wants to watch back to the future? Yeah, let’s watch back to the future.”

Everyone sat down and didn’t say anything to each other. Eddie had left early that day and everyone in their own way felt guilty.

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

When you found out about the voting, you were pissed off. You hated when people tried to speak on your behalf. Or tried to interject themselves into your decisions. You stared at the party with anger. Steve stood next to you, the only person you weren’t mad at.

“It was my dumb idea, I’ll take credit for that.” Lucas said, a guilty expression on his face. You looked over at him.

“Look, whoever I decide to “pick” is my business. And my business alone. I don’t need anyone making it for me. And who said I was going to choose anyone.” You said, you felt Steve’s eyes on you as you spoke. You looked up at him, his eyes told you a story about heartbreak. One you’ve known because he told you and one you had to figure out by the way his eyes dimmed as he said it.

“I have to go talk to Eddie. Come on Steve.”

Steve drove you to Eddie’s trailer, silence between the two of you was louder than it usually was. Usually though, it was a comfortable silence. This one was too tensed.

“Uh y/n?” He said, his eyes still on the road.

“Yeah?”

“Not saying you have to choose, but uh I just need to know. Do you- do you like me?” He asked, you felt his eyes on you for a brief time.

“Of course I do Steve. But I also like Eddie. So you can see how that complicates things.”

Eddies trailer was in sight and Steve glanced over at you. He smiled a small smile at you.

“Choose wisely.”

Eddie was busy trying to tune his guitar to have heard you guys come in. Once he saw you guys at the door. He knew.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here ya know. I can take care of myself. Just fine.” Eddie said, placing his precious guitar back on the wall. You sighed and sat on his bed.

“Stop the shit, Munson. I know when you’re hurting. Right now is not the time for that.” You said, your arms were crossed. Both boys stared at each other before sitting on opposites sides of you.

“Look, I know you and Harrington knew each other longer. I get it. I’m the stranger who barge into your love story.”

You put your hands on your head. Shaking your head slowly.

“Never said I was going to choose. Never asked for people to speak for me, Eddie.” You stared him down until he looked away. You sighed, you turned to look over at Steve. There was a hurt expression on his face.

“I want the both of you. But I don’t know if either of you would compromise.” You went on. Eddies face turned into a mixture of confusion and suspension.

“What are you trying to say? You want us to be a threesome?”

“Polyamory is a thing, you know. And I know you never cared for what other people thought.” You turned to Steve. “You on the other-.”

“I’ll do anything, anything to be with you.” Steve said, his hand now on your back. Eddie looked at him and a smile began to form.

“Sounding a little desperate, aren’t we Harrington?”

Steve glared at him before looking back at you. “So that’s a yes?” You asked.

Both boys couldn’t make it to you fast enough. Both of them ready to devour you whole. They could try and see where it went. That was what they could do. Eddie had you by your back as Steve kissed you.

“You sure about this?”

“No shit.”

[hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog]

HELLOOOOOO

I have been semi stalking and poking my head into this account a lot since I adore fanfic anons content. And I would like to propose my own little AU and maybe fanfics for a later date (keyword, maybe since I may also post these onto my ao3) BUT LE CONSIDER:

Based semi on the AU from user AppleParty on Twitter, mainly just one idea, the one where Alastor is Lucifer’s personal guard, the rest is my own.

Basic gist: Alastor makes a deal with Lucifer. Lucifer grants Alastor all the power he desires, but Alastor has to vow to protect Charlie with his life and try and help parent her as Lucifer knows he is not in the right mental state to do so anymore. So Alastor ends up vanishing for 7+ years to help raise and protect the Princess of Hell, while also having a budding friendship with Lucifer (So Hell's Greatest Dad turns from dad off to a tongue and cheek teasing match).

Everything is fine and dandy, some of the same plot points from the pilot happen instead with the inclusion of Alastor. Vaggie and Alastor also have a more mutual respect but not friends yet relationship. The interview goes horribly wrong and Vaggie has to hold Alastor back from ripping Katie Killjoy’s head off. The scene in the limo is more tense as Angel is avoiding the piss off guard dog that is the radio demon now. Alastor tries to cheer Charlie up by cashing in some favors by calling up Nifty and Husk, probably in this AU, Husk is still not an overlord as Alastor owns his soul still, but Husk has more power and having to raise Charlie probably has matured Alastor more so him and Husk are more on even ground and Alastor looks at Husk as more as an advice giver when he needs it. Nifty is just Nifty. The two agree to work at the hotel as they are doing Alastor a favor and they believe in Charlie’s dream. Alastor is up for debate as he may only be doing this because he has to since he is her personal guard or he actually believes in it. The only thing he will say on the matter is he finds it entertaining and he can’t wait to see the chaos start.

All things are going good, they plan on celebrating and everything until a knock comes to the door. Alastor excuses himself, shooing off Vaggie to tell her she should be with her girlfriend, he will handle the matters. He goes to answer the door, being speaking in a manner tone until he opens his eyes and is greeted to

Vox

BECAUSE YEAH SPOILER ALERT THIS IS A STATICRADIO AU HAHAHAH

Alastor’s smile drops and he hisses in anger and slams the door shut in Vox’s face, not even giving the Overlord a chance to speak as he storms back into the lobby. Cue Charlie having to rush over and mediate everything and bring Vox in, who saw the interview on TV and wants to sponsor the hotel. Because well, hey it would be good money and it would be funny to see Charlie try and redeem sinners. But everyone can TELL there is tension between him and Alastor, like the scary kind of tension when you have no clue if person a is gonna lunge and rip out person b’s throat. But you know its there since they have a history together.

Cue all the hijinks that ensue as Alastor and Vox have to try and repair their relationship while also helping Charlie out with her dream. Also more chaos than normal since Alastor probably accompanies Charlie to more places than in canon.

But that is all hehe. Am gonna give myself a sign off so people know who I am soo

-⚔️aka “Hotel’s Radio Guard AU” (work in title au name) Anon!

I love your energy my friend, on this blog we appreciate fanfic anon, spamming, and all kinds of AUs

The beginning of this is similar to dadstaticradio au (except lucifer instead of lilith ofc) but there is no issue I take with that bc I love it

Also referring to Alastor as guard dog and "Niffty is just Niffty" made me laugh, if you ever do post on Ao3 pls tag me in it or sent a link in asks and I'll share it on your behalf

[cxffeeshxp]

don't know if you still interact with them but st0ls/stols is back and if you're not aware of everything

@cancelstols and @pocketsandsatan have proofs and explanations

even only being back for a few days, stols is already apparently sending anon hate so best to block them if you haven't already

also make your friends aware because their dangerous

~So I am answering this, and afterwards, I am just deleting and blocking you annoying ass cringey ass niggas. I'm also blocking that fuck ass blogs you linked so big ups.

Unless you have irrefutable proof that the anon hate is coming from Stols, kindly fuck off, because I am more likely to believe the anon hate is coming from the same freaks that mass spam people to 'inform' others about Stols or harass Stols themselves.

Make no mistake. Stols post some really stupid shit and can act irresponsible on their platform, such as vague posting and constant drama bullshit that really doesn't matter outside of Tumblr. But I also don't think people make a fuck ton of blogs that just stalk and 'collect evidence' on everything they post are doing anything noble, it's 4chan/kiwi farm type shit.

Furthermore I am a grown ass nigga, I don't need yall telling me who to interact with, I have blocked Stols in the past for annoying by filling up my dash with drama shit and am capable of doing it again if I need to. But I haven't.

You people, you puritan little piece of shit annoy me so fucking much because you try to parade yourself as being virtuous and moral yet do anything but start shit and stalk someone you don't like that and the end of the day their biggest crime is being weird and annoying, which all of us are myself included. I also saw one you niggas try to start shit with one of my mutuals by claiming to be 'pissed on their behalf' which NO THE FUCK YOU AREN'T. That mutual has explicitly said they don't want to interact or talk about Stols so trying to get them to talk is invading their boundaries for your own obsessive little goals, fuck off. Yall running the Stols hate stalker blogs need to get the fuck off Tumblr more than Stols.

[little-worm-grant]

Valentines with the Moonboys

Moonboys x You (Reader) 701 Words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥ Summary: How would each alter react to you on Valentines day? Little snippets of their lives with you. Happy Valentines 🥰

Warnings: No smut but suggestive.

Steven-- Have you ever wanted every single breakfast item on your plate in the shape of a heart? Of course you have. Steven would prepare you the best Valentine’s breakfast and eat in bed with you. Excited to spend the whole morning with you. Be prepared to be dragged back down into the sheets at some point.

All throughout the day he would’ve been sending you gifts. Singing messengers. The biggest bouquet of fruit in the shape of flowers. A telegram bear. He worried the other two wouldn’t send you anything so he doubled his efforts on their behalf. He didn’t think you’d mind coming home to find petals everywhere and the bath filled for you. Was it all a bit much? Yeah, maybe. But he wanted to show you he cared.

A bazillion candles and almost a burned-down apartment later. You’d be getting full-body massages to some relaxing music he’d found. Trying to talk over it in some soothing voice when it accidentally hits the advertisements. He especially wouldn’t know what to do with his hands if you happened to turn over to face him. Take him a minute to get into it and massage you everywhere. Ready to give you anything you need to feel loved.

Marc-- Marc would get you a piece of jewelry with some underlying sharp edge. Giving you a tactile method of causing damage to someone if you intended it so. He’d show you how to use it, make you get up and practice trying it on him. Turn it into a game where you’re both laughing and Marc’s wrestling you to the ground. He’d apologize for not getting you a nice date somewhere, hating how busy the restaurants get, but he’d always been good in the kitchen. He just needs to get his hands off of you first.

Marc wouldn’t be loud in his Valentine's efforts, but you’d see it in his attentiveness. The way he’d try to determine your needs before you voiced them. Telling you about all the ways he loved you. All the times you’ve made him laugh or gotten him out of his shell.

He’d prepare every single one of your favorite meals. Getting you to sit on his lap so he can feed you each bite between some of his own. He’d tease you. Touch you. Do anything to distract you until he had a good enough reason to be dragging you back to bed with him to show you what he really feels about you. He’d be whatever you want him to be. The night was yours to control (and possibly get some good use out of Steven’s restraints).

Jake-- He wouldn’t do anything stupid like come at you with gifts or affection - so he says. Knowing Steven will probably do that for the lot of them. Instead, he’d invite you to come people watching with him. A real wine and dine dinner at Costco where there won’t be a wait on the tables. Guess the lives and stories of those who passed by. Make up the wildest scenarios.

After, he’d drag you along to the top of one of his favorite spots in the city, where you can oversee some Valentine’s Parade from above. He’d want to show you his ring of smoke he can do which almost looks like a heart. Jake would spend the whole day trying to figure out what you liked most about having him around. Or why you hadn’t asked for one of the others yet. Most all all, he’d just appreciate spending whatever time he can get with you.

He’d show you the t-shirt he picked up for you. Surrounded by hearts that said; “I’m not sensitive, you’re just a dickhead.” Makes up for the amount of times you’ve called him one. Thought that’d give you both a laugh.

Once he'd dropped you off home, you’d find a gift-wrapped package of scandalous underwear signed J.L on the card. For when there’s a next time, or not. He’d like to know you’ve worn it at some point. And possibly to piss off Marc once he finds out it was Jake that brought it. All for a good cause. He knows Marc’s more possessive with you when he’s all wound up. All the more reason for Jake to come back and dote on you afterwards.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Hi!

You can ignore this ask if you want!

Honestly as I was writing one ask another popped up in my mind 🥹so I decided to do two ask instead of one so I didn't spam your inbox haha!

Also sorry for bothering you with these ideas.

What would platonic yandere Dick Grayson do for the readers birthday? Would he invite anyone that he is close to or even trust or would it just be him and reader sharing a cake as he sings happy birthday to them? And also maybe gives them a lot of presents but they are kind of childish if that makes sense.

The other ask would be what would again platonic yandere Dick Grayson do if by some chance the reader escaped from him? Would he freak out for a bit and than promptly go and look for them? And once he finds them he's furious and the reader is scared because they have never seen him that angry or show that type of emotion before?

Again you can ignore this if you want I know I wrote a lot I was just so excited and the ideas popped into my head!

LOVE ALL THE WORKS YOU'VE DONE!

HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY OR NIGHT!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆…

!!! GN reader, infantilizing, mentions of kidnapping, handcuffs, forced-affection, pissed off Dick Grayson, brief mention of drugging, reader fears being hit for a second.

(ANON, I LOVE REPEAT OFFENDERS IN MY INBOX. DON’T YOU DARE FEEL BAD FOR FEEDING ME ASKS. I’M HUNGRYYYYYYYYYYYY.)

Birthday parties depend on how compliant you are. If you’re not trying to escape every other day, he’d gladly invite some of the Titans over to celebrate! He likes showing off his cool hero connections to you — even going as far as to play the “oh, Superman? His mother makes the best apple pie” card — so this would be a good way to live up to the hype. A lot of the party would be spent taking on your behalf, however. He just thinks he knows you that well (and he doesn’t want you to form a connection with anyone else; he’s the only one you need in your life!!). I can also see him laying down ground rules to the other Titans beforehand, practically threatening them to be on their best behavior. Big brother’s friends must be good role models to his young and impressionable sibling!!

Now, I already said that it depends on how compliant you are, but it also depends on what your situation is, too. I lowkey kinda imagine all of the platonic Dick Grayson asks to take place in the same universe as Life With Older Brother, which means everyone knows you’re under Dick’s care, and it’s pretty much the only scenario where inviting people to your birthday would work. But if you were kidnapped, it would be a different story. He’s not risking anyone finding out about you (which complicates his relationship with a very young Tim Drake, who would totally accidentally stumble upon you in the apartment, but that’s a story for another day), so even if you were very complacent, I don’t see him inviting anyone over.

Back to the Life With Older Brother universe, if you “misbehave” a lot, it would just be the two of you. He’d almost hold it over your head, sadly sighing as he says things like, “it would’ve been a bigger party this year, but only good little siblings get big birthday parties.” If you were a fucking child, maybe this dumb guilt-tripping tactics would actually work. If you try to cut your two-person party short by spending the rest of the day in your room, he’s not above wrestling you into his lap — or even handcuffing you to the kitchen table — so you can open your presents; and holy shit, there’s a lot of them. I can definitely see him getting you childish things, ranging from toys to innocent-looking kiddy clothes. Any gifts sent by Bruce are taken back to the store for return.

As for escaping…

There’s no way you’d manage to pull-off an escape while he’s in the apartment, so it’d be a nasty surprise for him when he returns from patrol. He’d frantically tear the place apart in search of you, his stomach dropping as he finds the clues of your apparent escape. Once he checks the security feed, he feels equal parts worried, heartbroken, and angry that you took it upon yourself to leave him. You really don’t know what’s good for you, do you?! You’d rather run around on dangerous streets than stay with your kind, loving, doting older brother…

His search probably wouldn’t take long. I can see him putting a tracker in your arm at some point, so it’s as simple as following the little red dot on his device. Relief washes over him when he sees you’re alright, but that does little to quell the betrayal rage he feels. He’s silently swoop down from above, forcefully picking you up from behind as he grapples back towards the apartment. You’d kick and thrash, plead and beg, but there’s nothing but radio silence on his end. The only inkling of a reaction you get is his tight frown and his extremely restrictive arm around your abdomen. Dread washes over your chest as you realize just how fucked you are.

Upon returning home, he practically throws you against his bed and spares no time handcuffing you to the headboard. Any sort of apologies you try to muster out immediately die on your tongue as he rips off his mask, his piercing blue eyes filled with an icy rage you’ve never seen before. It makes you want to curl into a little ball and wish you were never born.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he’d lowly mutter, exasperation sprinkled between the gaps of his anger. There’s a moment where you think he’s going to start one of his signature lectures, but no such thing happens. Instead, he turns to the wall and punches it, causing you to flinch at the impact. Never has he shown this type of aggression in front of you. He’s yelled at you, sure, but physically punched something?

For the first time, you found yourself worrying if he’d put his hands on you.

I think he’d have to convince himself to cool off for a bit. First triple-checking that you couldn’t escape (possibly imposing more precautions like double restraints or the IV), he’d leave the apartment for another patrol, taking his anger out on any poor criminal he comes across. I’d say it takes an hour before he feels level-headed enough to come back home, his suit speckled with blood from viscous beat-down after viscous beat-down. It’s the first thing you notice when he comes through his bedroom window, causing your heart rate to pick up.

He wants so desperately to scream at you; he needs to get it through your thick skull that you’re safe here, and he’s the only one in the world who knows how to care for you and protect you. But that will come later. Right now, all he wants to do is bring you into a longing and desperate hug, not even taking the time to change out of his Nightwing suit beforehand.

You’d be held against him for a while, his trembling hands making sure you have no chance of squirming out of his hold. It may be suffocating, but at the very least, it quells your fears of him taking his anger out on you.

[camp-counselor-life]

Youthwork in 2025

Tomorrow is Trump's second inauguration. When all of this was just starting, waaaaay back in 2016/17, I took a break from my blog's hiatus and wrote a post about Trump's first election. It was titled "How to be a camp counselor with today's politics," and it listed a number of skills. I've also written on and off about how youth work, Girl Scouts, and summer camp have inherent political aspects to them, regardless of nonpartisan status (as 501c3s are).

While I can't guarantee regular content or any sort of schedule, I'm here to say, reflections on the political nature of youthwork & camp will not stop. The politics involved with supporting kids & families will be here for all of time. Any kids, whether that's trans kids, queer kids, kids of color, kids from other countries, other socioeconomic statuses, disabled kids, any group of kids.

Because all children are important and deserve to be supported and loved by not just their families and friends, but by neighbors, communities, countries, and the world. (I invite you to look at the UN's rights for children, which has been ratified by most countries but not the US).

You may not be sure what is coming. I'm certainly not. But this I can tell you: we are fighting an uphill battle on behalf of the kids we work with, teach, care for, and love. The world in 50 years, well, I might be around, but it's really going to be the world for the next generation(s). But I'm shaping that world now.

So. What's a camp staff, youth educator, or general person who interacts with kids to do?

Take a breath and get your own thoughts together, at least a little. Not only can you not pour from an empty cup, there's no way to do the work that we need if we're in a panic.

Educate yourself within reason. You can't be an advocate for your kids if you don't know what's happening, but also remember, through all of this, that you still need to care for yourself. Burnout is no joke.

Start to reach out, build community, and build momentum. Maybe you connect your day camp with a local food collective to feed everyone lunch instead of hoping they can afford sack lunches. Maybe you organize a supply drive alongside a middle school. Maybe you get involved with an organization providing education to teens on community building.

Nothing we do in this fight will be accomplished alone. I told a friend recently that the best part of working at council, in conjunction with what I learned in grad school, is the community building I have been a part of.

Do you know the resources in your community for shelter, food, utility and rent assistance, or where to find them? Have you gone on your local 211 website (recently)? Do you know where you'd direct someone looking for assistance if they asked? Do you know where to find help if you need it.

So here's my challenge options to you, today (pick what best fits you or pick multiple):

Reach out to 1-2 friends to say hi, check in, etc.

Find your local 211 website and click around.

Go online and find your local mutual aid group, community fridge/food pantry, or collective. If you're feeling brave, reach out about how you can help.

Consider what your bandwidth is for this year. Do you have time to volunteer? In what capacity.

Research organizations fighting the good fight in an area you are passionate about. How do you know what you're passionate about? What pisses you off most about the new administration, project 2025, Trump in general. That's a good starting place.

If none of these are doable, practice self care. Maybe don't watch the inauguration (I'm not going to).

I know this is a little naive. I know people are going to suffer & probably die due to this. I also know that I can only control my sphere. I can make my sphere bigger, sure, but I can't control anything outside of what I'm working to accomplish, and I certainly don't control politics.

I am moving from panic mode and letting my fear drive me to action. I can control what I can, and fight like hell for that. So I invite you to join me, with even the smallest action, today, tomorrow, every day.

[wolfertinger]

warning for mentions of rape i guess, sorry i got a bit heated here but im genuinely baffled at how people could side with these two after this.

when salem defended wis (who was quite literally berating someone for asking clarification on if she was being exclusionary of other trans peoples' experiences in favor of transfems) by saying he agrees with her as a trans man really fuckin pisses me off as a transmasc person. you dont get to speak on behalf of all trans men and transmasc people. stop fucking acting like youre our leader or something.

mind you, wis replied to this person with, quote, "yes trans people as a whole experience this problem, yes trans women have it the worst out of everyone". everyone.

trans people have it really difficult in life.

trans women have it really difficult in life.

trans men have it really difficult in life.

non-binary people have it really difficult in life.

genderqueer people have it really difficult in life.

trans people have it really difficult in life.

i dont give a fuck if you think X Y and Z suddenly makes being a trans woman much more difficult than literally every other queer identity under the sun, thats not how it fucking works man. queer experiences are not a god damn monolith, everyone goes through life differently, and yes you can argue certain identities get discriminated against in unique ways- THAT IS NOT GROUNDS TO SAY YOURE THE MOST OPPRESSED.

in this day and age you will be systematically oppressed for being trans no matter what label you use, because you're trans. nobody should give a shit about who's got it worse because WE ALL HAVE IT SHITTY. THAT SHOULD BE THE END OF IT.

salem even argues that trans men widely experiencing erasure in media is a good thing and thus is part of why trans women somehow have it harder by default. what the actual fuck????

"you never hear about transphobia in shows, news, games etc specifically targeting transmasc/afab people individually because society views us as "tricked women" no matter what so ofc they're not going to paint us as super evil and aggressive"

1: ah yes, being infantilized and completely ignored is MUCH better than being treated as violent, guys. being brushed off by your doctor/psychiatrist/parents/etc because you're just a confused little girl and should keep those disgusting thoughts to yourself is sooo much better and doesn't make you feel utterly alone and wanting to end your fucking life.

2: this also isnt fucking true anyways, i see trans men get targeted ALL THE TIME with shit like "they're ruining their natural beauty and just need a man to fix them" yknow, leading to rape, or being "violent traitors" which is especially common in TERF circles, spouting bs about how testosterone turns you violent/ugly/brutish... oh hey, doesn't that sound familiar?

and lets not forget wis, at one point, replying to that person with "type in the chat 1 if you feel unsafe around me, 2 if you feel unsafe around (person she was replying to)" essentially getting her followers to rally against someone THAT LITERALLY JUST ASKED FOR CLARIFICATION ON WHAT SHE MEANT.

and for the record, wis: 1.

i just do not understand, why terminally online queer people like wis and salem, are so intent on making a "hierarchy" of queerness. like yes. trans women, do have it bad. transmisogyny is a unique and terrible thing to experience. but, the way the both of them talk about trans men. and honestly. the way a large portion of the internet, talks about trans men/trans mascs. it gets truly bad. even, from other queer people.

in an irl, lgbt community. guess what. nobody cares, about your ASAB. no one walks up, and asks, "are you TME or TMA?!?!". no one pries into your identity. if you look 100% feminine. but ask them to refer to you as a he. they will respect this. salem of course, does not know this, as he has never attempted to seek an lgbt community. and yes. i am aware, he lives in the south, in a religious environment. so did i. in the deep south, where at times, it was dangerous.

i have been incredibly fortunate, in that i have been part of many different real life lgbt communities. some created by myself even, and thus, having experience with irl, chill queer people. they literally, are just people. and yes. some of them, DO end up being bad people, they are not immune to being shitty, simply for being lgbt. our group, rightfully kept them away, because they proved themselves to be a danger, and could not respect basic consent.

the point of a community, especially one for marginalized people. is to BE. TOGETHER. to SUPPORT, and UPLIFT one another! not to create, artificial lines, that no one cares about, irl. wis and salem so desperately, want to be the queen and king of a shitty hierarchy, they are constructing around them, where they always have the be-all-end-all, to everything, and every issue, and are never wrong. i think, as someone who is not terminally online, and has more experience with irl gays, than online gays, it is just scummy.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Protecting the Aspen Witch

Hey, sorry this isn't very specific, but I was rereading Protector earlier and wanted to know if you could maybe write more from that universe? Brain's not braining much rn, so I'm afraid that's the most detailed I can be haha. But any h/c from that universe would make me extremely happy. Maybe they actually have a conversation about Virgil's trauma? – anon

Read on Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: panic attack/dissociation

Pairings: DLAMPR

Word Count: 4798   

 Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

On another quest to the Aspen Witch, something goes...a little awry.

Truly, going to see the Aspen Witch isn't the worst quest in the world. In another set of circumstances, he would be grateful for such a well-traveled road, or even just to be able to go somewhere that he knows.

In this world, however, he thinks that the next time someone needs something from the Aspen Witch, he'll tell them to go themselves.

(He won't, he knows he won't, but he likes to imagine for one moment that he might consider it.)

In any case, at least this time he's not bartering for something on behalf of someone else. He's making a delivery on behalf of Elise, a sweet girl in the village who accidentally pissed off the wrong warlock. (See, this is why he'd never actually be able to tell someone else to go, because either he's bartering, which means it's for something that'll help a lot of people, or it's for someone who would definitely be in grave danger if they tried to go alone.) The warlock hadn't taken too kindly to Elise's accidental questioning of their source of magic, even though that wasn't what she was intending at all, and bestowed a powerfully cursed amulet into Elise's possession while she slept. The amulet held a potent attraction charm to coerce Elise into putting it on, and once on, induced paranoia so severe the poor girl's screams could be heard all the way from Virgil's home.

Needless to say, he's taking it far, far away to be destroyed.

He accepted nothing more than a small bag of coin—smaller than his pouch of agrimore dust, the family wasn't exactly in the position to spare a lot of money—and promised Elise to see to it that the amulet never touched her again. Truly it was just a matter of keeping it wrapped in skeldor hide until he reached the Aspen Witch to limit the potency and then, well, then the Aspen Witch would have to know what to do.

Part of him wondered if he would see any of the Five—of course there were five of them and of course they were known by some ridiculous name—when he set off, but there weren't any strange things in his garden, nor did any of them decide to appear when he beds down at the boulder, across the bridge, even when he gets into the valley. No, he manages to make it all the way to the Aspen Witch without running into any of them.

If he were still the adventurer he was years ago, he'd take that as good fortune. If he's going off of what he knows now, he knows enough to be a little wary of their absence.

And if he's being truly honest, something he does try to refrain from outside the safety of the walls of his home, he might be a little disappointed.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts as he approaches the Aspen Witch's grounds. He winces when he stumbles right into the brambles of the crimson thornbushes and feels them tear through his cloak. His fingers almost twitch to his dagger, but then he steels himself. These are the grounds of a magic user, after all, and he would treat them with respect even if he suspected these plants to be totally normal if he decided to slice them open.

With the changing of the seasons, night falls much earlier than it had the last time he ventured this far. The sun is already at the tops of the trees as he approaches the door, several candles already flickering through the windows. He takes a deep breath, takes a moment to check that everything is still where it's supposed to be, and knocks on the door.

"Yes?"

"I am the adventurer known as Virgil. I have come to deal with the Aspen Witch."

"Ah, Virgil! Yes, come in."

He feels something in the door shift and he pushes it open. The bell over the top of the door rings. The Aspen Witch smiles at him from behind her table of treasures; a brickleback spine sits under her hands where she is…obtaining something from it. She sets the tool she's using down with a clink and reaches to pick something up from her side.

"I have prepared for you a drink," she says as Virgil sits, "to ease your burdens."

"I would like to know what is inside it."

"Sunflower nectar, moon blossoms, and honey. It is meant to relax you."

"I recall a similar drink being offered the last time I came."

"You are correct, I offered you a similar drink."

"I would like to know if this one is different than the one you offered last time in any meaningful way."

One of her many rings taps against the edge of the cup. "It has less of the added moon blossoms than the last, which renders it less potent."

Less potent? "I have slaked my thirst at the last waterfall."

Something flickers across her face and she smiles, moving the drink aside. "Another time, then. You are still reeking of curse energy, but this one is different. I would like to know why."

"I have brought you a cursed amulet in the hopes that you would relieve the burden of its intended recipient."

"Show me." Virgil extends the amulet, still wrapped in the hide, and she takes it. She sets it on the table and runs her fingers over the leather strap holding it in place. "This is a fine specimen of hide, Virgil. I would like to know where you obtained it."

"On a past contract."

"I would like you to be more specific."

He says nothing. The Aspen Witch looks at him for a moment longer before she laughs and shakes her head.

"Perhaps another time." She undoes the leather strap carefully and withdraws the amulet. It glistens in the candlelight as she turns it back and forth. "This is a vindictive magic. I would like to know how you came into contact with it."

Is it his imagination, or does the Aspen Witch sound…put out? "The village I live near to. The curse befell a child."

"I would like to know the origins of such a curse, if you would share."

"It is my understanding that the child's intentions behind a question were misunderstood and the magic user sought the consequences they saw fit."

The Aspen Witch's fingers twitch on the chain. She examines the amulet anew and toys with the link near its base. Something darkens in her expression and Virgil tries to keep his hands still. "This was bestowed upon a child, you have said."

"I have said that it was bestowed upon a child."

Her mouth tightens. "I would like to tell you why this is unacceptable."

A chill runs through the cabin. "I would like to ask for clarification on your last statement."

"You may ask."

"I would like to know what it is you find unacceptable: that the child was bestowed a cursed object, that the child was bestowed this cursed object, or that I have said that it was a child to whom it was bestowed."

He must be imagining things because it looks like her expression softens, even the slightest bit. "The second of your list. It is unacceptable that a child was bestowed such a curse. I would like to explain why."

Thank fuck. "I would listen to an explanation."

The Aspen Witch lays the amulet back down on the hide and reaches for something else. She takes a long stick from a drawer and snaps it over the amulet. As the pieces of it start to drift down, they take on different colors and hover in the air.

"Curses have three main derivations," she says as she does so, "either they affect the accursed's mind, their body, or their soul. Mind curses are difficult to break as they require some level of consent from the accursed. Body curses are the most varied but are not that difficult to break, especially if they are familiar with the curse itself."

They look down to see the particles have turned a vivid bloody red. The Aspen Witch's nails scrape against the table.

"Soul curses are vile things," she spits with more emotion than Virgil has ever seen or heard from her, "and they can erase a person if they are not done with extreme skill."

Virgil's mouth runs dry. "I…would like to know what you mean by 'erase.'"

"No," the Aspen Witch says lowly, "you do not."

Alright, no, I do not. That's good enough for me.

With a flick of her wrist, she disperses the particles and wraps the amulet back in the hide. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself—what the fuck has Virgil walked into if the Aspen Witch has to steady herself?—before she looks at him again.

"I would like to know what you intend to provide as payment."

"I recall you mentioning the value of curse energy upon our last visit."

"You would offer the energy of this curse as the payment for removing it."

"I would offer the energy of the curse as payment for its removal."

The Aspen Witch looks at him for a moment longer before she nods and stands, retrieving the amulet from within the hide and sliding the hide over for Virgil to take. "I accept this payment."

He takes the hide silently and puts it back in his pack, watching as she walks over to another table. She places the amulet in a pestle and takes various jars down from the shelf above. He watches as she sprinkles things over the amulet and soft motes of light begin to emerge as she murmurs under her breath. When the glow is strong enough to rival one of the candles, she takes the mortar and brings it down.

Three things happen at once.

First, he sees pieces of the amulet shatter, ricocheting hard enough to dig grooves into the walls of the house.

Second, there is an overwhelmingly loud boom.

Third, something crackles outside and the whole building shakes.

The Aspen Witch's head whips around, staring not at Virgil but over his shoulder in the direction of the door. The mortar falls from her hands as she narrows her eyes. Virgil holds his hands up slowly, indicating that he's not about to do shit right now, and he carefully turns to look over his shoulder.

The door is still intact, but something in his instincts prickles along the back of his neck. He looks back.

"I would like to know what that was," he says as quietly as he can.

"Yes," the Aspen Witch says as she begins to walk over, "so would I."

Great, magic stuff happening that the magic user doesn't know. This is just great.

She passes him in the chair and opens the door, leaving it wide enough for Virgil to peer over her shoulder. He stands, very slowly, and tries to angle himself so he can see what's going on.

Another magic user—he's assuming, after what just happened, but he thinks it's a pretty safe guess—stands in the center of the plot of grass in front of the house. A sigil is burned and seared into the ground, and he winces.

This isn't going to go well.

"You are trespassing," the Aspen Witch says with her words full of ice and fuck it, Virgil's ready to run, "you will cease to do so."

"You destroyed something of mine," the warlock says, extending a hand, "that gives me the right to see it reversed."

"You are the foolish one who sought a soul curse upon a child?"

"I sought what was due to me for such a slight," they spit back, "as well should you know that we aren't to be questioned. And how did you hear about this, is it from the thick-headed bull that leers over your shoulder?"

Virgil's just about to edge his way out of this conversation, thank you very much, when the Aspen Witch's hand, the one behind her back, twitches.

"You will not speak of him like that."

What's going on?

"Why not? He's an adventurer, isn't he?" The warlock laughs, high and cruel and Virgil needs to get a hold of himself before something bad happens. "They're all the same, big and dumb and grunting animals that only care about coin and stopping magic users."

The words strike a chord in his chest and he tries not to let the hurt show to obviously on his face.

"Is he your pet?" The warlock's smile turns into lascivious. "Did I interrupt you in the midst of something? You of all people should understand, then, is it any harm that I wanted to make one for myse—"

The warlock doesn't get to finish their sentence as the Aspen Witch's hand flies out and a mass of thorns erupts from the earth, ensnaring them in a tangled web of crawling plant life. Virgil's hand lands on the hilt of his sword and he just as quickly wrests it away. He's not looking to make himself a target in this after all.

"Touchy," the warlock laughs—take a fucking hint, just get out while you still can— "did he tell you about that cute little thing in the village, then? Has the great Aspen Witch gone soft?"

"You are welcome to test that assumption at your earliest convenience."

Don't fucking test it. Get the fuck out. Be smart for twenty consecutive seconds and fucking run, you idiot.

The warlock doesn't. Instead, they start on about some great speech and self-aggrandizing, but Virgil sees one of their hands make a somatic component and he doesn't think.

Truly, it might be him that's gone soft. There was a time where he would already be gone, or tucked away inside out of sight. There was certainly a time where if two magic users starting casting on each other, he would not be anywhere near it.

But, he can only be who he is, no more and no less. So when he sees the component taking shape, he moves on instinct to shove the Aspen Witch out of the way and get his gauntlet up to take the full force of the spell.

The world goes black.

***

    "—il! Virgil!"

Distantly, he registers the sound of a voice. The air crackles.

"Virgil! I would—oh, hells."

Something is dragging him. His head bumps something. He's hauled up and propped against something—a wall?

"Virgil," the voice says again, he knows that voice, "Virgil, open your eyes."

He does, only for blurry things to swim in front of him. He closes them again.

"Virgil." He definitely knows that voice. "Virgil, you must open your eyes."

He tries again, blinking a few times. The first thing to come into focus is the candle on the table closest to him. The second is the hand on his shoulder, laden with rings. Only when he traces the hand to the arm up to the head does he realize who was speaking to him.

"There," the Aspen Witch says in a rush, "there. That is better."

All at once, the memories of what happened flood his brain. The amulet. The warlock. The somatic component. The spell—

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. He interfered with a magic battle. He took a spell meant for the Aspen Witch. He touched the Aspen Witch without permission, he shoved her out of the way, he—he—

"Stay," he hears as two hands land on the sides of his neck, "do not go where I cannot find you, stay here."

He blinks. The Aspen Witch is closer now, her eyes scanning his face. He swallows.

"Don't speak," she says when he opens his mouth, reaching and pressing something warm into his hand, "drink first."

I would like to know what is in it, he tries to say, but all that leaves his throat is a ruined gasp.

"It is the same drink I offered you before," she says, as though she could hear him—can she?— "it is unchanged. It is to help you relax. Drink."

He's already risked too much to afford to say no. He raises the drink to his lips and takes the smallest of sips. The warm, sweet liquid is like a balm to his sore throat and he takes another sip right away. The Aspen Witch watches him closely, one hand still on his shoulder.

"I…" He swallows, testing his voice. "I am…grateful for the drink."

"I am relieved to hear it helped." She cups his hand around it. "I will provide more should you wish it."

"Are you—I would like to know if you're—" he coughs— "if you're alright."

Her expression twitches and he knows he doesn't fully suppress his flinch, not with her this close, not with her looking at him like that. "You took a spell that was meant for me. You saved me. You defended me. And you have been hurt because of it."

Her hand moves slowly from his shoulder to his cheek.

"I…do not know what to do," she confesses softly, "we did not agree on payment."

"I do not require payment," he says as quickly as his throat will let him, "I did not—you don't—this is not an act that would require payment. You do not—I would—fuck."

He isn't lucid enough to do this. He can't do the careful and wary conversation that he has to right now, he can't—he can't—

"I will not bind your tongue," the Aspen Witch says, her hand still gentle on his face, "you…if you wish, you can speak."

No, he can't. He can't because he'll fuck it up and then—then—

Her hand leaves his face. "I will call the Five."

"No!"

Everything freezes.

He just told the Aspen Witch what to do. He just told the Aspen Witch no. He just—he just—oh, fuck—

"I mean—I m-mean—"

"I am not angry," she says, "I…you do not need to be so afraid. I will not harm you. I would like to know why you do not want your sweet ones to come and help you."

"I—my what?"

"Your sweet ones. The ones who care for you and whom you care for." She tilts her head, hair falling to one shoulder. "You do not wish for them to come, and I am curious."

"They're a lot," he manages and she laughs.

"Yes, they are. But they know you. They would help you."

"They're—" he takes another drink and feels his tongue relax. "All of this has happened because another magic user intruded on your grounds."

"These would be invited, and they would be to help you. I could bear no ill tidings against them, not when you are in need of assistance I cannot provide." At his face, her smile saddens. "You are afraid, and I cannot help you, for you are afraid of me too."

…well, there's really not much he can say to that.

"I will call them," she says carefully, so carefully it's almost a question, and he nods. She nods as well and stands. "If you would like more drink, I would wish for you to say."

Less than a few moments later, after she's gone to a table out of sight, he hears Roman's voice.

"Aspen Witch," and oh, fuck, he never thought he'd be so relieved to hear one of them, "you have called us."

"Come," she calls, walking toward the door and opening it, "your sweet one is hurting."

He blinks and in an instant, Roman is there, cupping his face, looking all worried and he can't stop the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Roman sees them, because of course he does, and then he's cooing and leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

"Oh, baby," he whispers, "baby, what happened?"

"What happened," he hears Logan ask at the same time, "is he alright?"

"He came to me with a cursed object and asked for its removal. As I destroyed it, the warlock responsible appeared and attempted to wrest it back. He…jumped in the way of the spell."

He hears a flutter of fabric and looks up to see both Janus and Remus at the table where the amulet was destroyed. Remus curses and Janus hits the table and the noise bounces around his head—

"Shh, shh," Roman murmurs, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, "eyes on me, baby, stay with me. There you are, with your pretty eyes, shh, that's it, you're doing very well."

"What sort of spell," he hears Patton ask, "is it still there?"

"I banished it as soon as the warlock was dealt with. He—there should be no lingering effects. I do not understand."

"Mortal minds are fragile," Logan says softly, "and Virgil has been an adventurer for many years. He has encountered a great number of things, magical or otherwise, and it would be unreasonable to assume that they have not left their marks."

"Baby," Roman calls again, and Virgil looks back at him, "hey, there he is. The others are just trying to figure out what's going on, but you and I are gonna take care of you first, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. Now, I just want you to keep looking at me, okay? All I'm gonna do is touch you, okay? No magic, no casting, just touch." His fingers start to card through his hair and Virgil immediately feels his eyes get heavy. "You can close your eyes if you need to, just lean against me, I've got you, I'm right here."

The adrenaline from everything finally starts to wear off and Virgil feels his body decide to give in. He sags forward into Roman's waiting embrace, eyes falling shut as Roman starts to murmur sweet nonsense. After another moment, he hears Patton come over too and another hand scratches lightly between his shoulder blades. He nearly whimpers from sheer relief before he remembers that he's not at home, he's in the Aspen Witch's house, and the Aspen Witch herself is less than a few feet away.

He wrenches himself back awake, looking up at her, and to his surprise, she looks…upset? He glances at Logan, just to her left, and Logan simply smiles.

"Hello," he says softly, "are you alright?"

"I think so."

"Good, that's very good. You jumped in front of a spell and you didn't know what it was?"

"Wait," Roman says, "you did what?"

He sets his jaw and looks at the ground. Patton shoots a look at the two of them. "Don't scold him, can't you see he's already upset? Don't make it worse."

"Sorry, baby," Roman murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I'm not mad."

"Neither am I," Logan says, "but I am…confused."

"You shouldn't be," Janus says, finally moving away from the table, "he's Virgil, of course he jumped in front of the spell."

Well, that's not helping anything either. He feels his face start to burn and tries to pull away from Roman, but he's held fast. He swallows the instinctive wave of panic and buries his face in the crook of his shoulder.

"Aww, are you embarrassed?"

"You are making things worse," the Aspen Witch says, a bite to her tone, "I called you to help, not to hurt."

"We won't tease," Roman promises, both to her and to Virgil, "we're finished, you have my word."

Did…did the Aspen Witch just defend him? What in the fuck is going on? He risks a look at her and their eyes meet and something…something feels wrong.

"Virgil?" Patton's hand stills on his back. "What's wrong?"

"I am…also confused."

"What about?"

There's no polite way to say this and no, he isn't going to risk it right now, so he just looks from Patton back to the Aspen Witch and hopes that somehow, they'll get the gist of what he's trying to say. Sure enough, it takes Patton one look between the two of them before he's smiling.

"Oh, she's just jealous."

"What?"

"I would ask that you don't speak for me," she hisses but she sounds far more like Elise than the Aspen Witch.

"Tell him yourself, then."

The Aspen Witch scowls at him for a moment before she sighs and looks at Virgil. Her mouth twists around as if searching for the words before she sighs again.

"Your etiquette for magic users is exemplary," she says, "and you…for all that we have interacted, I do not know much about you."

She gestures around.

"The Five have your trust, they have your words. They…have not known you for as long as I have."

Oh.

Oh.

"I can't help you," she continues, "I…am upset by this. I would—I—"

She closes her eyes for a long moment and then opens them once more.

"I want to help you, Virgil, I want you to let me help you."

He likes to think that on a normal day, perhaps he wouldn't be doing something like this, but this isn't a normal day, and he's already broken that glass. So he reaches out a hand to the Aspen Witch, and when she takes it, he uses it to pull her a little bit closer.

She comes and crouches next to Patton, holding his hand as though it were the most precious thing in the house. He's not quite sure what to do with that.

"Are you alright?"

She nods. "I am alright."

"I liked the drink."

"I am glad. I will offer it to you again."

"I will accept it."

"Listen to you both," Remus snorts, and Janus whacks him upside the head. "Ow!"

"Ignore him, you're both doing wonderfully. Carry on, pretend we aren't here."

And you know, that's a bit too much for him to deal with right now. So when he feels the tug in his gut to start feeling things again, he closes his eyes and goes limp in Roman's hold, letting tears spill from his face. The Aspen Witch jerks in alarm but Patton must be saying something to the effect of this is normal, he's just overwhelmed, you gotta let him be a crybaby sometimes, but he's not paying attention because he's too goddamn tired.

Distantly, he registers Roman stroking his hair again, Patton's hand on his back, and the Aspen Witch beginning to squeeze his hand every few seconds, but with the apprehension of someone who's never pet a horse before trying to interact in a way that won't upset either of them. It's quite a surreal experience, really, and he thinks he can be forgiven for not wholly understanding what's going on.

A lot's happened today, and it's late. He should be asleep.

"He is hurt," the Aspen Witch says and everybody wakes up a bit at that, "let me help him."

"What's wrong?"

"The thorns have hurt him on his way through. I have a salve for them."

"Virgil," Logan asks, "is that okay? Can we help?"

He mumbles a vague agreement and he hears Janus laugh. "Poor thing's all sleepy. He needs a rest, is there somewhere we can tend to him?"

"Upstairs, there is a bed."

"Can I carry you, baby?" Virgil nods and Roman lifts him up almost effortlessly. "There, come on, upstairs, now."

As they pass the table, he forces himself to rouse and look to find the Aspen Witch. "The amulet—the child—"

"The child will suffer no more, the curse is gone." She puts her hand on his shoulder. "Now rest. Mortals are fragile, you must allow yourself to be cared for."

"He's not very good at that," Remus stage-whispers and Janus hits him again. "Hey! Stop it!"

"Stop being an insufferable ham sack, then."

"He's right," Virgil mumbles as he's put down on a bed, "I'm really not great at it."

"You're getting better," Logan says, sitting near his head, "now, you can try and sleep. No harm will come to you, you're safe here."

He looks over at the Aspen Witch, holding a tin of salve and a soft towel. She smiles and nods. "No harm will ever come to you under my roof, Virgil. I will see to it that you are safe."

"I…am grateful for that."

"As am I."

Not how he saw the quest ending, of course, but indeed, far from the worst quest in the world.

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[theshiftingwitch]

So like I said to you I manifested my girlfriend back, she wants fo renew our relationship.

Yesterday was her birthday, she came home late and she didn't let me know where she was and she said to me "You don't need to be sad, I got closer to you but it's not for you to give me an headache. Goodnight love💙 when you see this don't comment because I don't want to ruin the first day"

I didn't understood what she meant with first day, and I don't know what to do about this I just want to cry and I don't know what to affirm 😢

I feel so sad, this is literally her old version and I don't want that anymore

She sounds like a bitch.

Gaslighting, manipulation, dismissive of your emotions, making you out to be the overly emotional one while she's out there doing who knows what and excluding you even though you're technically back together.. she is a textbook manipulator.

This has nothing to do with law of assumption but I have to fucking vent right now. Most of you who come in here asking me about your sp genuinely deserve so much better yet you're hanging on to these cretins because, what ? you don't think you can get someone better than her?

You can cry if you want to, I am never one to advocate for repressing your emotions. Cry and scream and let it all out and then get your shit together because this is pissing me off on your behalf. Because she's the one who went out and she's the one who didn't respond to any of your texts and she's the one who was gaslighting you into thinking that you're ruining her birthday and then you are sitting here and crying over what?

You can disregard that part if you feel like it's not relevant to your condition right now but I genuinely had to say something because most of you asking about SPS deserve someone who genuinely shows up right from the very beginning not someone you have to fix or manifest a different version of or summon a demon to get you the one you deserve. you deserve someone who shows up right from the very beginning yet you have to swim through this swamp of terrible people because you are hanging on to them with your dear life.

I would have blocked her, just to be very clear with you, if it was me she said that to, I would have blocked her on every fucking thing.

Now back to the law of assumption because that's what you're here asking about. You are manifesting a new version of her but you are still expecting the old version to show up. There is no other way to spin this story okay? You are affirming for a new version of her but you're still expecting the bitch to show her head every time you talk to her. There are three things here you can do:

1- get a new SP. This is my recommendation, feel free to disregard it, but I genuinely prefer to create an SP from thin air that matches every single fucking one of my desires than to have to deal with these headache-inducing motherfuckers.

2- block her. Not for anything, not because I'm mad, not because you should be mad, but because you are still interacting with the old version of her while you're affirming for a new version of her. Cutting off contact with a person you no longer wish to have in your life is the best way to manifest the new version of them to come into your life because then you won't have to interact with the 3D.

3- take a step back and watch your thoughts. 99% of the time when you are manifesting something and the exact opposite shows up in your 3D it's because the majority of your thoughts are acting against your desires. You might affirm 500,000 times in a day that you have your sp. But the second you stop affirming what happens in your brain? Are you reverting back to the old story, are you sticking with the new story, or are you shooting back and forth between two versions of her that one of them should not exist anymore?

Here's a little exercise that can help you figure out what you're truly thinking about her: sit down, grab a pen and a paper, and write down everything that you feel about her right now. Once you're done with your feelings take a deep breath and watch your thoughts and write them down. The most clarity you're ever going to get is when you let your feelings come to the surface, that is how you know your true thoughts about something. So let yourself feel and then write down what you think when you think of her. Once you know what your dominant thoughts about her are, you can then flip them into positive affirmations and practice making those affirmations your dominant thoughts.

I hope that helps and I'm sorry for the rant because I genuinely feel like you deserve so much better, but somehow you think she's the only one for you. You know when someone messes with me? I ask myself "would the love of my life do this to me?" 100% no and that's how I know that person is not right for me and I move on because there are 8 billion people on this planet and the attachment you think you have to one person will not even measure to the attachment you will create once you find your person. But that's just my personal opinion. Best of luck with your girlfriend and I hope everything works out for you two.

Happy manifesting ❤️