#but trauma jokes are always at its expense

[corvidaeconundrum]

Robinsong no longer listening to Fawnstalk's shit after "that"

The need to redraw this as them is strong

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sweet Home

idk how the multiverse works so im just fucking up the worldbuilding but basically my hc is that whenever a dimension suffers trauma (too many ppl leaving dimensions, rift in time etcetc), it will create a shield around itself, preventing anyone from entering or leaving as it works to self-correct. 

(Yandere, dark, kidnapping, captive, delusional behavior, gn reader, implied deaths, talks of bombs)

Yandere!Miguel O'hara x reader

Honestly, you weren’t much of a threat. 

It was a rather misfortunate case of wrong place wrong time. One second, you were in your home, mulling about. The next, you were across dimensions. 

At least, that’s how it was explained to you. You had no idea there could be more than one spiderman, and now you were surrounding by millions. Maybe even billions. Here they all were. Heroes, all working together to save the multiverse, returning innocent people, like you, back to where they came from. 

But, according to Miguel, you were a special case. 

“It’s not too hot, this time?” He asks, his face in the same scowl as always. Before, you assumed he hated you. Now, you realize the man had a hard time showcasing emotion. 

It’s still there, though. You can see the concern in his eyes as they soften ever so slightly, as if he was remembering the scalding hot tea that burned your tongue. 

You tasted it, smiling at its perfection. When you mentioned you preferred something sweet, you had almost choked on the lump of sugar at the end of the cup Miguel prepared. After that, he was much more lenient with sugar. 

Ever since, you were put into his custody, he made it very clear your comfort would be his top priority. You never considered a superhero agency to be comforting, but the room he lent you was spacious and had a warm fluffy bed, food was always delicious, the guilt-filled gifts were always nice. It was clear the man spared no expense. 

“It’s perfect,” you say, “thank you.” 

He gives a smile. Though, it’s strained, like he’s not sure if he’s doing it correctly. He finally gives up, staring down at your techband. It wasn’t as sophisticated as his, you understood why you couldn’t have one, you were just grateful it stopped you from glitching. 

“So...is there anything new?” You ask, careful to broach the subject. 

You couldn’t go back home, not yet. It had taken a while for you to calm down when you were first brought here. You had been terrified, fearing for your life surrounded by these strangers who all strangely resembled spiderman. It was Miguel that had talked you down. He wasn’t patronizing, didn’t coddle you, but he wasn’t unkind. 

He explained things carefully. When you had been ripped from your dimension, something had gone wrong. The dimension had closed in, as if it were a living creature defending itself, an armadillo creating a thick shell. No one could go in or out. 

So, here you stayed at the spiderman’s headquarters, temporarily dimensionless. 

You peered into Miguel’s face. He was tired. He always looked tired. You wondered if he was getting enough sleep. Guiltily, you knew you were partially a reason for that. 

“Nothing.” He sighed. “We still can’t communicate to your spiderman, nor can we break into the gates. So far, no progress.” 

You had a feeling that’d be the case. You gave a strained smile, feeling more and more hopeless. 

“Hey.” His hand was warm on your shoulder. “I’ll find a way to get you back home, I promise. Don’t give up on me just yet.” 

He was close, leaning in just so your faces were inches apart. Miguel was just being kind, you knew that. But his height and stature had always intimidated you. A part of you was sure he knew that. It was why he would always hover over your, like it was some way to subconsciously keep you in check. 

It was an absurd thought. As always, you shook it off. 

“And besides, if we can’t, you’re always free to stay here.” He gave a lazy wave to the spacious room filled with gadgets you couldn’t even begin to describe. 

 It was a joke. You knew that. Miguel was adamant about ‘anomalies’ being returned to where they belonged. You were certain he would’ve thrown you back into your dimension if the situation were different. Yet, just the thought of staying here forever, never seeing your friends or family ever again tugged on your heart. 

You appreciated everything Miguel had done for you, he had gone above and beyond, but you were lonely. Due to protocol, only Miguel was able to see you. You understood it, but it didn’t mean you were not allowed to have human emotions. 

You longed for home. 

He must have seen it in your eyes because he pulled back some. The lines on his face hardened ever so slightly. He was angry. Not at you. Never at you. 

“You done with that?” He changed the subject, gesturing to your cup. 

Nodding, you return it to him gratefully. He stands up, grabbing the remnants of lunch and dirty dishes. 

“I’ll be back.” He tells you, and he’s assured you plenty of times that you weren’t, but it was hard not to feel like a prisoner as you watched him leave through a metal door. 

You waited for ten seconds, and then you rose from your own seat. 

There were only two rooms you had access to. Your own, and then Miguel’s office. 

Well, it wasn’t really an office. It was a large computer room, but Miguel always worked here, and you always kept him company, much preferring the companionship of at least one human rather than the solitude of your bedroom. 

Over time, he seemed to trust you a bit more. Or maybe he started underestimating you. Over time, he had accidentally given you most of the passwords to this place, not really paying attention as you not-so-secretly spied on his work.

You felt a little guilty for snooping, but a part of you was frustrated. You’d been stuck here for weeks, with no concrete answer. Miguel always seemed to evade your questions. You wanted an explanation. Assurance. 

Strangely enough, you felt a little old as you clumsily operated a machine that was decades into the future. It was a humbling experience. You typed in your dimension number, a sequence you knew by heart. 

Huh. 

You weren’t sure what a closed dimension looked like, but it certainly wouldn’t look like this. It looked fine. Despite your minimal experience with looking at dimension maps, you could tell the gates were opened. You could even see tiny dots flitting in and out. People.

Everything looked fine. 

Then...why did Miguel say you couldn’t go home? 

“What are you doing?” 

You hadn’t even noticed he’d come back. He had been so silent. Like a spider. 

You whirl around to face him. For the first time, you realize you’d never actually seen him without his signature blue and red costume. His face was stony. His demeanor had changed, as if earlier he was actively trying to pretend around you. Before, he used to slouch slightly, his hands would drape awkwardly at his sides. Now, his back was straight, arms ready. 

You’d never thought Miguel as threatening before.

Still, you try your best to loosen the sudden tension in the room. You give a sheepish smile, hoping it doesn’t wobble like your heartbeat. 

“I think my dimension just opened up,” You mutter, halfheartedly pointing to the screen, “Does this mean I can go back home?” 

He steps forward. You inch backward as he makes his way over to the computers. All the screens shut off. You can barely see him in the dim light. 

He works he jaw, like he wants to tell you something but can’t. 

Despite your heart going a mile a minute, you don’t want to be scared of Miguel. The only friend you had here. You bite your lip, gaining all the courage you could. 

“Did you lie to me?” It was a stupid question. Of course Miguel would say no. He wouldn’t do this to you. He couldn’t. 

His eyes slice into you. Crimson. 

“Yes,” he says simply, “I did.” 

You weren’t expecting that. You couldn’t have. Your mind was whirling, desperately trying to piece together an explanation. 

The tears burned in your eyes. You forced yourself to keep them at bay. 

“Why?” It was barely a whisper, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. 

He rakes his hand through his hair. It was something he did when he was stressed. You’d once jokingly told him that if he kept doing that he’d go bald. 

You had joked with this man. 

“I was going to put you back,” He said, almost like he was pleading to you. As if you were his judge, his executioner, and not his helpless prisoner. 

“That was the plan. I was going to put you back but...” He sucks in a breath. He gives a laugh with no real mirth. 

“But then I realized how much safer you’d be here.” 

You didn’t understand. You take another step back. He follows. 

“Your dimension opened back up two weeks ago.” You’d been stuck here for three. “Communication has resumed like normal. I lied about that.” 

It felt like a sick prank. Like he would suddenly start laughing, telling you how gullible you were. 

But it feels even worse when he doesn’t do that. He just stares, almost like he feels sorry for you. 

You don’t want his pity. 

“You haven’t met your dimension’s spiderman, have you?” He suddenly asks. “He’s a good kid. But that’s all he is. Just a kid. Thinks everything comes easy. His fate is worse than most.” 

“His recklessness causes a bomb to detonate. 126 people die.” His gaze is stiff on your figure. 

“Including you.” 

You freeze, staring at him, unable to move. The word of your death still lingered in the air. 

“I told myself I’d send you back,” he continues staring into the dark screens, “But you were so sweet and you made me feel so-” He cuts himself off with a huff. 

“I always have to make the right decision. Every time.” He finally says, looking back at you. 

“Just for once, I wanted to be selfish.” 

“Miguel-” 

“I won’t.” He interrupts. “I’ll keep you here. I’ll keep you safe. I always keep things that belong to me safe.” 

You don’t like how he phrased that. You don’t like anything about this. This didn’t sound like your Miguel. 

Or did you even know him? Was the weeks of kindness all an act? A ploy to keep you satisfied?

Look how wonderfully that worked? You walked right into his trap like a stupid butterfly, struggling in the sticky webs. 

“You said it yourself,” you whisper, “I’m an anomaly. I can’t-I can’t stay in a dimension that isn’t mine. I could cause rifts-or-or even worse disasters.”

You try to throw his words back at him, hoping it’d knock some sense into him. He just gives a hum at your attempts. 

“Not if you stay here,” he replies, “Not if I keep you contained. Keep you here.” 

You shake your head, stepping back. This felt like a nightmare. The tears were falling in full force, down your quivering chin as you stare at him. 

“You-you can’t do that,” You mutter, backing up against the wall as he makes his way towards you, “You can’t do that.”

He crowds you against him, hushing you as he bundles you up to his chest, stroking your hair. He’s so warm. His scent of woodland mountains is so strong. He suffocates you. You hadn’t realized it until just now. 

“I know you don’t understand.” Miguel replies, sounding so genuine. It makes you sick. “But you will. One day. One day you’ll thank me for saving you.” 

Saving you. This wasn’t saving you. This was keeping you. This was killing you. 

“I want to go home.” Your voice breaks, cracks under the weight of his confession. “Miguel please. I-I need to go home.” 

For the first time, he smiles. A sincere smile. 

A condescending smile. Like you’ve said something adorably naïve. 

“Mi amor.” He purrs, affectionately kissing your cheek. 

“You are home.” 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to become a girl's step dad to troll her into blocking me and stop dragging me in a group chat ? Jenny (23F) blew up because I (24NB) said she'd be a shitty social worker bc of her specific autism symptoms + class bg. My gf (45F) said it was warranted because of how  overwhelmed i got by the wall of text with triggering details of my abuse. I never told my GF that the fight started because Jenny called me a gold digger. I also never mentioned that I ended it an hour later by posting pics of Jenny's mom in the chat, ignoring her ranting and discussing the vacancy left by her dead dad*, and how i could fill said vacancy. 😬😬😬 Might of gone too far with this one.

Backstory: I lived with Jenny when I was houseless indefinitely. She only let me stay for two weeks because it would be too "distracting" to her studies. Jenny was incredibly rich, didn't work, and her parents paid her rent for a 2 bedroom. She admitted she got rejected from every grad school she applied to except for the one her mom was in charge of. Her mom bought her a condo in the city the school was in. She kept asking me how she should decorate it, completely ignorant to how uncomfortable this made me and my other friends. Jenny was oblivious constantly to how she made others feel. She was actually the most incompetent person I've ever met in terms of comforting other, always tone deaf and completely absorbed with her own, single traumatic event. She made constant jokes about the abuser I was fleeing and even compared this stalked to a /serial killer/ documentary she watched, but never EVER showed any signs of internalizing how I almost lost my life to another person, how that might affect me or even just bum me out. Seriously, I've never met someone else who was so incapable of even being sensitive to issues that were /EXTREMELY SERIOUS/. Forget comforting, the stuff she routinely said to me and my other friends to try to cheer us up was beyond degrading. It was wearing on me a lot.

Jenny herself was neurodivergent. She often said her autism prevented her from understanding the feelings others had, reading their expressions, and tolerating crying or loud noise-- she forbid her musician roommate from doing both. None of those mean shes a worthless person, but all of those things would make someone a horrible therapist or social worker. Oh my God, literally every time I talked about my recent trauma, she would talk about herself and then blame her autism when I told her it just wasn't helping.

The final piece of this was I had a nervous breakdown and screamed at her over discord that she was a shit friend and needed to give up on social work, for like an hour. NOT MY PROUDEST, but I ALMOST DIED. I was living with her because SOMEONE WAS STALKING ME. and I would have liked to not have my abuse JOKED about. HOW DID JENNY RESPOND!? She began dragging me, through the mud, in the group chat, for, dating, an, older, woman, who, paid, for, my, air bnb, because, !!!she!!! wouldn't let me live with her for more than a week. I was HOMELESS. It became all about "OP you are such a b*tch, you are with a woman twice your age and she pays for everything now but you are still a miserable and angry person. You are so blah blah blah you are an ableist, you said I can't become a social worker bc of autism blah blah blah you have major major issues, Go back your rich granny and leech off of her you useless, fucked up little gold digger."

U_U Then, she started graphically describing how I deserved my abuse, so I shrimply began to troll. And yes, I pulled out my magnum oppus like fucking playing blue eyes white dragon, oh yeah I slipped her a pristine Jenny's mom facebook photo and said "Hey you never said your mom was so cute. Maybe, I could leech off her next and become your new dad." Yes, her dad died.* She blocked me immediately. Its OK. It was knives out for Jenny as soon as my GF gifted me a pair of $700 Isabel Marant shoes** , the most EXPENSIVE thing ive ever owned in my whole life, and Jenny saw me excited and called her mom to buy her a pair. It's, absolutely OK, if I am the asshole. I wear my crown of thorns, judas that I am, but I really, really think Jenny was being cruel. *he died 18 years ago ** the shoes are no more because i fell into my gf's rich friend's koi pond

[ryleektv]

Lorenzo Berkshire Headcannons

Part 1

Warnings: some suggestive content, language, not proof read, kinda mean Enzo

all my opinions, don't come after me ��

WC: 571

• 6'1-6'2 and doesn't stfu about it (especially when making fun of 5'9 Draco)

• has the most hookups out of everyone (maybe theo is close behind but this hoe gives off fuckboy energy on another level)

• really kind eyes (gives off baby cow eyes vibe) and uses them to get what he wants

• like imagine though, he has such pretty and kind eyes but he's a little shit who uses them to get in your pants?? test answers?? even just cutting in front of you in line??? hello??? rude?? and the puppy dog eyes?? deadly.

• skincare game is on point. he will not take criticism from the guys who make fun of him for not being a typical 5-in-1 soap man (has really good expensive conditioner too)

• speaking of hair, its so soft and fluffy and somehow always perfect. definitely pays way too much to get his hair cut because this man will not be caught dead with a bad hair day, let alone a whole bad haircut

• major trauma dumper when shit faced drunk.

• he had a few too many beers? you don't have worry about alcohol poisoning but you better be ready to hear about how much he hates his dad but still craves a relationship with him and how he hasn't taken a single step to even think about fixing his major mommy issues

• however if you go back to a few beers prior and he's not got a care in the world and he's entirely thinking with his dick. so be careful or you'll get a hookup and his entire life story all before he even knows your last name.

• LIAR. this man will lie to get out of EVERYTHING (or even just because he can)

• ^probably goes back to the whole emotionally abusive parents thing but now he just thinks he does it for fun

• knows all the drama. knows everyone and their mother and their cousin's grandma's friend's aunt's pet fish that died 20 years ago

• you need to know if your man is cheating on you?? lorenzo will tell you every single detail (especially the ones you didn't want to know)... for a price though, the price in question depends entirely on his mood too

• and if you need dirt on someone?? this boy knows that one thing they did two years ago in the prefect bathroom that could still get them expelled. trust

• COMMITMENT ISSUES (me too boo) like it's soooooooooo bad

• oh he actually likes a girl??? she likes him back??? this is great??? she wants a relationship??? where'd his feelings go???

• actually upset about it though because commitment issues suck and now he wants the girl who would rather drink goblin piss than ever look in his direction instead of the girl he liked yesterday that actually liked him back

• studies hard core and tells NOBODY.

• bro is in the library at 3 in the morning after hours of trying to cram for the test that day because he couldn't find time sooner

• studying actually pays off though and he gets good grades (occasional cheater tbh)

• cannot physically stop himself from making a sex joke. (totally pisses off blaise)

"its wet" "thats what she said" "the fiELD. THE FUCKING QUIDDITCH FIELD IS WET BECAUSE IT RAINED, LORENZO."

• him and mattheo are a dangerous duo

• feels unexpected too but enzo, matt, and theo are like the three musketeers from hell.

maybe part 2 soon....

[chantiepie]

MOTEL ROOM🩸/ MYG

Intro.

VampireYoongi X Reader

When I met you in that hotel room I could tell that you were so bad news

Sinopse: Your client for tonight awaits you in the room of a motel.

Genre: Horror/Darkromance.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation,blood, intimate conversations.

ko-fi ☕

18+

Words: 5k.

The elevator music was boring and repetitive as the floors passed by and the screen above your head indicated the current floor. It was your first time at that hotel, and despite its expensive and rustic appearance, it also felt strange, sober... A red light seemed to hover everywhere, and people looked at you with curiosity.

The conversation with the receptionist had been uncomfortable. The cold, almost mocking look was not the kind of friendly reception you were used to in commercial places. It was as if you were the joke, something only you didn't know about.

The cloudy weather had persisted for days, and it was so strange that you couldn't even remember the last time you felt the sun on your small balcony. What surprised you was the sound of your phone notifying you of your 'manager' informing you of the time and place where you should be.

Just these details, no photos of the client were necessary. He would be there, paying and evaluating who he wanted. The reality was clear: this would be your first and last time being paid for sex. When you entered this life of being an escort, it was literally to accompany, for dinners and events. However, as this got into your veins, the inevitable greed led to things like striptease. When they touched you, it made you want to vomit, it was exhausting. Some guys always wanted to force something or put their hands in intimate places. This didn't mean you were a bad person, you just wanted the most money possible to get away from all the poverty and need that surrounded you during your childhood and adolescence. Being alone in the world brought more traumas than it seemed.

About a year ago, the decision was made: you would start saving money, get out of this, and open your own business. For that, you agreed to this last encounter. When you were informed a week ago that they were closing a deal related to a possible sexual encounter, your refusal remained firm until you saw the amount of 2 thousand dollars drop into your account just for considering the matter.

You felt bad for selling yourself for so 'little'. It was inevitable, the feeling of deviating from your ethical and life values. Realizing that corruption was not as distant as you believed. Upon accepting, you were only informed that at some point you would receive the information, so you needed to stay alert. Unsurprisingly, the day arrived and not knowing with whom you would meet for the first time left you with an empty stomach, a slight feeling of discomfort.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the elevator's ding, indicating your arrival on the seventh floor. The doors opened, and unsurprisingly, the red of the corridor walls screamed once again.

Before leaving the elevator, you checked yourself in the large mirror at the back, as there was no other in the hotel. Your long black dress flowed lightly with the slit running up to mid-thigh. The matching black heels with silver details added a discreet touch in contrast to your long, full hair with gentle waves that went past your waist. The light makeup highlighted your lashes and lips, which only had a gloss with a slight pinkish tint. You looked perfect for the nearly haunted place.

Your gaze lifted, capturing the camera, and lingered for a few seconds before you moved through the vast corridor. The hotel was not surrounded by cameras, which was unusual considering it seemed like an expensive place where its patrons should have substantial financial clout. Ignoring that, you checked again the real-time location you had sent to one of your colleagues. It was a habit to keep each other informed to avoid any mishap and maintain a sense of security.

The cold wind was coming from the balcony, sweeping through the entire room, sending a chill due to the thin fabric of your dress. There was no sign of anyone in the room, where the only illumination came from the moonlight and a lamp on a nightstand beside the bed. The nervousness returned, and the urge to turn back and go home prevailed.

You might not even consummate the act, you had heard from some prostitutes that a minority of them simply liked the company of a young woman to boost their ego, compliment them, complain about work with them... Who are you kidding? In a situation like this, with 10 thousand dollars at stake, it was almost impossible.

The loud noise coming from the balcony startled you, as if something had suddenly been thrown against the glass. Impulsively, your body stepped back, your hands flying to your chest to check the accelerated rhythm of your heart, which only increased when your back collided with a body, rather, someone's chest. Automatically, you froze, your breath trapped in your lungs, feeling like you were going to collapse, your brain trying to escape that condition.

You felt the unknown person slowly bend their head, the strands of hair starting to tickle the base of your neck, tracing a line up to your ear along with the cold sensation of the tip of their nose.

"You really smell very good." The voice was hoarse and low, as if it had been trapped in the throat for a long time, ready to come out. Despite the panic at that moment, you couldn't help but notice how that sound was at least attractive. The smell of whiskey quickly invaded your senses, mingling with something that seemed like mint, fresh.

He pulled away brutally, without further explanation, leaving you still and unresponsive. He walked past you without explanation and sprawled on the armchair on the left side that led to the balcony. You finally noticed the half-empty bottle on the coffee table, along with a used glass.

Your gaze met the owner of your near heart attack again, but not for long, as it seemed like he could see right through you during the two-second exchange of looks. It was too intimidating, and his physique only added to it. He was undeniably handsome. No, not handsome—gorgeous. In the short time you had, you noticed his moon-pale skin, his almost shoulder-length black hair perfectly framing his face.

Your eyes landed on his hand, noticing the thick silver rings and the beginning of a tattoo, thick black lines that remained hidden by his long-sleeved shirt. His entirely black, casual attire didn't make him look simple; on him, it appeared elegant. In two minutes, you already understood that this wasn't someone you would see in everyday life—he truly seemed like a person from another reality.

"Please, sit." He said nonchalantly.

He realized he was being analyzed, even if briefly, and seemed unbothered. He was used to people staring at him.

Immediately, you adopted the demeanor you were accustomed to when accompanying old men to their events. You didn't fake a personality or anything; after all, there was no room to show your true self, but you acted more open and friendly, trying, even minimally, to be as close as possible to how you were with people in your everyday life. It was hard to work pretending to be someone else. You admired the girls who could easily adapt to their clients. Your luck was that you were always good at being receptive.

You walked to the edge of the bed, as close to him as possible, and settled there on the soft mattress covered with black sheets that seemed of great quality. It was the closest spot to where the man was. So this was Mr. Min. What did you know about him? According to the brief conversation, you only got the information that it was the first time he had contacted any of the services, with no history even of hiring someone just for company.

He remained quiet and unashamedly stared at you. It was his turn to analyze. Unlike you, he had that right. Everything happened so quickly that you almost missed his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe.

"I must say you look even more beautiful in person... Honey Bunny." The nickname made you shudder; it wasn't a normal reaction from your body to feel attracted. In fact, some guys repulsed you. From his mouth, it sounded sweet and domestic.

Why was a guy like him seeking such a service? He could easily have any woman at his feet.

That thought lingered in your mind as you thanked him with a smile. "You look very handsome too."

Finally, with the courage to look at him, you saw his mouth curl into a slight side-smile. He already knew this, but hearing it from the girl who mesmerized him amidst the catalog of so many others satisfied him. "Do you like the place?"

"Well... It's very elegant. I feel a bit like I'm in a horror movie like 'The Shining'." A bit surprised that he was actually starting a conversation and how he changed his behavior in less than a minute. "Your entrance didn't help with the less eerie atmosphere."

Min exhaled through his nose, almost like a chuckle. "I must admit you're not wrong. It's an old place with over 200 years of history. Very exclusive, in fact. Many don't even know exactly what it is, since it has a fixed clientele." Now you understood why you had never heard of it. "Interesting reference. Are such movies your favorites?"

He leaned towards the center table to grab another glass of whiskey. When you noticed, you made a move to get up to do it for him, but stopped when he raised his hand politely for you to halt.

"My favorite genre is definitely slasher. It doesn't truly scare me. I find it a bit amusing, actually—teenagers in an isolated place being chased by a killer with an iconic mask, usually out for senseless revenge. That same old stereotype."

Min settled back in, taking a sip of his drink, and extended the glass a little towards you. You accepted. The man, almost gallantly, took a clean glass and poured the liquid carefully, then handed it to you. Your fingers touched at that moment. Again, the cold skin sent shivers down your spine, making you wonder if it might be better to close the window or turn off the air conditioning, even if it was a hot night. But you didn't want to be intrusive now.

You savored the drink carefully, not wanting to be startled by the taste, as just the smell emanating from the glass made the alcohol level apparent.

"Good taste, but I must admit I'm a little disappointed." He tilted his head and placed his hand on his chin, making you focus again and notice the large veins and the contrast between his hands and the almost delicate face. "I thought it would be more related to monsters, werewolves, zombies, vampires."

"I guess things more related to reality captivate me more than fantasy." Leaning back and resting your back on the mattress, you took a large sip of the drink, keeping your eyes on him. You felt the slight warmth rising to your cheeks, given his intense gaze, eyes darker than his hair.

"The world is too mysterious to be so sure, Bunny." The suggestion didn't have a joking tone, but entering that topic was a tension relief. You knew you had misjudged him due to the scary reception, but since that moment, he seemed, in his own way, to want to make you feel comfortable. "Anyway, what made you change your mind?"

Of course, he knew he had been rejected, but it wasn't something you wanted to delve into deeply, explaining that it would be your last night in this job or even why you started in it. However, precisely because he was your last client and the first you would have physical contact with, you ended up revealing just that information.

He wasn't surprised.

Min was a more reserved person, which showed in his clothes, gestures, and even the type of meeting.

"I don't know if I feel sad or honored to be closing this chapter." He put his hand on his face theatrically, pretending to think seriously about the matter. "I'll choose the latter; it's an honor to have you here with me."

Unable to suppress a small laugh, you covered your mouth to muffle the sound.

"Come on, I feel like you want to ask me something. It's okay. I want to ask you things too."

Your lips parted hesitantly to continue speaking. He had caught you off guard. Your reaction was quicker than planned. Were you really that desperate? Even you were surprised by that.

Still hesitant, you decided to take advantage. Most likely, in a short time, he would be seeing you naked, so there was no reason to worry about a bit of intimacy now. "I don't want to be rude, but why am I here, Mr. Min?" You took a deep breath to continue the line of dialogue. "I mean, you're an attractive man."

"It's something I'm questioning myself too. I don't like seeing something I want and can't have." What surprised you was the simplicity. Min really didn't seem like a guy used to this. "I'm a bit selfish with my desires." His eyes gleamed, and that depth returned, remaining fixed on yours as he said this casually, showing no remorse in saying something like that.

You felt the sticky liquid in your panties, pressing your thighs together and adjusting uncomfortably on the bed. The domination he displayed oozed from his pores. It wasn't about trying to be attractive; it was about being attractive. From the beginning, the man wasn't faking a personality to play a game; he was the game. He liked to play cat and mouse, or in this case, Bunny and hunter. Tease and soothe. While he was rational, his actions carried an impulsive streak. Min was truly obsessed with mind games, corrupting people satisfied him more than a full meal. Seeing you with a lost look, even if for a few moments, left him ecstatic.

He wasn't paying for sex; he paid to have you and to be able to conquer you. We're not talking about romance, far from it... It's about power. Even though his interest in you was instant, Min refused to have a woman beneath him who didn't want to be there willingly.

You felt the air grow denser around you, and the ensuing silence seemed almost palpable. Min was an enigmatic man, and his raw honesty left you unsettled, yet strangely drawn. Unsure of how to respond, you chose to maintain eye contact, challenging him to continue.

"Sometimes," he continued, "people cling to conventions, social rules, expectations... I prefer to follow my own instincts." Min took another sip of his drink, his posture remaining relaxed, but his eyes never leaving yours, as if he were analyzing you deeply.

You pondered his words, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "And what are those instincts?" you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out softer than you expected.

Min smiled slightly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Instincts to possess, to control, to deeply understand. It's more about the journey than the final destination. Each interaction, each moment, gives me a new perspective, a new emotion."

He leaned a little closer, sending shivers down your spine once again. "And you, Bunny? What brings you here, aside from it being your last night? What is your deepest instinct?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the intensity of the moment. Whether it was the whiskey or his proximity, your barriers were crumbling. "I think I seek freedom," you admitted, almost in a whisper.

Min nodded slowly, as if understanding perfectly. "Freedom is an interesting concept," he said, more to himself than to you. "Sometimes, we think we have it, but in reality, we're trapped by our own limitations."

He stood up, slowly pacing around the room, his gaze now distant and contemplative. "I'll be honest with you, Bunny. It's not just about control or power for me. It's about connection, even if brief, that can change everything."

You settled on the bed, feeling more exposed than ever, but also strangely excited. "And what do you intend to do with this connection?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation.

Min stopped pacing, turning to look directly at you as he extended his hand to help you up. As he did so, he carefully took the glass from your hand and placed it on the same table he had left his own earlier. "That depends on you," he replied, his voice low and intense. "The night is ours, and what we make of it depends on how you want this story to unfold."

The atmosphere in the room was charged with tension, and you knew you were on the brink of something unusual, something that could change your perspective on many things. As scary as it was, it was also incredibly exciting.

"Bunny... Do you call all your girls like that? Or give nicknames to everyone?" It came out more innocent than planned, almost coquettish.

"Only the special ones get nicknames..." He said almost choked out while one hand detached to your face and the other slid from the top of your waist down to your hips delicately, remaining in that position. You felt the gentle pressure of his large hands slowly squeezing you. "No worries, Bunny, I haven't had anyone special in a long time," he said with a playful tone, as if putting on a little show for the two of you.

Even in a vulnerable situation, you couldn't help but release a sarcastic giggle, understanding his game. It didn't make you less apprehensive about the current situation unfolding.

Contrary to your thoughts, he didn't proceed to seek more physical contact. Instead, he began to sway you gently from side to side, as if in a dance together. It was then that you became more aware of the world around you and noticed a low melody playing in the room, most likely since the moment you entered and went unnoticed.

The hand that was on your face guided one of your arms to his shoulders, to serve as an example of what you should do with the other, and so it was done. The hands on your hips carefully, without pressure, guiding you in a comfortable dance.

He leaned down slowly, brushing away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes and tucking them behind your ear. He then returned to the initial position, resting his head on his chest. Your heart was racing from all the contact with such an attractive man. You tried not to let yourself be carried away by that feeling and remember that you were there for a role, the prostitute.

You would be just one of his girls tonight, but it didn't matter. For those hours, you would let yourself be carried away, feel coveted by someone you also wanted. It would only be that moon that you would have each other, and after that, everything would be over. You just needed to fulfill this.

Several thoughts roamed your mind with him so close. What was stored in the back of your head was how you hadn't realized how broad his shoulders were even with a thin body and delicate appearance. He seemed to have strength.

But what was really a bit disturbing was that you couldn't hear his heartbeat, even though you were literally leaning against his chest. It could be the interference of the music or just that he could relax in that strange situation. Your head was slightly bowed down, so automatically your gaze dropped again to his hand, more precisely the long and thick fingers that carried the rings that caught your attention at first sight. On all of them, there were small signs, it was hard to understand what they were since it was nothing like you had ever seen. Clearly, they were expensive and heavy, but they were not from any known brand, they were probably made especially for him, since they fit perfectly.

The feet, which you were only wearing socks, soon lost their attention to what was under them, the rug. The brightness was too low to really be able to focus on the details. They seemed like small drawings scattered as far as you could see without moving too much, and he noticed.

Hypnotized by the sensation and the symbols, his inclination of the head towards your right ear went unnoticed. "Just focus on us," he whispered huskily, planting small wet kisses near your sensitive spot, sending an electric current coursing through your body. Your lips parted, releasing a faint trace of voice, a soft moan.

You leaned back slightly, bringing your face close to his, locking eyes, closer than ever. Something had changed; the glint in Min's eyes had a slight reddish tint of promiscuity. Nothing else was in the room, better, there was no room, no motel, no last night, and no payment, just the two of you.

You had never been hypnotized in your life, but you were sure it was the same sensation being near him.

Min's gaze gradually descended to observe your lips, your breath low and panting, nervous. It was a cardinal rule that many men followed: when with a prostitute, kisses were forbidden. But neither you nor he seemed to care as the approach happened.

Impulsively, he felt your excitement as your head leaned back slightly, conflict evident in your expressions. Min moved one of the hands that were positioned at your side to the back of your head, firmly. He wanted it, he physically and psychologically desired to roam your mind.

A cold breeze hit your face, and the lips met. Soon he requested entry with his tongue, nibbling on your lip gently, eliciting a whiny complaint from you, and consequently, still with his tongue entwined with yours, he let out another chuckle.

Still in the kiss, the pale-skinned man gently pulled down the strap of your dress, which, being light, slid down your body, leaving you only in white lingerie. You were like an angel in the nest of snakes in his view, the silky skin, the ample breasts, the figure he wanted when he saw you on his friend's phone, who was looking for a girl to play with.

His thumb invaded your mouth and began to play with your tongue, letting it moisten. "Suck, Bunny," he said, as the grip on your waist returned, his eyes shining toward you. He noticed the confusion and struggle you were facing between continuing or running away. Min wouldn't allow that; your body craved him, to be satisfied.

His thumb left your mouth, and you gasped for lack of it. Soon it was replaced by a real and loud moan when he released the bra with just one hand and grabbed one of your breasts. "They're perfect," he began to play with your nipple, squeezing a little too hard. You were very sensitive in that area, and he liked that.

"Min..." you placed your hand on his chest and felt the warm skin under the palm of your hand. He looked at you, "Yoongi is my name. I need you to know what you'll be screaming."

Your legs trembled at the mention of the name. The high heels that remained didn't facilitate stability, and quickly you got rid of them, becoming aware of the height difference. Yoongi was even taller than he seemed.

He guided you to the bed, getting on top of you, without kissing you again, he was teasing. Friction between the bodies began to occur, and a squeaky moan escaped your throat. Your mind didn't focus on anything else; before you could notice, you felt a wet trail through the fabric of your lace panties. "I repeat what I said, Bunny. You smell very good." Impulsively, your legs threatened to close around his head, quickly interrupted by his hands on your knee.

He transferred a slap to the accessible part of your ass. "Never do that again." It wasn't a request, it was an order, as he pulled your hips up, getting rid of the only piece that kept you covered.

"Yoongi, you don't have to do this. It's not your obligation." Your gaze remained on the ceiling, more precisely on the chandelier, too embarrassed to look down.

He didn't bother to respond, just began to lick and suck your little button, covering your entire pussy. Every inch of your body was struggling to maintain a minimum of decency and not be scandalous.

You were clutching the sheets and looked down. He was staring back at you with only his tongue playing with your pussy. It didn't take long, and your trembling thighs began to close around Yoongi's head. Incoherent murmurs escaped your mouth. Your moans stimulated him. "Don't stop." And a small scream signaled the end. You clenched your jaw when you finally came.

Yoongi kept his eyes on yours as he pulled down his pants and removed his shirt. Wow, he had a thin body, but, as you imagined, he definitely worked out. Everything seemed better because of the tattoos; there were many, covering from his hands to his chest. It wasn't certain yet, but they seemed to extend to his back. A sudden movement awakened you; Min was holding the condom between his teeth, tearing it with fury.

You tried to stop him, claiming it was your turn to satisfy him, since besides really wanting to, that's what you were there for, but you weren't heard.

"We have eternity for that," he said, unrolling the condom over his pink head and aligning his hips with yours.

"Necessarily for the rest of the night," you joked with a chuckle, trying not to think about how his member would fit, even though you were already prepared. It really was above average.

Yoongi smiled, brushing his lips against yours. Gripping your left thigh, he pulled it, making your knee touch your chest. It seemed he had noticed that he needed as much openness as possible before inserting himself into you. He left your other leg stretched out on the mattress. He sat on his legs while grabbing his cock with his free hand, lightly masturbating with the sight. Until he started pressing it through your fold, touching your still sensitive clit, which made your body recoil closer to the headboard, being prevented by his strength.

"Easy, you're dripping on me, Y/N. You'll only feel pain if I want you to," he said, lowering himself to push the tip past your entrance. Another slap on your butt and you choked in shock again. His eyes were fixed on the circumference sliding through your hole, feeling your walls, slowly, squeezing him.

"Damn, you're needier than I thought." He slapped again, but harder and rougher, holding your raised leg to ensure you didn't fall. All words escaped you; he was deep inside you, and your only reaction was your groans, which were a cute symphony to Yoongi.

"Oh my God, Yoo-nngi!"

As his hips began to pound into you, he remained fixed on the movement of his penis against your body. His hips pounding into you as he fucked you against the mattress.

Tears began to flow from your eyes as you struggled to remain minimally rational. But at that point, it seemed he was there to serve you and not the other way around.

His name was all that came out of your mouth, repeatedly, in a whiny manner.

Yoongi abruptly stopped his thrusts, remaining inside you. He leaned near your mouth. "Ass up," he instructed as he rolled his hips one last time.

As soon as you did as instructed, Yoongi parted your buttocks with his soft hands, squeezing them with as much force and giving a slap, which would turn purple later. He grabbed your hips and pulled your butt up, smacking your other cheek, making you complain loudly. "Damn..." Yoongi groaned.

With his hands squeezing your butt, you suddenly felt him entering again. If your body weren't fully supported on the mattress, it would have been a nasty fall. Your face was sinking into the pillow, not allowing you to see anything around, just the sensations.

Your heart was racing in your chest. "So fucking good..." Yoongi grunted, fucking you in a rough and desperate rhythm.

There was no escaping the pain you were feeling all over your body, the sound of the headboard banging against the wall was an indication of his strength. He leaned over your back, and his lips found the curve of your neck after he grabbed your hair between his fingers and lifted your head to have access. Your eyes rolled back; he was too close, and so were you.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, not interrupting the movements. "Tell me, Bunny, how much do you like being fucked like this?"

You could barely form words, but you mumbled something between moans, "So much, Yoongi, I like it so much..."

A few more thrusts, and the warm and familiar sensation began to grow in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm... I..." The words got lost in your throat.

Yoongi kept his mouth on your neck, and during the release, you felt a bite on the spot, like needles. It was sore, but the mixture of everything, the deplorable situation you found yourself in, left you inert.

"Mmmm..." You heard Min grunt like an animal in your ear as he let go.

Yoongi didn't slow down as they both climaxed. Your whole body was trembling with pleasure and pain, mixed in an overwhelming way. He continued to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm until you could no longer distinguish where the pain ended and the pleasure began.

Finally, when Yoongi slowed down and pulled out of you, both of you were covered in sweat and panting. He lay down beside you, pulling you close.

A overpowering drowsiness accompanied you afterwards, and you couldn't even get up to clean yourself, just turned over on your back. The last thing you remember before falling asleep are Yoongi's red eyes comforting you as he said, "You can rest, Bunny. You did a great job."

Hello, long time no see… I've been a bit absent because I've been job hunting (unsuccessfully) and busy with college stuff… Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy my next story and feel free to comment on what I can improve or praise. Don't forget that I'm always open to answering questions. xoxo.

[i9fairy]

ship: leon kennedy x neutral reader

sinopse: just leon and you in a intimate and very private situationship.

n/a: Sorry if there are any mistakes! English is not my main language And this is my first time writing something like this.

It was a Friday night when I saw him again, standing at my door. With his face bruised, with its blonde strands falling over his face like a jigsaw puzzle, there were scratches on his arms that could be seen with the naked eye. When he saw that I was looking there, probably with my face of silly concern, he spoke.

"I'm fine," he said. I didn't believe him.

But what else could I do? I let it go.

Leon Scott Kennedy and I had been at this routine dance since we finished. He would come home, his house in fact, after each mission. I would pretend not to see his red and white scars (the ones that had already healed) and we would hang out. As a bonus, I pretended I didn't feel his presence sitting on my bed when I retired to sleep. I pretended not to feel his arms when he hugged me while I, supposedly, slept...Ours was complicated. we broke up after he went to Spain and when he came back... His nightmares consumed him and consequently his traumas swallowed our relationship. What followed were days of discussing what was going to happen. I lived, well, I'm still living, alone with him. We both decided to keep things as they were, to let our department just stay that way. He paid for it, because his secret work, which he couldn't tell me anything about but which on more than one occasion had made him almost never return, left a good pay, even if it was at the expense of his mental health. In addition, it had already been difficult enough to enter the market of looking for a job despite my university career, even more difficult was going to be the fact of getting a job as an infant teacher and with my salary... No, no way. Leon had been kind enough to that and I will always be grateful to him.

And my way of thanking him was by making him homemade cookies, Leon loved it when I cooked for him, and healing his wounds by changing his bandages. It was routine, it was simple, it was quiet. What Leon needed after the hell he had lived through, although I couldn't even imagine it. At that moment we were both on the couch, here was our tacit deal: he would buy me whatever I wanted (even if I didn't tell him, because I still had pikes of shame in me) and I wouldn't ask about what happened. Nothing at all. I was just assuming or drawing conclusions about how bad it had been this time because of the number of injuries.

And here was my conclusion this time, it had been moderately bad.

"did you try a new method?" he questioned, looking at my cookies. I wasn't stupid, of course I wasn't, I knew Leon thought I was, but no sir. I had looked at files on his computer and... I remember not eating that day. It was horrifying. "Why? Did you notice that they are more delicious this time?" I asked. "mh... maybe worse than last time. bug don't worry, you're going to get better at your cooking skills," he teased and we both laughed. I did it against my will. In those moments I wondered, why had we broken up? Our inside jokes were still intact and he made us both smile like the first day we had thought of it, our chemistry was in the air and I saw him like pink hearts around him even seeing him in all the ways you could see a human being and still love him... My love for him was intact, I knew that his love for me too otherwise, he would not return to my arms every time.

After we both fell asleep on the couch, he returned to his work a week later. And he came home months later, maybe two or three. I never counted them because I was too nervous.

When he came back, I saw that the refrigerator was missing beers, I saw that there were drops of blood from my refrigerator to the bathroom and I heard the shower running.

There, there was the reason why we broke up. Again he had relapsed.

Because that was the thing with Leon Kennedy, living with him wasn't difficult at all. The really difficult thing was to live with his footprints.

[https-furina]

✎ baked with love. ft. kazuha x gn!reader content. fluff, modern!au, maybe a slight hint to idol!au? just sweet fluff there’s really nothing more to say! baking with kazuha isn't as easy as it seems... mentions of insecurities (associated with acne/spots, teeth, scars and weight/stretchmarks/body) that the reader sees negatively. w.c. 1.2k words

archon’s decree. happy birthday to the kazuha to my heizou, my bag of skittles, the trauma fairy — welcome to the twenties !! i’m here to make today better (i think?) so as promised, here’s your present ! mwah ilysm dear !! taglist. @ryuryuryuyurboat @soleillunne @rainswept - send an ask to be added!

"sweetheart-" the petname rolls off your tongue effortlessly, a little exasperated perhaps, for how on earth had your boyfriend ended up in such a terrible mess in your short absence? you thought the task of measuring out the ingredients would be simple enough - what could go wrong? but the way pale skin is dusted in a light coating of flour, reaching as far as the dark fabric of his clothing and decorating the pretty length of long lashes lined around his eyes, you figured that possibly it wasn't simple enough.

ruby eyes disappear into creases as your boyfriend sends a sheepish smile your way. he's almost dressed to play the part of a househusband, silver tresses of hair with red streaks mixed in tied back - albeit a little messy - and there's a stupid slogan apron wrapped around his waist although it appears to have done nothing to save your boyfriend's outfit from a flour attack.

"i may have dropped the flour," he notes, slender hands gesturing to the mess of the kitchen counter that definitely took the brute force of aforementioned flour attack, "i think that might be too much flour."

he says this with a hint of humour, clearly joking as he gestures to the bowl sat upon the electronic weighing scales that indeed has too much flour in it - was he trying to make the densest cake on the planet? a sigh escapes your lips but you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face, unable to hide that the scene was incredibly stupid to look at. in response, kazuha's sheepish smile grows much wider - almost as if in pride from being able to make you smile.

"we can save this it's fine," you try to sound hopeful but the way the flour spreads across the kitchen counter, it almost seems like the baking equivalent of glitter, "hold the flour bag open, i'll try pour what's in the bowl back into it."

kazuha is quick to act, as he always is when it comes to tasks in day-to-day life. your boyfriend is efficient, apparently just not at measuring ingredients successfully. yet the act of attempting to pour flour back into the bag is met with mere failure when a cloud of white powder disperses into the air, making you too a victim of its power. kazuha can't help but grin at your expense, biting the inside of his cheek to maintain the laugh threatening to escape his lips when you stand, quietly processing what just happened.

"i don't think we can save this." he comments, his voice cracking when you blink the flour off your eyelashes and glance up at him. he's so close to giving in - it's a mess, sure but it's a small price to pay for the memories created. when kazuha finally breaks, unable to contain himself from your lack of words about the situation, your eyes gloss over how he leans against the flour covered counter, elbows coated in it as he hangs his head to try hide the fact he's laughing. his ponytail falls over his shoulder, dragging the ends of ashen blond hair through the powder without a care in the world.

despite this being an attempt to bake your birthday cake at home - you're not a huge fan of the designed ones in the supermarkets, - the two of you are really not suited to be bakers, especially not when either of you can witness the other's bad luck without bursting into laughter. feeling slightly humiliated, you turn towards the kitchen sink, eager to wash flour off your face that keeps tickling your nose - there's a sneeze on the horizon - yet kazuha's laughter is contagious, echoing in the silent kitchen when neither of you want to admit what just happened. you find yourself laughing with him and despite the previous feeling of humiliation, it's not a small laugh.

kazuha never fails to bring out that pure laughter in you, the one that hurts your sides and makes it hard to breathe because you simply cannot stop laughing - and when you try, you erupt into more laughter over the simplest of things. tears decorate your eyes, the kitchen filled with gasps for breath as you try to wave kazuha off, scolding him playfully and hushing him because clearly, it is his fault that you cannot stop laughing.

"will you - oh my god - stop that?" you cry, grinning as kazuha raises his hands to wipe the tiny glittering tears caught in his eyelashes but alas, the motion simply smears flour across his cheekbones and there it is again, that suffocating laughter that erupts from your chest and has you turning your back on your boyfriend in attempt to calm down.

the kitchen begins to die down into a calm silence a few moments later, minus the small breathless laughs and content sighs at your own stupidity. kazuha watches as you wash your hands under the kitchen sink, your cheeks hurting from that grin you couldn't wipe off your face. at this moment, he takes the opportunity to admire you. he admires all the blemishes that you say you hate, the small things about your body that you're insecure about. maybe he's admiring the crooked tooth you've hated since you was young or the spots dotted across your face that you frown at every time you see your own reflection; perhaps he's admiring the silvery tiger stripes painted along your thighs, hips and upper arms that he knows you've googled how to fade or the faint scars littered across your body for numerous reasons.

he admires you.

everything about you.

to kazuha, he couldn't possibly love you more than he already does. if there was a bar for how much he loved you, it would be exceeded. if his love was a pot of boiling water, it would be bubbling over the sides onto the stove. he's reminded when he hurries out of your shared house, pressing more than one chaste kiss to your lips because despite being late to band practise - he lost track of time wrapped up in your arms on the couch, - he finds you addictive. as if by chance, you feel the same way. it's a dangerous scenario when presented to the concepts of time, appointments and adult responsibilities.

the pair of you wouldn't have it any other way.

soon the glow of streetlamps that have turned on in the absence of daylight paint the kitchen in a warm gold through the windows, decorating the walls in shadows as you gaze upon the mess you've created, fingers laced together as you stand side by side. somewhere in the distance, a church bell begins to chime as midnight strikes and kazuha pulls you flush against him, his hands moving to wrap around your waist with a loving smile as he rests his forehead against yours. the tips of your noses brush, one being much colder than the other as you feel kazuha's warm breath on your face; you can smell the faintest of fruits he snacked on earlier.

"happy birthday, my love." he whispers wholeheartedly as you listen to that echoing chime continue into the silence of the city, his lips delicately pressing to yours in the most gentle act of love, his thumbs brushing patterns against the small of your back comfortingly.

kaedehara kazuha undoubtedly remains your home, your four walls and your hearth. he stands to be the sole person who kindled your dying fire and he'll forever be the one to protect it from the harsh winds of life.

"how about we just buy some cupcakes tomorrow instead?"

© https-furina 2023.

[boytouya]

「SAINT」 ; takami keigo | hawks x male reader

wc: 1.5k

warning: suggestive themes & language, religious themes, one (1) crude joke about nuns, abrupt ending (scrapped fic)

additional tags: priest reader (kinda), incubus hawks, probably some religious trauma, agnostic writer who doesn’t know how to write things relating to demons + religion

a/n: this is loooong overdue and also months old, i’m so rusty so i’m so sorry if this isn’t good. anyway there’s about 3-4 versions of this fic so if you see it somewhere else dw abt it (unless stated otherwise)

Your fingertips trace the thin, pale paper of your annotated Bible, cold pages crinkling under the weight of your palms. Covering for your father, a well-liked priest, was not an easy job— especially when you strayed further and further from the Holy eye with every passing moment. The pews of the church remain dimly lit, moonlit and almost sparkling under the glass stained windows. The rich, brown and polished wood glows, light dancing between warm yellow lights aligned by the aisles, and despite the unwavering wholeness you should feel, you stare back at the empty seats with nothing but loneliness.

It was only a matter of time before you begged someone, anyone, for even a sliver of company.

You exhale slowly, reaching up to readjust your hair, even if it doesn’t actually move. Your wrist in your peripherals momentarily consumes your vision, but you make no effort to quicken your movements. The last time you’d felt this way he encountered something darker than light, something tempting. Something that, still, reminded you of your own loneliness, and the exhaustion that comes with it. The memory remains fresh, as though you were hit with a hammer amalgamated from the darkest parts of your mind, unbeknownst to the consequences.

In a Church, you suppose, love is always in the air, a thickening aroma that’s much too sweet for your liking. It sticks to the murals within the room, it clings to your goosebump ridden skin, it’s plastered to every page you turn to. It’s excruciating. It’s exhausting.

And yet, with the smell of his skin lingering on your body, your mind empties, and your thoughts simultaneously erode whilst coalescing into a serene hum stuck in the far back of your mind. The bittersweet tranquility floats above you for just a moment, descending as soon as moonlight peeks through the windows and into your darkening, tired eyes. It stares back into your irises, taunting you despite your expensive effort to avoid it.

It and it's dark children who hide behind the muse of a wickedly comforting smile. But, you decide, it’s because that’s what you seek.

It, who sleeps beneath darkening shadows, moonlight dancing across its shiny eyelids and painting its face with a silver hue. The way it bounced off its skin, you’ve ong since decided night was made for it. An Incubus. With warm skin and a glowing, crimeon tattoo below his belly button, a thin tail with a pointer end, strong dark wings, and a scantily clad choice of clothing. With angelically golden locks of hair, that fall in his face from time to time, and just as golden eyes.

A strong jaw, furrowed eyebrows, calloused and veiny hands that look rather large— or so they’d seem when they glide across your skin, sharp claw-like nails that drag against the wood pulpit.

It— or, he, who’s hands curl into fists as he grasps at the decorative cloth on the pews’ arms like a lifeline (or in most cases, your hair), as if holding them tight would somehow keep you there with him, limbs tangled and lips locked. Sinful in a place supposedly free of sin.

He, who stirs under the sun’s gaze, uncomfortable warmth blooming from his body. But you… You want nothing more than to hold it in his hands, cherish the comfortable silence and bathe in his inviting body heat, hidden away from the chilling air that signifies winter’s welcome.

He— Keigo, you’d come to learn, who wakes at the feeling of your trivial eye, with long eyelashes that bat against his cheek with grace. A smile places itself upon his lips, but before he can speak, a yawn ripples out his mouth. You watch as his sharp teeth nestle into his gums, completely relaxed under your critical gaze.

The rosary beads wrapped around your fingers slip, smacking against the ground where you two stand, and gasps leave both your lips. You, somewhat mortified as you quickly kneel, tucking your feet beneath your body as your shaking hands reach for the blessed beads. Keigo quirks an eyebrow, much more awake as he steps out to place his heavy boot just beside your fingertips.

There’s a sickening sound of friction against the polished wood beneath his shoe.

“You look better this way,” He exclaims, an uncanny smile splitting his lips as he crosses his arms. It’s almost impossible to notice the bulge of his biceps, your eyes trailing the way his fingertip taps against his flawless skin. Ignoring how obscene this must look— kneeling beneath an incubus in the middle of a church, with no one but the moon as your witness— a scoff leaves your mouth, and you decide the tainted prayer beads will do fine resting on the floor. “No, really! You should stay like this.”

As you begin to stand, his warm palm presses into the swell of your shoulder, keeping you hunched over, your face basically pressed into his hip. It slithers upward, resting at your cheek. His large hands obstruct your vision, nimble fingers pressing into the meat of your cheek as if it’ll leave a mark. Under different circumstances you’d have keened into the— almost — intimate touch. Under different circumstances you’d have kissed his palm.

“Keigo—”

“It’s almost natural at this point. You and the nuns must go crazy in here,” His eyes shift, much darker than before, and something tells you he doesn’t find that joke funny. From what you can see, his body stiffens awkwardly. His jaw clenches, then his Adam's apple bobs, and suddenly the air feels much thicker. “Don’t you.”

His question falls flat on deaf ears, as you’re too lost in thought to even think about what he may be insinuating. His thick eyebrows twitch at your hesitation, the hand resting on your cheek suddenly tightening around your jaw. Your lips pucker, forming a small ring as he forces your eyes to meet his.

And, finally, like you’ve fallen out of a twelve story building, the weight of his words hit you like concrete. Against his strong hand you mutter, “Don’t even say things like that.”

“Hm.” He hums, releasing your jaw with faux disregard, releasing the prayer beads beneath his feet. He watches your frantic gaze flicker back and forth, your lips pursed as you chew on the insides of your cheek. You’re as cute as he is touchy.

He could just eat you alive.

Why’re you here, demon.” Your tone falls flat, missing whatever malice you were supposedly injecting into your tone—and even if it had come out as a hiss, it wouldn’t have phased the being.

“Ooh, ouch,” The blond knocks a large fist to his chest, knocking himself down and stumbling dramatically as he feigns offense. Your stare is heavy on his form, despite the constant insults you just can’t seem to look away. “You wound me, Father!”

“Keigo.” His tail jumps, straightening at the sound of his name passing by your lips. He grins, cheeks blessed with dimples and freshly shaven facial hair. His demeanor remains relaxed, tufts of hair swaying ever-so-slightly as he steps around you in circles, taking in the sights as if he hasn’t seen them a billion times before.

“Always so angry!” Takami chirps, long nails brushing against your cheek as he pinches at whatever remnants of baby-fat you had on your face. Suddenly, the goofy, love-struck expression on his face faulters, and his golden eyes harden. “Whether you want to believe it or not, I felt you calling for me.”

There’s a glowing, magenta ring around his irises that you aren’t sure were there before, burning bright in comparison to the dwindling candles adorning the walls and hallways. You’d hate to admit it out loud, but there’s something inviting about it. As unfamiliar as neon lights accompanied by city streets and the smell of recreational drugs, but simultaneously as familiar as the warm buzz of the sun through glass-stained windows.

“Liar,” You bite your tongue, the bitter taste of nickels and dimes drowning your senses. Blasphemy. “I’d have to be a whole different type of desperate to even—“

“Aren’t you?”

Ignoring the prickles of heat that dig into your skin, you let out a frustrated sigh. You almost want to yell at him, loneliness and desperation are different levels of isolation, and you don’t want to think about where that puts you. His silly, ill-attempt at rendering you speechless wasn’t in vain: he’d won. For now. Proud of himself, Keigo hums in assurance and places his hands on your shoulders. He runs much warmer than the average human, and if he’d been any warmer, his palms would burn right through your clothing and scorch your skin.

”I know,” He pulls you forward, placing a hand behind your head as he cradles your face into his neck. You can hear him take a deep breath, probably trying to engrave your scent into his brain. To bottle it, keep it there, and have it whenever he needed. His warmth makes your eyelids heavy with sleep, and you find yourself sinking into his embrace. Reluctantly, your hands rest at his waist, the pads of your fingertips digging into his toned back, equally wary of his tailbone. “You’re not. Maybe I’m the desperate one.”

TAGLIST: @zawadni @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @dilfchoso @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @mhasimp666 @princejasno @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @double-homiecide @rintarosaku @saturnsbend @trailsnix @luckduckanon @oddball215 @toodeepintofandoms @devilgirlcrybaby @playb0ysuna @uwiuwi @yuzukeni *if you’ve changed your username pls let me know!

MASTERLIST

[coquettemouse]

Tw: vaguely mentioned sexual traumas

(Valgrace)

Leo's finger slides over the touchpad as his eyes skim the screen, a dark red blush creeping over his cheeks.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Sure about what, dear?" Jason asks, raising his eyebrows.

"About buying this. I mean, it's $140, is it worth spending money on this?"

"You want it and it'll come in handy."

"I can do it another way. I've always used my fingers."

Leo shrugs, and looks back at the screen. A dark cyan L-shaped silicone vibrator, and right below it a linear vibrator with a grip. Leo bites his lower lip, fuck Jason and his mother-wolf-with-a-whole-litter concern, he never give up until he is sure Leo is comfortable. How could something so small be so expensive?

"And? We can afford it."

"I could make one for myself."

"Honey, you're the most brilliant man I know, but you don't work with machines that will... Be inside a human body" Jason says gently "and I can buy sex toys for my boyfriend."

Leo sighs and looks away, putting his thumb to his mouth, biting the piece of nail there. 1 year and 11 months of dating and they've never had sex. Because Leo has a fucked up head, making his boyfriend live in celibacy like a nun.

"Hey, hey there baby" Jason interrupts before the spiral of thoughts gets worser, his soft hands cupping Leo's face "stay with me".

"I'm back, sorry." Leo shakes his head "sorry"

"I'm going to ban the use of that word" Jason says with a sigh and kisses Leo's temple "what is on your mind?"

"It's just..." Leo takes a deep breath and furrows his chin "I'm making you be on a dry spell while you're just sitting there wanting me to feel pleasure. By myself. Without you." That makes Jason blinks and tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing in concern, they've had this conversation before.

"Honey, that's never been a problem for me." "Maybe you'll die a priest like that," Leo tries to joke, humorlessly.

"I don't care." then Jason's lips spread into a smile "Even if I'm so old I can't even get an erection"

Leo snorts a laugh "Please don't talk about your future flaccid penis"

Jason smiles contentedly and snakes his arm around Leo "You are no fun but alright. Get your pretty head out of there. I just want you to be satisfied. I'm happy ""living celibacy"" he draw quote marks on the air with his free hand.

Leo stare his boyfriend, the look on his face making him a little less unsure, but the itch in your brain remains. It will never go away. This is not the kind of bug that dies after a little poison. It's the kind of creature that someone put in, someone who used a drill to open its head and put it in there. Leo shake his head.

"Are you... satisfied? You... Could buy toys for yourself too"

"I'm very satisfied yes" Jason scratches his stubble "that's a good idea though. Maybe we should get toys with matching colors?"

"That's the worst idea I've ever heard, you big idiot" Leo laughs and takes the pillow off his lap, pushing it against Jason's face.

[candied-scorpian]

Kulapari Blog Name: Candied Scorpian

I have not watched Rise of the Kings because Hulu is in the US{It is new so I couldn't even pirate it}-

but I sure love Stinger, so even with spoilers I was excited- IS THAT A SNAKE IN THE GIF??? I just noticed that

but anyways, for a small fandom 'Edit for a dead fandom' I can make edits, idk how to get the clips.... Right theirs on clips of stinger in one pirated site that has season 2

I accidentally watches epidose one of season 2 back in lockdown before kipo was uploaded... Oooh the memories of rewatching this before I slept.

Im still gonna make shitty drafts and post it on ao3, idk what happened, but ill just give stinger amnesia and meet some half scorpian half snakes Hehe! <3

Also bit of a headcanon that Their a emperor scorpia(They are in West Africa...) Idk, maybe other scorpians would assume, or another animal incorrectly guessing. I couldn't find a scorpian in austrailio I liked. Emperor sounded cool- and no ones arguing with me... Ik its someones pet peeve, but hey from reddit the show sucked, and I might still enjoy watching it. My work is gonna be as bad as the writing, also how friendly empoerer scorpians are HAH XD

... I kinda added that their was a disease that just never gets talked about, and eveyrones just, monotone, tired, depressed, something with slow mating cycles and infertility and miscarriges.......... From what I learned empowers are usually aggressive after giving birth, so maybe that anger is channeled to fighting, belief of a lord that is survival and nature is cruel. or smth dark, and oc in the makaign for that.

maybe another scorpian thats seen stingers dad, try to cheer them up... A neutral perspective on bandits and such <3 such good writings ideas I am rushing, please send me link or an account <3

Concept writing of my oc with a placeholder name Magma- for volcano room

Magma is self-aware and quiet, easily accepting of failures, and accepts that not everyone will be a good person and do what they're fully capable of, but they understand they should still stand up for others. They like to argue when they fully research a specific topic, and will trauma dump at a moment's notice to keep the conversation going, they are extremely sensitive so any jokes at others' expense, just when it's directed at them – they quit side eyes – but with someone else is also in the butt of the joke they'll sting. They tend to hold grudges rather than holding others' hands out of awkwardness, having a hard time asking for help. They can bottle all their emotions up, and that leads to… More panic attacks and stinging a frog{Fear of water from threatening to be drowned from an accidental party bash, and misses the hot springs gifted from Chinese scorpion} they acted on it from stinging a frog helping them get to the other side{inspired by Tumblr short story{Lost it}.. They struggle with misinformation, everyone knowing the obvious royalty or power core, and the struggle of political disinterest and being the eldest to have to take the crown and responsibility. He can be bitter about others being wrong or not that self-aware, always keeping to themselves, but the inevitable panic of intrusive thoughts of accidentally murdering someone. They Value and adore it when people like them and know their bad, or even stay, to be listened to is nice and they can only be so much. They can come across as sweet, sometimes a bit obvious to their surroundings, or forgetful souls, but on other occasions, they can play the oblivious card. While plating obliviousness has its wins when seen as stupid, they tend to be insecure about the existence of their responsibility, but not exactly knowing how to not be the cause of corruption, assassinated siblings, letting things go bad, or secretly being power-hungry. Despite all of this, their family loves the self-isolating ‘Sun’ Daughter, and the people see them as having humility and being well educated but a person(forgetting, being neutral and self-aware of their bias on their interviews in boarding school.). They put others' needs before themselves, the weaker their friends, but an enemy could just die.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph

Happy Holidays!!!

I love swimming and as a child i would always go to indoor pools with friends in the Christmas holliday. So I was wondering, do you have any swimming fics? With a holiday/vacantion or maybe even a christmas theme?

Love and Cuddles

Nonnie

Hi Nonny!!

AHHH I'm SO SORRY for putting this off so long, Lovely, but I had a NEW LIST I COULD USE THIS ASK AS AN EXCUSE TO POST LOL.

I don't know specifically with a Christmas theme, but I do have amazing fics featuring swimming! I hope you enjoy what I have for you, and if anyone has fics that they want to add that has Swimming in it, please add them below!

JOHNLOCK AND SWIMMING Pt. 2

See also: Johnlock and Swimming 2019

BOOKMARKS

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

MARKED FOR LATER

Gone and Changed by cwb (E, 4,617 w., 1 Ch. || Farm/Ranch American AU || Teenlock, Friends to Lovers, Angst, High School, Summer Vacation, Swimming, Hot Weather, Oral Sex, Car Sex, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining) – John and Sherlock are best friends, until John goes and changes. Part 1 of the Just Like That series

Forces of Nature by Ewebie (E, 18,369 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock || Rugby Captain John, Hammock Sex, Bad Jokes) – Sherlock watched as the man pushed himself out of the water and onto the floating dock constantly anchored in the middle of the lake. Oh. He was… He was quite tanned. Broad shoulders sloped into a narrow, muscular waist and tapered hips that disappeared into the navy swim trunks. Somehow the breadth of the shoulders made the thighs and legs that appeared out of the bottom of the trunks look delicate. Tanned in their own right and powerful, but oddly proportionate to the shorter stature the man seemed to possess. Sherlock watched the water run off of him, down his back, tracing a path along his spine and through the pleasing fossae lumbales laterales and lumbar lordosis into the waistband of the trunks. Sherlock swallowed. Shit.

Wrestled By The Sea by eragon19 (E, 35,323 w., 9 Ch. || Merfolk AU || Merman Sherlock, Different First Meeting, Magical Realism, Seaside Cottage, Falling in Love, Mystery) – When John Watson takes up Mike's offer to recover at his seaside home he expects quiet relaxation, healing and being dead bored. What other options did a man on a tiny army pension have? What he doesn't expect is to meet an odd man who only swims at night, and has the most unusual swimming stroke John has ever seen....

Hearts Don't Break Around Here by thatawkwardfriend (M, 54,796 w, 12 Ch. || Teenager AU || Homophobia, Past Abuse, Artistic John, John saves Sherlock, BAMF John, Horse Riding, Swimming, Minor Violence, First Kiss / Time, Making Out, Fireworks, Carnival, Fluff and Humour, Angst with Happy Ending, Death / Funeral, Hurt / Comfort, Morning After, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining) – When John gets in a fight at school, his parents send him to Sussex for the summer in hopes that living with the Holmes’ will shape him up. It is there that he meets Sherlock Holmes: a class A asshole too smart for his own good. John expects a long, dull, lonely summer. What he does not expect is to form an unlikely friendship with the strange boy across the hall. What he expects even less is to fall in love with him.

Worst Kept Secrets by Sherlock1110 and sherlockian4evr (M, 66,611 w., 9 Ch. || WiP || Engagement, Coming Out, Angst and Feels, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Fluff, Scars, Weddings, Honeymoon, Playing Pirates, Parasailing, Archaeology, Paintball, Swimming, Golf) – For the prompt: What if the thing Mycroft did to upset Mummy... was to come out? What if, as a teenager, Mycroft decided to tell his family that he is gay, and his parents disowned him for it? It's okay now, he runs the British Government, he IS the British Government, but there's still that tiny part of him that wants his parent's acceptance, especially now he's found the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Part 4 of the Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff series

Slipstream by khorazir (M, 290,208 w., 25 Ch. || Tour de France / Sports Cycling AU || Room Sharing, Cycling Injuries, Discussions of Drugs/Doping, Awkward Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Bickering, Case Fic, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing, Jealousy, Bi John / Demi Sherlock) –It’s going to be the last Tour de France for professional cyclist John Watson. Despite the hardships of cycling more than 3000 kilometres in three weeks, in blistering heat and torrential rain, over dangerous cobblestones in northern France and the mountains of the Alps and the Pyrenees, battling thirst, hunger, injury and exhaustion, not to mention bitchy rivals, doping allegations, and the ever scoop-hungry press, he is going to enjoy the ride, damn it. That’s what John keeps telling himself – until he meets his new teammate, Sherlock Holmes, who adds a whole new list of problems as well as an extra dose of excitement to John’s life.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

Dissonance by CarmillaCarmine (E, 76,624+ w., 14/? Ch. || WIP || Punk Band AU || Pining, Bi/Gay Panic, Best Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Swimming, Music, Doctor Watson, Drug References, First Time, Blow/Hand Jobs) – Straight from military service, living a life devoid of purpose, John meets a man who reawakens his passion for music.

Just Like That Series by cwb (E, 201,462+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || American Teenager / Farmer AU || Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Angst, High School, Summer Vacation, Swimming, Friends to Lovers, Car Sex, Mutual Pining, Falling in Love, Kissing) – John and Sherlock are best friends, until John goes and changes.

Noctiluca scintillans by alexaprilgarden (E, 240,796+ w., 28/30 Ch. || WiP || 1990’a Teenlock AU || Summer Holidays, France, Drug Use, Swimming, Skinny Dipping, Angst, Masturbation, Slow Burn, Coming of Age, Alcohol Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Switchlock, Heartbreak, Happy Ending) – August 1994: These are John Watson's last summer holidays. It's his first trip abroad in ages, and the first one without his parents -- three weeks on a camping site at the French Atlantic Coast, together with Harry and her girlfriend. It's swimming and hanging around at the beach, red wine in the evening and sleeping in. Until a dark-haired boy at John's age puts up his tent a few feet away from him and changes everything.

[my-castles-crumbling]

okay so hi..

um ive seen people do this so ig im going to as well.

basically i and my gf (she/her) have been in a relationship for nearly 6 months (6 in two weeks). we're both 19.

we met through my bsf and her bsf dating and now we are (i had the biggest crush on her but genuinely didnt think she'd give me a chance).

ive had pretty bad luck in relationships before and they never lasted more than 3 or 4 months mainly due to the fact that im asexual and btoh previous oartners just assumed they could change me (???) but she genuinely understood and went out of her way to make me comfortable and make it known that nothing will be demanded of me more than that which i can give.

from the beginning of the relationship, ive made some rules very clear which are like my no nonsense ones, like i wont tolerate them usually at all.

one of them being not making me purposefully uncomfortable and the main big one is not yelling/shouting, especially at me. (i have past trauma from my parents and it has in the oast made me shut down completely for days at a time, only getting up to feed my cat)

on one of our beginning dates i mentioned this really nice and sorta expensive restaurant that ive always wanted to try but reservations are really hard to get.

she joked saying that oh id love to go with hou ehicb i laughed at but was mildly excited about.

so i got the reservation for yesterday, i made the reservation for two.

last month i told my girlfriend that i have finally got the reservation and would like to go with her, told her the dates and time and everything and she seemed genuinely excited to go with me.

now last week i confirmed her availability again, and asked her what colored dress she was wearing so i could match it with my clothes and we decided on a color etc and also to get ready at my place because her bsf has their family over so shes will be staying with me for 2 weeks.

now, yesterday, after i was done with my work i went to the living room just to well see her and hug her cz i missed her a bit since i hadnt really seen her in about 5 hours (i was working). when i knocked at her door, she opened it and was ready with a dress (not the color we agreed on), her purse laying in the background as she greeted me with a big smile and kiss (on the cheek).

i asked her isnt she ready a bit early and she just looked at me confusedly and said no i hve to meet R (her friend) at 4:30 so im just on time.

i asked why and where she's going just to know if she'd be back and she said that theyre going to the mall and then to the movies because R is leaving in 3 days to go on vacation so they want to spend some time togetehr.

i smiled and wished her luck, i thiught that maybe i got the day wrong but i hadnt and i was actually really sad because all my life, everyone in my family would repeatedly just forget about my plans and my shit for others' and she knew abt that.

but anyways, so i decided to still go and i took this really lovely lady, who's homeless but i buy her a meal everyday and take her out to lunch once a week. (shes like in her 30s btw)

we had a lovely time and the food was divine, i even helped the lady get ready in a changing room.

but anyways on my way home i realised i had 3 missed calls from my girlfriend and a text that just said.

we need to talk as soon as you get home.

the moment j entered my apartment, she just started to yell at me about how much of a piece of shit i am, how people forget and its not a big deal, how im an arse, how not everything is supposed to be about me, and could i possibly imagine how she felt coming back to an empty apartment, she thought something had happened to me.

that is not the order she sais everything in but someway through my breathing started to get extraordinarily fast and i coukd feel my vision getting blurry.

i said sorry to her, or i think(?) i cant really remember stuff when i get panic attacks like this. i took my cat and went to my room.

it took quite a while for my cat to calm me down bur she was able to in the end.

this morning, i made breakfast for her and since i have today off from uni i decided to go to my job (i work part-time remote but can come and go to the iffice if i wish)

its my break rn and im thinking about it, maybe it wasnt a big deal? maybe i should have reminded her again but like idk it was a pretty big thing for me.

i feel bad, i feel like i made a mountain out if a molehill and shouldve just apologised properly and explained to her that its okay and that it wasnt that big of a deal.

i dont knwo?

i wanted some advice because i truly feel very strongly for her and shes the only relationship ive had in which i feel valued and had zero self doubt (up until yesterday)

im sorry it was so long, and thank you for your help.

Hi!!

Okay so...this is hard because, I don't know if either of you are to blame, here. Your girlfriend wasn't great for forgetting, but then I was wondering why you didn't say anything? But then she was shit for yelling later....

I'm wondering if this is the first time this has happened? It sounds like a lack of communication, you know? I think you guys really need to sit down and discuss how you were both feeling. But if this becomes a pattern, especially your girlfriend yelling, I would think more about the relationship.

Keep me updated! I'm naming you orange anon.

[clonerightsagenda]

Author's notes for Sick aka I ramble about my complex Disability Feelings

When you're sick, especially given the dominance of the medical model of disability, it's easy to view your body as a separate adversary, and this scenario takes it to the extreme of completely removing yourself from your body. I've talked before on this blog about my complicated feelings on magic disability cures - I don't like them in fiction; I'd like one myself in real life - and this is me contemplating 'what if'?

I do not like being sick. It is painful, time-consuming, expensive, and frequently embarrassing. I wish it had not happened to me. But being disabled is now a major part of my identity and experience - it's probably the first label I would list when thinking about the different facets that impact my life. Being disabled has made me more aware of disability justice issues and changed the way I relate to and rely on other people. In some ways that sucks - it's progressively taken over what I eat, where I work, where I live (which I also take to the extreme in this story with ambiguously literal possession) - but in other ways, I think the disability community often has a much better worldview than mainstream America. I'm glad I've become more aware of some of those perspectives and issues. And because disability has shaped so much of my life for the past... six? years, for good and for ill, it's hard for me to conceive of what my life would be like without it. How would I think about myself? What would I do? This is my new normal, like it or not. I don't remember what it's like to make a fist painlessly.

An added wrinkle is that autoimmunity is my body Trying Its Best. I make a lot of jokes about my body trying to kill me because that's how it shakes out (please, little guys in my blood, stop eating my bones) but autoimmunity is a trauma response. My body got clobbered by so many outside poisons that it can't recognize what a real threat is anymore. It's trying to protect me and doing a terrible job. It's another place where you can look at your body as an external adversary versus a system that your mind is also a part of. But also no matter how you look at it, I am still sick.

There's also some stuff in the piece about the helplessness that comes from being sick which (surprise!) I also have mixed feelings about. Because it sucks not having control over your body! I want to be supervising that shit. But also... I don't know how common this is, but there is a weird kind of comfort in being tucked in bed with someone else taking care of me. I even find going into surgery oddly relaxing because for a while my life will be someone else's problem.

At the same time I also worry that I'm using disability as an excuse. Am I begging off attending something because I really am tired or worried about exposure/overwork or do I just not want to go?

Finally we have Aro Angst because that's always on my mind. And it's extra on my mind in the context of disability because what if I get to the point where I can't take care of myself anymore? I don't have a romantic partner to help me or to provide health insurance if I can't work. I live near my parents and have passed up job opportunities that would take me further away. Most specifically for this story, even I find myself sometimes falling into the trap of assuming the ultimate endstate of closeness/intimacy would be romantic/sexual bc of cultural conditioning. It's annoying! So the character (Dani, I named her Danielle in a reference to the Daniel/the cooler Daniel meme) is still seeking the community, care, and closeness she experienced as part of the disabled community, and the messier weirder intimacy of feeling connected to her own body, but she's struggling with interpreting that through cultural norms of amatonormativity. Sometimes 'I want to be inside you/I want you inside me' is, shockingly, not a sex thing. Hence, toxic nonhorny clone makeouts. I guess???

Side note: I've mentioned this wrt pieces I've written with aromanticism that follow a similar pattern of taking something I am at least not too consciously dramatic about and making the MC a pathetic wet cat about it. I guess they are serving the purpose of Everyman in a medieval morality play here. They are crash test dummies I am flinging at walls to count the cracks. Not great character writing but that's not what this is about rn.

[smolstarthief]

Another Maruki analysis: His literal Mask

I kinda wanted to do an analysis on his literal mask since this was a realization that hit me really. Now I agree that it looks absolutely silly and I wonder what Atlus was thinking with his overall outfit but... I can't help but think of something here...

Now "Masks," both literally and figuratively, play a primary role in P5 in regards to its characters. They hide who they really are because of either pressure to meet societal expectations, fear (Ex: rejection), dealing with various forms of abuse, and of course trauma. Especially as way of coping with said trauma. It is also a thing in Psychology known as, "masking" which is basically the description I just gave. Masking is basically, as an example, someone performing in a way that it is considered, "acceptable." But it can be at the expense of expressing who they really are, hiding their true selves. It's never fun at all as someone who deals with this on occasion and can even hurt the individual deep down. It can even worsen their mental state as well.

I always feel bad for those that had to go through it for one reason or another. But back on topic. When the MCs awaken their Personas, they literally tear their own masks off (with an exception or two). It's framed as painful but then liberating. They feel free and are done with all the bs they had to deal with. Each mask also has a unique design for every Thief and it's all unique to them and even symbolic of either their true selves or even just overall personality.

So, what about Maruki? While it does look ridiculous... As I've mentioned in a previous post, it almost resembles a shield. A large one at that. Now you could argue Makoto's does as well but it's short and is more like a knight. It also reflects her more tough personality. In Maruki's case though... It covers his whole head and top part of his face (minus his eyes 'cause he needs to see somehow). I also mentioned that it's ironic that "Throw Away Your Mask" is basically his thought process and mental state and yet he is hiding behind his own mask.

Now the "shield" thing can be a double meaning: He doesn't want to hurt the Thieves at all and can be considered a pacifist unless pushed and even while fighting he tries to reason with them and mostly uses Azathoth/Adam. But at the same time, it can also be his own mental defenses coming to the surface. He's hiding behind a metaphorical shield and running away from everything. The truth, his true feelings, his trauma, everything. He gives a calm and serene/gentle demeanor ("Gentle Madman") which is genuine but also puts up his defenses. Even when everything around him is falling apart, he refuses to believe that "his way" was ultimately wrong and harmful even when he knows or realizes it.

Then it gets damaged, and Adam is destroyed which is when he starts to fully break. His barrier is falling apart. He starts to show more of how he really feels. He has awareness and is regaining it at the same time and the cracks remain.

Then he fully removes it and later his godhood outfit changes to his white attire albeit torn up, damaged, and dirty. He's completely vulnerable. No barriers... No mask.

He's not hiding anymore, and we see who he really is: A sad, traumatized, and broken man who gave up everything for a dream that was ultimately not gonna help anyone... Not even himself. He wanted to do good so badly but went too far and about nearly lost himself in the process. It was unhealthy and self-destructive... Like the story of Icarus, hubris got the better of him and flew too close to the sun. All because of things that were out of his control and led to him making impulsive and downright harmful decisions. It's being human and understandable. But he still needed to be stopped, otherwise... Things will turn out for the worse for everyone, including him. Now I wonder what other character this can remind people of...?

So, joking and small fandom jab aside, a TL;DR version: Maruki's mask can represent a barrier he put up for himself to hide and run from it all and once it cracks and it's fully taken off, he shows his true feelings, coming to terms with himself and the truth. It's only then he starts to take steps towards healing and starting over on his own two feet. No hiding, no mask, no barrier. Just him and whatever reality will throw at him, and he'll try his damndest to get better and even redeem himself.

[myhahnestopinion]

THE 2022 AARONS - Worst Film

I could make a long, elaborate joke here about needlessly bad movies, but I’d rather get right to the category than Babylon. Here are The Aarons for Worst Film:

#10. Texas Chainsaw Massacre 

A Final Girl spends decades preparing for a rematch with the masked killer who murdered all her friends? You’d be forgiven for thinking you saw this film before. Billed (once again) as the one-true sequel to the seminal 1974 horror film, 2022’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre (once again) butchers the franchise. Linking a lazy approximation of the ‘legacy-quel’ format popularized by 2018’s Halloween to generational trauma, gun culture, and gentrification, the film’s skin-deep themes are even more meaningless than the original’s nihilism. No amount of gore can mask the fact that this franchise has clearly run out of gas.

#9. Firestarter

With Stephen King setting movie-goers on fire in the wake of It, there was every reason to think returning to his other early works would yield similar results. The problem is that the 2022 adaptation of his 1980 novel doesn’t know where to start with updating the story to present day. Following a pyrokinetic girl and her father on the run from government forces, the movie makes no mention of modern expansions to the surveillance state, and its simplistic tale of gifted individuals feels helplessly quaint in a culture dominated by superhero cinema. The music, composed by the legendary John Carpenter, is admittedly straight fire, but the movie’s murky cinematography snuffs out any other remaining appeal.

#8. Choose or Die

Choose or Die has a clear survival instinct, opting to throw anything and everything at the screen to keep its thin premise alive. The only real winner in the film about a cursed 1980s video-game contest is horror icon Robert Englund, cashing in on his clout with a few minutes of voiceover work. Everyone else struggles to jump through the hoops of its inconsistent rule-set and inadequate budget (The on-the-fly filmmaking has all the visual-flair of the text-based adventures it’s inspired by). The prize for powering-through is the offer of a prospective franchise; Netflix browsers would be better off choosing any number of the streamer’s other options.

#7. Halloween Ends

Heavily promoted as the final confrontation between Michael Myers and Laurie Strode, the thirteenth Halloween ends not with a bang but with a wimp named Corey Cunningham oddly hogging the spotlight. Spending the majority of its runtime on a coming-of-age Romeo-and-Juliet romance, the film’s shake-up of franchise formula is a smug trick on the audience that never turns into a treat. Hypothesizing on why evil endures, Ends is undone by an inability to express its ideas intelligibly, and by robbing agency from its most important character. Despite its definitive title, the latest installment will almost certainly not be the last, but it does leave the franchise in bad shape yet again.

#6. Margaux

Margaux is a smart house; Margaux is a dumb film. To be fair, even a regular brick-and-mortar building would seem intelligent compared to the group of college students lured into the titular deathtrap. Not even self-aware jokes at their expense can turn the characters, played by a collection of CW stars, into tolerable company. The only other expense not spared by Margaux is the budget for its nauseating white goo, the sickly sustenance of a house-wide 3-D printer, that swamps every frame of the film. The oozing substance is reflective of Margaux’s unsound foundation: an utterly illogical series of events is what brings down the house. 

#5. Mr. Harrigan’s Phone

It was always going to take an inspired touch to bring Mr. Harrigan’s Phone to life, and John Lee Hancock couldn’t answer the call. The Blind Side director delivers a dreadfully faithful adaptation of Steven King’s short story, a hodgepodge of the author’s familiar hang-ups including a decade-late technophobia around iPhone applications. The script does no service to stars Donald Sutherland and Jaeden Martell, both doing their best to sell an undying connection between a rich, cranky old man and the young boy who reads to him. In a clear-cut generational divide, King’s son undisputedly took the crown for phone-based horror last year; curious parties should just call up Joe Hill’s Black Phone instead.

#4. Umma

Umma isn’t the mother of all bad films but is highly-derivative of far better ones. The horror film manages to be only the third-best film from 2022 about an Asian-Immigrant mother overcoming generation trauma to become less overbearing to her daughter (The others being Aarons-Winner Everything Everywhere All at Once and Pixar’s Turning Red). This familiarity doesn’t stop at just one medium either: the mother’s self-induced electro-phobia also invites unfavorable comparisons to the TV show Better Call Saul. This all might be more forgivable if Umma wasn’t so neglectful of its jump scares, putting in only the minimal effort needed to raise the film up to feature length. 

#3. Grimcutty

The Hulu-Original horror film starts off looking especially grim but is ultimately a cut above those worse fears: the meme-based movie is merely incompetent, rather than incompetent and ignorant. Writer/director John Ross is well-aware that the bygone Momo Challenge his concept is based on was a hoax but that seems to be the extent of his comprehension, especially when it comes to the basics of filmmaking. His laughable script and languid pacing spread thin the legend of the Grimcutty, a lopsided monstrosity that’s meme-material for all the wrong reasons. The film is successful in at least one regard: it will unquestionably convince viewers that cutting back on screen-time isn’t always a bad thing.

#2. Morbius 

Yes, it’s Morbin’ time. The maladroit movie Morbius turns The Living Vampire into a lifeless vestigial entry in Sony’s speciously-named Spider-Man Universe. Despite decades of comic history to draw from and even more years of tragic movie monsters, the anti-hero’s origin offers viewers absolutely nothing to sink their teeth into. The dramatic tension is as hollow as the character’s bones, as the story constantly shies away from any moral complexities to receive a wide-appeal PG-13 rating (which didn’t stop the movie from bombing… twice). If there was any remaining doubt, the desperate post-credits scene makes it obvious: this is the work of vultures scavenging their IP for everything they can get.

AND THE WORST FILM OF 2022 IS...

#1. After Ever Happy

One after another, the adaptations of Anna Todd’s Wattpad novels have lowered the bar for romantic movies and romantic partners everywhere; the fourth film doesn’t break that cycle. Encompassing everything from arson to overdoses, After Ever Happy untethers the unceasing ups-and-downs of Tessa Young and Hardin Scott’s relationship from any semblance of structure. Starting with a sensible climax for the last entry and hanging up its hat without resolving any of its new plot threads, the franchise’s footage seems to now spill over from entry to entry with no rhyme or reason. As such, the fifth film is now mandatory viewing, if only because one can never be happy before confirming this story is over for good.

NEXT UP: THE 2022 AARON FOR BEST DIRECTOR!

[lynniebeanie]

TW: sa lowkey and trauma dumping bc therapists are expensive

I hate all men.

Your hand is cold and I don’t like what you’re doing. I feel exposed. Something isn’t right, so I try biting your thigh, but you’re not letting me go. I try harder. My jaw hurts. “Stop moving,” you say. “I’m just curious. I’m just looking.” I’m three and you’re of my blood and I hate all men.

Your grip is tight on my waist- your fingers are hurting me. You hold me in air and I feel your lips on mine. The smell of alcohol is coming from you in waves and it makes me sick. “Kiss me”, you say, “kiss me like adults do”. I press my lips firmly, but your tongue is persistent. There are people around, laughing, he’s so silly. The one funny, drunk uncle at a party. I’m seven and crying and I hate all men.

I’m scared of thunderstorms. I go to your bed so you could comfort me, but you want something in return. “Touch me”, you say laughing. I slap you, I don’t understand but I do and I feel dirty. You were only joking, of course. I’m no longer scared of thunderstorms. But I’m nine and I’m scared of you and I hate all men.

“God, what I’d do to you. Look at your body. Sit next to me so I can explain thoroughly what I want to do to you,” you say, patting the free space on the bench. I don’t sit, I’ve heard what you’ve done to other girls my age. I’ve seen your daughters at the shop. They have a haunted look in their eyes. I’m ten and I hate all men.

Everyone around me is starting to date but I don’t want to. “You’re a whore”, you type angrily. “I was nice to you and you’re acting like a wild animal. You’re fucked up. What a slut”. I’m thirteen and angry. At least you’re not related to me. I hate all men, even those who are still just boys.

“You spent a lot of time on your knees, huh?” your car stopped next to me and you laugh, because my jeans are torn on the knees. I laugh awkwardly. I didn’t get it. “I’ll give you a lift, come on.” I know what will happen if I close the door behind me. I spent the next 15 minutes trying to find a way of escaping, and I’m lying through my teeth to make you discouraged and you finally drive away. I’m anxious and I remembered the brand of your car and the license plates. It happens often. I’m fifteen and I hate all men.

I agree to pick you from place A to your home. It’s just a two hour drive. I can do it. A good person always helps others, especially family. You spent an hour describing how distracting my body is. I don’t get it. I am covered from head to toe. I always am. I put the seatbelt behind my back so the way it sits on my chest can stop distracting you. I will always put the seatbelt that way if I’m alone in a car with a man. I’m nineteen and I hate all men.

You’re drunk. You itch closer every now and then, like a large cat trying not to scare away its prey. You touch my arm and I’m three again. I look at my mom and tell her we have to leave. “You know how he is when he’s drunk. Don’t blame him too harshly”, she says. I’m twenty and bitter and I hate all men.

“Don’t say all men”, people say. They’re not all like that. I don’t believe them, I have more stories. We all do. How come it’s not all men, when all women have been hurt?