#even when the rules of the world say they shouldn’t

[22ayla21]

I thought of something about amphoreus male x wife reader. What if their mom used to be part of the nameless and their children asked their mom to tell them about her adventures ?🤔(Of course with their silliness with trailblazer😼)

Mom's adventures in her youth

The children always loved to listen to their mother's stories, but when they learned that she had once been Nameless and had traveled around the worlds on the legendary Astral Express, their delight knew no bounds - especially when the funny antics of the Pioneer emerged in the stories.

A warm evening in their house was a rare treasure, when nothing distracted their family from the simple joys of life. Mydei sat in an armchair, thoughtfully turning the pages of an old book, and their children were comfortably settled on the carpet in front of the fireplace. The eldest son was building something like an express train from wooden blocks, the youngest daughter was watching his movements, fascinated, slowly destroying his construction with her tiny fingers.

- Mom, tell me about your adventures! - the voice of the eldest son broke the silence, filled only with the crackling of the fire. She, leisurely sipping the pomegranate juice that her husband had brought earlier, raised an eyebrow.

- Which ones exactly?

- You were Nameless! - he clapped his hands, and his sister, catching his excitement, clapped her hands joyfully. - You flew on the Express! Traveled around the worlds!

Mydei looked away from the book this time and gave her a long, slightly narrowed look. He rarely asked about her past in the Nameless, because he knew that if she wanted, she would tell him herself, considering that parting with them, although voluntary, was sad. But now he was interested in what version of the story the children would hear.

The woman smiled and leaned back in her chair.

- Oh, where should I start? Probably with the first time I stepped aboard the Astral Express…

The children froze in anticipation.

She remembered that day. How the doors opened, how she was greeted by Velt and Himeko - a strict and reasonable senior comrade and a charismatic female mechanic smelling of coffee and adventure. How Dan Heng nodded to her reservedly, and March 7 clapped her hands, happy to have a new fellow traveler. And then, of course, the Trailblazer, whom she met a couple of months later. That same friend with whom it was better to be embarrassed than bored.

- We had a rule, - she continued, trying to hold back a smile. - Whoever stepped on board for the first time had to drink Himeko's signature coffee.

- Is this a test? - the son frowned.

- In a way, - the woman giggled. - If a person is still able to speak normally after that, then he is a real Nameless.

Mydei snorted, and the children looked at each other with delight.

- And then there was the Trailblazer, - the woman added. — So, this friend was like… a disaster that always happens suddenly.

— And what did he do?

She thought about it. How to explain to the children that he could run away from an important diplomatic meeting because “there was incredible street food in the neighboring city”? That he once almost started a revolution in a world where cats are banned, simply because “it shouldn’t be like that”? How March 7 always supported his crazy ideas, and Dan Heng only sighed heavily, watching them get into trouble again (but he, like a true older brother, got them out of trouble)?

- Well, he... - the woman bit her lip. - You know, everyone has that one friend who says "let's do it", and it never ends well?

The eldest son nodded immediately, because he knew two such boys at school (Phainon's sons).

- That's exactly what he was like.

She saw the corners of Mydei's lips twitch in a restrained smile.

- And what was the most interesting adventure? - asked the son, already prepared to hear something incredible. The woman thought about it.

- Probably the time when the Trailblazer decided that our life was too boring, and pretended to be an ancient prophet to get into an abandoned temple.

- What? - the son was amazed. She nodded.

- And we had to pretend to be his retinue, because otherwise we would have been thrown out of there.

Mydei raised an eyebrow.

- And did you find anything worthwhile in the end?

The woman shook her head.

- Just a warehouse with a bunch of old parchment and a throne, which he, of course, tried to take with him.

The children burst out laughing, and the youngest daughter looked at her mother with admiration.

- Mom, if you hadn't met Dad, would you still be Nameless?

The woman thought for a second.

- Maybe, - she admitted. - But then I wouldn't have you.

Mydei looked at her silently. Something tender flashed in his eyes, and he put the book down, pulling her closer.

- It's good that you met me, - he finally said.

- Yeah! - the eldest son agreed, hugging his younger sister. - And now we have a mother who can tell a lot of stories!

She laughed and, hugging her husband, closed her eyes. In this house, not only adventures awaited her, but also the most precious thing - family.

- Mom, tell me more!

Two pairs of eyes - the eldest daughter, almost a teenager, and the younger, a little girl full of energy - were burning with curiosity. They sat opposite their mother, eagerly awaiting new stories. Anaxa, who was peacefully drinking tea in the corner of the room, only sighed and put his cup down. He knew that sooner or later this question would be asked.

- Again? You were already listening to her stories last night, - he noted, folding his arms over his chest.

- But you weren't listening, Dad! - the younger one objected, waving her hands. - And it was sooo interesting!

Anaxa's wife, the former Nameless, smiled and stretched, as if thinking about which story to tell. Different moments popped into her head - from intense battles to awkward situations that the Trailblazer constantly dragged her into.

- Okay, then maybe I should tell you about that time when the Trailblazer and I almost blew up the kitchen on the Express?

- What? - Anaxa turned to her sharply, and his eyes flashed with disbelief.

- Yes, yes! - the youngest daughter exclaimed happily, ignoring her father's reaction. - How did that happen?

- It was like this... - she began, settling herself more comfortably. - The Trailblazer decided that since we had once again saved the world, we deserved a celebration. The problem was that he didn't really know how to cook.

- Oh, I know how it ends, - the eldest daughter chuckled, folding her arms across her chest.

- Yeah! But we decided to try it anyway. We found some rare recipe from a world where talking plants lived... And, of course, the Trailblazer suggested adding "a little spice."

- Blew it up? - Anaxa clarified, already anticipating the answer.

- Almost. Mr. Welt then lectured us for a long time on safety precautions, and March 7 laughed until she cried because our food tried to escape.

- Oh! Like in fairy tales! - the youngest daughter cried out happily.

- Something like that, - his wife smiled. - By the way, when Mrs. Himeko saw the kitchen after that... well, let's just say that even Dan Heng couldn't save us from her wrath.

The daughters giggled. Anaxa sighed, rubbing his temples.

- And this is how you spent your time as a Nameless?

- Oh, no, that's just a small part, - his wife answered with a sly smile.

- Ooo! Mom, tell me something else about the Trailblazer! - exclaimed the youngest daughter.

- Yes, he's your friend! You said that it was "embarrassing, but fun" with him!

Anaxa frowned with displeasure.

- I'm not sure I want to hear that.

His wife just laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

- Now that's not your zone of control, dear.

And while Anaxa drank tea with a displeased expression, his daughters continued to listen with delight as their mother traveled through the worlds, got into trouble and found friends with whom it was better to be embarrassed than bored.

The evening in the house was especially quiet, if you don’t count the two restless children who were hanging around their mother. Their father, Phainon, had already become accustomed to them always demanding a fairy tale or a story before going to bed, but today they were especially persistent.

- Mom, tell me about your adventures!

- Yes, yes! You were one of the Nameless, traveling between worlds!

The woman put down the book she was reading and looked at the children with a soft smile. A shadow of memory flashed in her eyes.

- Are you sure you want to hear the truth? - she asked with a sly squint.

- Of course! - the children exclaimed in unison. Phainon, who was sitting in a chair nearby, also tore himself away from his thoughts. He had heard about her past, but she rarely shared details.

- Okay... Then listen.

She settled down more comfortably, as if preparing to plunge into those distant days again.

— Long ago, I was part of the crew of the Astral Express, a train that travels between worlds, following the precepts of the Aeon of Trailblazere. We explored the unknown, helped those who needed us, and sometimes… got into some very dubious scrapes.

The children gasped in delight.

- Like the Trailblazer? - the younger asked, his eyes wide. The woman laughed softly.

- Yes, especially with the Trailblazer. He… always found adventure even where there was none.

- And always got into trouble? - the eldest son clarified.

- Oh, even worse!- she rolled her eyes. - When the Trailblazer was around, everyone was embarrassed. Especially me.

Phainon chuckled, but said nothing.

- One day, - she continued, - we found ourselves on a planet where the locals believed that foreigners brought bad luck. We had to change our clothes so that we wouldn’t be discovered. Mr. Welt looked like a strict teacher, Mrs. Himeko looked like a noble lady, and Dan Heng… well, he remained serious and silent as usual. But the Trailblazer… he gave himself away after five minutes, simply because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. The kids burst out laughing.

- And you?

- I tried to save the situation, but in the end we all got locked in the cage.

- How did you get out?!

The woman chuckled.

- Oh, that's a whole other story. But let's just say that if it weren't for Mrs. Himeko and her ability to find a common language with anyone, we would have stayed there.

Phainon shook his head as he listened to the story. He knew that his wife had a wealth of life experience, but sometimes it was hard for him to imagine her always getting into such adventures.

- Why did you leave? - the youngest son suddenly asked. She fell silent, thinking for a moment.

- Because I realized that I had already found what I was looking for.

She looked at Phainon, and then turned her gaze to the children.

- I saw many worlds, but none of them became my home. Until I met your father.

The children exchanged glances.

- But you could have taken us with you on the Express!

- Maybe, - she answered softly. - But then we wouldn't have such a cozy evening where I can tell you stories before bed.

The children thought for a moment, and then, with contented smiles, they snuggled up to their mother.

- Okay, then tell me another story tomorrow!

- Of course, - she promised, hugging them. Phainon only smiled, watching this scene. Even though her heart had once belonged to the stars, now it beat here, next to him and their children.

[pintrestgrl]

BARRYS SISTER!READER WITH RAFE CAMERON

warnings — drug mentions , brothers bsf topic idk if thats taboo, lowk rafe manipulates her? provocative statements? girl idk but they dont fuck or do anything

based on this ask

CAN WE ALL APPLAUD ME FOR WRITING PLEASE AND THANK YOU ITS BEEN YEARS

it had became an understanding that you were to stay quiet when barry was dealing in the house. preferably in your room, but if you were around it, you weren’t allowed to say a word.

this rule had been instilled in you since you were in middle school. it was annoying, to say the least. you’d always wanted to help, at least a bit. you had basically learned the way the whole interaction was supposed to go, just from watching your brother.

the customer would get to the house, usually at night, come inside, pay, get their drugs, then leave quietly. it had become an art form to barry— and a source of entertainment to you.

however, tonight there was a customer staying in the house for a lot longer then usual. you knew he wasn’t a pogue, he didnt look nor act like one. he must be a kook. you could tell he was a bit coked out too. you became really good at figuring that stuff out after a while.

you didn’t talk to him, simply sat on the opposite end of the couch while him and barry conversed. you stayed with your knees tucked to your chest, observing. barry had a few customers come in and out, before getting a call.

you couldn’t quite hear what your brother was saying exactly, but you made out enough to know that his supplier was gonna be coming. you sighed to yourself, another thing barry wouldn’t let you participate in.

the supplier showed up after a near 20 minute wait, barry heading for the door. you expected the kook boy to follow him, but he stayed still in his place on the couch. barry seemed too focused to tell him to come with, too.

the room fell into an uncomfortable silence after that. that was, until the boy got up from his seat, moving across the couch to sit directly next to you. all while staying silent. you tensed a bit, confused and nervous. before he spoke, “what’s your name?” you looked at him unsure, “why?”

“just wanna know.” you rolled your eyes, facing away forward again. away from his gaze. “what’s yours?” he laughed, at your reverse psychology attempt. “rafe. cameron.” you knew that last name. sarah cameron. the girl from school. must be his sister, you thought to yourself.

“okay.” you spoke, simply. he looked at you, you felt his stare. “so, barry doesn’t let you help him deal at all?” you shook your head, humming out a no. “shame. he let you do anything? doesnt really seem like it.” you smiled a bit at his observation, speaking. “no, not really.” he nodded, analyzing your words.

“he ever let you go to a party before?” you furrowed your brows. how did he knew that you had been begging your brother to let you go to a party for years? “no. he hasn’t.” he laughed, amused at the answers you gave him.

“so, guessing you never been with a boy before either, huh?” you creased your brows yet again, confused on what he meant by his statement. “in what way?” rafe smiled, before speaking bluntly again. “you ever been fucked before?” you flinched at his harsh choice of words, before quickly shaking your head.

“what? no. why are you asking that?” you spoke, now looking at him as if he was fucking crazy. but he was just glad you were looking at him. he wanted to see your face. the face you kept so well hidden from the world. “relax, ‘m just curious.”

you looked annoyed, tense. but he didn’t mind. he was happy to get a couple words conversation out of you. “you shouldn’t even be talking to me, let alone asking that. barry would fucking kill you.” you told him. he laughed, yet again. “barrys like a brother to me. you can talk to one guy. what he doesnt know wont hurt him.”

you bit your cheek, before speaking. “and what if i did tell him?” he stayed silent for a moment, pondering the question. “then he would have to get over it.” you laughed, subtly. you didnt wanna boost the kook boys ego too much.

it fell silent again, but more comfortable this time. not fully, but almost there. the boy stood up again, speaking. “i’m heading out.” you nodded, looking up at him. he headed towards the door, before stopping and turning around.!

he gave you, and your body a once over before speaking again. “your tits look good in that.” your eyes quickly widened, narrowing in on him. “you’re a fucking weirdo.” you spoke. he laughed, turning back around and heading out the door.

you were still fucking astonished that he said that to you. that was the first time you ever even heard a boy think of you like that. but a strange part of you didn’t hate it.

you should’ve told barry, you really should have. but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. not with the risk that came with it, you not being able to see that blonde kook boy again.

tags — (dm if u wanna b added , or taken off)

@lacehartz @battybaby111 @maybanksangel @kittyreposts @littlelamy @theeternaloptimistt @sugaraanddiesel @enchantedstarfish @iwishiknew-69 @heavenlyangelbaby @rafesdoe @whinyangel

[talenlee]

Dragon Regulation

Dragons are cool

I don’t think that’s a controversial opinion. I think that, broadly speaking, if I put a thing in a fantasy universe and put it within certain benchmarks for what constitutes dragon-y-ness, it’ll be accepted as a dragon. And maybe you’re much more loose and casual about it, but I think about how there are rules for dragons. Or if there aren’t any, shouldn’t there be?

Rules For Being A dragon

Dragons are like pornography. I can’t define it for you but I sure know it when I see it and also terabytes of them have passed through my screens each year. But more the first part.

You can call anything you want a dragon. In the real world, we call a type of fruit a dragon, and a bug, and a very cute lizard, a bigger less cute but still cooll lizard, and a seahorse and a slug and a millipede that makes zyklon-B.

Yeah, really.

Messed up, huh?

Anyway, the point is, dragon isn’t a special title. You don’t actually have to fulfill any obligations to be considered a dragon. It isn’t about being a lizard or about being able to fly or being able to breathe fire or even something like number of legs. This extends into your world and what you mean when you say a dragon dragon.

Here’s a list of just… stuff that I’ve seen about dragons in different sources.

They’re ancient reptilian flame-breathing hexapodal creatures with two wings and four legs but no hands, like Smaug from The Hobbit Part 3.

They’re long ferret-like creatures that fly without wings, and a serpentine body, fluffy hair and antlers, like in Raya and the Last Dragon.

They’re round, with tiny flappy wings and big yellow eyes, like How to Train Your Dragon‘s Gronckle.

They’re a sinuous dinosaur-bird with a huge jagged beak and crest, like Ridley from Metroid.

These are just a handful of things, but while all of these things can be called dragons, none of them seem to ‘break’ the term, right? But what about:

Chrono Cross has a dragon that’s a human-shaped clown.

Seath the Scaleless from Dark Souls has no scales, which isn’t actually that big a deal compared to how he has no legs.

Like A Dragon is a game about Yakuza dudes.

temtem has a feathered serpent with no limbs as a dragon.

Pokemon has Exeggutor, which is a walking palm tree with four heads.

Bubble Bobble has two dragon protagonists who have no wings and barely necks.

Mario has Bowser? Who may? be a dragon? But he’s also a turtle, and lacks wings?

There are even more examples of things that are ‘dragons,’ and that seem to sit outside a single, obvious specific intersection of ‘dragon-ness.’ In your worldbuilding then, the thing to consider is what you need ‘dragon’ to do or mean. In Like A Dragon, the term Dragon is used as a reference to literature: nobody in that game is actually producing a real dragon because in that story, dragons aren’t real, except as a thing people can be, and – you know, so on.

To that end: Work out what Dragon is supposed to mean. It isn’t necessary to have rules, but it helps if you know whether or not you need them. For myself, I like the idea of dragons as very magical but materially real creatures. I like the idea that they fly with their wings, that they are very muscular, that they have a lot of weight, and that while there are a lot of virtues to being what they are, biologically speaking, they are creatures that exist, and follow rules. They’re long-lived, they eat, they drink, and they sleep.

Rules for Treating A Dragon

Okay so you have some rules, or some guidelines at least, in your mind for what a dragon is, what makes a thing a dragon. In my case, I started with ‘it’s big, magical, and it’s a meaty, material entity, not a god, or somehow fundamentally supernatural.’ The way I tend to think of a dragon is as a single character that represents a government you have to negotiate with or deal with.

How does the world treat dragons?

In your world, are dragons mysterious? Are they history or are they nonsense? Do people have the idea of dragons but no experience with what they really are? Are dragons common, such as things like kobolds (are they dragons, to you?) or Dragonborn? What about half-dragons? Kinda hard to claim that dragons are fake if you’ve got a queen who’s been famously a half-dragon for generations, at least, if that’s a claim that’s somehow believable.

Dragons are pretty materially significant: are there laws about dragons?

Consider, if a dragon is a dangerous thing that can endanger a city, it might be illegal to contact dragons. It might be seen as just fundamentally a dangerous thing for a random citizen to do because talking to a dragon could get the dragon’s attention on the city. In the real world, there are laws against doing things that can cause landslides, there are laws against encouraging wild animals to approach the city, and there are laws about contacting dangerous political entities.

A dragon is kinda like all three?

Rules For Slaying A Dragon

Who can fight dragons in your story?

Not everyone, right?

A dragon is something that in your mind is probably only going to show up if it’s important and difficult. It’s a term with a degree of prestige. You don’t just beat up a dragon in an alleyway, and you don’t go out slaying dragons like they’re rats. I mean, you might if you think of kobolds as a type of dragon, and maybe a setting where there are populations of feral dragons providing problems in city infrastructure could be interesting to go in one way or another, but by default, nah.

Dragons are dangerous.

Who kills a dragon? I’ve written about this in the past, in my talk about the way that a dragon is a surrogate government. Thing is, you gotta consider in your stories and your worlds what stops a dragon, what displaces or defeats a dragon. Can they be? Can they be reasoned with? I compare them to states, but are dragons going to have the needs of states, can they be reasoned with? Do they have the economic presence of a state?

Most of the time when you see a dragon defeated, it’s a story about someone who should defeat the dragon doing it. It’s very rarely a peasant uprising, it’s usually a knight or a prince and it very commonly is connected to a justifiable cause to go deal with the dragon. It’s really interesting to because it feels like to an extent, a dragon, at least an evil or hostile one, is a bit like a rogue state? And wouldn’t there be a clear idea that ‘hey, someone should go deal with this, or what it’s doing?’

Forgetting About Drakes

None of this is necessary, of course. Dragons are such iconic creatures that you can just have one apepar in a story in the world and people will go ‘oh, yeah, dragons, we know what those are.’ You don’t have to consider them as economic engines or state actors that result in regulation.

But isn’t it more interesting when you do?

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

Sudsssss

Suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds suds

Fox Dream & Wolf Punz

Fox & the Hound Drunz

Sudsss

"We're still friends, right Punz?"

Dream's voice was low, barely above a whisper. They could pretend it was the crackling of the fire, the howling of the wind, if they so chose. Dream would let them; he allowed too much.

Instead, they reached over and squeezed his hand. The SMP had changed over the years, changed its landscape and changed its alliances and changed them.

"Yeah Dream, we're still friends."

They refused to let it change this.

[ms-demeanor]

How to avoid sharing Social Media Scams in the Wake of a Disaster

The world is full of disasters. It is also full of people who have learned to profit off of disaster. It is an unfortunate fact of life in the modern social media/online environment that in order to avoid spreading scams, you have to make a continuous effort and you have to be cynical.

There are a lot of wonderful, well-meaning people in the world who want to help everyone who asks for it. Unfortunately, those people are easy to scam.

These are some rules to prevent you from either falling victim to scams or from passing scams along to other people.

These are not suggestions, these are not things to take into consideration, the rules listed here are RULES that you need to adopt in order to keep from spreading scams on social media.

Rules:

Never, ever share screenshots of fundraisers or resources that you haven’t verified yourself. If you see a screenshot of, say, the Antelope Valley Fairgrounds Instagram announcing that they will be accepting evacuees with RVs, you go find the Antelope Valley Fairgrounds website, you find the social media linked on their website, and you check that the post you’re seeing actually came from the entity it’s claiming to. Once you have proved that the post actually came from the entity it’s claiming to, double check that entity with a couple of verifiable sources. So, for instance, if I was checking on the Guitar Center Music Foundation I’d check Guitar Center’s website and maybe I’d look for news articles about donations from the foundation. If I was looking up the Antelope Valley Fairgrounds, I’d look for a local newspaper calendar of events that linked to the fairgrounds or would check the city websites in the area and search “fairgrounds” on them. I would not share a link to a social media page for an organization until I was 100% certain that it was actually associated with the organization. You shouldn’t either. If you see a post that claims to come from a specific group but all you have is the screenshot of the post, go find the group’s website and if it all checks out you may share it IF AND ONLY IF you add the link to the post. And if a post has a link already, click through it and STILL check that everything looks okay.

Never give money or information to someone with a free email address. This sucks. I know. But if the group you’re looking at only has a gmail address or a protonmail you have no way of knowing if they’re legitimately associated with the organization at a glance. And even if they ARE associated with the organization, the free email account demonstrates a lack of planning/commitment that has troubling implications for the handling of your money or data.

Do not share screenshots of “resources,” headlines, social media posts, or news articles. I’m done with screenshots. Screenshots are easy to fake and almost always remove context from the discussion. A standalone screenshot isn’t information, it’s a trap to get you to share something without thinking. Do not *trust* screenshots of “resources,” headlines, social media posts, or news articles. Always assume a screenshot is faked unless you have found the original post yourself. A screenshot isn’t a “resource” it is an un-source, it is intentionally removing information from the viewer and we are well past the time when people should have understood that sharing screenshots without a link to the original text in context is never, every trustworthy.

Do not give money or information to accounts without a history. This may mean individual social media accounts, or it may mean a shiny new mutual aid project that popped up near your house. It’s unfortunate that people have their accounts deleted, it’s unfortunate that new orgs have trouble finding support, but the likelihood that a new account is a scam is simply too high to trust your money or information with it. If someone is asking for money or offering help on an account that hasn’t posted for years, or that suddenly changed all its content, or that has only existed for a month with no links to other, older sites and socials, you shouldn’t trust that account.

Okay, those are the RULES. Those are the lines you draw in the sand. The TL;DR version is this:

Don’t share posts you haven’t personally verified

Don’t give money or information to accounts with generic email accounts like gmail

Don’t share or trust screenshots that have no links or further context

Don’t give info or money to brand new accounts

I absolve you of any guilt you have surrounding this. You want to share that post to help a stranger but they have only had an account for a week. You want to spread that resource, but unfortunately it is only available as screenshots of an anonymous instagram account. You think that perhaps that mutual aid group really can help people, but the only way contact them is to put your info into a google form and send an email to their gmail account. That post seems really helpful, but actually you can’t find anything that suggests that the Mt. Pacifico Aquatic Center exists outside of this twitter account. No more guilt! Guilt be gone! You do not have to feel bad for not sharing these things, or not reaching out, or not giving money because doing so would be irresponsible and would put other people at risk of being tricked by scammers or wasting what money they can donate on a potential fraud.

Now, some tips:

Always, always, always take at least ten minutes to think about giving someone money or your information online. Read the post that moved you, then re-read it, then go sit away from it for ten minutes and think about it. There’s a good chance you will still want to give, or sign up, but ten minutes away will give you a chance to consider if there are any red flags in the post that inspired you.

Independently search everything you’re going to share. Go outside of social platforms and check on search engines. Check Wikipedia. Look up the website and send a while clicking around. Go on a *different* social media platform and check their account.

Just straight up search “[SUBJECT] Scam” before you do anything. See if this thing you’re looking at is actually an old scam that’s revamped for a new disaster. See if you can find an explanation of how something might be a scam or risk in a way that you didn’t understand before.

Get used to getting away from social media. Go check websites.

Learn domain name syntax. “musicfoundationguit.arcenter.com” is a bullshit scam. “guitarcenterfounditaon.org” is a bullshit scam. “guitarcenter-foundation.org” is a bullshit scam. The actual domain is “guitarcenterfoundation.org” and the link to the correct page isn’t going to be “guitarcenter.foundationfires.org” it’s going to be “guitarcenterfoundation.org/fires”  

Tips for Orgs:

If you do not want your org to look like a scam you are going to have to put some effort into it. Unfortunately this will probably also require at least a little bit of money; I know it’s hard to get money together at the beginning, but it will pay off in the long run.

Invest in a domain and hosted email. You can get relatively inexpensive hosted email through most domain registrars and even if you only get one email address for your domain you can forward it to all the free gmail and protonmail accounts you want. But buy a domain, set up a simple website, and get an  info@[yourdomain].com email set up because you don’t want people emailing “MyOrgInfo@gmail.com” because it’s super fucking easy for a 1337 hax0r like me to set up “YourOrgTeam@gmail.com” and scam the people who want to reach out to you.

Make a blog on your actual website, not on a social media site. A blog means that you can make regular posts and establish a history to prove that you are real and you do real stuff; it will also help with SEO and help to ensure that when people search for your org YOU are what comes up. Keeping up calendars of previous activities with links to those activities is also good.

Set up social handles on all the sites you use, make a “socials” page on your website, and link to your handles so that people can verify if you’re the one posting something. If you don’t make it extremely easy to find your socials, that means it’s extremely easy to set up fake accounts claiming to be you. Then put the link to your website in the bio on your socials.

If you are offering something or holding a fundraiser or doing anything on your social media page, link it back to your website. If you have an IG post offering resources, you should include a url for your site in each image. If you share a photo on twitter with the info for a march, that should link back to your website with more info about the march. If you post a fundraiser on tumblr you need to link the fundraising page of your website on that post.

If you absolutely positively cannot set up a website and a real-ass email address, set up a linktree, choose a primary social media to post on that all the others refer back to, and very explicitly state what your email address is and that you do not have other email addresses somewhere that's difficult to miss. Build a history of posts and link to other orgs that you work with or any writeups or stories about your events or projects. The point of all of this is making yourself easy to verify. "northfullertonfnb@gmail.com" sucks but it sucks a lot less if it's in the bio of "@northfulltertonfnb" and that page has a two year history of posting meal share schedules and menus.

In conclusion, don't share things that you haven't personally checked. When in doubt, it is always safer not to share.

[suguann]

FUCK IT, I WANT YOU—JJK MEN. * ˚ ✦

✎. jjk men who are infatuated with you. | wc. 2.4k+

tags. fem!reader, bsf sister, cockwarming, slightly rough sex, best friends to lovers, exhibitionism, breast f*cking, domestic nanami, pet names, praise, mild dark content, dubcon, stepcest, stuckage

featuring. gojo, higuruma, nanami, geto, sukuna

an. banner is from hare kon okawari | masterlist

↬ GOJO

He shouldn’t even entertain the thought of wanting you—somewhere in the world, there’s a book of rules that says you shouldn’t develop a crush on your best friend’s little sister. 

It doesn’t stop him from letting you talk him into shopping (as if he’d ever tell you no) and watching you try on tiny, flowy sundresses that make his jaw ache, how he’s just on the side of too-weak for those low-scooped tops you’re always wearing whenever he’s at your house. 

At first, Gojo wonders if you do it on purpose—the bashful smiles and bumping shoulders if he’s close by—but you’re painfully shy for that to be the case. It’s why a smirk tugs at his mouth after leaving love bites across your chest when he finally gets you alone in his room so that he might see the adorable little face you make as you try to cover them up afterward. 

He has you perched in his lap on the bed with an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you rooted on his cock buried deep inside the hot-wet heat between your legs. His mouth sucks marks into your skin wherever he can reach, deep groans rumbling in his chest every time your pussy clenches down on him—a sweet reminder that he hasn’t let you move for a while.

“Toru, not there,” you squeak, fingers knotting in the hair at his nape to gently pull him away. “People will see.” 

But he doesn’t listen as he rolls a nipple between his fingers, mesmerized by the sight of it pebbling into a tight peak—your thighs shaking around him when he pinches too hard.

“So fucking pretty,” he growls, biting his lip as he finally looks up at you. “Just let me play with them a bit more, and then I’ll fuck you. I promise.”

A white lie, but he’s done and said worse, and this isn’t that. This is him savoring a victory he never knew he had until you fluttered those long lashes and asked for a kiss.

You’re gasping and writhing, unable to do anything except sit there while he overstimulates you with his mouth and fingers. When he finally rolls you over onto your back, you’ve already cum twice, but that doesn’t stop him, greedy hips churning against yours and stealing another.

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, loving how you quiver underneath him, your soft socks slipping where they try to rest around his waist. “You’re so sensitive, huh, baby?” he rasps, nosing the soft swell of your breast as he crowds you underneath him. 

You mewl out a broken version of his name, hot pants against his neck that make you sound so desperate—not really answering him as your nails bite into his shoulders—and he can’t get over the way you look right now, how you sound. He’ll never be able to go back to pretending that you’re Geto’s annoying little sister (as if he ever thought you were) as Gojo watches drool trail from the side of your mouth from how good he’s fucking you. 

“Do you know how filthy you look right now?” he grits between his teeth. “Been thinking about this for so long—fuck—can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

↬ HIGURUMA

It’s an accident the first time it happens. 

You’re at the beach, playing with him in the water, when a wave hits you and washes your bikini top away. You squeal, and because he’s your best friend and has always looked out for you, he doesn’t realize right away he used his hands to shield your bare breasts from everyone else on the beach—eyes round when Higuruma does.

It’s innocent—his intent—yet alarm bells are ringing in his ears.

He expects you to shove him away—you don’t. Instead, you give him a sweet smile with a soft, muttered thank you and let him carry you back to the towels. 

He’s still reeling at how you fit perfectly in his palms, skin against skin in a way he’s only ever shamefully imagined alone with his fist around his dick. It has him shifting his trunks uncomfortably, and he wants—no, needs (a definite need) more.

Higuruma spreads you out on your towel under the canopy of the large beach umbrella, the shirt he gave you pushed up and held out of the way under your chin as you watch him. His shoulders block out anybody from really seeing how he’s teasing your nipples into his mouth—your fingers digging into the hair at his nape to keep him there. 

He never thought he’d get this far after years of watching you dance around the periphery of his life without ever really being his. How seeing you like this—whimpering his name under your breath, eyelashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks, and grinding onto his thigh pressed up between yours—only ever existed in a fantasy or two. 

There’s nothing to do but watch as the lines of an eight-year friendship crumble into the sand with your soft squeaks of more, and his low groans fuck, and he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than a small flame doused in kerosene. 

If this is the sacrifice for holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your sweat-slick skin, he’ll gladly burn.

He’d keep you like this forever if he could, and the way you look at him, pleading with your eyes, makes him think you’d let him if he asked (or maybe he wouldn’t have to).

He releases your nipple and smiles when your shirt falls from your teeth with a whine, your foot stomping against the towel in a way that’s too fucking cute.

“Why’d you stop?”

All the blood and heat in his body rush to his dick at how needy you sound—for him, all for him—and his breath fans across your spit-slick skin shakily, pent up and overflowing with nerves he’s held onto for as long as he can remember. “Sweetheart, you have to be quiet.”

You nod eagerly, your grip tightening in his hair to bring him back towards you. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be quiet. Just please don’t stop.”

Never. 

When your leg brushes the tent in his trunks, it feels like his eyes roll into the back of his head from the contact. He greedily takes your tight, sensitive peak back into his mouth again—hardly paying attention to the wanton moans you fail to suppress as you continue grinding onto his thigh.

↬ NANAMI

Nanami stares at you more often than usual after you have his son—at how your chest fills out every top you wear, and your hips become the perfect place for his hands—a strange new obsession that develops overnight without a manual or an off switch.

One day, you’re his beautiful wife. The next, you’re his beautiful wife holding his baby, and suddenly, he’s seeing the world through a clear lens, and he can’t stop looking.

His hands are always on you just to curb the constant ache that never really fades, brushing hair out of your face, massaging your lower back, shamelessly letting them wander too close to the underside of your breasts whenever he can. Sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and sometimes it’s all he can think to do.

Some days, after a stressful work day, he’ll lay atop your chest and pepper kisses against whatever skin he can reach, wandering, eager hands getting their fill until he falls asleep. On other days, he stays up long enough—baby tucked away in his crib and the monitor softly humming on the coffee table—to peel your clothes out of the way to get the full picture.

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, watching where you’re kneeled between his legs, unable to take his eyes off the way his leaky tip peeks out from between your soft, bare breasts. 

You stick out your tongue to lick away the pearl of white drooling out of his slit, only to spit it back onto his cock to help aid your up and down movements. It has him throbbing at how messy it is, liquid-hot heat pooling in his stomach at how good it feels. He knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he’s torn on whether or not to stop you or let you keep going.

“How does it feel?” you peer up at him through long lashes like you don’t already know what you’re doing to him.

“‘Good, darling. So fucking good—fuck, keep going—pretty little wife on her knees for me,” he curses, hips shuddering when he thrusts up, watching his length disappear and reappear again and again.

The delicate smile that adorns your lips makes his heart flutter, and balls draw up to his body. “Yeah? You gonna cum, Kento?”

“I don’t—I, fuck, yes.” He’d much rather finish with his face buried in your tits, but he’s already too far gone to pull away, to shove you down onto the couch.

You hum softly. “I want you to cum on me. Please.”

That’s his final undoing, groaning at the thought of him marking those cute tits that take up his every spare thought, cumming unexpectedly in a rush of white-hot pleasure before he can stop it. His cock jerks until viscous streaks of white paint your chest, and it makes everything sticky and sloppy, sending a weak burst of liquid pleasure rushing up his spine before he slumps against the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

↬ GETO

He loves it when you’re like this. Soft and pliant beneath him, eyelashes spiked with tears.

He doesn’t know where to look—can’t decide between the smattering of possessive marks littering the inside of your thighs or the ones that travel across your chest. 

A decision easily made for him when he presses the tip of his sensitive cock back into your fluttering cunt, unable to tear his eyes away from how your breasts bounce with every one of his harsh, desperate thrusts. His thumb smooths over a peaked nipple—bitten raw and pinched tight—and he curses under his breath at the feel of you clenching on him like a vice.

You tell him how good he feels under a hitched breath, and his chest tightens because he can’t remember the last time someone used an adjective like that to describe him. Good. It’s weird how such a simple word can make Geto’s head spin and make him feel like anything other than the man he is outside your bed.

He ducks his head down to suck another little bruise right above your nipple, the corners of his mouth curling slightly, knowing that he’ll be the only one that’ll know it exists. 

“Prettiest fucking girl I know,” he breathes harshly, already close. “I wish you could see how perfect you look.”

Geto slips his fingers between you, playing over the tiny, sensitive bud at the peak of your thighs.

“Oh.” A soft sigh.

“Maybe I should take a picture, huh? Would you let me? So I can look at you like this,” —he thrusts deep, making sure you’ll be able to feel him afterward— “all damn day, every fucking day.”

And like a tightrope snapping loose, you fall apart around him, practically choking his cock, and he fills up your cunt for the second time that night.

↬ SUKUNA

You're cleaning the apartment you share with your step-brother until it's spotless because the guy you’ve kind of had a crush on since the start of the semester is coming over today to study, and the butterflies in your belly tell you today is the day he’s finally going to ask you out. 

What you don’t anticipate—between throwing away Sukuna’s collection of energy drinks on the coffee table and doing a load of laundry—is the possibility of getting stuck in the too-small dryer while reaching for a sock or that your brother would be the one to find you bent over with your shorts riding up your legs.

You suppress a groan at the sound of Sukuna's patronizing voice behind you. "What do we have here?"

"Don't just stand there, idiot," you hiss. "Help me."

He chuckles in that mean, condescending way that always sets your teeth on edge. "You're really bossy for someone with their ass hanging out of a dryer. Maybe I should leave you here and wait for Mick—”

“His name’s Mitch—”

“—to find you."

"No!" you say almost too loudly, wincing as your voice echoes around the dryer. With a small sigh, your head hanging, you add, "Please help me."

"That's better." 

It's quiet for a moment, and you start fidgeting again to free yourself until you feel a pair of large hands palming your hips, and you can't stop the squeak that escapes the back of your throat—not expecting the terrible-hot-wrongness of it to feel so good.

A feeling stirs in your belly that you’d tucked away long ago, and only returning to under the safety of the baby blue twinkle string lights in your room—hand in your sleep shorts and teeth digging an imprint into the palm of your hand to hold back the name you only chant in your head.

“You’re s-supposed to be helping,” your voice wavers, dizzy with what’s transpiring in that cramped laundry room.

He huffs a soft laugh behind you, pressing a kiss to the base of your spine where your shirt rode up. “Give me a minute.”

It's embarrassing when you feel wetness pooling in the seat of your underwear, heat rushing from the roots of your hair and down to your toes when his hands travel over the swell of your ass in your tiny shorts. 

You're almost compelled to tell him you’ll get out on your own because it’s the right thing to do—to put a stop to something that shouldn’t happen except in cheap porn. Then his hand comes down against your backside, hard, and every single thought in your head scrambles like an egg on hot pavement.

You whimper, the force of his slap jolting you further into the dryer, sweaty hands scrambling against the metal walls to keep your face from crashing into it.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to do that,” he breathes before tugging the crotch of your shorts and panties out of the way, and you feel something wet and slick drip against your cunt. "Maybe I'll just keep you here for a bit. What do you say, sis?"

His thumb runs along your slit and presses inside you.

“Ah. W-wai—”

“Shh. Just—fuck, so fucking tight—just let me enjoy this pussy, huh?” And quieter, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You shiver and swallow around the words threatening to escape: me, too.

[lycandrophile]

i clicked on the original tweet just to see if anyone else felt as weird about it as i did because at this point i’m just tired of seeing people going on and on about trans men dating cishet men who try to convince them not to transition as if it’s a funny joke about a trans man doing something silly and not a manipulative and generally very unhealthy relationship dynamic that can hurt the trans man involved really deeply (as forcing someone back into the closet tends to do.)

did i find anyone else feeling that way? no. there were a few people pointing out that it was weird in general, and plenty saying it’s a weird thing to say about a cis woman, but nothing expressing any sort of concern about the tired stereotype it’s perpetuating.

but you know what i did find? replies like the one in the second screenshot, using the tweet as their chance to tell the world how much they hate trans men and how repulsive they find the idea of ever being compared to us. and replies like the third one, shaming trans men in relationships like that as if the fact that they’ve found themselves in an unhealthy relationship makes them deserving of public shaming, as if their relationship is hurting anyone other than them.

stereotypes like this just feel like yet another way of indirectly calling us stupid little girls who don’t know what’s good for us, and the fact that a picture of a woman is being used (even jokingly!) as an example of what trans men “like that” look like should make the implications of rhetoric like this all the more obvious.

it’s relationships like these that keep us miserable in the closet for so long and drive up our sexual assault rates even more. they’re not funny and if anyone is going to be making jokes about them, it certainly shouldn’t be people who have never been in that situation. if you actually cared about us you’d be looking for ways to support the trans men you know who are in relationships like that instead of hopping on twitter to joke about how stupid they must be.

i don’t care if it’s a joke. if it victim blames trans men for the transphobia we face in our personal relationships, adds to the common idea that we can’t be trusted to make decisions about our own lives, and invites even more blatant transphobia against us by people who unabashedly admit they see all trans men as “disgusting and phony”, it’s not fucking funny.

(i also want to note that the people making these jokes never like to mention that this also happens to trans men in relationships with queer women. they also hate those trans men, of course, and are happy to express that when they get into fights about trans men who date lesbians, but they’ll never talk about it in the context of this particular stereotype. it’s always a man being manipulative in a relationship and pressuring trans men to not transition, as if a woman would never be capable of such a thing.

they also like to conveniently ignore the existence of older trans men who transitioned after already being in a committed relationship with a cishet man and were able to make that relationship work despite their transition, because acknowledging that would require recognizing that trans men can be in seemingly contradictory relationships and genuinely be happy with their partner. who needs nuance when you can simply choose to judge all trans men for our relationships regardless of what they’re actually like?)

do you think they also would call me “a trans man being purposefully misgendered” with this kind of vitriol because i’m still living with parents who don’t recognize my gender instead of moving out before i’m ready to be financially independent? at this point, i’m starting to feel like they might, with the way every decision a trans man ever makes is the subject of a public debate and people have decided that trans men are secretly using being misgendered as a weapon to somehow hurt other trans people.

as a general rule, i’d say the only people who should be making “X looks like a trans man” jokes about literally anyone/anything are trans men, and posts like this show exactly why those jokes being made by anyone else (even by other trans people) just isn’t a good idea.

[milkloafy]

SILENT BUT RECKLESS — TODOROKI SHOUTO

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which pro hero!shouto saves you from getting run over by a car and finds himself immediately enraptured by you.  ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: pro hero!shouto, fluff, gn!reader ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.3k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: aka…pro hero!shouto is a pr nightmare and no u cannot convince me otherwise ! ahdjskc but frl this is so unserious but i miss the og anime loml so here we are :>

Shouto wasn’t exactly known for his talkative nature. 

It was quite the opposite, in fact, with news agencies and magazines often referring to him as the quiet one of the Big Three. Though, he supposed that was better than being known as the one with the family trauma. 

But people often mistook his silence for thoughtfulness, he realized. Or an intense observation of sorts. And while at times that was the case, most times, it was simply because he didn’t have anything to say. 

Shouto blinked as he realized the situation he was in. 

He had just stopped a villain from robbing a luxury clothing store for the third time this month, nothing too exciting, yet the journalists showed up each time for an interview with him after. 

“Sir, we are live,” the reporter reminded with a nervous laugh. “We asked if you had a message for any…”

She kept talking, but Shouto was unable to concentrate. Not because he had heard it millions of times before, but because he noticed a strange movement from the corner of his eyes. 

This was one of the times he was both silent and observant. 

Shouto spotted you crossing the street on your phone, staring at your screen and completely oblivious that a car was headed your way with little to no sign of stopping. 

Without thinking of how it would look to the public for him to ditch an interview mid-sentence, he ran over to you before he even processed his legs moving. Throwing his right arm out in front of him, he sent a wall of ice up to block the vehicle’s predicted path, reaching you just in time to sweep you off your feet and carry you away from the road as the ice began to shatter from the impact. 

The ice wall was thick enough that the car slowed before fully breaking through, but that didn’t stop Shouto from instinctively shielding you with his body in the event that ice shards propelled towards you. 

Once he heard the sound of a crash and alarms, he figured the vehicle was fully stopped and the authorities arrived to assess the situation themselves. Would he get scolded by his agency for putting up an ice wall and potentially damaging someone’s vehicle? It was likely so. But that was better than someone actually getting hit by a car instead. 

The world wanted heroes, but only when they fit into their ideal mold. And while rules and regulations helped keep order in the world, in moments like these when someone’s life was in danger, Shouto couldn’t be bothered to care.

Slowly, his body relaxed and he was able to finally take a look at you. At the person who, for some reason, was so focused on their phone they didn’t notice a car coming at them. 

Any criticisms that threatened to come out of his lips stayed there once he got a good look at your features. He found himself taken aback by how beautiful you looked, though he quickly cleared his throat and recovered from his blatant staring. 

“Be careful when you’re crossing the street,” said Shouto, walking over to a section of grass and away from the commotion that was happening on the road, with you still in his arms. “What was keeping you so occupied?” 

You looked up at him guiltily, your phone clutched between your hands. “I was trying to order my food…” 

He blinked. As a pro hero, he shouldn’t be one the judge victims. But he couldn’t help but raise his brow just a bit. 

“I was really hungry,” you said sheepishly, hiding your face in embarrassment. “But I can’t believe I was so focused on my order I didn’t realize the car wasn’t stopping!” You sighed to yourself before meeting Shouto’s eyes once more. “Thank you for saving me, Shouto. I’m sure you had much more pressing matters to attend to instead of saving some random person off the street.”

He shook his head. “That’s the most important part of the job. Saving people.” 

You smiled gratefully at him and he almost had to look away from your dazzling grin. “Well, thank you for saving this idiotic person right here.” You gestured towards yourself. “Still, I hope my order went through…”

A mixture between a snort and a laugh escaped his lips. You had almost gotten run over and your biggest concern was whether or not your dinner was on its way? 

“It’s didn’t!” you cried in exasperation as you peeked at your phone. “Well, I might as well get a convenience store meal at this point.” Sighing, you leaned your head against his chest for a brief moment of comfort. “By the way, you can set me down now. I think people are taking pictures of us.” 

“Oh,” said Shouto, “right.”

Carefully, he loosened his hold on you and set your feet carefully onto the floor. Before fully letting go of you, he made sure you were stable and steady. For some, it took a while for the events to process and the panic to settle in, and he wanted to ensure you were truly okay. 

You had a worried look on your face as you noticed the video cameras still focused on the two of you. 

“Will you get in trouble for this?” you whispered, leaning close to his ear. 

“For rescuing someone from a getting hit by a car and talking to them after?” He considered things for a moment. “Most likely. But it’s okay. The most important thing is you are safe, both physically and mentally.”

Giggling, you nodded, reaching up to pat him on top of his head. Shouto was startled by the sudden touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Who knew Shouto was such a worrywart,” you teased. “I’m safe and unharmed, all thanks to you. In fact, to show my gratitude… Why don’t I treat you to some convenience store dinner? On me, of course!” 

Shouto was silent for a bit. There were plenty of things he should be thinking about right now. The headlines that would be made about Pro Hero Shouto saving someone and then going on a “date” with them right after. The damage it could do to his reputation. The overtime hours the agency would make his public relations team work.

Instead, his silence was used to think of what he exactly he wanted to get at the convenience store. 

“Okay,” Shouto said once he made up his mind. “I’ll take a curry bun.” 

You laughed and gestured for him to follow you to the nearest convenience store. “I like that, too. You have good taste.” 

He followed along beside you, pleased with himself when he heard your captivating laugh. 

“I think I want an egg sandwich tonight,” you stated, a thoughtful look on your face. “Or maybe some fried chicken. Or an egg sandwich and fried chicken? And a smoothie for a drink and dessert all in one item! But maybe I want a crepe instead…”

As you rambled on, Shouto suddenly understood how you were too engrossed with trying to order food on your phone that you didn’t realize a vehicle was approaching you earlier. And while that was dangerous, he found it slightly endearing. Just as long as you were away from any cars. 

Shouto was so focused on listening to you that he hardly paid attention to the look of shock on the reporters’ faces and the influx of calls he was receiving from his agency. 

Right now, he simply wanted to hear you talk more and eat a curry bun. 

The rest, he could deal with later. 

[cuinaminute229]

With death comes life part 2

pairing: Agatha x Rio x reader

a/n: this is sprinkled with angst and fluff

part 1

...

The surrounding trees are all twisted and dead, with heavy vines hanging from branches too high to reach. What you see is a barrier. A makeshift fence that keeps the witches to the road.

The air carries a subtle fog that lingers just out of reach, shrouding the forest of the road into the unknown. Even the leaves that make up the path are all dead. Only magic keeps them vibrant with false life.

You almost feel insulted. 

Nothing here can sustain life. It never will.

The road is an abomination. It shouldn’t exist.

And yet here you are.

When you look up at the sky, a feeling of loss settles in your chest. The sky is not real; the moon is a false imitation, and the stars are all wrong. 

You will never not hate this place. 

The soft whispers of a conversation tug at your attention when you notice the witches at your back are talking about you. With a subtle shift, you slow your steps and listen in. 

They speak so carelessly about your reaction to seeing Agatha, about the anger they saw. About how they could use your emotions to drive a wedge where, unbeknown to them, there is a canyon. 

In the simplest of terms, they want to manipulate you to their advantage because they do not trust Agatha. 

Because you do not trust Agatha. It’s insulting in the most human way possible.

Where on earth did she find these people? Why did she find them?

There’s something you're missing, you just know it.

The moment you hear Rio's name is the moment you turn around, you do not care what they are going to say. Their little conversation ends now. The shift in your momentum is fluid as you turn around mid step, eyes narrow in suspicion. 

You keep your face blank when they all jump in union. The very obvious change of demeanor tells you they did not know you were listening in on them.

You let the silence linger as your eyes scan over the small group. They cling to each other for comfort, but it only takes a moment for you to recognize that their bonds as a coven are new. They are still easy to bend, easy to break.

“You know,” Your voice is gentle, giving nothing of what you feel away for them to see. “To betray one's cover on the road,” 

You spread your hand out to emphasize exactly where you all are. “To break the rules only punishes all.”

“She is the one that tried to cheat!” The pink dressed witch points out like you need to be taught, like she needs to tell you who Agatha Harkness is.

As if you don't know exactly who she is. It's almost laughable how much this witch thinks she knows more than you.

“And now one of you is dead. How tragic.” This is not the first and will not be the last time a witch loses their life on the road. Do they not understand that?

“But that death is not her fault.” This time your voice is cold, stern. It feels like you're scolding children. “You failed as a coven. So do not blame your misgivings as a group on her.”

When only silence becomes their response, you decide to turn back around and continue down the path. The next trial awaits, and you want to get this over with as soon as possible. 

But a voice makes you pause. 

“Why do you hate her?” The unexpected question knocks the air out of your lungs and the world seems to stop. As if everything dead and alive waits for your answer. 

Memories rush forward with such force you wouldn't be surprised if you can never breathe again.

The sight of a never ending forest, a small cottage tucked away from hunters and strangers alike. The laughter of a young boy with Agatha's hair and Rio's smile, a bright yellow flower in his hands.

The years before tragedy felt like a lifetime. 

You were happy. You were loved. 

You want to cry. 

With a small hitch in your breath, you close your eyes and push down the tidal wave of emotions. If you become overwhelmed, the road’s magic will latch onto you like a leech. You can't risk it.

“My reasons are my own. Focus on surviving the road.” Your words are final, empty of the emotions that are battling beneath your heart. You know you can never pick up the pieces of yourself that are broken. 

But for now, you can ignore them.

You will not let them see you like this. Never again will Agatha see this side of you.

When you finally catch up with Rio, you take notice of the house in the distance, the windows lit in a deep orange sunset light. The fog of your surroundings only adds to the ominous look of it.

That must be the next trial.

What catches your attention next isn't Agatha arguing with the boy. It's not the group of three walking over to settle whatever disagreement there is. No, it's the fact that Rio is leaning against a tree, feigning boredom. Her knife in hand, twisting it in her grip as if she's studying the blade.

The leaf in her hair is bright in color, almost like fire, and it stands out against the rich brown of her hair. As if she can sense eyes on her, Rio glances up. Her eyes find you in an instant and you give her a small smile.

She waits as you walk over to her and it's only once you stop in front of her, your back to the others, does she return your smile. She tucks her knife away and holds out her hand, a small flower blooming in her palm. “For you.” 

Your smile turns bittersweet as you reach for the flower, the baby blue petals remind you of a clear afternoon sky. As your fingers touch the stem, it flourishes. Reacting to the caress of your magic that trickles from your fingers. You hold the flower for a moment before tucking it beneath your coat. 

As you look back to Rio she pushes forwards, off the dead tree that she knows you won't touch. When she steps into your space, it feels like you’ve broken the water's surface and can finally breathe again.

“You look filthy.” You tease her before she can notice if anything’s wrong. The dirt that covers her skin and her clothes gives her a rough look, and yet her makeup is as pristine as ever. Her hair looks like she’s just rolled out of bed. There are twigs and leaves and who knows what else hidden in the mess of her hair. 

“Says the one who also had to crawl out of a grave.” Rio responds, leaning just a bit closer when you reach out to brush your fingers through her hair. Her hand settles on your waist with ease, her thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing motion.

“Which I'm assuming is your fault.” You voice your suspicion as you tug on the largest of the leaves you can see in her hair. 

To summon a green witch, let alone any witch to the road, is almost impossible. You don't even know why they tried it in the first place. 

Rio says nothing for a moment. She just lets you thread your fingers through her hair, pulling at the twigs and leaves you find. She licks her lips when you brush your thumb behind her ear, letting out a soft sigh as she closes her eyes.

An annoyed huff and angry footsteps causes you to pull back from her, suddenly self conscious. But Rio's hand catches your wrist before you can step out of her personal space. When she blinks open her eyes to look at you, her brow furrowed slightly. You can't help but give her a reassuring smile. 

Agatha is storming off again. Because of course she is. She will not wait for the two of you.

“Tell me later?” You know this conversation isn't close to over, but right now, time is essential. Rio gives you a small nod and only then do you step away from her.

Finding Agatha is easy. She's at the next trial, waiting for the two of you. The door is decorated with stained glass, the phases of the moon surround the centerpiece, which is the waxing moon. It's almost beautiful if you didn't know that danger lies just behind it.

You feel Rio just behind you, watching the group intently. The graze of her fingers on your back is a welcoming sensation when you realize who’s trial this is.

The protection witch.

With a quick scan, you find her easily, the witch with the red streaks in her hair. She looks the most nervous, hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders hunched.

The teenager is the one to usher her inside, voice reassuring. He calls her Alice and holds his hand out for her and once she takes it; he walks through the door beside her. The other two follow close behind, nerves elevated for what is to come.

When there is only you, Agatha, and Rio left at the door, the tension seems to skyrocket. 

You clench your jaw when she looks at you as if she expects you to go first, but you don't move. The door stays open and no one moves.

When Agatha’s patient wanes, she jerks her head to the door, her voice callous, and yet she can’t look at you when she speaks. “After you.”

It’s only when Rio pushes her knuckles against your lower back do you finally give in. The very moment you walk through the door, you’re blinded by a light as bright as a newborn star. It’s honestly a weak imitation, but that doesn’t mean it can disorient you any less.

As the world around you slowly comes into focus, you notice two things right away. 

One, the air is pungent with magic. It’s so bad you swear you can taste it. Two, when you turn to look at the others, you notice everyone is dressed in seventies fashion attire. 

Glancing down, you see that you too, have also changed outfits. You brush your fingers over the gold embroidered that stands out against the white design of your clothes. Small beads and complex stitches run in calm waves up your sleeves. As you turn your arm to follow the designs, you notice your nails are also painted white. 

“Don’t drink anything. Don’t eat anything. Don’t touch anything.” Alice tells everyone as she glances around the room with a distrust that runs deep. 

“Sounds like there’s a story there.” Rio says as she looks at Alice, brows raised in intrigue. When she catches your gaze, she’s not subtle as she looks you over. She’s adorned in black and gold. The low cut of her blouse catches your attention and you may stare a little too long. Her smile is predatory when she notices you looking. 

“The road isn’t subtle.” Alice mutters, her disdain clear.

You glance around at her words, curious about the history that this trial will bring up.

The room looks like a music lounge studio. Instruments and microphones are set out like they are just waiting to be played. The floor is covered with different rugs; the lights have a certain aesthetic and even the walls are mismatched stones with different things decorating them. 

Your eyes land on the grand piano when everyone gathers around a wall mirror that one of the witches has found, getting a clearer look at the clothes that now fit the aesthetic of this trial. You leave them to their curiosity and walk to the center of the room, a metronome catching your attention from where it sits atop the piano. 

You don’t notice her at first, brow furrowed as you brush your fingers over the edge of the piano lid. You hum a soft lullaby as your fingers tap to the rhythm in your head.

When you see her fingers graze over the piano, you freeze. When she finishes your melody, her beige nails tapping lightly against the polished black case of the piano, you step away.

You look at Agatha like she’s a ghost. 

She’s not—she wasn't—you never told her. Rio doesn’t even know.

It was only for Nicky. It was his song.  

“What are you doing?” You back up when she finally looks up at you. She can’t hide it when her eyes glance over your attire. You know her too well. The way her eyes linger just a little too long, the way she clears her throat before jerking her head back to the piano. She takes a deep breath, rolls her shoulders like she’s buying time.

She looks like she wants to say something but stops short. When she reaches for her brooch, finger tapping lightly as if she needs a physical reminder it’s still there, you understand. 

He told her. Of course he did.

Whatever Agatha is trying to accomplish by reminding you of a life you can never get back, you need her to stop.

You can't do this. The emotional whiplash is getting exhausting.

“Why are you here?” She tilts her head to look at you, her expression clouded with suspicion.

“Why are you?” You deflect her easily, asking your own question. To walk the road once and survive is akin to a miracle. Why would she come back here?

“I asked first.” She pushes into your space, eyes narrowed, her tone condescending. When you shift to move away from her, she grabs hold of your wrist. 

You don’t expect what comes next. You have no time to prepare as your magic comes alive with the contact. It’s been so long since she’s touched you that a lifetime couldn’t prepare you for her pain.

The absolute onslaught of unchecked emotions feels like agony. Her touch burns. It’s scolding hot with the centuries of anguish and hatred that Agatha has clung to. It seeps under your skin like a parasite.

You want to scream.

You need her to let go. Right now.

“I am not here for you. I want absolutely nothing to do with you.” Your words are brutal, every ounce of hatred you have ever felt is directed at her. You know you will regret this later but right now you are desperate.

Agatha steps back as if you physically slapped her. As if you ran a knife right through her heart. But she lets go, that's what you needed.

When you move away from her, cradling your wrist close to your chest, she scoffs. 

“And they call me cruel.” Her voice wavers, head turned away so you can not see her vulnerability. Your heart already hurts but you say nothing. 

The churning in your stomach makes you feel sick. You weren't expecting her to touch you. You weren't expecting your magic to respond to her.

Not like this. Not after all this time.

As you look down at your trembling hand, fingers clenching into a fist, you know one thing for certain. You didn’t feel a flicker of magic from her when she touched you. 

Agatha has lost her magic.

...

Part 3

[lunarsilver]

What are their kinks?

18+, minors do not interact

A tarot reading regarding your (sexual) partner - your current one (asking about their permission would be in good taste), or next one, or the most important one, or your future spouse... Whatever you prefer.

Pictures are from Perfect Blue.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2

3 ~ 4

PILE 1

The Hanged Man R - Knight of Wands - Five of Swords - Back of the Deck: Ten of Cups R

What popped in my mind when looking at the Hanged Man in reverse is that your person may like light bondage and/or pleasant to the touch fabrics. Some sensual undergarments, maybe. Moreover, the character on the card in this position brings a person having an orgasm to my mind, with their head thrown back and the general body position, which makes me think your person may like to look at their partner when they climax. I also feel like they may like to be in control; they don’t enjoy “hanging down”, doing nothing, being passive. When it comes to Knight of Wands, the meaning is pretty clear. They love experimenting. They most likely have high libido and treat sex like an adventure. Next, when I looked at Five of Wands, it came to my mind they can be into people crying, like when someone cries a little from overstimulation, for example (the card shows an eye, and it looks like a teardrop runs from it). They may also be into SM or makeup sex, as the card is often about disagreement, conflicts, winning at all costs, or defeat. For some, they may be even into CNC, though this obviously is a pretty specific kink. Lastly, there is a bottle of vodka on the Ten of Cups card (in this position of the card it is turned upside down, as if something was about to be poured from it), so they can like going at it while drunk. The card may suggest your person finds non-traditional relationships appealing. For some, the card is about how this person is into these different things I mentioned but doesn’t really act on it. As a last note, I think that for quite a lot of you, this is ONS or FWB. There’s also a chance your person can be kinda self-centered when it comes to sex. That won’t be the case for everyone, obviously, but I’m writing it down. Overall, this person looks like someone who likes having fun with sex and experimenting, and most likely is rather dominant.

PILE 2

The Devil R - The Empress - Knave of Wands - Back of the Deck: The Magician

So many Major Arcana, as well as many female/feminine-presenting characters. It makes me think that, first, they fantasize about this wonderful, life-changing sex, and second, they either are very into femininity or like to lean into it themselves. I also feel like I have a lot of queer people here, especially sapphics. And if they aren’t a woman, your person still either presents feminine (and they do so out of their own choice, as a form of expression) or they wish they could. Cross-dressing may be a kink of some here, I think. There is at least one guy here (bonus points if cis and straight) who would love to be called a princess or a babygirl lol. I don’t know, I get pretty light, positive, maybe even a little playful vibes from this pile. Like, there are some himbos here, or people who hope for something good, and there’s something pure about the way they see the world. But okay, let’s stay on topic! This person of yours for sure wants to release limiting beliefs and rules, they want to experiment with sex and have fun, the Devil in reverse says it all. The Empress is all about feeling powerful in one’s femininity, and it’s either about them wanting to feel like a princess or queen or about having a partner like this. Your person is a Knave of Wands, looking with a smile into the future, free-spirited and having so many ideas they aren’t sure where to start. The Magician at the back says they manifest all this and are ready to try the whole new world that opens up to them. For most of you, this person isn’t really experienced, or maybe they were always vanilla until recently. Your person here isn’t as dirty as some other piles, they’re most likely still in the phase of finding out what exactly they like, but oh, they’ll have fun with it.

PILE 3

The Fool - The Lovers R - Queen of Pentacles R - Back of the Deck: Nine of Wands

The Fool in this deck is so flamboyant that I instantly thought “Someone’s into twinks” lol. The Fool in the card winks, looks as if he were sending a kiss to the viewer, and dances confidently, proud of his body. The Fool is the card of new beginnings, of having the power of freedom to experience the world. The Lovers in reverse look to me like people hugging and cuddling while lying on the ground, on grass. Actually, all the cards show some place outside (aside from one card, which has a one-color background), and especially with the way The Lovers look here for me, I think your person may like the idea of outdoor sex. Moreover, because the card is reversed, your person may fantasize about having many suitors and having the ability to choose - or to not choose at all. The card also suggests imbalance, so your person can be into sexual power dynamics where one person is stronger than the other - so some BDSM dynamics, or some other role play. Moving on, we have the reversed Queen of Pentacles. The card presents a woman with long, glorious hair in bold but sensual attire. Actually, with the way The Fool and Queen of Pentacles look in this deck, I believe your person may find it hot when someone has revealing clothing or some nice undergarments. I think it’s sexy for them when not everything is visible or visible well, they find it tempting and alluring. With the reversed Queen of Pentacles, I think they are into independent people who know their value. Nine of Wands suggest they want to do it long. They also want something to be left after the experience: either just fatigue, or bite marks, or bruises, or red traces (think slapping someone’s ass, either with a hand or a toy, like a paddle). And now that I think about it, for quite many of you this is about a (sexual) relationship they would like. The reversed Lovers in the center describes the power-dynamic, and The Fool and the reversed Queen of Pentacles show what kind of lovers we talk about. There’s this Queen of Pentacles who has seen some shit, and despite that, or maybe especially because of that, they find something very alluring about the Fool being an enthusiastic, confident novice. The character of Queen of Pentacles actually looks older than The Fool. Your person may like age-gaps, or like to call someone/be called “mommy” (other variants of the name, based on the gender of people involved, are also possible, of course, “mommy” simply is the strongest here). Think about which description you fit more (either in life or just in bed) - The Fool or the reversed Queen of Pentacles. Your person is the other one.

PILE 4

The World - Nine of Swords - Four of Cups - Back of the Deck: King of Wands

The World is pretty straightforward here - they fantasize about this perfect sex, which is an almost spiritual experience; one that brings the feeling of completion, of being happy. For some reason I also think about this kind of sex where you extend the experience, having long, calm pleasure (like a person with vulva sitting on the dick of another person and just squeezing and relaxing their muscles, maybe sometimes moving a few times, just to keep it hard - that’s just an example, of course). Tantric sex. Next, with these Nine of Swords, I think your person likes the idea of someone dreaming about them or not being able to sleep because they think about them (maybe because they’re touching while thinking about your person), they find it hot. Your person may really love the idea of someone finding them so attractive, they get anxious or shy about it. The image also shows handcuffs, so maybe your person is into that. This card in the deck I used for the reading looks happier and more peaceful than its most traditional imagery, and when I look at it, I’m thinking about some romantic gestures like giving flowers. Color-wise, this card and The World both are pink and purple, and have this peaceful vibe about them. It kinda looks like the person portrayed in Nine of Swords dreams about this fantastic sex life, but they’re just lying alone in their bed. On the back we have King of Wands, which represents a passionate lover, and a good one at that. Not just good. Exceptional. For some of you, this is who your person aspires to be, but I think that for more of you, your person fantasizes about someone like this. Your person gives me the vibe of someone who dreams big; they’re into these romantic, maybe a little obsessive scenarios. Of course, it is still just a scenario they like to think about, it doesn’t mean they want to actually be with someone obsessive. Overall, I think that for most of you, this person is more on the submissive side, and they like all these classic scenarios from romance/romantasy/smut books or fics. Another thing for most of you which I see, is that your person probably doesn't have a lot of experience, but they definitely think about sex and romance, and hope for a chance to experience them.

[softbeej]

Rule Number One (You Gotta Have Fun)

Alastor x Reader Smut. U break his only rule and bother him while hes tryna work. Enjoy. :} Requests open btw.

Alastor had locked himself up in his radio tower for what felt like days. He was truly a workaholic, and loved to be busy. This was fine, except you found yourself actually sort of... missing him?

No sight of him creeping down the hallway or the impending feeling that he was about to catch you doing something prohibited at the hotel. It all felt too empty all of a sudden, and you wished he’d be back down soon, even if just to make you uneasy with that eerie smile.

So, you decided to break the number one rule set by him.

“Under no circumstances is anyone to ever enter the radio tower without my express permission.”

Well, what are rules if not to be broken, right? And that’s where you found yourself, climbing up into the prohibited area.

Ears pressed back, he turned to face you. There was no other way to put it, Alastor was fucking pissed.

You shouldn’t of come up here. You should of listened to his stupid rule, and busied yourself with something else. Maybe you had time to turn around, and pretend you made a wrong turn.

“I trust you have something important for me? Something that would be worth you coming all the way up here without my say so, hm?”

His voice was even more staticky than usual, his tone dripping with sarcasm. You were thinking up a response when he stood up and strode over to you. He jabbed his microphone stand under your jaw, albeit gently, and forced you to look at him.

“Well, deary?”

You only shook your head, hair bouncing on your shoulders.

“Then why, pray tell, are you up here? And use your words this time, yes?”

Within those few words, you suddenly understood why he was so feared. Just from the way he spoke, he could make you feel tiny and stupid.

“I, um, was just wondering where you were, is all...”

“Oh?” He released the microphone stand and you faced the floor again, feeling like a child about to get scolded. “You did know where I was though, didn’t you? So, I’ll ask once more. What brought you up here?”

He had retired back to his chair, and was watching you intently as you squirmed at his questioning. His smile never once left his face.

“You know what, I should go-“

Slam. His shadow had closed the door.

“Has no one ever told you it’s rude to ignore someone, darling? I’m just asking you a simple question, what’s the need for all this attitude? Why are you here?”

Blush rising to your face, you picked at skin around your nails still not wanting to look at his shit eating grin.

“I was bored. Missed you.”

“Ah, there we go! You see how easy that was?”

You nodded, “Can I go now? Sorry for interrupting...”

“Nonsense! You missed me, did you not? You came all the way up here for me, desperate for my attention. Well, dear, my attention you have got. Come, sit, sit.” He patted his thigh.

Oh, how you wished the world would swallow you up right now. But the worst part of this was how turned on you were at his lecturing. You think your reaction was doing the same to him, given the way his ears were perked up and pupils blown.

You walked over to him, gently perching on his knee, before he pulled you down by your waist so you were properly sitting in his lap. He continued working, tapping buttons and twisting dials, as you could only sit there and pray your heart rate would soon go back to normal.

"If I did not know any better, I'd say this encounter has you quite excited, darling! The way your pulse is rising, and not to mention the fact I can smell the arousal on you!" He laughed. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If I had brought out such emotions in you."

Your blood drew hot in shame, he knew.

You nodded and tried to save face, "Yes, Alastor. I'm fine, just- my pulse is high from the walk up here, that's all."

"And if you were to stand up, your answer would be the same, I presume?"

Confused, you cocked your head. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his hands around your waist and stood you up.

There it was, the evidence he was looking for. A wet patch on his thigh. Right from where you were sitting. Your wetness had leaked through your panties, leaving a spot on his dress pants.

“Well, look at this mess. And my best pants, no less! Do you have anything to say for yourself, dear?”

You shook your head, never so embarrassed in your life.

He tutted, "First, you lie about why you came up here. Then you lie about this? Darling, have you no manners? Or am I to teach you them myself, hm?"

His eyes were half lidded now, ears twitching.

"I- uh. I think you need to teach me, Alastor..." You admitted, not able to take your eyes off him.

“Finally! The right answer! You’re getting the hang of this now, eh?” He laughed, and patted his thigh - the one you’d dirtied, “Back up here. May as well see how much more you can ruin them.”

Legs shaking, you stood up and straddled his thigh. He leaned in close, “Now get yourself off. You can do that, yes? If your mewls at night are anything to go by, I’d say you’re to be a natural at this!”

The thought of Alastor hearing you play with yourself through your bedroom door sent shivers down your spine, in a good way. He grabbed your chin, angling your head to face him.

“I said you can do that, yes, dear?”

You nodded, hands reaching up to his shoulders to steady yourself as you started grinding down on his thigh like your life depended on it, maybe it did. You could feel his cock hardening. His hands trailed down your body to your hips where they stayed, helping you slowly ride his thigh.

“Theres a good girl, hm? See what happens when you behave?”

You nodded, breathing heavy, “Uh-huh.”

Alastor nodded, his hips gently bucking up for friction. Your hand went to zipper to help, but he brushed it away.

“This is your lesson. Not mine.” He winked.

So you kept riding his thigh, until your own thighs were weak, and you were close. And he knew it.

“If this were a proper lesson, I wouldn’t allow you to cum. But you’ve been so good, so good for me... You may cum.”

You nodded into the nook of his neck, letting out a pathetic whiny mewl as you came, soddening his pants. From the sound of it, he came too, letting out a staticky grunt that would of hurt your ears if you were paying attention, but you were too busy grinding your way through your climax, as he shushed you gently.

He helped you stand up, your thighs shaking and almost giving out under you. A sharp finger pressed into the stain on his pants, before he collected some of the wetness and licked it off.

“Head off to my bedroom, now, love. Get yourself cleaned up. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

The walk to his bedroom was strange to say the least. Your knees shaking and panties wet, of course Angel was going to say something.

“Christ, you look like you been fucked good, sweets.”

“I have, I think...?”

“Oh yeah? And whose the lucky son of a bitch, huh? He knows not to fuck with you, right?” He winked, ever protective of you.

As if on cue, Alastor appeared, strolling carelessly toward you both. A hand on your shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt, Angel, my dear, but I’m afraid we have something to take care of. If you’ll excuse us...” He guided you away, towards his room.

[lilacs-stars]

moon + tides

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) SUMMARY: you, ariel's daughter, find yourself in a strange relationship with the one and only infamous pirate captain, who's absolutely obsessed with you GENRE: yandere, a bit of angst, some comforting fluff here and there, especially at the end CW: a few mentions of violence, someone walking a plank, mentions of drowning, some suggestive material, nothing too graphic though WC: 4.2k

A/N: this req was really fun to write! I might have gotten a bit carried away, heh...this part includes the backstory of how you two got together and the first part of the req, and the second part will include the rest of it. hope you guys enjoy reading this cause I definitely put some hard work into it lol. also please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd really like to know your thoughts!

If you could go back, would you change what happened?

This is something that you often ask yourself. 

You think about that fateful day frequently. It was the summer before your first year at Merlin Academy. You had finally convinced your parents, the famed mermaid Ariel and her Prince Eric, to let you go for a swim unsupervised. Being half-mermaid, half-human allowed you to transform back and forth at will. And although life on land was pretty good, your heart always ached to go back to the sea, to feel the cold, salty water as it engulfs you. To race along the reefs, tail swishing back and forth, allowing you to reach speeds far past what your human form can do. To leisurely swim amongst the many species of fish and plants that created the world of the ocean. To go back home.

Your parents had already gone over the rules with you hundreds of time, to the point where you could recite each one of them word for word: “Don’t go past the boundaries,” “Don’t approach any animals you don’t know,” “Don’t go so deep where you can’t see any light,” “Come out at the first sign of bad weather,” and, most importantly, “Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any humans.”

Your mother may be renowned for rescuing a stranger from the unrelenting grasps of the sea—if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t even be here right now—but that was a very rare case. Far more often than not, mermaid interactions with humans out on the waters ended up in the mermaid being tortured, held hostage, or even killed.

You knew the rules by heart, and yet, maybe it was because of your young age, you still broke them. You weren’t really aware of your actions in the moment; one second, you were swimming alongside a pod of dolphins, racing against the currents. The next, you heard loud voices and realized that almost directly above you, yet still a good few dozen meters away, was some sort of ship.

You had ducked down next to a big sponge, peering up apprehensively. It was at that moment you realized that you were far outside of the boundaries set for you by your parents. You should have turned back, should have swam back home, but there was something about the ship, something that intrigued you so much it forced you to stay in place.

A few moments passed, and seeing as there was no commotion, you let your curiosity get the better of you. After all, that ship shouldn’t even have been out there. Slowly, you crept closer and closer to the surface, making sure to remain in the shadows. The noises were becoming clearer; you could make out people’s voices now. But they still weren’t sharp enough for you to understand what they were saying.

Finally, you took the risk and poked your head out of the water near the rear of the ship. The sight before you elicited a sharp gasp, and made you wish you had just gone back when you still had the chance. 

Extended from the side of the ship was a long, wooden plank. Standing on one side of it (the safe end), was a man, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. He looked to be no older than forty, with a scraggly beard and ripped clothes.

A pirate.

Another figure emerged, walking to the edge of the deck. Your reflexes caused you to duck down quickly, so only your eyes were barely above the water. This figure was much younger, with dark brown hair parted neatly and angular features twisted into a wicked smile. He donned a maroon blazer that covered a white shirt with an upturned collar. Something in his left hand shined brilliantly under the sun’s bright rays.

The younger figure laughed, but not in the way one would laugh at a funny joke. He unsheathed a cutlass from his side, using it to poke the back of the man on the plank. 

“You see, Mr. Jones? This is what happens when you cross the most feared pirate captain in all the lands!” the young figure roared as he yanked off the older man’s blindfold, revealing to him his fate. The fear and panic that spread across the man’s face has been forever etched into your mind, even to this day.

You heard the man beg and plea for mercy, watched as every move he made caused the plank to sway even more violently. The pirate captain simply laughed, his crew along with him. Finally, when you suppose he tired of hearing the man grovel, you watched in terror as the captain gave the man a good kick in the back, finally sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, it was like the world was spinning in slow motion. The man plummeting off the wooden platform, falling, falling, falling. His screams muffled by the cloth around his mouth. Then, all too soon, he made contact with the water with a loud splash. 

He sank quickly, devoured by the ocean’s waters within the blink of an eye. Your young, distraught face watched as a few bubbles rose to the surface. Then nothing. All that remained of the man’s existence, all there was to give proof that he had ever even been there, were a few ripples in the water.

That was it.

You were frozen in shock. How–what–why? Your brain could barely string together a comprehensive sentence. All you were sure of was the feeling inside you. You couldn’t quite put it into words, could barely even understand it. But it made your tail ache to move, made you feel as if you simply couldn’t stay in one place any longer.

You dove beneath the surface, frantically swimming towards the direction where you saw the man go under. You kept looking around, searching, but to no avail. You decided to dive deeper, swimming lower and lower until the water around you was near pitch-black. You were growing more and more panicked by the second, because every second you wasted was another second the man grew closer to death.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hope flaring, you darted towards it, the figure becoming clearer the closer you got.

It was him.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to prevent him from sinking farther. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing, but you could still hear a heartbeat. There was still time left.

Wrapping your arms around him, you started the difficult journey back to land. Thankfully, you knew of a small island not too far from here. Swimming with the added weight of a fully grown man was incredibly difficult, especially for a young mermaid, but you persisted. After all, this was his life on the line.

You swam as hard as fast as you could, and thankfully, by some blessing from the heavens, found a warm water current going the direction you were. You let it carry you, the rushing stream multiplying your efforts. Finally, after what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes, you reached the island.

Letting the wave wash you up on shore, you settled the man down on the soft sand the first chance you got. You rolled him to his front, which was quite the endeavor itself. His heartbeat had grown more shallow, but it was still there. There was still hope.

Using the skills your mother had taught you, you started to nurse the man back to health using your melodic voice. Ever since you were young, she had explained to you the gift bestowed upon mermaids, the power of healing through song. She taught you to sing before you could walk, and it was the one thing that you were sure you could do right.

As you sang your strange and melodious tune, it finally occurred to you that you were breaking the most sacred of rules. Not only were you interacting with a stranger, you were coaxing him back to life. Like mother, like daughter, you thought. I suppose healing strangers who were drowning at sea runs in my blood.

The only caveat to your healing powers is that it takes quite some time to have its full effects. You don’t know how long you sat on the beach, but it had been quite some time. You probably would have been there for much longer had it not been for the boom voice that sounded behind you, waking you from your trance of song.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t a mermaid.”

You practically jumped out of your fins as you turned around, startled beyond words. There, towering above you, was the evil pirate captain you saw earlier. He was even younger than you had previously thought. In fact, he couldn’t be much older than you. You wondered for a fleeting moment how a kid like that could command an entire ship full of grown—and scary-looking—men, but decided you have bigger matters at hand to worry about.

A few members of his crew lurked behind the captain, and you could see a small lifeboat docked to the ground near the coastline. Further beyond that, his ship swayed in the ocean waves, dark against the bright horizon.

You followed the pirate’s gaze down to your tail, which was still out. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting to transform back into your human form, being too distracted by saving the man to pay attention to your own safety.

You wanted to yell at the cruel pirate for trying to kill this man. No matter who he was, what he had done, he didn’t deserve to die. At least not like that. But the words got caught in your throat, so while a war raged inside your mind, you were completely quiet on the outside, simply staring up at the man with wide doe eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said, with a tone that you wouldn’t quite imagine a killer using. He must have overheard me sing earlier, you thought to yourself. “Tell me, little mermaid, who taught you to sing?”

“M-my mother,” you replied weakly, your voice far more meager and small than you wanted it to be. You were still staring up at him, afraid of what he’d do to you.

“Your mother? Well, that’s quite interesting.” The captain raised his left hand to scratch at his chin, which is when you realized that it wasn’t a hand at all. Instead of a hand was a curved metal hook, with a sharp point gleaming at the end. So that must be the shiny thing I saw earlier, you thought.

“Oh, where are my manners?” laughed the pirate abruptly. “My name is Captain James Hook, leader of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

You blinked, almost forgetting your own name. If it were a less tense moment than this, you would have laughed at the fact that his name is rather befitting for him. “Y/N,” you respond.

“Y/N…Now, where have I heard that name before?” He tapped his chin with his hook again.

“Sir, that’s the name of Princess Ariel’s daughter,” one of the big, meaty pirates behind him answered in a gruff voice.

“That’s right!” Hook exclaimed. “You’re the mermaid’s daughter. You know, rumor has it you’ll be joining me at Merlin’s Academy in the fall, is that right?”

For some reason, your voice seemed to not work anymore, so you settled for nodding. Join him? you pondered. You didn’t know that he was also a student at the school you were planning to attend.

Hook started pacing along the beach, arms crossed with his hooked hand extended, deep in thought. You watched him, fear growing by the second. A sly smirk spread across his face, which only served to fuel the flames of your worry. 

“You know, you directly defied my command by saving that man,” he started. Slowly. Deliberately. Choosing every word precisely and carefully, like a shark circling its prey. “Do you even know why I made him walk the plank?” You shook your head no, the panic in you reaching record heights.

“That man”—he vaguely gestures towards the unconscious body laying on the beach with his hook—“stole an entire week’s worth of rations from my ship. An entire week’s worth of food and rum for an entire crew. Had he gotten away with it, we likely would have starved to death out at sea. Does he seem so innocent now, little mermaid? So worth saving?”

Again, you shook your head no. Although you agreed he definitely wasn’t an innocent man, you still didn’t see making him walk the plank a justifiable punishment. Despite your thoughts, you kept your mouth shut. Angering the captain further was not going to do you any good.

“Now, if anyone else had done something like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut their head right off,” Hook said menacingly, and with a swish, unsheathed his sword once again. You flinched—hard—and scrambled to back away from him. 

Hook took note of this, and, sheathing his sword, crouched down to get on the same level as you. “But don’t worry, little mermaid. I won’t hurt you. You see, you’ve piqued my interest. Plus, it would do me no favors to have a little girl’s blood on my hands.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. So he’s not going to kill me, right?

“But, alas, you can’t leave unpunished, now, can you?” he added. Your eyes grew impossibly wider, your entire body shaking in fear. This was it. He was going to kill you, or do something equally worse.

“I demand”—you already felt a tear slip down your cheek—“that you write to me for the remainder of the summer.”

Wait, what?

“W-write?” you asked in disbelief. “As in…”

“Letters,” Hook finished for you. “Write me letters. I’ll give you the mailing address of the Jolly Roger. Write me everyday, and I’ll promise I’ll write you back whenever we dock. How does that sound?”

“O-okay,” you reply, still taken aback by the peculiar, and far more lenient than you’d expected, request. That was all you had to do? Write letters? As punishment for saving the life of someone he’d ordered to die? You must be dreaming.

“Oh, and,” Hook said, voice lowered as he leaned in close to you, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his alluring scent of salty winds and something richer, deeper, filling your lungs. “I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Don’t forget me, my little mermaid.”

With that, he stood up, smoothing out the lines on his pants. “You wouldn’t happen to need a ride back home, would you, love?”

You shook your head no, too terrified of him changing his mind to spend another moment in his presence. You glanced back at the man lying behind you, still unconscious. “W-what about him? What will you do with him?” you managed to choke out, somehow finding your voice again.

Hook pondered this for a long minute, before finally answering, “He can live.” You let out a shaky breath. “But only because of you, little mermaid. And only this time. You go against my wishes again, and trust me, your punishment will be far more severe.”

And with that, he went back to his ship and sailed away.

You still muse about that day, thinking how different things would have been if you had changed just one little thing.

You kept your promise of writing him letters, too afraid to know what would happen when you had to inevitably face him in the fall to break it. At first, they started out simple. Ordinary recounts of your day, your favorite things, what you liked to do. As the weeks passed, you started writing more personal letters. How you felt about certain things or certain people, including your parents. You never spoke a word of that fateful day to them, knowing that you’d be grounded for life and forbidden from swimming ever again if they caught even a whiff of the danger you had put yourself in. 

Hook kept his promise, too. He wrote you back, although it was far less frequent than your letters. Even though he kept his responses short and concise, you always ended up hearing his voice in your head as you read his notes. You soon found yourself checking your mailbox daily, even getting to know the mailman rather well. The rush of dopamine you got every time you opened it to find a letter awaiting you was unmatched; you would always run upstairs to your room, lock the door, and pour over the note. Reading every line, every word over and over again, committing them to memory. 

You don’t know why you enjoyed these little letters so much. Maybe it was the thrill of having a secret that no one else knew of, or the absence of your usual loneliness every time you were reminded that somewhere out there, across the seas, was someone awaiting your letters, reading them, and writing back to you. Whatever it was, your heart started to form an emotional attachment to him without you even realizing it. 

Unbeknownst to you, that had been his exact plan all along.

It’s safe to say that once you started school at Merlin Academy, Hook’s—or James’s, as he insisted on you calling him—grip on you only grew. Things started out pretty normal: light conversations in class and stolen looks exchanged across the hall, mostly initiated by him. After the first few weeks passed, things between you two only grew. Secret meetings during lunch hours, rendezvous after school, and small gifts exchanged between the two of you. From there, it became brushing your hands together whenever you passed by each other, soft pecks on the cheek or forehead where there were prying eyes, and more passionate kisses when the two of you finally found time to be alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really know what you two are now. Normally, you would consider two people that partake in such actions to be courting, and you kind of assume you are. But James has never said anything about a relationship to you, and in all honesty, you’re too afraid to ask him. You feel terribly confused at his intentions towards you; on the one hand, he approaches you every day without fail, even if you try to ignore him or when your schedules don’t match up. Somehow, he always finds a way. On the other hand, he never asked you to be his lover, never even vaguely mentioned anything of the sorts. So, you decided, with a heavy heart, to not be too confident and consider yourself his partner. And unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t yours, either.

Really, you never meant to grow so involved with the bastard pirate that threatened to kill you on the beach that day. But for some strange reason, instead of treating you coldly like he did everyone else, especially the other hero kids, he was softer with you. Considerate, even. You had half-expected him to want nothing to do with you after your first few interactions, but he kept seeking you out. You often opened your locker to a note inside, or entered your dorm to find a letter slipped beneath the door.

Today was one of those days. You had gotten a note telling you to wait for him in your usual place in the evening, after classes. So here you are, waiting, staring at the water fountain in the courtyard. You’ve always been transfixed by the way the water spurts out the center and splashes all around. It seems that whenever you’re alone with your thoughts, they always end up back to that fateful day you met James, and everything that’s happened since.

“Wait for me long, my little mermaid?” a deep voice whispers in your ear from behind. You jump only a little, far more used to James sneaking up on you now than you used to be. For some reason, it seems he loves to startle you by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close from behind, or speaking softly in your ear.

You twirl around, a delighted expression on your face, although you try to mask it with a feigned annoyance. “And if I say I did?”

“Well then, I’d have to find a way to make it up to you then, wouldn’t I, darling?” he purrs, using his hook to spin you around in his arms so you’re face-to-face. His lips make his way to yours, pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to yours, not able to get enough of his touch. 

The feeling of his skin against yours ignites something in you, and you find your mouth opening to give him more access as a soft whimper escapes your lips. One hand reaches into his hair, tugging at it gently from the base of his head, while the other one trails down the front of his shirt.

James leans into you even further, your bodies flush against each other now, as he deepens the kiss. You find yourself leaning against the edge of the water fountain, the cool sprinkles providing a welcomed contrast to your heating-up bodies.

Once you’ve completely lost your breath, you pull away just slightly, a love-drunk smile on your face. “You had a request for me?” you whisper, panting, eyes full of adoration for the man you were interlocked with. 

James breaks into a grin. A genuine one, not one of the smirks he flashes to uphold his patented suave demeanor. “Ah, yes, how could I forget, my love?”

He pulls further away to give you two enough room to breathe, yet keeping his good hand on the small of your back. “I was reminded today that it's been quite some time since I’ve heard your voice, my little mermaid.”

You give a little smile, deciding to mess with him a bit. “Whatever do you mean? You hear my voice every day. I mean, you’re even hearing it right now.”

James cocks his head to the side and raises a single eyebrow, clearly aware of your antics. “Your other voice, love.”

You giggle. “Fine, all right. Only for you,” you say, giving him a peck on the nose. 

You sit down on the ledge of the fountain, turning back to stare at the water again. Although it has been a long time since you stretched your tail and went for a swim, simply seeing the rushing water soothes you. It isn’t quite like being immersed in it, but it still gives you some semblance of comfort. 

You reach into the pool at the bottom, letting the cool water rush along your fingertips as you inhale a deep breath. Through your mermaid abilities, your voice twists into an otherworldly song, filling the space with a mellifluous sound. 

James takes a place on the ledge next to you, reaching into the water to hold your submerged hand. You don’t really feel it, too transfixed on the rushing waves. You don’t see the way James gazes at you, like you’re his entire world. The softness, the tenderness in his eyes, which he reserves for you only. He looks at you not as if you’re his sun, something too bright to ever stare directly at, something violent and explosive and harmful, but as if you’re his moon. 

As if you’re the figure he watches every night before he closes his eyes, and the one he wishes to see again when he wakes up. As if you’re the only thing he notices every time the darkness envelops him, your presence never falling off the pedestal he places it on in his mind. Never losing its worth. He looks at you, your soft glow and mesmerizing shimmer, as if you’re the only thing filling up the night sky. The stars and constellations pale in comparison to you, especially on your best nights, when you shine so magnificently. 

You are the moon, and he is the tide of the ocean, constantly being pulled in by you. Never being able to escape the grasp you have on him, the grasp you are so blissfully unaware of. He stares at you in awe and wonder, bathing in your gorgeous light, so close yet always so far away. Sitting all alone against the dark backdrop of the evening sky, waiting for him to come back to you. And without reason, you always disappear. Always leaving him wanting more, waiting till the moment he can bathe in your presence again. 

As you sing, the tide gets pulled in by the gravity of the moon. Your lyrical voice bounces off the stone walls, surrounding you both, just as the moonlight surrounds the waves on that mystical night. 

But the moonlight is only a reflection of the sun’s glow, is it not? When daylight comes, the moon will pull away from the waves, its absence in the sky all but forgotten in the sun’s presence. And as dawn breaks, so too will the pull between the moon and ocean. 

on to part 2! ->

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[theboywithburninghands]

Some of the themes I’ve noticed playing FromSoft Games

Dark Souls: The end of one thing is always the beginning of something else. History is always more complicated than what we initially believed. You should always think carefully about what people in power tell you, because they most likely don’t have your best intentions in mind.

Dark Souls 2: Everyone is special, but only for a short period of time, because entropy is inevitable. Memories are important, treasure them and preserve them before you can’t remember them anymore. People who do bad things are often scared and hurt.

Dark Souls 3: Sometimes it’s better to let things end rather than drag them out until they’re exhausted. When times are tough, that’s when you should be most vigilant for bad influences. Having a purpose doesn’t always mean changing the world.

Bloodborne: There are some things we don’t or can’t understand, and it’s better to just let them alone. There are good, moral people in rotten institutions. Morality often can’t keep up with progress until disaster strikes.

Sekiro: Having morals is good, but they shouldn’t interfere with love or common sense. Sometimes breaking the rules is the right thing to do, even if it means sacrificing comforts. It hurts to admit you’ve been manipulated, but it’s better than remaining manipulated.

Elden Ring: All leaders are people, thus all leaders are flawed, and anyone who says they’re perfect is lying. The ends do NOT justify the means. The cycle of violence is endless, and if you can’t stop it you should at least be aware of it.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🌟Blessings Rolling In throughout 2025 ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Labyrinthia: When a government begins to falter, its people descend to pitiful depths… Perhaps this is what the fall of a nation looks like from ground level.

Clarissa: They’re as much victim as anyone else… Victims of the twisted chaos in this kingdom…

— conversation after defeating a band of bandits at Fallen Fowl Swamp; Wild Arms XF

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The whole world right now, apparently, is going through a massive Dark Nights of the Soul. It is apocalyptic for a lot of people…but… It is ideal. The Apocalypse essentially denotes the end times for the ruling class ha ha and indicates a new era of liberation for Mankind. Well, in reality it's a bit more complicated than that...but let this perspective suffice for the time being. Normal peeps shouldn’t fear the end times, but uhm, not—not saying this with a religious spirit🙃

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Charlton: Force can destroy a nation, but it doesn’t make building one any easier, much less maintaining order once it’s built.

Rupert: Is that so?

Charlton: It is the ability of the princess mediums to connect with the Guardians that keeps Elesius stable and strong. The very existence of that power sends an unmistakable message to the people about who is the ruler, and who is being ruled. Clear stratification based on one’s inherited gifts is a tradition that has preserved Elesius since the time of our forefathers.

Edna: But now that system is breaking down.

— conversation about the importance of princess mediums (pssst High Priestesses) of the Kingdom of Elesius; Wild Arms XF

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

An Apocalypse is happening for the ruling class, but unfortunately—and hopefully soon enough you understand this—such a destruction is just the very thing they want to happen; all so they can build anew upon the ashes of the deconstructed establishment. In reality, it’s an ugly Hyper Game of which rules most peeps can’t even begin to comprehend.

But then…if the normal peeps are losing either way, what’s the Game Plan? Is there even one? There is something you can try to comprehend for the time being: to make apolitical of every decision you make in this world.

The problem with Gen Z (Sagittarius Pluto generation, which is 9th House aenergy, which is the House of Philosophical Foundations for Politics) and every other wokist from every generation, is that you make politic of every single thing that you do or think. You think it's the right thing to be this much politically awake in today's world, but with most people's level of exposure (or lack thereof) to real truths of Mankind's history... this is actually how you become a most effective generative pawn to the ruling class.

What if the most effective way to ‘dissolve the Matrix’ is to ignore its social engineering? ha ha

This year, what if you chose to live fully in your own Zero Point Awareness? From a plane of consciousness that feels most natural to you, when you're most in your element, true heartfelt Creation begins. Before you can save somebody else, you gotta make sure your bed is comfy and all the time tidy. Let the blessings roll up like tidal waves to pamper you this year, babe. You've survived too much all on your own~♦︎

This year, it's about YOU~\`★_★`/ Commence the personal miracle~!!

mind barricade: Apocalyptic Survivor Subliminal by DrVirtual7

evolution: Your Consciousness Can CHANGE Your Genetics by Dr Bruce Lipton

deck-bottom: I The Magician, Silver Astrologer (John Dee), Priestess of Success

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings] [buymeaboba]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Prosperity Abound, Beauty All Around

field: ★Green Aventurine Frequency★(Luck, Money, Wealth, Joy, Good Fortune, Abundance) by Quadible Integrity

direction of sounds – V The Hierophant

First of all, do you have a strong Saturnian/Capricorn placement? Or maybe you’re right in the middle of a Saturn Return period upon reading this? Or, it could be that you’re freshly out of a heartbreaking, bone breaking Saturn Return moment that almost killed you! Yeah, whichever the case, with The Hierophant being here, and it being a major arcana, know that whatever hardship is or has transpired in your Life was sorta…designed that way to strengthen the foundation of your incarnation this time.

It's because you have a massive, very important mission with your incarnation—what with having two major arcana back-to-back. You, are, intended to be very powerful and abundant in this lifetime. Some of you reading this are probably on your way to becoming some kind of a public figure. It could be anything, really. Influencer or thought leader or celebrity of some sort. You’ve known it since you were a wee kid that you were meant for something much, much, much bigger than the mundane Reality you were born into~♪

And when you consider that, maybe, just maybe, your path was that much harder, that much more restricted, because the Universe needed to test your innate goodness—whether or not you’d fall victim to the world’s greed and evil whatsoever. But you being YOU~ My gosh, you proved yourself, didn’t you? That in spite of everything, you’ve remained pure of heart and intent. I see you’ve devoted so much of yourself to the service of Love and Light. You know you were put here to make the world a better place with whatever natural talents you were bestowed with~ \`★_★`/

lights of intent – III The Empress

And so, what’s next? What’s in store this year for all of you powerful Souls in the world? If you’ve been around, maybe you’ve heard or read other readers say: ‘You’ve shifted paradigm!’ Or something along the lines of: ‘You’ve jumped timelines!’ Yes, all of this is very much true for you! I get this feeling that you may have felt ‘different’ in the sense that your manifestations are trickling in more effortlessly. The way that you work; the way that you walk; the way that you engage in your day-to-day tasks; even the way that you breathe and how your body feels…somehow everything is more aligned, effortless, and you feel safe.

You have manifested a world of your own design, babe~ All this time, all these painful years, you were building a world of your own ideal, brick by brick, with what little guidance you heard from your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides. Within your Team and Crew are your Cosmic Ancestors who are making sure that none of that devotion goes to waste. You have to have your abundance and happy ending lest it beats the purpose of you being born. Got it~? Where your abundance and financial security are concerned, this quote sums it best for you this year:

‘I know why most people never get rich. They put the money ahead of the job. If you just think of the job, the money will automatically follow. This never fails.’ – Hedy La Marr

Your greatest blessing this year, if we could sum it up with this major arcana, is the freedom to engage in whatever creative pursuit is aligned with your Highest Intended Destiny. With The Hierophant accompanying this Pile, I’m sure you’re amongst those who’ve worked for a very long time for the manifestation of this great blessing. With that said, know with every single cell of your body that you deserve the peace and ease you’ll be swimming in this year~★

Highest Intended Action – 7 of Pentacles

I know that you know in your heart of hearts that this calm period is at best temporary—and that’s exactly why it’s exciting~☆ Where you are right now upon finding this reading, you’re already this wee close to a BIGGER manifestation what will propel you into the spotlight (do you see the lights shining upon this man in the card?) and with that, some rest period is needed just because you DESERVE it!! Do you have any idea the load of your spiritual work that’s given birth to this new timeline for a chunk of Mankind? I don’t even think you give yourself enough credit, boo!♥︎

This year, you’re being prepared for a call or an opportunity that could be classified as your main Soul Mission—if there ever was such a thing ha ha Souls usually carry a multitude of missions with their incarnations, especially the very, very advanced Souls. But anyway~

Of all the piles, this one is the most varied in terms of what kinds of blessings are rolling in for you. This is because your blessings are highly individually specific to the spiritual work you’ve done on your terms. What’s certain though, is that an element of destined orchestration is huge at play for you. So that’s literally saying that there’s practically nothing you need to do at this point in your Life. All that’s left for you to do is enjoy your peace, abundance and creativity~\`★_★`/

PROMISES FROM THE UNIVERSE🔻❤️

catching the Future Express – Green Magus (John Dee)

on my way to Destiny – Priestess of Contemplation

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – All Shackles Dissolved, an Uncontrollable Revenge Glow-Up!

field: ★"The Elite" Mind Control Detox★ 264.377 GHz + 439.3920 MHz + 1111Hz + 139.6Hz by Quadible Integrity

direction of sounds – Ace of Pentacles

Ow yeah, baby~! Of all the piles, yours indicates the strongest a real physical glow-up~★~ This could be in the form of a beauty glow-up, but for many of you it also involves financial/career glow-up, house/apartment glow-up, country/city glow-up, and many other forms of real-living improvements that I feel you’ve been manifesting for quite a while! Honestly, you’ve worked so hard on this, practically all by yourself, with a tonne of shadow work!

Some of you probably resonate with having ghosted so many people so as not to get distracted by their low-quality frequencies and opinions. You hustled in secret, and you hustled motherfuckingly hard. Your health—mental and physical—is returning and improving this year! That’s the number one blessing you’re totally receiving this 2025~\`★_★`/

I’m hearing: when your finances and living situations get better, it would be wise to start ‘investing’ in higher-quality produce and eat cleanly and healthily. What is healthy for you may differ from the common narrative, so you may need to R&D yourself the ‘healthy dietary habits’ that work for you by reading and learning a lot! Naturally, as your diet gets cleaner and ‘healthier’ for you, it’s only a given that your physical beauty and energy improve as well. Babe, that’s just logic~😉

lights of intent – XV The Devil

If this is your main pile and you resonate with having struggled with health in some way—be it mental, physical, emotional or spiritual or all at once—this would do you good to acknowledge that some bad spells had been sent your way by some demonic entities. I really mean demonic as in the intents—the negative thought forms—were so bad, so evil, they sought to (possibly) even murder you.

This could’ve been done by an ex-lover, ex-fake ass friend, even relatives and ‘family’ members. Yeah, we don’t call those ‘family’ in this household but you know what rings true for you~♦︎ There’s also a possibility of an envious ex-worker or even…some of you will know this for yourself if this is your message…you could’ve been specifically targeted by some negatively-polarised e.l.i.t.e groups, yeah? Whichever the case may be for you, this year is all about a much deeper purging of the layers of negative effects from all this karmic trauma bullshit.

You’re guided to further separate your Reality from those who’d burn in the 3D-hell version of Earth, aight? Closing karmic cycles comes in…cycles LOL I feel that so much of your karmic burden wasn’t even yours to begin with. But your Soul may simply have volunteered to be born under such circumstances to end all forms of curses and break bloodline chains for many Humans in this world. It is a great, noble sacrifice, so your Cosmic Ancestors would like you to acknowledge that~!

Highest Intended Action – 6 of Cups Rx

You may want to check out other piles or readings on this blog if you want to truly get a sense of what kinds of ‘blessing’ or ‘action’ are available to you at the time you’re reading this, but for the most part, if this is your main pile, I’m getting the sense that you’re being guided more towards protection and the shedding of past karmic ties before you can even jump to your next chapter of Life~\`★_★`/

Any possession that you’ve had for a long time, if it doesn’t aenergetically feel good anymore to be wearing/using it, get rid of it. We’re Kondo Marie-ing shit in this household this year! Where it’s possible, get rid of old things that have some emotional or karmic ties to your Old Reality—they have no place in your superfluously abundant future, OK? If the items/gadgets are still good enough to be used by someone else, try this ‘burning ritual’ so you don’t accidentally pass on negative aenergy to the next recipient:

Imagine the item(s) burning in Violet Flame and make a clear intent to never have any connection to any past person or place tied to that item(s). If you’re burning a memory or a place, burn that motherfucking bridge, burn the whole city or house in your mind’s eye. This way, you will never be pulled to that bandwidth of Reality anymore~♥︎ Honestly, you can do whichever ‘cleansing ritual’ you know of that works for you—the intent is the KEY~★

PROMISES FROM THE UNIVERSE🔻💚

catching the Future Express – Gold Physician (Hippocrates)

on my way to Destiny – Priestess of Ritual

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Pile 3 – They All Knew You’d be This Big, That’s Why They Cursed

field: ★Leadership Gene rs4950★ [Advanced Genetics] by Quadible Integrity

direction of sounds – XIX The Sun

When I tap into your aenergy, there’s this notion that dings clearest as a crystal: Child of Light~★ You are an Ancient Soul with immaculate purity and massive powers. Many individuals within your ‘family unit’ knew of this since your birth. Maybe there were unusual—cursed or miraculous—happenings and events surrounding your birth. Immediately, you already had opps since you were practically a wee baby. There were individuals who saw your ancientness and instantly felt threatened by your immense wisdom.

It could be that the ‘family unit’ you were born into dabbled in black magick or some underground criminal shit of sort, and they knew that one day, one way or another, you were going to discover and uncover their bullshit—effectively disintegrating their entire ‘empire’ made of pure manure. There’s some dark shit in that sick family unit like maybe there was an ancestor who went mad or there was somebody who was a serial killer or a drug dealer, what have you. The aenergy not only is bleak but incredibly dark and evil.

It's unbelievable that a Soul as pure as you would sacrifice your Light by integrating into a bloodline like this tsk tsk… Are you a Blue Ray Starseed? he he you could be. Anyway, some fucks within that insane family unit knew that one day, a power—and beauty, and intelligence, and purity—as witnessed exuded by you would make you VERY big and important on a community scale, even world scale. They hated that. They wanted that for themselves ugh…

lights of intent – King of Wands Rx

Do you daydream a lot, luv? If you feel that you often drown in fantasies, like excessively to a point where you find it hard to even cope with physical Reality, I’d like you to understand that it’s only an effect of never truly living a Life of your ideals. Your Heart is yearning to dwell in the Higher Timeline you know deep, deep down you’re meant to traverse along~♦︎ And yes, you’re absolutely capable of living the life you can’t stop thinking about. Aaand…that’s where your opps came in, right?

Not sure if you’re aware of this yourself at this point in time but all of the passion and intelligence that you are, those are the very things they never wanted you to nourish. But goddam, silly them—they underestimated your sheer willpower! Your opps are insanely illogical; as much as they wanted your power for themselves, they didn’t want you to ever realise your true potential. It’s such petty envy, all things considered. But hey, all of this is in the past if you’re tuning into this aenergy as your main pile~★

You’ve uprooted yourself from that false Reality where your Light wasn’t loved. But you were just doing your Lightwork there akin to training at a military camp. And you survived, goddamn hoe, you’re a Dark Feminine Goddess. This year, or whenever you find this reading, you’re fully grown and ready for your greatest Soul Purpose for being born at this passage of time~ Know that this whole blueprint was created by not only your Higher Self but also all of the Cosmic Ancestors who wanted to bring down this dark bloodline. In the grand scheme of everything, hoe is you da VIRUS within their System LMAO

Highest Intended Action – 10 of Cups Rx

The family unit you were part of, whether you were born or brought into it, operates like a cult. This is an entirely ‘insane family unit’—yes, it’s a thing. I see feminine figures akin to the members of Bene Gesserit from DUNE. These were most likely femcel mothers, aunts or grandmas that were operating like cult leaders. Before we continue, try to understand that we’re talking about ‘femcel psychology’ from a sociology perspective, which can be an entirely different discussion from ‘girls that ain’t getting laid’ XD

Check out Exoticals United on YouTube to learn valuable gems of societal observations~\`★_★`/

Anyway, these dusty ass femcel fucks loved power with a sick mind and when they saw your birth, they couldn’t stand the potential of THE FUTURE LEADER THAT YOU ARE DESTINED TO BECOME. They saw and knew that when you grow up, you’d have the natural talent to attract a large audience—babe, if this is your main pile, I KNOW you’re gorgeous for daaays~♥︎ The way you attract attention by your natural beauty and sweetness, my gosh, they sought to destroy that very thing which they covet: people’s admiration!

It was apparent to them since your birth or at least from when your puberty started, that your greatness comes from the ‘other side’ of the bloodline. By that alone, they knew they could never be what your Ancestors were preparing you to become. Your superior DNA from the ‘other side’ appeared like bright wings from heavens which they knew would overshadow their ‘cult-like’ influences on everything good and harmonious which they sought to destroy!

PROMISES FROM THE UNIVERSE🔻💙

catching the Future Express – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

on my way to Destiny – Priestess of Prosperity

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤㅤMAIN THINGㅤ𖥔ㅤKDH

𝗈𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 ── 𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

situationship ! 김동현 ⟡ 𝑓 ! readerㅤㅤ◜ᴗ◝ㅤㅤ800ㅤ 𓂃 ㅤfluff situationshipㅤㅤ─── warnings kissing skinshipㅤㅤDiRECTORY

Leehan is stretched out on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other absentmindedly toying with the hem of your sleeve. You’re sitting beside him, legs tucked under you, barely paying attention to whatever stupid video is playing on your phone—not when you can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re staring,” you say without looking at him.

He hums, not even bothering to deny it. “You make it so easy.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, wearing that stupidly adorable look—the one that makes you want to kiss him senseless. “Dunno,” he says, “you tell me.”

You hate it when he does this—when he makes you feel like this thing you have going on is more than just fun. Like you’re not just two people who fall into each other’s arms when it’s convenient.

You click your tongue. “Stop saying things like that.”

He shuffles closer, propping himself up on one elbow. “Why?”

“Because.” It’s a weak answer, and you both know it.

Leehan exhales softly, watching you for a beat too long. Then, without another word, he reaches for your hand, fingers curling around your wrist. “C’mere,” he murmurs.

You shouldn’t listen. Shouldn’t give in. But his touch is warm, his voice is soft, and you’ve never been good at resisting him.

So you go, allowing him to pull you in until you’re hovering over him, one hand braced against his chest.

You take the moment to admire him up close—the soft curve of his cheeks, the plumpness of his lips, the quiet, fond look in his eyes.

“Better?” you ask, feigning indifference, but the slight tremble in your voice betrays you.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches up, the pad of his thumb brushing against your jaw—an unbearably gentle touch that makes your breath hitch.

And then, just as you’re about to tell him to quit messing around, he kisses you.

He starts slow, lips moving over yours like he’s trying to memorize the feeling, like he has all the time in the world. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you close, and you let yourself melt into the kiss, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

Leehan tastes like the cherry candy he stole from your bag earlier, and something undeniably him—something you could get addicted to if you’re not careful.

His hands are warm on your waist, fingers pressing just firmly enough to make you dizzy. You pull at his hoodie, trying to get him closer, and he laughs—breathy, amused—before catching your chin between his fingers, tilting your head.

“Slow down a little, hm?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

And just as he says that, he kisses you again. Soft and deep, and it feels real. So, so real.

But then, he pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his hands still firmly on your waist, like he’s grounding himself.

“What are we doing?” he asks, quieter now.

Your stomach tightens. You knew this was coming.

“Huh?” you say, pretending you don’t know what he means.

His thumb brushes idly over your hip. “Us, YN. What is this that we’re doing?”

“There is no us.” The words leave your mouth automatically, because that’s the rule, isn’t it? No labels, no strings.

Leehan doesn’t argue. Just looks at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something else, to take it back.

But you don’t. Instead, you tug him closer and kiss him—like you can make him forget.

He doesn’t let you.

Gently, he pulls away, his palm cupping your cheek, thumb stroking softly. “I don’t like it when you do that,” he murmurs.

“Do what?”

“Act like this isn’t real.”

Your breath catches. What does he even mean?

He sighs, eyes flickering away for a moment before settling back on yours. “I don’t want to be just nothing to you.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. “You’re not—”

“Then tell me.” His voice is gentle, but his gaze is steady. “Tell me what you want us to be.”

And damn it, you should make him say it first, make him work for it, but he’s looking at you with so much sincerity, so much pleading, that you realize you don’t care about the game anymore.

So you just whisper, voice shaky, “I want you to be mine.”

The corner of his lips lifts. He exhales, relieved.

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning forward, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Because I’ve been yours this whole time.”

‎ ‎     • 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 🗯 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ───── 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 ˆᗜˆ

tags ( boynextdoor ) @coquettejunnie , @hanninova , @chaeneu , @aloe-7 , @en-dream , @rizzkisworld , @cosmicwintr , @mydearyeseo , @ladyaida , @fae-renjun , @slytherinshua , @jjennuine , @amouriu , @i03jae , @kstrucknet , @k-films , @sgz-net

[pressureplus]

Yandere Sebastian Solace Headcannons

Warning: Blood, Light gore, Murder, Stalking, Obsession, Marking/Biting, Actually Delusional, Like he’s actually crazy, It’s a Yandere…they’re not Sunshine and Rainbows

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

The moment he saw you, he knew he just had to have you. As if some kind of switch had flipped on in his brain that he didn’t know existed

Suddenly you were the center of his entire world. Every inch of it.

Everything you did became the reason he lived and breathed, following you became the only thing that kept him sane. Attempting to stop was detrimental to his mental health

So he settled for a healthy medium when he could, sneaking pictures of you while your back is turned

Finding that old camera has led to some very…interesting pictures of you being pinned onto a cork board in his room. Sometimes just standing, sometimes your face, sometimes your body.

Not that you know these pictures exist, of course

Sometimes he just stares at them, almost entirely unblinking, and runs his hands over the pictures like he can feel your skin

Sometimes he can’t help but to kiss the pictures of your face like you’re really there. Silly little thing, isn’t he?

In person? He doesn’t treat you any different at first. Though he gets noticeably more aggressive with people that get close to you

One day, trying to avoid Eyefestations gaze, you bumped into a desk really hard and your pants got caught on it. It left a sizable bruise and a tear in your pants

A jar of familiar eyeballs is left with your name on it outside the room you’ve been staying in down here

You never see Eyefestation again.

He insists on helping whenever you’re applying new bandages or using a medkit, the smell of your blood practically getting him drunk

He wants to bite you. He wants to eat you. He wants to kill you. He just wants to be a part of you, or inside you? As close as he can get to being you.

He loves you so much he wants to tear you apart limb by limb, wearing your bones like a crown and your beating heart like a necklace

He wants to be so entirely soaked in the smell of you, your blood, your clothes, that he cannot tell where he ends and you begin

But he could never dream of hurting you, not really, not like that. No, he’s better than the monsters down here, no matter how sweet your blood smells.

The odd version of cuteness aggression he has tells him to do all sorts of terrible things, it’s a good thing he has self-control

Keeps your used bandages. Dont ask what he does with them, you don’t want to know.

Probably steals clothes you’ve worn recently too if they smell like you…

He’s always watching you, and while you didn’t know about his little habits before, you probably catch on the first time he shoots one of your new friends

They hadn’t hurt you, yelled, they’d only tried to touch you. It was so quick too. The loud bang and a ringing in your ears as his gun produced a bit of smoke. He blows on it for a moment before holstering it. A mess of splattered remains on the ground as he smiled at you.

“My apologies, what were we talking about? Oh yes the batteries you wanted. That’s going to be about 50 data.”

“Y-You just killed someone right next to me. What was that even for?”

“Oh that? You’re right. You shouldn’t have had to see that. How about 30 instead?”

He’s started to pick off the people you talk with, the people you hang around. Leaving you in complete isolation from anything that isn’t him.

Don’t flash beacon him. He’ll say that it’s alright. That you’re just confused! He’ll crush it in his hand. The second time, however, he’ll leave the bruise of his hand wrapped around your arm when he tugs you forward and bites you

Some kind of punishment, you suppose, but it does leave a scar

One he’s going to obsess over

If you love him back that’s great! You’ll be treated a little nicer so long as you follow the rules. Nobody can touch you, nobody can be close to you, you’re not to make eye contact with anyone but him- oh and you must always sleep in his bed!

Despite what you may believe, it’s not for sexual purposes, he just wants his bed to smell like you

Still unstable and still an asshole, but on the plus side? You get babied and given gifts and kissed and protected!

You are his little treasure after all! Which means you get special perks

But if you don’t love him back, well…he doesn’t really care. It’ll just take time, soon you’ll see things his way, that’s all.

At least that’s what his delusional ass believes.

If he has to leave you chained up somewhere to keep you from getting hurt then he will. He’d hate to watch the light leave those beautiful eyes of yours.

And when he finally manages to escape he will drag you along whether you like it or not. Alone together out at sea, probably on some remote island.

Never letting you die. Never letting you leave. Never letting you be seen by the world.

His little treasure, forever, until the day you both die

Isn’t that romantic? He sure thinks so.