#every time i remember it exists my life gets longer

[rb9]

i would pay an extortionate amount of money to own seb’s captain america helmet from cota 2014

[eggmeralda]

that period of time between south park post covid being announced in 2021 to summer 2022 when everyone got obsessed with truffula flu was moderately heavenly

[cuteniaarts]

Fanny, my sweet, beautiful girl

17.11.2012 – 14.04.2019

[the-hanged-mans-ghost]

vent-ish rambling in the notes ig bc I can't think and my brain is fuzzy but I have Thoughts

[theereina]

Where You Going?

Pairing: Toxic Husband!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, Dom!Terry, Toxic!Terry, alluding to spanking *if you squint*, rough sex

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

As my opened suitcase lay on the bed, I only thought of getting as much of my stuff packed before he came home. I had no other priorities besides leaving. It was 7:02, so I had less than 2 hours before he left work.

“Fuck! I can't find my ring,” I said rushing into the bathroom.

I was struggling to search for it in the chaos I had created. The entire house was a mess. I had singlehandedly destroyed every room in less than 4 hours. No room was left unturned, and I didn't care about how the house looked. This would become his problem after I left. Maybe, he would finally pay attention to something other than his job and friends.

I lifted all of the items on the bathroom counter. To my surprise, I still couldn't find it. I remembered taking it off and sitting it on the counter before doing my hair a few days ago. The prongs always found a way to get tangled in the coils of my 4c hair. I chose to take the ring off rather than deal with my hair constantly getting snagged. Since removing my ring was something I always did, I didn't notice that I didn't have it until this morning.

“You know what?! He'll find it. I don't care anymore,” I said, huffing as I leaned against the counter.

I looked into the mirror, taking in my appearance. This was something I hadn't done in weeks. I was frightened by my reflection in the mirror. My hair hadn't been done in weeks. I was still slicking back the same low bun from almost a month ago. There wasn't an eyelash left in my lash extensions. My eyes were sporting dark circles and sunken from exhaustion. My chin and forehead were covered in stress pimples. Had I really let this man's bullshit drain me of the energy to even take care of myself?

“Arghhh… What the fuck is happening to me?” I said, swiping everything thing off the counter onto the floor.

I stumbled backward and braced myself against the outside glass of the shower door. I was falling apart at the seams. There was no way in hell I would spend another moment crying. All I wanted was for my husband to notice me and say something.

I hadn't heard an “I love you” in weeks. We barely slept in the same bed because he was always working overtime. Even simple conversations were non-existent or interrupted by phone calls. I was tired of the same fucked up routine— wake up, work, gym, home, sleep. Terry was no longer even a part of my current life routine, and he, for damn sure, wasn't making me a part of his.

I walked out of the bathroom, feeling dizzy. I knew that meant my anxiety was about to start whooping my ass.

As I walked up to the bed, I pushed a pile of unwanted clothes out of my way. I practically threw myself on the bed. I lay back and began taking deep breaths. I needed to calm down.

After what I thought was a minute or so, I leaned up and stared at my suitcase. I was honestly so exhausted after today.

I looked down at the watch on my wrist. It read 7:34. Realizing I was running out of time, I grabbed the suitcase and zipped it quickly. I wanted to be gone well before he left work so there was no chance of us running into each other.

I stood up, holding the suitcase. I let it fall to the floor and extended the handle. I turned towards the bedroom door. All I had to do now was walk out the front door and leave.

I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. Walking out into the hallway, the house felt eerily quiet. Pulling the suitcase down the hall, I realized how cold it was inside the home. That meant it was even colder outside.

I left my suitcase to sit at the corner of the wall which led to the opening of the living room. I quickly turned on my heels and walked back towards the room. I practically sprinted through the open door. Walking back to the bed, I began to toss the clothes onto the floor in search of a small jacket or sweater. Once I found the top of my black velour tracksuit, I slipped it on and zipped it up.

Back on my mission, I exited the room. It was the same ordeal as before. I went back down the hall, grabbed my suitc—. Where's my suitcase? I stopped to stare at where my suitcase was supposed to be. I turned back to look down the hall. I walked into the living room and began to panic.

“Where you going?” said a male's voice. I knew that voice all too well— Terry.

I spun around to find him sitting in a recliner in the dark. I couldn't see anything but the outline of his frame. Even in this state, his energy was nerve-racking.

“Huh?” I asked, spotting my suitcase on the floor beside him.

“I mean, you walked in here and put your suitcase down like you were about to go somewhere. So, where you going?” he asked, standing from the recliner.

With that statement, I realized Terry had been here the whole time. There was no telling when he had gotten home.

“Baby girl, I asked you a question. Where you going?” he asked, crossing his arms.

From this angle, I still couldn't see him. The small amount of moonlight from the window only illuminated the bottom of his pants and shoes. I felt like I was talking to a shadow which was making this so much harder than it needed to be.

I refused to answer his question. I knew if I talked it would only lead to me stuttering like a fool.

I quickly walked across the living room and snatched the suitcase from the floor. I turned to make a beeline for the door.

“You don't think I noticed your spoiled ass pouting?” Terry asked, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“Well, you didn't act like you did!” I yelled as I turned to face him. Unbeknownst to me, Terry was now right behind me. Not a sound was made to alert me of his movements. I stood there in shock, startled by his presence.

“Why should I? You're a grown a— grown woman. You have no problem using your mouth any other time. Why didn't you this time, huh? You forgot how to communicate, love?” Terry asked, leaning down.

As much as I wanted to curse him out, I couldn't. Every emotion was raging through me all at once.

“Fuck you!” I yelled, fighting back tears of anger.

I was pissed at myself. I had planned out this whole scenario— how I would act and what I would say. It was as if everything went out the window when he was in my face.

“Simmer down, baby girl,” Terry said, kissing my forehead.

“Or, what?” I said, stomping my foot and pushing him away.

Terry stood there, glaring at me. I don't know whether he was pissed or impressed. Hell, he may have been both. I forced myself to hold eye contact, trying my hardest to stand my ground.

Terry stood to his full height and scoffed. He took a single deep breath and let his hand run over his mouth. He was clearly agitated, but I couldn't care less.

I pulled the suitcase closer to me, backing up towards the door. Terry reached out and grabbed the handle of the suitcase.

“Hey!” I yelled.

I reached out to snatch it back, but Terry was quicker. He pushed the suitcase behind his back.

“You want it, then come get it!” he said, walking towards the hallway.

“Fuck it. I don't need it,” I said, turning to walk towards the door.

I open the door halfway before Terry's hand reaches over me to slam it shut, bracing his hand against the door. I tried to pry the door open, but even with one hand, Terry was stronger than me. I yell out in frustration.

“Imma ask you one more time. Where you going?” he asked, looking down at me.

I walked back into the living room, pouting. This was clearly not going the way I planned.

“Leave me the hell alone!” I yelled, turning back to the door where Terry was standing. His body acting a blocker.

“Imma let you know this now if you walk out this door, I'm changing the damn locks. TONIGHT!” Terry shouted, pointing at the door behind him.

“You can't lock me out of my house!” I yelled, getting closer to him.

“Our house, and try me. I can, and I will!” Terry declared, crossing his arms. He widened his stance as he glared at me.

“I can't stand you!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

“Oh, really. That's how you feel, baby girl?” he said, smirking.

“That's what the fuck I said, ain't it?” I rebutted.

“You know what? Fine, here. You wanna leave so bad. Go! Here's your chance. I'm not even gonna stop you!” he said, putting the suitcase in front of me and opening the door.

I placed my hand on the handle. I stood there unsure of what to do. Why the fuck was he just giving up like this? What the fuck was going on?

“All you gotta do is answer my question. Where you going?” he asked, stepping closer to me.

I looked back and forth between him and the floor. I didn't have an answer because I didn't plan on having to explain myself.

“I…. I… I don't know!” I yelled, stomping angrily.

“You don't even have a plan, do you?” Terry scoffed in disbelief.

“No…. So, what?” I asked desperately trying to save face.

“Of course, you don't! Give me the suitcase,” Terry said, rolling his eyes.

“No!” I yelled.

“Give it here! I ain't asking you. I'm telling you. Do you not understand the difference, baby girl?” he asked, holding his hand out.

I contemplated my next move. Truthfully, I was all out of options. I handed Terry the suitcase. He grabs the handle and lifts the suitcase in the air. He unzipped it and dumped all of my clothes on the floor. He slung the empty suitcase across the room.

I look down at the pile of clothes in disbelief. My eyes dart back up to Terry's. This man was insane.

Terry used his foot to slam the door shut. Without turning around, he reached behind him and locked the front door.

“Don't look at me. Go in the room. We need to talk before we go to bed,” he said, flexing his hands. He stood in front of me rolling his shoulders.

“We can talk right here!” I blurted. I knew that if I walked back into our bedroom, I was in for a “treat”.

“Nah, we not doing that kinda talkin'. Let's go!” he barked.

I looked at him, fighting through my thoughts. I stood in place and crossed my arms.

“Ughh!” Terry grunted and picked me up.

“No! Put me down!” I yelled, pushing at Terry's back.

He carried me out of the living room and down the hallway. Walking into the bedroom, he placed me in front of the foot of the bed.

“You got one minute to strip, or I'm ripping it off of you myself!” Terry said, standing in front of me.

“And if I don't?” I mumbled under my breath.

“You keep acting like you really got options here. I'm being polite by letting you think you do. Don't play with me, baby girl. Strip!” Terry said.

“Why do you always do this?” I asked, pouting even harder. I threw my head back in defeat.

“Do what?” Terry asked, licking his lips. His eyebrows knitted together as he waited for an answer.

“This! You always… just… I don't know. This! I can never just leave!” I shouted. I didn't know what to say.

“Take a second to think about what you just said. You do this same thing over and over again. Yet, every time you do I stop you. If I am always able to stop you, did you ever wanna leave? Love, maybe I know my wife better than she does. Maybe, I'm used to your bullshit and tantrums, baby girl,” Terry said through gritted teeth.

“I hate you,” I sulked, feeling stupid. He had me all figured out. This was pissing me off.

“You what?” Terry challenged, getting closer.

“You heard me. I fucking hate you!” I yelled in Terry's face.

“Hahaha, imma make you eat those words. I hope you know that. Tuh! You so funny, baby girl,” Terry laughed, leaning so that his forehead rested on mine. “Now, strip! Don't think I forgot. Since you wanna play games, you got 30 seconds this time,” he lulled as he stood back and crossed his arms.

I begin to strip as slowly as possible. I unzipped my jacket at a turtle’s pace and pulled the arms of my jacket off one at a time. I could see this was pissing Terry off. His face was telling it all as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Without warning, Terry grabbed me and pushed me on the bed. Clothes be damned!

20 minutes later

I had taken my punishment of 15 spankings with pride. Honestly, that was nothing compared to what he was doing right now.

“You gone clean this shit up, right?” Terry said, pounding my pussy in.

I could feel his dick bottoming out and kissing my cervix with ease. I knew he was going to wear my ass out, but I didn't expect this. He hadn't let up since we started. He went from tearing my ass up to stuffing me with dick.

“Yes, Daddy!” I screamed out.

Every inch of his dick was being swallowed by my pussy. He didn't care that I was fighting for my life. He was too busy watching himself slide in and out of me— egotistical green-eyed bastard.

Terry grabbed the back of my legs and pushed them into my chest. My knees were practically hitting the mattress. I was feeling an intense burn in my abdomen and thick thighs from this man folding me in half.

“Baby girl just wanted some dick, huh?” he asked as his hips snapped against my already sore ass.

“Yes, I'm sorry!” I moaned out into the air.

I glance up at Terry to find him smirking at me. Terry's arms wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“Nah… You hate me. Remember?” he asked as a devilish grin spread across his face.

He flattened his body on top of me and let his full weight fall on me, pressing me into the mattress. I didn't know what this position was, but I knew it was about to fuck me up.

As if his dick was magic, this position made me feel like he was deeper than before. How? His dick couldn't grow, could it?

He rested his forehead on mine and looked into my eyes.

“Tell me you hate me, now! Come on! Go ahead! I wanna hear it!” Terry said, leaning in and kissing me softly.

Terry slowed his strokes down, punishing me. Unfortunately, I couldn't speak or think. I didn't know what he expected from me.

“Daddy, I can't!” I mewled through gritted teeth. Hot tears flowed freely down the sides of my face.

“Nah. Stop telling me what you can't do! Tell me you hate me again. I wanna hear it!” Terry said, sliding his hand around the front of my neck.

Terry applied a small amount of pressure to the front of my throat, causing me to whimper from the pressure. I was beginning to squirm under him. I couldn't focus on anything but my half-assed breathing.

“Don’t worry, love. I'm about to make you hate me,” he said, kissing me again.

He grabbed a hold of the back of my neck and pulled me onto his lap. Lifting me slightly, he reached his hand between us to enter me again. I let out a small and desperate whimper. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. (position)

“You givin’ up on me? Baby girl… Look at me. Stay focused on me,” he said, thrusting upward.

Sadly, I was too fucked out to fuck back. It was as if all of the power and energy he had left was being used against me right now. His hands gripped the underside of my ass tightly. Using this as leverage, he would lift me a little and let me drop down into his thrusts.

I promise you from this day forward I will never tell this man I hate him again. The sound coming from our skin slapping together was deafening and thunderous. I couldn't believe the amount of energy this man still had. My pussy was gonna love hate me later.

“Daddy wants your apology to be as loud as your disrespect! Let me hear it!” he shouted, pulling my hair so that my face was pointed at the ceiling.

It was clear to me that this was purely punishment for me and amusement for him.

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” Terry asked, kissing all over my face.

“Yes, Daddy!” I groaned, falling into him.

“Then, I better hear my goddamn apology! Come on! You better not cum before I get it either!” Terry said, licking the side of my neck.

I honestly could have cum from that alone. I moaned out in a whimper. His hands released from my body, but I knew better than to think he was done. He grabbed my waist and flipped me over. Using one hand, he pulled me back onto him and into a kneeling position. His chest now rested against my back.

“Don't move,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my shoulders and neck.

Entering me again with ease, he wrapped one hand around my throat while holding my body taut to his. In this position, I could feel every breath he took.

“Now, what did I say? You can't cum until you apologize, right?” he taunted.

His thrusts became slow and intentional. It was evident that Terry had a point to make, and he was going to drive it home whether I could handle it or not.

As if he could hear my thoughts, his other hand found my clit. He began rubbing and stroking along the underside of it. I felt like I was physically melting.

Before he could say another word, I began to speak. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't… ahh… fuck… I don't hate you. Please!” I screamed into the air.

I was being fucked into submission clearly because instead of letting up, he went harder. His fingers began to rub my clit even faster, his other hand tightened around my throat, and his stroke became more vicious. I was falling and fast. My ears were ringing and listening was becoming impossible.

“Nah… Say… that… shit… louder. Come on!” he said, enunciating with every thrust.

I gasped and drew in a deep breath, causing me to cough.

I could finally feel the beginning signs of his orgasm, which meant relief was near. However, I knew Terry could hold off as long as he needed or wanted to.

“Please, Daddy! I’m sorry. I’ll never… ahh.. I’ll never say it again. Please, just let me cum!” I yelled even louder than the first time.

I was struggling to catch my breath at this point. I was so close. I could feel the muscles of my pussy tightening around Terry’s dick like a boa constrictor, and the pressure building up in my abdomen had reached its peak.

Pulling me back into a kiss, Terry spoke low and directly into my ear. “Cum! Now! You… got… this,” he said in between kisses.

With a potency laced with pleasure, I released the biggest flood I ever had. My legs began to shake, and my body fell forward. Terry instantly tightened his hold on me, forcing me to stay up. I couldn't feel my legs. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, preferably under him.

“Oh, baby. We’re almost done. Let Daddy finish,” Terry rumbled into my ear.

It wasn't like I had a choice anyway. He clearly wasn't stopping. He let go of my body, letting me fall forward with his dick still inside me. Of course, he would finish like this. His favorite position is doggy style. Placing one hand on my upper back, his hips dipped with every thrust. Miraculously, I felt the need to cum again. I wasn't even going to ask for permission with this one. Hell, I couldn't.

“That’s right, baby. Now, tell Daddy what we learned?” Terry demanded.

I pressed my face into the mattress because how in the hell was he expecting me to speak? Pulling my head up by my hair and undoing the last remnants of what was supposed to be a bun, he positioned me on all fours.

“Talk! I need to know that this ain't gone ever happen again. Because in this house, we respect Daddy, right?” he said, slowing his strokes again.

‘Ahhh, fuck… Yes, we… Daddy respect!” I yelled drunkenly.

“Awww, listen to my baby. You so dick dumb, right now. Daddy’s dick fuckin’ you up, huh?” he asked, pounding into me slowly.

All I could do was respond with a low yes and moan, causing Terry to let out a ragged laugh.

“Mmmm… cumming, now!” I yelled.

“Daddy is too. Don’t move!” he said, gripping my hip and pushing me deeper into the mattress.

Terry’s climax crashed with mine. His cum and mine flooded my pussy. The intense combination of fluids forced Terry out of me. I fell forward on the bed, immediately laying flat on my stomach. My body was exhausted and sore. I crashed into recovery mode as my eyes immediately shut. I was practically half-asleep as soon as my body hit the bed.

Terry laughed behind me. “And what did we learn?” Terry asked, stepping backward off the bed.

“Mmm… We don't disrespect, Daddy. I'm sorry. I love you,” I mumbled.

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” Terry said, smacking my ass.

The lesson of today is that I’m not going any-fuckin’-where.😉

Taglist: @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kimuzostar @episodes-ff @megamindsecretlair @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @brattyfics @avoidthings @keyaho @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @onherereading @nayaesworld @phuckyoreblogs @venusincleo @1darknymph @insertcatchynamerighthere @honeytoffee @mitruscity @ladypegusus-blog @lettersofgold @jimmybutlrr @5headsupremacist @blowmymbackout @babybratzmaraj @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @pinkpantheris @talkswithdesi @helloncrocs @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned

[critterbitter]

re: your thoughts on legendaries (which is very cool and based) what’s your take on the differences between legends:arceus giratina and platinum giratina, especially since you defined them as hating the world? specifically the bit where giratina (at least seemingly) actively defended the world from cyrus trying to destroy it, after trying to do the same thing with volo’s help centuries prior?

Weird ghost worm upon yee (AND MORE ART BELOW CUT!)

Anyways, here’s my mad ramblings about Giratina and Arceus’s backstory.

Tldr: Giratina’s a conglomerate of angry souls scorned by Arceus.

(Here’s the playlist. It’s all about worms.)

How it Started.

The original one has chosen favorites over the passage of time. Heroes, legends, protagonists…

Arceus intervenes for those it loves, and the consequences of a god touching the mortal world is devastating in its entirety. One act of divine intervention causes entire civilizations to collapse. One whispered suggestion drives an entire legacy insane.

So Arceus, paralyzed by its love for the mortal world, acts very little, learning from its mistakes. Apathy soaks through every motion. And thus is the way of the world.

But people love the Originator. Religions are born from Arceus’s rare deeds, and generation on generation taught its benevolence. Imagine spending your entire life chasing after that golden light. Imagine knowing its real and there, and it loves you.

Imagine begging it for help, and seeing it turn away when you need it most.

I think those people would feel very abandoned indeed, if they spent their lives worshipping, and receiving no response at all.

Giratina is born from the abandoned, the lost, and the angry. They’re a hundred thousand souls who’s adoration turned to spite. They’re an entity who demands for Arceus to look at them, so they can finally rest.

Arcues can not look at them in full, because if it does Giratina will fade.

(Scio, beloved. For I can not let you go.)

So the Original One banishes the Unwanted Beast into the distortion world, and Giratina seethes, and starves, and screams.

(Here are two truths about the Beast Between Dimensions—

1. Some part of them still loves Arceus. Arceus is their anchor, after all— the sole reason why they exist, why they are. But Arceus can not love it back in a way that matters, and that hurts.

2. Giratina is made of a thousand voices. Some of these voices remember that there’s a world above. They miss it.)

Why Giratina attacked Hisui in PLA:

PLA Giratina’s not a new god, but they’re very, very bitter and barely coherent on a good day. Volo serves as a conduct to help unite the broiling mass of ghosts against Arceus, and thus Giratina’s hatred overcomes any flickering affections they have for the land.

It doesn’t help that Arceus intervened for Hisui, sending Akari to directly stop Volo from summoning Giratina.

(As for Volo, well.

Imagine being a child who was thrown into the future due to Palkia and Dialga’s fits, who learned his people (his world) no longer exist beyond a shadow in the history books and a single, bitter lore keeper.

Volo doesn’t remember his original culture beyond vague imprints and singing praises to Sinnoh, but he knew he was loved, and he knew his family is dust four hundred years in the past. There’s a special sort of rage in him that echoes Giratinas.)

(Why did you abandon my people, Arceus? What kind of god are you, to leave those who love you so callously behind?)

(Maybe some part of Giratina recognizes Volo, beyond a feeling of kinship.

Maybe some part of Giratina grieves because it recognized the child Volo was.)

When Volo gets his pound of flesh, (when he realizes Arceus is not beholden to him, that the inherent alien morality Arceus holds is not a personal slight), Giratina will finally rest.

Anyways what I’m trying to say is: Arceus is never a person, but a nebulous embodiment of the connection shared between pokemon and humans. It tries to experience what it’s supposed to embody, but millennia of watching people be and cease has given it choice paralysis, apathy, and a hoarding issue. If something lasts forever next to it? Good.

Giratina was once a person. (Correction, a LOT of persons.) They don’t think very linearly either, but they have context on mortal matters and are thus the more benevolent and malicious of the two. One day, time will smooth them into something like Arceus. We can only hope the two keep each other in check.

THE DIFFERENCE OF LEGENDS ARCEUS GIRATINA VS PLATINUM PEARL GIRATINA

If the ancient version of giratina is an angry conglomerate of ghosts scorned by Arceus, the modern iteration of Giratina’s a creature that’s more settled in its skin and more assured in its duties. Giratina still has beef with Arceus, but they unionized into one being who’s love of the mortal world has triumphed over its ancestral grudge. One might even postulate they have shifted their anchor from Sinnoh the god, to Sinnoh the place.

((We call this character developement. Good for you, weird ghost worm!))

(((FULL DISCLOSURE, VOLO BEING FROM THE PAST IS INSPIRED FROM FOXFALL. You know. The fic that got me into this fandom. Please give it some love.)))

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn s/o asking to kiss him on his forehead in hopes that it would bring him the same love & comfort they felt whenever they received it?

Sunday: his first reaction is; aww aren’t you just the most precious and adorable thing he’s ever seen.

He immeditly obeys your wish and presents you his forehead, where you planted a soft, tender kiss against.

He instantly relaxes beneath the featherlight touch of your lips against his forehead, smiling softly as he selfishly indulges himself in your presence and the way you managed to calm him without uttering a single word.

Your wish is his command in every sense of the word.

You’re probably the only person he’d gladly kneel before, but only in private though because he wasn’t fond of people staring at what was meant to be a special moment between two lovers.

And the fact that you weren’t fond of overcrowded places, regardless of whether they were staff members hired by The Family or just regular pedestrians who can’t go a single day without sticking their noses into things that don’t concern them.

So before anything happens Sunday makes sure to take you to your shared room for a much more private setting for the both of you.

After all this moment was meant for you two and you two alone.

So back to the moment you kissed his forehead, Sunday felt the weight of his responsibilities slip off his shoulders like water off a ducks back and he could even feel himself breath again now the weight was nonexistent; And you were to thank for making him feel that way.

You, sweet, kind, generous, you. Sunday’s own personal angel who makes him forget about his duty and make him feel alive again as you breathed new life into him with just a forehead kiss.

Welt: he would welcome the idea of you giving him a forehead kiss wholeheartedly.

He knows that it was nearly an impossible task for you to ask anything of him and he’s more then willing to let you go at your own pace, as he could clearly see that you didn’t expect to get this far.

‘You don’t have to do it if you don’t feel up to it just yet dearest.’ He says calmly as he places a comforting hand on yours. ‘There’s no time limit to do things under, so please take your time and remember to take deep breaths if needed.’ He adds.

He just wants you to feel comfortable and not feel pressured to do something that you weren’t comfortable with doing just yet. For it wasn’t fair on you in the slightest.

‘No. I want to do this, it’s just-‘ you then took a deep breath before refocusing yourself in the moment. ‘You know what I’m just going to kiss your forehead now. If that’s alright with you.’

Welt smiles. ‘It’s more than alright with me. Please continue.’

The moment your lips touched Welt’s forehead, he felt as though he were a young boy in love, everything he was feeling the longer your lips lingered were both indescribable and addicting.

He felt warm, he felt giddy, he felt excited but most of all he felt loved, cherished and really happy.

Nothing else existed in that moment but you two and that was fine by him because at the end of the day he would love nothing more than for it to be you whom he sees no matter what.

He often feels as though he wasn’t putting as much time in your relationship as he was with anything else but when you kissed his forehead, all of those worries he had yet to speak up upon faded away as he was reassured with the way you treated him as though he were priceless.

For he viewed you within the same point of view and was glad that feeling was reciprocated tenfold.

Gallagher; ‘Gallagher, can I-‘

‘Yes.’ He says with impeccable speed.

‘I-i haven’t even asked yet-‘

‘You don’t have to because my answer is yes little bird.’ He cuts you off once again with a wolfish smile before dragging you to sit on his lap as you rested your hands against his shoulders for stability when you kissed his forehead.

The feeling was incredibly fleeting for Gallagher as before he could fully enjoy the feeling of your lips against his skin, you pulled away, Gallagher was pouting like an overgrown child.

‘What?’ You said, thinking you’ve done something wrong.

‘It wasn’t long enough.’ He mutters and tugs you by the waist, causing you to be flushed against his chest. ‘What wasn’t?’ You asked, not understanding what he was getting at.

‘The forehead kiss.’ He clarified. ‘It wasn’t long enough for my liking so I want another.’ He adds, getting a lot of enjoyment from your wide eyed expression as he lifted your head to meet his eyes with a finger under your chin.

‘Don’t you have work to get back to? Won’t Sunday be mad?’ You questioned, knowing that the Halovian’s patience was wearing thin with Gallagher recently, and you didn’t want him getting into even more trouble just because he wanted more forehead kisses.

‘Who cares what that winged prick thinks little bird,’ Gallagher practically purrs, ‘I’m the one busting my ass. So I feel like I’m more than deserving of an extra five minutes to spend with a cutie like you in my lap, giving me a shit tone of forehead kisses.’ He adds.

And that’s exactly what you ended up doing for those extra five minutes.

Blade: ‘why?’ He asks bluntly.

You fiddled with your sleeve, a force of habit of yours that has stuck with you since as long as you could remember. ‘I just hope that it’ll bring you the same comfort and love I feel when you kiss my forehead.’ You admit sheepishly.

Blade knew the kind of guy he was and he wasn’t one that made people feel loved or comforted, if anything it was the complete opposite, but upon hearing you -sweet,shy and socially awkward you- admit that you feel love and comfort from a simple gesture he’s done once maybe twice.

Blade remained silent for a while before feeling himself begin to crumble under your patience gaze and muttered out a gruff. ‘Sure.’

The twinkle in your eyes and the tender smile across your lips melted his scarred heart, but the moment you gently held his face between your hands as though you were holding something worth admiring and pressed the sweetest kiss against his forehead, Blade felt himself practically become a puddle between your palms.

He hums in content as he closes his eyes and lets the love and comfort you claimed he gave you, spread throughout his body, from the bottom of his feet to the tips of his ears. He could feel your love for him encase him in a protective, warm embrace and Blade couldn’t help but selfishly wish to stay here in this position for the rest of your lives.

However you pulled away and Blade noticed how much colder he felt without your touch as he catches his breath, it almost as though he was plunged into an icy cold bath with the way his muscles became frigid and taut.

He had got a mere taste of your affection and now he craved it more than anything.

Dan Heng; knew how hard it was for you to ask for anything of him, despite him countlessly reminding you that he was more then willing to fulfil your wants and needs the best he could.

So when you managed to muster the strength and asked to kiss his forehead, he felt his cheeks become aflame but lets you do so anyways as he casts his gaze elsewhere, praying that you don’t hear how fast his heart was going.

He purrs. I repeat, he purrs the moment your lips touched his forehead as his inner dragon noodle was bursting with happiness upon receiving your affection. It wasn’t something that happened often but when it did, it was always something that never failed to make you smile and him slightly embarrassed at how easily you affected.

He’s just unsure how to voice his liking for your affection without it coming across as awkward or forced. He’s not a man of words when it comes to you as you often left him speechless and unable to think about anything that wasn’t the feeling of your plush, slightly cracked, lips pressed against his forehead.

In that moment all he could think about was you and how despite your differences, you two couldn’t have been a better match for one another.

It was during tender moments like these did Dan Heng want to cling onto forever for they reminded him that he has someone who was worth everything to him.

Someone who loved him regardless of who he was in the past. Your love knew no bounds and Dan Heng could feel every ounce of that within a simple thing as a forehead kiss.

[allpiesforourown]

Okay here's my Lan Qiren apologist masterpost

"He had Lan Wangji whipped! He's an abuser!"

That was Lan Wangji's punishment for injuring 33 Lan elders while defending a demonic cultivator who caused innumerable deaths in the cultivation community. You need to remember the setting of this story: Madame Yu whipped Wei Ying half to death just because she went "you didn't do anything wrong, your general existence is just mildly annoying to me." Lan Qiren deciding Lan Wangji get one lash for every person he hurt is NOTHING in comparison to the punishment he would have gotten if anyone else was in charge and it was the only way to clear his name.

2. "The Lan sect rules he enforces are too strict."

First of all, Lan Qiren is an old Asian person. I feel like that would be enough to make my point, but I will continue regardless.

The Lans have so many rules because they have extreme self-regulation issues when it comes to their emotions. We've seen Lan Wangji's dad ruin his life by trying to atticwife his lover, but Lan Wangji wasn't any better. If you've read the incense burner extra you know he got his first crush at 15 and his brain immediately went to fantasizing about violently assaulting Wei Ying in the library. Their hundreds of rules are stifling because they're supposed to be. If the Lans don't try to contain themselves they will ruin their lives and the lives of people they care about.

Is "don't talk while you're eating" even that extreme of a household rule? Like every family has some variation of "don't do ____ at the dinner table" and the Lans having their own version is not that insane.

3. "He was against Lan Wangji loving Wei Wuxian."

I need you to spend like. 2 minutes putting yourself in Lan Qiren's shoes.

Imagine you are Lan Qiren. Imagine you find out your brother broke his family apart by forcing his wife to stay with him. Lan Qiren was just a man who was thrust into not only taking care of the Lan clan, one of the biggest cultivation sects you can think of, but also his two traumatized nephews. Imagine cleaning up the mess your brother left you while having to raise two children that aren't yours.

Then you see your nephew, who you have raised like your own son, helplessly pining after the infamous demonic cultivator who has rejected him and teased him. You watch him turn against and injure his own family members to protect a literal criminal.

Then he comes home holding the child of the man he loves and you let him keep that baby and raise him. Because you see yourself in him. You see someone who just lost a loved one who was not a good person but someone you loved regardless. How many times do you think he saw Lan Wangji raising Lan Yuan and remembered himself raising someone else's children because their father was no longer there?

And then after all that Lan Qiren had been through, he didn't even try to keep Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian apart once he found out the truth. When Wei Ying explained how he'd been set up, he was one of the first elders in the cultivation community to give him a chance to explain himself. And after that even if he was cold to Wei Ying, he didn't say shit about the two of them having nasty loud gay sex in gusu every night.

I don't care. Lan Qiren hate will always be forced to me, he did literally nothing wrong and if I was in his shoes I would not have been able to handle it

[feefivefoe]

Something I think about when it comes to the batfam is what if they remember reader after a long long time? I’m talking 10+ years after leaving the family. Like what would that be like? Reader wouldn’t be a young adult but someone who’s established themselves in a career and most likely moved out of Gotham, got themselves a somewhat better apartment or maybe a small house, maybe gone through therapy and has decided that they are indifferent about the families existence, to the point that reader forgets about them sometimes. Except Jason reader would probably light a candle every birthday and holiday for him

I feel like the angst potential would be like an aged wine. Bruce Wayne forgot about his first born child their entire life, plus 10 years. Maybe the only reason they remember is a Gotham exclusive on the family, a “where are they now?” type story and half the family (Steph, Cas, Damian, Duke) discover reader existed and the other half is reminded of the forgot part of their family. Oh the angst for Jason! His favorite sibling, his friend from before his death, how could he forget them?? How could Bruce forget them??? And oh god it’s been such a long time where are they?? The story said that they couldn’t find a record in Gotham anymore, are they dead? He let them be forgotten, something he couldn’t stand happening to him, and now here he is, perpetuating it. The fight this would cause!! I feel like the fam would turn on Bruce demanding answers that he doesn’t have. Jason goes to readers room and finds nothing. Maybe reader wanted to cover their tracks? Maybe they didn’t want any trace of them in a manor that never cared for them in the first place? Who knows, all the fam knows is that this building feels so much colder now with this revelation.

Meanwhile reader is getting dinner with friends and work colleagues, having a good and fulfilling life, one outside Gotham, outside of the depressing influence of the Wayne’s, rogues, and owls of Gotham (sorry for making this so long!! Hope you’re having a great day!! Love your work!)

No bc how dare you come into my askbox and drop the most beautiful ask I've seen while I'm sick and brain fogged /affectionate

No hate to anybody else who has sent asks, ily all, but this one HIT MY BRAIN SPASMS AKDMELAK-

BECAUSE YOU'RE SO RIGHT???

The longer it goes on, the worse the inevitable realization is for EVERYONE. Including reader. Because while there's no record of them legally, that's just because they're doing too poorly to have records.

Once you leave Gotham and start settling, you have legal documentation that you just need, you know, for life. Your ssn, birth certificate, etc. Documents that Bruce thought he had somewhere, only to find out you had requested them from Alfred when you left home.

Alfred, being the enabler he is and always hoping you'd reconnect with them one day, just gave you legal copies. Or illegal copies that are good enough to pass, idk how that stuff works.

Point is, they can find you.

BUT.

That's after they get past the emotional turmoil that the discovery puts them through. Imagine if one of them is watching the special for laughs, members of the family snickering at how fake and put together they all are on camera, elbowing each other at how prim and proper some of them are.

Then, near the ending, it cuts to a city far away from theirs. Not Bludhaven, which confuses them. The rest of them stayed, at least relatively close. So where-?

"Y/N L/N, formerly known as Y/N Wayne, has not been seen in the public eye for over a decade. While our reporters were unable to make contact, some still can't help but wonder on where this mysterious member of the beloved family-"

*Snap*

That's Jason, snapping the remote in half while staring at the screen.

Where...when...?

Half of them are confused. Three of them are starting to get a dawning realization.

Jason is having probably the biggest traumatic breakdown he's had since coming to terms with his death and resurrection.

Which town was that? Was that their actual home? Is that just stock footage? Did the reporter lie, did they find you? No, they would have shown that. Fucking vultures wouldn't keep the drama to themselves if they had the chance.

Those are thoughts that don't hit until later, honestly. He's too fucking furious to think coherently for a while.

He wants to scream at Bruce, and hit him, and Dick, and Tim, and fuck it, Alfred too a little. (Unfortunately, they probably have lost Alfred by now. The man was already old.)

He wants to both trash and treasure what's left of your room, small enough to make him feel cramped. It's the size of his old apartment bedroom! Fucking moneybags couldn't give his second ever child a better room than this???

There's no diary left behind, or anything that would bring any sense of closure. Actually, the only thing of note is a scattering of ancient newspaper articles badly taped up on the wall, mostly peeling or on the floor by now.

"BATMAN BESTS POLICE ONCE MORE- RIDDLER IN CUSTODY"

"WHAT WE KNOW ABOUT THE BOY WONDER"

"NO MORE JOKES - CLOWN IN CUSTODY"

"BATMAN'S NEWEST SIDEKICK? ROBIN REPLACED!"

"A NEW HERO? NIGHTWING DEBUTS!"

Them. It's articles about all of them. Their hero exploits, at least. None of them past his...expiration date. It looks like his death is what made you stop idolizing your family so much. Honestly, the paper is old enough to make it hard to read anything but the headlines.

There are a few sticky notes amidst the papers. Clumsy, childlike handwriting.

03/16/XXXX

Richard and Mister Wayne saved people from a bank! Bad guys almost blew em up. That's why they had to miss the concert!

07/30/XXXX

Jason couldn't have dinner because the Joker broke out, and they had to stop him again. Stay in jail! My brother is hungry!!!! >:(

XX/XX/XXXX

I hoped Richard was in town because of my birthday...I guess it was superhero stuff. But Jay remembers! Next year?

XX/XX/XXXX

Not next year :( I made a cake with Alfred instead. Gave some to Jay after he patrolled. Not as good as Alfred's yet, but he still ate it!

Notes you wrote to yourself. To hang up, to show you that even if they aren't there for you, your 'family' is full of good people. That they're doing important stuff, and that's why they can't be there for you.

As a child, you hung up a wall to show yourself why you weren't important. Why you didn't matter.

And Jason breaks.

[drdemonprince]

I routinely forget that periods exist, and its only been like two years since I stopped having them.

The whole concept of them and all the planning and the contingencies involved are just, swoosh, out of my mind. im only reminded that periods are a thing every couple of months or so when one friend or another is in pain and brings the subject up. a friend asked me about how my periods were recently and i was shocked not that she believed i still had them, but that i had ever been a person who'd had them at all.

Multiple friends of mine have gotten hysterectomies this past year, some after long waiting periods, and its got me remembering that my high school debate coach told me getting one was the single best decision of her life. Ive wondered to myself a few times what all the advantages of it are, beyond the obvious prevention of pregnancy piece, and it honestly took me months of thinkkng to remember that oh, oh yeah, right, some people have periods and some periods really hurt and for some people that is probably a factor.

periods are such a non issue for me i forget about what a massive toll they can take on many other peoples lives. and im only a month post op from top surgery, but i can tell its gonna be the same thing w having tits. im gonna forget how much pain and hassle and work it all was.

and I share this because it shows just how mutable human beings are, and how changeable privilege is.

if i can forget about the existence of a bothersome and dysphoric experience i had every month for decades within a matter of two years -- so much so that i forget other people still have to deal with periods -- then someone who grew up poor but now is rich cant ever be trusted to remember what poverty is like. an adult cant be trusted to remember the fear and powerlessness of being a kid. and a trans man can very much be oblivious to sexism and to the lived experience of being a woman, no matter his prior experience, because that is what privilege does to you once youve got it. it clouds over all the worries you no longer have to think about, separating your perspective from that of all the people that do still have to.

and idk, i think thats important for people to remember. no matter what youve lived in the past, if you get a little money, a little privilege, a little power, it changes you, and it makes you stop worrying about many things, and it makes you oblivious.

[headspace-hotel]

current progress in theories of ecological succession!!!!!! This paper lists 19 different ecological succession theories and their perspectives and limitations

Before I knew its name, I knew succession....I still remember the exact moment of realizing the endless flow of change moving through the ecosystem around me. Looking at weeds, shrubby woods, gardens, and fields, I was seeing this unfolding and expanding web of trajectories and possibilities, and it was like peering into the secrets of the universe.

And ever since I've paid attention to it. Constantly observing the movement in ecosystems and its patterns.

All of these theories are partially correct but incomplete. How could we ever come up with a complete theory of succession? It's like studying the convergence of order and chaos itself. Some of the important tensions of succession brought up in this paper are:

Does the environment determine which plants survive, or do the plants that survive determine the environment? (both)

Does the plant community before disturbance determine post-disturbance regeneration, or does dispersal of new plants determine it? (both)

Are communities at different successional stages formed by whatever random assemblage of plants happens to exist at that stage, or are plant communities adapted to form certain stages of succession? (both)

Is succession a process of maturity of one big thing, or cycles of death and life of a bunch of smaller things? (both)

Do plants exclude other plants from niches as succession progresses or do they open up new niches? (both)

Is succession cyclical or linear? (both)

and like ok. this topic will get me sounding like some kind of deeply unscientific weirdo because I will be like Yes, The Weeds Taught Me The Secrets of Order and Chaos. but also this is a topic in science where all the literature written for non-layperson specialist audience makes Sense.

I was really excited reading this paper because this is like, the stuff I think about randomly all the time. like the other day I just basically blacked out and wrote like 2000 words about The Nature of Disturbance and Temporal and Spatial Dimensions of Ecosystem Change not even thinking about how I was writing about succession, and almost made my brain blow up.

like each successional theory developed so far has highlighted part of the big picture but there are several pieces of the puzzle that have barely been articulated yet. my questions:

Disturbance: What Does It Mean. When talking about something alive and changing, there is no stable state of being, so what does it mean to "disturb" an ecosystem? Every ecosystem is maintained by disturbance, like in an old-growth forest animals will graze and trample and trees will occasionally die and fall and there will be storms and fires and that is part of what a forest is. So like...where is the line between a disturbance that maintains an ecosystem at "climax," and a disturbance that makes the ecosystem no longer "climax."

disturbance, even the most severe and devastating disturbance with near 100% mortality of all plants, does not fully erase the previous plant community. so like, early-successional communities aren't a blank slate, but there is a such thing as an "early-successional community" in the sense that weed species not visible in the pre-disturbance community will pop up. Now, a lot of the theories assume that long-distance seed dispersal (and the availability of seed sources and dispersers) influences the arrival of weeds, but I think the soil seed bank is just as important if not MORE important. Do all soil seed banks have plenty of weeds? Do they have different weeds or the same weeds? Do those weeds match what was there the last time there was a weed community on that site?

disturbance is usually distributed over the land SUPER unevenly except in cases of lawns, logging and industrialized farming. at what spatial scale do edge effects irretrievably muddle the concept of discrete early-successional or late-successional communities. Like if you go into the forest and bulldoze a patch of forest down to bare dirt, that patch is fundamentally different from the bare dirt in a huge housing development, just because of being directly adjacent to a forest. Even completely disregarding seed dispersal- it's shaded, it is affected by the leaf litter and fine woody debris, etc.

I would tentatively state that linear processes of change occur in most man-made environments that are disturbed cyclically, for example, lawns- intensively managed monoculture lawns seem to persist in a lush state for a short time before the grass starts to die. most tilled agricultural fields are losing topsoil and fertility in a linear fashion. so like, the land has an accumulative legacy of tens or hundreds of disturbance cycles. Isn't this likely to be true on a much larger temporal scale? Like, is a forest ecosystem now affected by the fact that it was a prairie 1,500 years ago?

likewise, might this accumulative legacy be necessary for certain ecosystems to reach a "climax" state? e.g. prairie will overgrow into woodland in a few decades absent any disturbance, but cyclic disturbance by fire allows the cumulative progression of a larger successional process

[leighsartworks216]

And It Is All That Matters

Sylus x gn!Reader

You can thank my yearning for this one. And you can thank my willpower to *not* fall asleep before I could post it

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, cuddling, kissing, classical music, playful banter, established relationship

Word Count: 660

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Time was a lost concept. All that exists is right here, right now. Where is the sun positioned in the sky? Who knows? It could be right outside the window and you wouldn’t care. Is there something important coming up? Who cares? None of it matters.

All that exists is right here, right now - that is all that matters.

A record of Sylus’s spins its steady dance, brought to life by the arm of the phonograph. Gymnopédie No. 1, he said it was called. You don’t even remember that. All you know is how sweet it sounds filling the air of your bedroom. It’s my favorite right now, you said in return. He found it was his, too.

He sighs against your neck, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. His nose brushes against your pulse, down to where your shoulder begins. You smell like his cologne, spiced and warm. He’s never liked it on himself half as much as he adores it on you.

Like your own personal weighted blanket, he’s on his stomach on top of you. His feet hang off the end of the bed, but he refuses to shift up any higher than this. You can’t complain. Each breath you take is pressed back on with his body. He’s worried about suffocating you, but you hug his hips with your knees, refusing to let him ease up at all.

You think his arms are asleep. They must be. They rest beneath you, encircling your waist possessively. Every minute flex of his muscles, every minor twitch of his fingers, you feel it all. If his arms are asleep, he doesn’t complain. He just holds you tighter. You can’t feel self-conscious of your body when he holds you like he carries the universe in his embrace. You’ve tried - he squashes them out before the flame has a chance to grow to anything more than an ember.

His hair is soft. It smells sweet and floral, and unmistakably like your shampoo. You scratch at the nape of his neck, but you don’t mention it. Instead, you press your nose to the crown of his head, breathing him in. He notices, of course. Why should he say anything when he’s breathing you in just the same?

“I bought a dress for you the other day,” he murmurs. His voice is low and rich, lips brushing your skin with every syllable. “It’ll be here tomorrow. I had them alter it to your measurements.”

You brush his bangs from his forehead. “And just when did you get my measurements?” you ask with faux suspicion.

He grins. “I’ve been hugging you all week - you didn’t notice?”

“I thought you were just being clingy.” You sigh heavily. “I guess I should just leave now if you’ve already gotten them all.”

You push at his shoulders lightly. There’s not even enough force there to push Mephisto over. He tightens his hold on you and kisses your neck in delicate pecks. “I have to double check them all.”

“And?” You brush his forehead with your nose. “What’re the results?”

He hums, planting a lingering kiss behind your ear. “Give me a bit longer to calculate them all. I wouldn’t want to have this dress refitted because I rushed my work.”

You kiss his forehead, right at the hairline. He makes a pleased sound. You’re not sure he expected to. He can feel your smile as you kiss the spot again and again.

“I love you, Sy…” you whisper, like it’s a secret nobody else in the world knows.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

His thumb brushes the curve of your hip as you wrap your arms around his neck. He raises his head just enough to kiss you properly; soft and sweet and slow. He kisses the corner of your mouth when he pulls away. His nose finds the junction of your shoulder. Yours finds the silky locks of his hair. And it is all that matters.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

part 2 here.

[zzencat]

Little Things You Can Do To Get Back On Track - Timeless ⏳

If you came from my “Why Am I Still Unsatisfied?” reading, sit back and relax. Take in the messages I am collecting at this moment. These are very simple things you can do today to get yourself back on the track of life.

Note: This is meant to be short and simple, but a storm of butterflies can whip up a tsunami. I got more than what I asked for from my spirit guides today. It seems you have a lot to hear. You never know what could impact your life. “You should be prepared.”

DO BEFORE YOU READ: Clear your mind. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill up your chest to the fullest, feel the air brush against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out. You are no longer alone. Choose the photo that you can’t take your eyes off of.

—————-

Pile 1. “Simple is best.”

• You could use some vitamin C, to be honest. But don’t overdo it. Learn more about your body and keep up with it—things like how fast you metabolize certain things, but if you’re on medication or supplements, be aware that metabolizing medication is different from metabolizing food. You also either drink too much water or too little.

• If you’re prone to procrastination, start looking for libraries and cafes to help you better focus.

• TAKE BREAKS. Mental, emotional, all of it. Look out the window and observe things that catch your attention. Maybe you’ll start to realize that life does have its small and beautiful moments.

• You don’t have to be surrounded by friends and people all the time. Allow yourself some you-time, explore places on your own—I keep seeing someone wearing a scarf, drinking a hot-warm coffee (coffee is super dehydrating for you btw, so make sure you drink tons of water), fall season. Lounging around in your room and having a show binge by yourself is also good. It’d be nice if you had at least one day off every week to spend by yourself, without the presence of other people.

• Remember that you should recharge yourself too and that saying “no” is okay. You don’t have to be responsible for everyone else.

• Take a walk at dawn, but wear a jacket when you do so. Be wary of your surroundings still, but when you have a moment, breathe in the air of an area that has a dewy smell to it. Damp or rainy seasons work fine. Watch the sun come up for a few seconds and take that time to appreciate your environment.

—————

Pile 2. “Rejection is Okay.”

• Have you gone on any dates recently? I’m seeing a girl with her legs crossed at a cozy cafe, but she’s not bothered by it. She’s neutral in fact, very simple existing, and she’s reading a wall full of post-it notes from other couple. She seems intrigued, although not overly. Just neutral and an “oh, how nice” kind of vibe.

• Perhaps there is a lack of confidence. You should strive to be someone that is okay with being alone in public—specifically LOOKING alone in public. No, that does not make you seem lonely. It makes you comfortable with your own presence. Maybe you tend to think a lot or contemplate often.

• Working on leadership skills could be something. Maybe you’d like to become more assertive? I don’t have too much advice for this group, to be honest. But you should learn how to stand up for yourself more and be careful so that people don’t take advantage of you (for anything/any reason) easily.

• Condition your mind to not caring what others think. Obviously, there’s a limit and rules set in place so that we don’t get in legal trouble—I’m talking about your mindset. Don’t let others get to you easily and work more on your posture. Standing/sitting up straighter will begin to subtly convince your mind and you that you’re confident.

————

Pile 3. “It’s too quiet.”

• journaling can help. It might sound boring or it might be hard to sit in one place for a while, but you have to practice it. Discipline yourself.

• Kind of similar to pile 1, but this is a less responsible group. Don’t distract yourself from your problems and face them head on. Being cowardly isn’t a good trait to have. Be mindful about drinking and what other things you’re putting in your body. This could bite you back in the future.

• Friends may be questionable, may try to convince you to do things you weren’t initially planning to do/try. Be wary of this and stand up for yourself.

• Another thing if you do drink, learn not to drink away your problems or get high enough to escape them. It’s hard, I know. But you have to realize how important it is to live. Don’t be so reckless. If your soul is being let down, you’ll pay the consequences.

• If you feel like a failure or everyone around you says that you are, don’t feed into it. Build yourself up. Make something out of yourself but don’t let those people know. They’ll see it and possibly try to take credit. Don’t let them. Deal with it in a calm and diplomatic manner and turn your head away. You don’t need that extra nonsense. Simple acknowledgement is what they really need, so don’t give them the attention. You’ll mature so much from this.

• It might feel lonely and you may think you’re the only person who’s overthinking/overfeeling about something, or you feel like you’re different from the people you hang out with somehow. A small part of you probably thinks there’s more to life than just…this. Whatever you’re doing to pass the time and simply have fun. Like “they wouldn’t understand so I gotta fake it til I make it” type of energy. Laughing it off type of energy. “Ah, whatever- it’s nothing~” energy. Find like-minded people who share the same interests as you and bond with them. You will experience more authenticity in these relationships than your previous ones.

• Pile 3, you definitely have a bit to learn and it takes work, but you have it in you. The potential is very obviously there. You know it too, but you brush it off—don’t deny it. Don’t be scared of it and learn to speak its language. Reach your hand out to whatever is in that mental cave of yours and show it some kindness. It’s okay for it to come out. You’ll learn that it will take your hand faster than you’d thought. Don’t let doubt get in the way. This pile thinks A LOT and likes to drown it out, because it’s easy. Let yourself think and feel the emotions, bad or good. You won’t even recognize what you were holding back. You have power to impact people more than you realize. Good luck Pile 3, you have this.

————————-

Lil Teddy note: I hope you enjoyed this reading guys!! Today I asked for simple things that my readers could do to improve their lives and become better beings. I meant to keep it concise and give 3D, things-you-could-do-in-the-present type of things, but apparently, I received other messages to give that involved mental and physical health as well. Some piles made me feel worried and passionate, like their higher selves were desperate to get them out of these ruts or situations. The signs have been there but maybe some piles haven’t been taking them seriously or have been brushing them off one too many times. This is your sign man 😂😂 Please, take yourselves seriously and realize that you’ve only got a shot of this. Stay safe, work on that confidence, and learn to be with yourself. With all that being said, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t!! Thank you for coming to our reading today :) Teddy outttt

[careyakane]

God, when I get home, it gets bad again.

I find myself speeding into town, pulled by the invisible threads of habit. I must remind myself again and again: “She does not wait for you as she did before.” I languish in familiar places, hoping for accidental meetings that might lead to long-overdue conversations, ones that might finally bring me the answers I’ve sought restlessly for years now. At nighttime, I squint as the last glimpse of a blonde head in a long black coat turns the corner. I stop myself from following, of course—but only at the last second.

I have come so far when I am back In the west. I think of you rarely and with thoughts far from possessive. I lay no claim on you when I am surrounded by all that I have found in that place and its people. But here, amongst the reminders and remnants, I succumb and fall back into that silent well of grief. I have found solace in these waters before, and I will again. It is false—I know, I know—but many comforts are false, so why can’t I give in for just a moment?

I am always holding my head so high, always protecting those who look to me for answers to questions beyond knowing. Time and time again, I give thin responses and watch as they drain every drop of that temporary relief. May I not, too, fall apart for a day? Give me my falsehoods, and sew cloth over my eyes and mind, which look to protest this comfort made in jest.

Now I sit parked where I should not be, trying to fill the carcasses of all the many simple nights that spilled over on this damn road under these damn streetlamps. I think of the boy who sat here three years ago and try to signal to him as best as I can. I have not a clue if time and its pulse work in this way, but yet in rare moments, I have felt as if something was pleading for me to shift, or to run, or to take account and rejoice. Maybe—and it would bring me great joy—every moment in some way exists eternally, and if I can only picture it clearly now, I may send a message back to myself in that given instance.

So here tonight, I simply ask he who I once was to hold her gaze just a second longer, to embrace her and hold her well as she tells him of the simple passings of the day. To tell her plainly and without hesitation that she is kind like no other, and that never in this lifetime will he forget these days of innocence.

Regardless of whether this door through life and time holds any truth, I attempt. And I must say, I have calmed down since beginning this writing. I truly am— for any who stumble upon this writing and may know me—happy to have continued on with my life. My momentary pauses in that past are not accurate pictures of where I stand now. Please forgive me if this makes you question what I am. I have set much down and would not betray you for any of it back. I simply enjoy writing and remembering. I’m sure you too will fall into my words with time.

[insidekatmind]

The End~Jude Bellingham x reader (feat.Jonathan Daviss)

You’re sitting on the bed, your hands trembling as you clutch your phone. Jude is across the room, his face locked in an expression you barely recognize. The love that once united you feels like a distant memory, suffocated by glittering nights, applause, and trophies.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you try to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

Jude runs a hand through his hair, his gaze evasive. “What do you want from me? I’m doing my best!”

“Your best?” you repeat, incredulous. “You don’t even look at me the way you used to. All that matters to you now is football, Real Madrid, your image. I... I don’t exist in your life anymore.”

He scoffs, as if your words are a burden. “That’s not true. But you don’t understand the pressure I’m under. I have responsibilities.”

“And me?” your voice rises, pain spilling out. “Don’t I matter? When was the last time you asked me how I was? When did you actually listen to how I felt?”

Jude stays silent, and that silence speaks louder than any words could. There’s nothing left to say. You stand, gathering your things with shaky hands.

“Goodbye, Jude,” you say, your voice breaking. You expect him to stop you, to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

---

Six months have passed. You’ve changed. You’re no longer the insecure girl who needed approval. Now, you’re a singer the world is beginning to notice. The success of your latest single, Older, has catapulted you into the spotlight, and the lyrics are a gut punch to anyone who knows how to read between the lines.

“All I needed was someone who truly saw me, someone who treated me the way I deserved. Were you ever really that person?”

The song is everywhere. Jude can’t avoid it, no matter how hard he tries. Every time he turns on the radio, he hears your voice, each word a dagger to his chest. But what’s eating him even more are your social media posts.

In one of your latest photos, you’re with Jonathan Daviss, the actor from Outer Banks. The two of you are close, his smile radiant, his hand casually placed on your waist—a proximity that seems too natural to be accidental. And the caption doesn’t help.

“A man who knows how to treat a woman. 🌹”

Jude sees the photo, and it sets his blood boiling. Jonathan.He can’t get him out of his head.

“I can’t stand it,” he mutters to Vinicius, sitting next to him during practice.

“Who?” Vinicius asks with a smirk. “Ah, you mean your ex? I saw the photo. Nice shot, don’t you think?”

Jude shoots him a glare that could kill.

---

You’re at an event, a music awards ceremony. You’re wearing an elegant black dress that hugs every curve with class and grace. Jonathan is by your side, his arm casually draped across your back. You’re there to accept an award for your song, and the entire room is watching you with admiration.

But among all the eyes on you, there’s one gaze you feel the most. Jude is there. He wasn’t invited, but someone brought him as a special guest. You notice him immediately: he looks flawless, but there’s something in his eyes that makes you feel vulnerable.

After the ceremony, as you make your way to the bar, you find him there. He’s leaning against the counter, a glass of something amber in his hand. You approach him, not because you want to, but because you feel like you have no other choice.

“Congratulations,” he says, his voice lower than you remember. “Your song... It’s powerful.”

“Thanks,” you reply coldly, trying to maintain your composure.

Jude looks at you intensely, the pain evident in his eyes. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

You smile, but it’s a bitter smile. “If you think it’s about you, maybe you should ask yourself why.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “I know I messed up. I know I lost you because I was... blind, stupid. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“This isn’t the time for those words, Jude,” you cut him off, searching for Jonathan in the crowd.

But Jude doesn’t back down. “He doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t love you like I do.”

“And how would you know?” you challenge, feeling anger rising. “Jonathan treats me like a queen. Something you never did.”

Jude stays silent for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. But I can’t accept it. I can’t accept that it’s over between us.”

His words hit you, but you’re unsure of what you feel. All you know is that you’ve changed, and maybe, just maybe, you no longer want to be the girl who needs saving. Perhaps this time, it’s up to you to decide what you really want.