#financial security near me
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income4myretirement · 1 year ago
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Website: https://www.income4myretirement.com
Address: Serving Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware (USA)
AP&G Financial, LLC is a pioneering firm in retirement income planning, dedicated to maximizing retirement income and minimizing tax liabilities for a secure and comfortable retirement. Founded by Judy Sciaky, a seasoned professional with over 25 years in the advertising business, the firm specializes in creating tax-free income and ensuring a tax-free legacy for heirs. Services include Social Security maximization, protection against financial losses, and strategic retirement planning, catering to clients in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware.
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jesse-pinko · 1 year ago
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I’m so frustrated rn I want to bite someone so bad I hated college okay but I spent four years in a town I hated where I had one friend putting my personal life on hold working towards a degree in a major that I hated bc I was pressured and tbh I pressured myself to stick it out then I spent a year, a full year, living w my parents while our family was falling apart trying to get an entry level job and being told essentially (and once, literally) that I was a silly little girl trying to get a job that actually pays me right out of college even though I had already done several internships while in college but apparently four years of experience are required for getting a job that is supposed to give you four years of experience and the four years I spent learning the trade don’t fucking count so now I have a degree in PR with no experience and I have experience in animal care with no education so I can’t move up in either department and the only thing I’ll ever be qualified for is doggy daycare which is fun and all but pays me jackSHIT and I’m going to be scraping by and groveling to my parents for money forever and ever and everyone in my snooty middle class family is like weren’t you going to be a journalist? whenever they see me like having a minimum wage job is as good as having no job at all to them and they act like I didn’t try! I tried so fucking hard and I wasted so much of my life trying when I shouldn’t have been fucking bothered
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ryn-city · 5 months ago
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everything is in turmoil!!
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mrsparrasblog · 7 months ago
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I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.
TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*
So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)
Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.
"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."
"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"
"This time, I promise."
To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.
Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.
When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.
Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.
Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”
Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?
All the conversations came flooding back:
"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."
"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."
"You're beautiful, Ghost."
"You're enough."
"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.
Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.
His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.
Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"
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occamstfs · 10 months ago
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Terracotta Turmoil
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Another muscle growth racial TF! I went with phonetic Chinese rather than using Chinese characters as it feels hotter to me to be able to read the phonetics! Hope y'all enjoy! -Occam
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Chase was beyond excited for the opportunity that his museum has recently secured. It didn’t seem possible, and perhaps the provenance isn’t exactly strictly clear or legal, but some donors have ensured that an exhibition is soon to begin. Before that though Chase simply had to sneak a look and wandered into the exhibit’s worksite to closely observe the artifact. 
Upon seeing it Chase is less than impressed with the artistry and history of the object instead thinking of what a score they have wrung from whatever schmuck had it. Chase begins counting dollar signs in his head as he approaches the statue, getting close enough to touch it when he sees a flash in the statue’s lifeless eyes. Keeping his mind ever focused on financial gain his eyes race to meet those of the terracotta statue in front of him where he finds naught but the cold rage-filled gaze of a warrior.
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He rolls his eyes and begins to step away to plan the promotions for the exhibit when suddenly he hears a voice in his head, in a language he cannot understand, “Rúguǒ nǐ yào bǎ nǐ de yìzhì qiángjiā gěi wǒ. Ránhòu wǒ huì bǎ wǒ de qiángjiā gěi nǐ” (If you shall impose thine will upon me. Then I shall force mine upon you.)
Chase suddenly scans the room for whatever coworker must be pranking him, though he is sure that none of them know Chinese anywhere near the fluency of his voice. His eyes flicker to the door as it slowly creaks closed with a click, the lock turning by itself. Chase turns with a suspicious look to the statue. His concentration flickers as he once again sees a glint in the statue’s impenetrable eyes. Chase is not a superstitious type but something unnatural was occurring and he wasn’t to be caught on the back foot. 
He is mousy and short but tries to stand tall and puff his chest up at the statue as he starts to engage, “Your, uh yìzhì?”(Will?) Wh-” Despite his meager attempt at bravado he immediately falls back in shock finding himself speaking in a tongue that he never even had a passing desire to know. He stumbles back away from the statue, still facing it. The lights dim in the room and the glitter of the statue’s eyes begin to glow outright, “Wǒ bù xǐhuān shǐyòng nǐ de shēntǐ, nǐ zhège chètóuchèwěi de shǎguā. Dàn nǐ jiāng chéngwéi wǒ líkāi zhèlǐ de ménpiào." (I take no delight in using your body, you utter fool. But you will be my ticket out of here.)
Chase is compelled to make eye-contact with the merciless eyes as they burn a hole into his mind. He is immediately beyond confused and dizzy, no longer sure of anything in the world besides the fact that his condition is only to rapidly deteriorate even further. He feels himself lose control of his mouth as drool begins to pool within it. Little loss though as he is rapidly losing the ability to form any thoughts in English anyway. 
He falls to his hands and knees, mouth agape as he spits up onto the floor. The floor shines like a mirror reflecting the light above as a spotlight onto him and making evident the sinister shine of the statue’s eyes as they continue to burn. He stares at his hands clenched on the floor struggling to latch his mind on any thought that remains. As he struggles suddenly a thought appears through the fog as if it were the most evident thing in the world, Diāoxiàng bù shǔyú zhèlǐ (The statue doesn’t belong here.) 
Chase isn’t even taken aback as his mind starts to return, now using a language he’s never learned. If his thoughts are all in Chinese there is no conceivable explanation beyond that it is the language that he was raised in, but he was gweilo(western) no? He brings his eyes to look at his reflection in the recently waxed floor to see something immediately jarring. His mouth is still ajar, still slightly leaking drool, but his reflection looking back at him has an unmistakable scowl and smirk. 
He recoils, though staying on the ground, as he notices that his short messy hair is starting to grow and straighten. His sandy blonde locks swiftly begin to darken as they lengthen into something far more fashionable. He feels his face respond to the unconscious worry in his mind at seeing his appearance change. In response his reflection bares its teeth as the scowl becomes crueler, the eyes beginning to glow just as the statue’s did. 
He forces his eyes shut to avoid them being penetrated by the burning gaze once more. He is no longer able to open them as he feels his eyelids throb and tighten. Chase grunts and clenches his teeth as pain surges through his face before he forces his eyes back open and is once more greeted with unfamiliarity in his reflection. Impossible to miss were the epicanthic folds that now hang over his blue eyes. He continues to stare at them, seeing his skin begin to pale and smooth as his hair turns black to the roots and his eyes begin to darken, slowly turning brown.
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Chase stares at his own irises as they almost move beyond brown to instead be as pitch black as his hair. At the same time a laugh that Chase still recognizes as his own rings through the exhibition hall, though each echo as it returns back to his ears is deeper than the one that came before. He clutches at his hóujié (adam’s apple) feeling it throb larger into his hand. He gasps sharply, feeling more air rush into his lungs as he takes a breath deeper and more labored than ever before.
Now with only one hand keeping him from falling to the ground Chase watches as the eyes of his reflection glow with a rage centuries old, challenging him to not fall on his face as he feels the force of gravity upon him ever-more difficult to ignore. Just before totally collapsing he wrenches his hand from his neck to catch his fall. Struggling against the weight of his body as it feels heavier by the moment, Chase feels his arms begin to strain the sleeves of his dress shirt. Sweat drips from his hair to stain his reflection as his biceps force themselves larger than his shirt could possibly hold. 
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Drawing off all the remaining will, or yìzhì rather, he has to resist. He pushes himself higher from the ground rising further than his arms should be able to push him. His biceps burst with power as they grow to the size of a lesser man’s thighs. Sweat drips down his massive arms trailing from thin but present black hair now filling his pits. Chase looks towards his chest and no wonder his breaths were suddenly nigh-impossible, the buttons had already burst from his dress shirt as pecs had forced themselves from his chest and below them abs defined as those you see on only the most prodigious bodybuilders. 
Chase smirks to himself seeing how he has grown. He knew he simply could not let himself fall, his people were zhànshì (warriors) after all. His proud smirk is now truly mirroring his smug reflection. Chase flexes every muscle he can in his more powerful body, feeling the strain of his strength as he tests the limit of each newly formed muscle group. His whole body convulses in pleasure as he becomes acquainted with the power now within him. He feels his hitherto ignored cock grow firm as he feels nothing but pride for his body and his homeland.
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He pushes himself fully off the ground to land on his ass as it too grows to break past the limit of his pants. No longer looking at his reflection Chase feels his thighs tear through his jeans and his feet grow large enough to make finding any replacement shoes impossible. His briefs struggle to hold his still growing erection as he continues to bask in his body and power as he finds himself once more sitting in front of the terracotta soldier. 
Rather than seeing it as the financial boon that he intended to when he walked in. Chase now sees it as a testament to the artistry and history that his home country deserves. He feels a fire burn in his chest as rage begins to fill him at seeing such an extraordinary artifact of his culture being subjected to this tourist trap of a museum. His eyes twitch as the last attachments to his old life fade beyond even his subconscious as he remembers the life and history of his real identity. 
Chen was not going to sit around and let this relic of Chinese opulence and power be disgraced by this sorry show. He looks down towards his reflection one last time and sees his face now perfectly mirrors the proud smirk that it has displayed since he first saw it. Chen laughs the same laugh he has always known, one deep and slow, as he stands to prepare his repatriation of this terracotta soldier. First things first though, he’ll need a few new friendly faces, a few new countrymen. He makes for the door whispering to himself as he feels his cock surge in his pants, “Dàodǐ shéi lái zǔzhǐ wǒ” (After all, who is going to stop me.)
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transgendz · 11 months ago
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My roommate and I are financially unstable while he does through a long, complicated diagnosis process that started as we stopped being homeless. I just interviewed for a job, we are starting to grow our own food. We currently need to cover our storage bill before we get a late fee, food, and one of his meds.
He also has a sleep study on Monday, which is going to be $500. No one expected them to work him in that soon, we aren't expecting to be able to cover it, but it desperately doesn't need to wait, so it's included in this goal. If Monday comes and we are nowhere near that goal, it'll be rescheduled, and I'll update accordingly.
Dm me for proof or details
I will do art for anyone who gives $50 just message me at my artblog @theartistrans I also take commissions there
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$creepiecrippl
V: tab-99
$0/$800
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onlyangel4 · 6 months ago
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desperate times call for desperate measures. toto wolff. part 3.
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sugar daddy! toto wolff x reader
you are a struggling artist trying to live instead of just spending every moment worrying about money. toto wolff is the loneliest rich man in the world, when you find each other you are exactly what the other needs.
warnings- 18+, cursing, discussions of financial struggles. family problems in backstory. sugar daddy relationship. age gap relationship (reader is around twenty five. smut. protected sex. praise kink. oral (male receiving).
part 1 // part 2
“babe what the fuck”, anna basically screamed down the phone. you were currently in the bathroom at the ritz recounting the last hour to your best friend and it was safe to say that anna was just as shocked as you. “you got fingered in the fucking ritz and now you are going to spain, this is fucking mental”, she spoke and you laughed softly, “what about your passport”
“toto noticed that I kept it on the rack near the door, he got his driver to swipe it when i answered the door, he has it all planned out”
“and your clothes?”
“he told me not to worry about it, whatever that means”
“schatzi, we have to get going”, toto spoke through the bathroom door.
“anna, I’ve got to go”, you spoke to your friend
“okay, keep me updated on all the madness, i love you”
“i love you too”, you spoke before hanging the phone up. anna was right, this was complete madness but it was also exciting. you had not been on a plane in years, it was going to be an adventure. yes you should probably be more cautious about going on a date with someone that you had just met in person for the first time ever. but your gut trusted toto, it told you that you were going to be safe with him. deep down you knew that he would never hurt you. and if he did then anna would kill him, that you knew for sure.
you opened the bathroom door and were met by toto stood there a knowing smile on his lips.
“you heard all of that didn’t you”, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, wishing you hadn’t put your phone on speaker.
“yep I heard it all”, he chuckled, “don’t be embarrassed babygirl, i found it cute”, he spoke as his arm wrapped around your waist and he began leading you over to the exit, where his driver was already waiting for you both.
toto held the car door open for you letting you get into the back seat before he walked around the other side and got in the back with you. toto was the happiest that he had been in a very long time. there was something about being with you that made the worries of his life disappear. he was not thinking about race strategies or driver relationships all he was thinking about was you and how much he wanted to get you out of that dress.
the drive to the airport was quiet but in the best of ways, you had your head rested on toto’s shoulder and he had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your shoulders. it was intimate and you were both in a shared feeling of bliss. you knew this was crazy but it was also exactly what you wanted, you wanted someone to look after you. someone to actually care about you, someone to distract you from your monotonous everyday life and toto was exactly that. he seemed to know everything that you craved and it was handing it to you on a silver platter.
when the car halted you followed toto outside, “oh wow”, you spoke with a small laugh. you were too enamoured with toto to realise that the car had pulled onto the tarmac at the airport, “I’m used to having to wait hours to go through security”
“you don’t have to worry about that when you are with me darling, when you own a jet you get special perks”
“I wouldn’t know”, you laughed softly as you followed toto up the steps to the jet. Yeah this was probably the most mental thing to ever happen to you. if someone told past you that you would end up on a private jet you would have laughed in their face.
you had never even seen pictures of the inside of a private jet so being stood inside of one was mental, it looked huge and it was just for you and toto. you had no idea that people lived like this. while you were aggressively budgeting to make sure you could afford rent people like toto were just spending money like it was nothing, funding a spontaneous flight just because they wanted to go on a trip.
you sat down next to toto, his hand found your thigh quickly as he looked into your eyes, “tell me more about yourself schatzi?”, he questioned softly, “i have heard about anna and tom but you never really told me about your family”, he spoke softly as the plane’s engine turned on.
“well there isn’t really much to talk about”, you explained, “i haven’t heard from my parents since I was eighteen, i have an older brother, luke. i see him every few months, we aren’t super close but we keep in touch. He is married and I have a niece, olivia”, you spoke.
“my parents stopped talking to me when I decided to go to art school, they told me that art was worthless in the real world and that they would not be able to support me if i did it full time. So they completely cut me off, i survived off pennies, i had two jobs when i was in art school. Just to keep me afloat”, you spoke. you felt a little silly talking about your poverty to toto, he would never be able to understand what you went through in that time in your life, not knowing when your next meal will be. all so you could pursue your passion.
“thank you for sharing that with me”, toto spoke softly rubbing your thigh as the plane made its way down the runway. “i have been lucky enough to never be in that position but I do know it must have been difficult. i know you still struggle with money but you have some a long way. you have your own place, not many people can say that at your age”, he spoke and you smiled softly. His words warmed you, there was just something about hearing him acknowledge how far you had come. it was music to your ears.
as the plane took off your hand found his and gave it a squeeze, “i hate this bit”, you spoke and he nodded, he moved his arm so it was around you, pulling you into his chest, his frame enveloping your body. protecting you. it was a simple action but it made you relax in an instant, instead of worrying about the plane you were focused on the sound of toto’s heart in his chest. it grounded you.
toto looked down at you, your once rigid form now relaxed in his arms and he felt his heart swell. this was supposed to just be a simple sugar daddy dynamic between you both. feelings shouldn’t be involved but toto couldn’t help his mind from wondering what it would feel like to wake up next to you ever morning. to have you around for every race weekend. to be able to rant to you about the troubles with the team. to be able to listen to you yap on about art. He was thinking about the mundane things, things that he was sure other sugar daddies did not think about. toto watched as you looked up at him with your big doe eyes, eyes he would do anything for.
“thank you”, you spoke softly, “i have hated taking off ever since I was younger”
“that is okay doll, i totally get it”, he smiled slowly pulling away but keeping his arm around your shoulders.
you weren’t sure when you fell asleep but you woke up to toto gently pressing kisses to your temple, “we just landed schatzi, time to wake up”, he smiled as you began to stir in his arms, yawning yourself awake.
“i slept through the whole flight”, you giggled
“you slept through the whole flight”, he chuckled softly. toto spent most of the flight typing away on his laptop. being careful not to move too much and disrupt you from your slumber. every so often he would look down at you and smile, you seemed very comfortable in his presence and that was all he wanted.
you stood from your seat stretching your legs for the first time in a couple hours, there was a town car waiting for you both on the tarmac and toto took your hand leading you over to it, “so i was thinking we could spend tomorrow exploring the town, tonight we can just settle in the villa, it is already eleven”, he spoke and you nodded softly.
“whatever you say boss”, you spoke making him genuinely laugh, a sound you would not get sick of.
the drive to his villa had to be only ten minutes, you were too focused on playing with toto’s hands the whole journey just running your thumb over the back of his hand, fiddling a little bit. toto was just laughing at you doing so, “you are like a kitten”, he spoke and you smiled bashfully, “sorry i can’t help myself, i tend to fiddle with things when i’m nervous.”
“do i make you nervous kitten?”
“you have no idea”
toto was going to reply but the car halted signalling that you had arrived at the villa. he got out of the car and then went to your side holding the door open for you.
as you got out of the car you were met with the sight of one of the biggest houses you had ever seen, “toto what the fuck, this place is huge”, you gasped your eyes looking at it, trying to take in the magnitude of the building in front of you. “i have seen schools smaller than this”
toto found your wonderment incredibly endearing, the ways your eyes search around the outside of the building, taking in every detail of the chic, white villa. “come on schatzi, there is more inside for me to show you”, he spoke as he unlocked the massive door showing you inside.
the villa was a dream of architecture, high ceilings open plan, it was exactly what you imagined when you thought about the perfect home. “yeah you can never see my apartment if this is what you are used to”, you joked but there was a bit of truth behind your words. toto was used to luxury, he would surely hate your hole in the wall apartment.
toto walked behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle, pulling you against his chest, “let me show you the bedroom kitten, there is a surprise for you”, he spoke and you giggled. “hasn’t this whole thing been enough of a surprise mr wolff”, you joked and he just shook his head playfully, leading you up the sweeping staircase. once at the top he pulled you into the bedroom, it was bigger than your entire apartment, “how do you not get lost in a place like this, i think I’m going to need a map”
“don’t worry doll, I will be your tour guide”, he chuckled, “open the cupboard”, he instructed.
you did as you were told approaching the walk in wardrobe and opening it and you gasped, it was all kitted out with clothes, all in your size and all colourful just like what you tended to wear, hues of pink and purple alongside some classic white linens. “toto”, you spoke looking back at him, “you did not have to buy me all of this stuff”, you smiled softly, “but thank you”
“well i wanted to keep this trip a surprise so I couldn’t ask you to pack a bag and as much as i would love for you to be naked this entire trip, I had to buy you some clothes, i hope i picked alright”, he explained.
you smiled walking over to him wrapping your arms around his neck, “you picked perfectly”, you spoke pressing a kiss to his lips. the kiss started of as an innocent one but it quickly became more. both of you deepening the kiss, his hands moving to your ass gripping at it making you gasp allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. your hands travelled to his hair tangling in it before you decided that he was wearing too many clothes for your liking. your hands travelled to his torso finding the buttons and making quick work of them, pulling the white fabric from his body.
you knew toto was well built but you did not expect his stature to be crafted by Greek gods. He slowly pulled away from the kiss, “like what you see kitten?”, he questioned and you were quick nod. his hands found the straps of your dress pulling them down, letting the fabric fall down at your feet, leaving you there in just a pink thong, “and i like what i see”, he mused with a chuckle as he watched you step out of your dress.
you kissed him deeply as your hands played with his belt unbuckling it, pulling it from around his waist and chucking it down on the ground, you pulled his zipper down and then pulled the elastic of his boxers down, revealing his already hard cock. “been ready for you since before we got on the plane darling”, he spoke.
“well let me treat you for being so patient”, you mused sinking down to your knees. your hand wrapping around his cock bringing your lips to his tip pressing a kiss there before opening your mouth and taking all of him. his hand came to your hair, gently guiding you up and down his shaft. “such a good girl for me”, he moaned out. the praise went straight to your core, wetness beginning to pool. a neediness for him igniting within your core as you hollowed your cheeks out taking all of him. “look at me princess”, he commanded and you did as you were told, eyes meeting his and he let out a low moan.
 “babygirl i need to fuck you. now.”, he spoke guiding your head off of him and pulling you to your feet. Toto moved to bed you over the bed. he reached over to the bedside drawer finding a condom, ripping it open and putting it on. all while you whined with a need to be filled up by him, “be patient doll, it will be worth it”, he mused teasingly as his hand found your clit rubbing circles on it, “look at you all ready for me already”, he smirked softly.
 toto then used his free hand to line himself up with your entrance. He then thrusted all in at once hearing you whine and moan out for him, “fuck baby you are so tight”, he praised softly as he then began to thrust into you from behind his hand reaching for you right tit, finding your nipple twisting it in between his fingers. relishing in the way you moaned for him and your back arched allowing him to get deeper in you. “such a good girl”, he whispered as he kissed your neck. toto continued like this for a little while, playing with your body like a remote. knowing exactly what to do in order to make sure you felt good.
toto felt you tightening around him, a tell-tale sign that you were close to your orgasm. “babygirl if you keep on squeezing me like that I won’t be able to last much longer”, he groaned.
“please toto, cum with me”, you practically begged.
his thumb came back to your clit, rubbing it again as he bucked his hips. It did not take long for both of you to finish, a low groan leaving his lips as you moaned out. your legs going to jelly. toto hooked an arm around your waist to hold you up before you collapsed on the bed. he then slowly pulled out of you and then removed the condom. he guided your body down onto the bed pulling the covers over you.
“i will be right back okay sweetheart”, he spoke softly as he left the room. he came back with a tray containing two glasses of water and a cloth. he popped them on the bedside table before getting into bed with you, he kissed your lips softly as his hand moved in between your thighs gently cleaning you up as he whispered words of praise into your ear making sure you knew just how good you had been. he held you against his chest just holding you. it was silent but that not uncomfortable it was a warm blanket of silence enveloping the two of you. your own little bubble.
safe to say you both slept dreaming of the other.
taglist: @camelliaflow3r @sinners-98-world @eonchy
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Finally! My DoL PCs and their LIs
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My friends asked me if I wanted to join the School AU with their OCs and I thought for the longest time before bringing Lya to the party. Then I kinda just felt like it and drew the whole gang :D They came out beautifully so more information and separated images undercut!
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The First one is of course Lya the Blossom
Main PC
Harpy transforms, Mate for Life.
Wears all white if she can.
Very light in weight, makes her defiant attempts usually ineffective.
Went through a lot to make things easier for her loved ones.
Skilled in segg but doesn't really enjoy it anymore at this point if it's not with her loved one. What she seeks in segg with her lover is intimacy and the feeling of security.
Secretly a meanie. Gets jealous easily and envious of almost anyone, but doesn't show it or act on it often.
Despises the Temple to her core but believes Jordan is a genuinely good person. Wanted to fuck him just because.
Protective toward her lover and the children at the Orphanage.
Very insecure about her financial state. She tried to make money anytime she could.
CONSENT YOU MOTHERFU-
Can't cook. Literally. Keep her away from the kitchen.
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Male Robin the Lover~ (Sorry I love this title)
The one and only.
Maybe he's trying his best, maybe he's hiding from something so terrible, who knows.
Love the purple color.
Easily scared and would cry out loud if Lya was there to reassure him and demand a lot of hugs, head pats, and kisses afterward.
Clingy as hell, but luckily he's cute just enough to let it pass.
Hell lots of freckles, everywhere all over his body even though he mostly stays at home or in the shades. Sensitive skin then.
Squishy belly.
Occasionally cross-dress when going on a date with Lya but keeps it as a hobby only.
Love to do makeup for Lya and skin care together.
Grow in height a LOT since the game started and wondering why Lya still stays the same, not that he complains about her growth of boobs and ass.
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Lyah the Emancipated
The second PC, made with a lot of feast boots, almost all of the Vrel coins Lya earned.
Wears all black if he can.
Demonic Harpy Chimera Transforms.
Waiting for Robin's preg contents.
2m14. Larger body type, 6/6 physic, S athletic, Vengeful Sadist. Basically all offensive.
Fucking huge manboobs produce fucking lots of milk
Almost always wears a buttplug
The only one taller than him is Jordan.
"Blood moon? Fuck Ivory Wraith I'm out."
Still works at Strip Club, mostly because he loves wearing bunny suits and he wants to look out for Darryl.
Chef. Let him cook.
Housekeeping skill F-. Drops and crashes everything every time trying to clean or deco his room.
Doesn't know how to smile but will unconsciously do so when he's near Robin.
Doesn't understand why he's still sometimes mistaken as female.
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Fem Robin the Lover~
So cute and squishy.
People unconsciously smile when she smiles.
"Too precious must protect."
Her weight is top secret.
Knows it all too well that Lyah intentionally feeds her more sweet treats and creamy drinks every day during every school break but can't resist the temptation of sweets.
Accepts gaining weight during the leisurely times, but has to lose it a bit before school starts again so she can fit into the school's uniforms.
Pretty proud that her lover is a chef at the biggest Cafe in town.
Slightly less freckle than male Robin. Just slightly.
Wardrobe full of checkered pattern clothes.
Of course she can cook well.
Perfect housewife material.
Timid when using strap-on but usually gets absorbed in the moment too much she forgor to pull the buttplug out before diving her strap in.
Lyah is not complaining though so it's all good.
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Last but not least Kariya the Alter Ego!
"Well somebody has to go to prison and asylum and... hmmm"
Devil transforms
Full name Sesshouin Kariya. Kariya means "Midnight' Swallow"
Not a new save file but one of Lya's older saves. Hence the Alter Ego title.
Was born cuz I was bored and wanted to go to places Lya and Lyah can't go because they're worried about their lover being left alone.
They don't set a love interest because of that, so they can't get attached and can freely roam everywhere.
Enjoy segg as it is, purely seeking more pleasure day by day.
Drooling Masochist. Prefer group.
Get bored easily but are also quick to forget, so after a while that very same thing may pique their interest again.
Zones out a lot. Absent-minded. Sometimes clueless to things that are not segg-related.
"Ahhhh Nii-chan, nee-chan, help me it's 23:55 already and I forgor to cum inside somebody today waaaaaaaa-!!"
Intentionally dress more feminine because they love showing off.
The color palette is reversed from Lya's.
" I wonder if it's blood moon soon..."
556 notes · View notes
riboism · 17 days ago
Text
haunted ═╬ act I: the arrival
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♱ content tags: centuries old vampire! seonghwa x fem reader, vampire au, gothic romance, gothic horror, story takes place circa early 1900s, reincarnation, smut, angst, forbidden love, slowburn, lots of yearning, no happy ending, blood, satanism, animal cruelty, nosferatu/bram stroker’s dracula/edward scissorhands vibes
♱ wordcount: 5.2k
↳ series masterlist
A wave of relief swept over you as the crisp, refreshing breeze of late October kissed your cheeks. The train ride to Cromer Ridge had been a seemingly endless ordeal—stuffy, suffocating, and filled with doubts that gnawed at your tenacity. Every mile of the journey was shadowed by second-guessing and an almost unbearable longing to turn back. Yet, deep down, you knew there was no returning to the life you had left behind. Starting over was daunting, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on your spirit. But you also knew it was time to release the past, to embrace the opportunity for renewal. Though your unfamiliar surroundings felt discouraging, you steeled yourself to take the first step forward.
Your first task upon arriving at your new home was clear: find a job. The urgency of the times was palpable, and the job board near the platform was already surrounded by a crowd of weary, determined faces.
A sigh escaped you as your shoulders slumped in quiet defeat. The list of available positions read like a declaration of exclusion. Coal miner. Machinist. Bricklayer. Though the words “No women inquirers” weren’t printed, the message was clear. And who would hire you anyway? You were a woman, expected to secure financial stability through marriage—or, if desperation struck, by selling yourself in ways too degrading to voice. Your only skills were the domestic trifecta of sewing, cooking, and cleaning—skills instilled in you by a mother who saw no greater purpose than preparing you for marriage, a means to lighten the financial burden of an unwanted daughter.
Just as hopelessness began to settle in, something caught your eye. At the far end of the board, a single yellowed flyer flapped in the breeze, its ink faded and edges curling. It seemed forgotten, avoided even, as the crowd conspicuously steered clear of that corner. Curious, you stepped closer, your heart inexplicably quickening. The faded words were difficult to make out, but you pieced them together as best you could:
Live-in housekeeper needed. Inquire at the Park Estate.
“Excuse me, sir, can you tell me how to get to the Park Estate?”
The lively chatter and rhythmic clinking of shot glasses halted. One by one, the tavern’s patrons turned their attention toward you, their eyes narrowing with suspicion. The bartender froze mid-motion, his dishrag suspended above the bar as he gawked at the wide-eyed newcomer who had dared to ask such a question.
“What business do you have there?” he asked, his voice laced with thinly veiled disgust.
“I’m inquiring about a position there,” you replied, the words tumbling out sheepishly as the weight of the room’s gaze settled on you. “The one posted at the rail.”
A ripple of murmurs coursed through the crowd.
“Someone really oughta take that flyer down.”
“I heard that’s how he gets his victims—lures them up there with promises of work, then poof, they’re never seen again!”
“You know, he harvests human limbs for the black market! That’s how he keeps that eyesore of a castle funded.”
“Did you hear what the butcher’s wife said? She swears she saw Count Park skulking around town weeks ago, creeping like a ghost!”
“No way. He wouldn’t dare come down here. He knows he’s unwelcome. That’s why he stays up there, feasting on stray cats and whatever he can find.”
The whispers swirled, growing darker with every utterance. The stories painted a picture of a man—or perhaps a creature—that was nothing short of monstrous. The rumors about Count Park were wild and fantastical, their macabre details echoing the haunting bedtime tales your grandmother once told of strange creatures lurking in the shadows, snatching disobedient children to devour.
The bartender hesitated, his brow furrowed. You didn’t know it then, but you’d made a mistake by asking about what the townsfolk referred to as the “Dead End of Cromer Ridge.”  Park Estate was no ordinary home; it was a brooding castle perched on the edge of town, shrouded in mystery and whispered fear. No one dared to venture close, and few could even confirm whether Count Park was still alive. Some said he’d gone mad with grief after the death of his wife, his isolation breeding festering darkness. Others insisted he had dabbled in Satanic rituals, turning himself into a vampire—a bloodthirsty creature doomed to stalk the night.
Every tale was more grotesque than the last, but one truth remained constant: the very mention of his estate sent a chill down the spines of the townsfolk.
After a long pause, the bartender finally relented. “Straight down, take a left at the old sign, and head west. It’s a steep climb—I doubt it’ll be easy to make it up there.”
You murmured your thanks and quickly exited, trying not to let the hushed gossip of the patrons unsettle you. But as you stepped into the cold evening, a sense of unease lingered. The townspeople weren’t just unfriendly—they seemed haunted, consumed by fear of the Count. And their fear had a way of clinging to you, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off.
The bartender hadn’t exaggerated—the hill was brutal. Each step felt heavier than the last, your calves burning as fatigue clawed its way into your limbs. The path grew darker with every stride, the last rays of sunlight vanishing beneath the horizon, leaving only the oppressive gloom of night. In the distance, the castle loomed, stark and unwelcoming against the dusky sky. Its jagged silhouette seemed carved from shadow, a brooding presence that radiated unease.
As you drew closer, doubt began to fester. A small voice in your mind whispered to turn back, to abandon this unsettling journey. Something about the air felt off—thick and heavy, as though it carried the weight of a hundred unspoken warnings. Perhaps the townsfolk’s sinister murmurs had worked their way into your head, or perhaps it was the creeping dread that came with nightfall. Yet, no matter how many reasons you found to retreat, one undeniable truth remained: you’d come too far to turn back.
The promise of a warm bed, of shelter from the biting chill, was enough to propel you forward. Where else could you go? Who else would take you in? Pushing your unease aside, you pressed on, even as every instinct screamed otherwise.
The moment your foot touched the porch, an icy shiver raced down your spine. The boards groaned beneath your weight, the sound sharp and accusatory in the oppressive silence. The castle’s windows were boarded up, their blackened edges like gaping scars. The wind howled through unseen cracks, coaxing eerie creaks and groans from the ancient structure, as though it were alive and watching. The bushes lining the walkway were disturbingly pristine, their neatness at odds with the house’s decayed and foreboding aura. If not for their immaculate care, you might have thought the place was abandoned.
Your breath hitched as you reached for the door. The metal hoop of the knocker was freezing against your palm, and for a moment, you hesitated, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. With a trembling hand, you lifted it and knocked, the sound reverberating through the still night like the toll of a bell. A death bell, perhaps. 
You stood there, waiting. Seconds stretched into an eternity, the silence amplifying every stray sound—the rustling of leaves, the creaking of old wood, the faint whisper of the wind. Your nerves began to fray, and just as you were about to knock again, a sudden noise made you whip around.
A crow landed on the railing with a thud, its black eyes glinting like polished onyx. It tilted its head, staring at you with an unnerving intensity, as though it were delivering a silent warning: Turn back. Leave now.
But you couldn’t. It was too late. The journey here had already cost you too much, and the thought of retreating to nothing—a cold, inhospitable town, a life of uncertainty—kept your feet rooted in place. Even as dread coiled tighter around your heart, you remained, the weight of your decision pressing heavier than ever.
You jolted as the grand doors creaked open, the deep, groaning sound echoing in the stillness. The noise rooted you to the spot, your pulse hammering in your ears. Until this moment, you hadn’t stopped to consider who would be behind the door. What sort of person lived in a place like this? Why was he so hated? What if the rumors were true—what if he was dangerous?
Your imagination conjured a monster—sharp yellow teeth bared in a sinister grin, hollow eyes that seemed to pierce the soul, leathery, pale skin stretched tight over angular bones. His voice would be guttural and broken, a sound that carried only misfortune and dread. You sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for this creature to appear.
But the door stopped after only opening slightly, leaving just a sliver of darkness visible beyond. No figure emerged, no silhouette loomed. Silence followed, heavy and expectant.
“Hello?” you called, your voice trembling.
There was no response. You hesitated, glancing back down the shadowy path you’d climbed. The idea of retracing that perilous journey in the dead of night frightened you. Desperation flared within you, pushing you to speak again.
“I saw your ad on the job board. For a housekeeper? I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” you began, the words spilling out quickly. “I-Is the position still open? I’ve been cooking and cleaning all my life. I can stitch a warm coat in two days, and hats, gloves, and scarves in less than one. I noticed your bushes—they’re well cared for. I know a lot about gardening; my father taught me—”
The door suddenly widened, cutting off your nervous rambling. A rush of frigid air spilled out, carrying with it the faint scent of damp wood and aged stone. You hesitated, then stepped inside, expecting warmth to greet you. But instead, the chill intensified, the air biting at your skin like icy needles.
The man who had opened the door had vanished, his presence already dissolved into the shadows. The heavy doors groaned as you pushed them closed, their weight demanding your full effort.
Turning back around, you finally took in the house. In the dim flicker of candlelight, the interior revealed itself in pieces, like a dream shifting into focus. The grand entryway was vast, yet suffocating, the kind of place that seemed to watch you back. The floor was a checkered sea of black and white marble, cracked in places and dulled by time. A massive staircase dominated the space, its dark oak banister coiled like a serpent rising toward the upper floors. The air smelled faintly of wax and mildew.
Dust clung to every surface, turning once beautiful furniture into ghostly relics. A cracked mirror hung crookedly on the far wall, its gilded frame tarnished and webbed with cobwebs. A dark red, velvety tapestry drooped sadly from its mount, its colors faded and threads unraveling. Scattered across a long wooden table were odd, forgotten items: loose buttons, dried ink bottles, and what appeared to be a single leather glove, stiffened with age. Despite the grandeur, the house felt as though it had been abandoned to the passage of time, its opulence rotting away in quiet decay.
You held your chest tightly, your pulse quickening as you tried to quell the unease clawing at you.
“Eighteen dollars a month.”
The voice came from above, low and rich like the stroke of velvet against bare skin. It was smooth, refined, and utterly at odds with the house and its rumors. You snapped your head up, your eyes darting toward the staircase.
There he was. A figure stood at the top of the stairs, his silhouette cloaked in the shadows. He was too far away to make out clearly, his back turned to you as he rested one hand lightly on the banister.
“You start tomorrow,” the voice continued, steady and composed, though tinged with something you couldn’t name. “Do not wake me. Your quarters are down the hall to your left.”
With that, he was gone, disappearing into the upper darkness as quickly and silently as he’d appeared.
You stood there, rooted in place, the chill of the house seeping into your very bones. The unexpected smoothness of his voice lingered in your mind, disarming in its elegance. And yet, it wasn’t enough to shake the oppressive weight of the home, with its decayed grandeur and shadows that seemed to shift when you weren’t looking.
Your quarters, tucked away at the far end of the hall, were modest compared to the rest of the house—but that was to be expected for the help, you supposed. The space was sparse yet functional, its simplicity offering a quiet reprieve from the unsettling grandeur outside its door.
A soft white bed stood against the wall, its quilt worn but clean, promising a much-needed rest for your aching body. Beside it, a small desk sat neatly, complete with an oil lamp and a sheaf of blank paper, an unspoken invitation to write letters you weren’t sure would ever reach anyone. A large armoire dominated the opposite corner, its dark wood polished to an eerie sheen, its brass handles shaped like twisting vines. Though you had packed light, the armoire’s cavernous emptiness made your belongings seem smaller still.
You settled into the room cautiously, smoothing your hand over the quilt as you perched on the edge of the bed. Despite its simplicity, the room felt...off. Perhaps it was the silence that hung so heavily in the air or the faint chill that lingered, despite the walls being thick and the windows shut tight.
Your mind churned as you tried to make sense of everything—the decayed opulence of the house, the cryptic demeanor of the Count, and the strange, fearful gossip that followed his name. What kind of man was he, truly? You realized with a sinking feeling that you still had no idea what he even looked like. The thought nagged at you, stirring up an unease that clung to the edges of your thoughts like cobwebs.
The strangeness of it all—the place, the person, the situation—was unnerving, and yet, there was a small part of you that whispered it was too late to turn back now. The journey had been long and unforgiving, and there was no guarantee of shelter if you left.
Your body, however, had little patience for your anxious mind. The weight of the day bore down on you, and your fatigue eventually overpowered your worries. You stretched out on the bed, its softness wrapping around you like a cocoon. As your eyes fluttered closed, the strangeness of the house loomed over you, lingering in your thoughts like a shadow.
But soon, the stillness of sleep claimed you and the unsettling mysteries of your new life were left to haunt the night.
You awoke just as the first rays of dawn slipped through the cracks in the heavy curtains, casting faint golden streaks across the room. To your surprise, you felt well-rested, the ache of yesterday’s journey soothed by the quiet stillness of the night. The house, with all its looming shadows and unsettling whispers, had not disturbed your sleep.
Sitting up slowly, you stretched your arms overhead, feeling the stiffness melt from your shoulders. A yawn escaped your lips as you rubbed the lingering drowsiness from your eyes, the warmth of the quilt still clinging to your skin. For a brief moment, the morning felt almost normal—peaceful, even.
But as your feet touched the cold floor, that fleeting comfort dissolved. The air in the room was still and heavy as if the house itself had been holding its breath while you slept. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had been watching, waiting.
Shaking off the thought, you steeled yourself for the day ahead. Whatever the peculiarities of this house or its master, you had work to do.
In the cold kitchen, you set the tea kettle over the fire, the soft crackle of the flames breaking the otherwise oppressive silence. As you watched the water begin to simmer, a thought crept into your mind: should you prepare a cup for the Count? It seemed polite, perhaps even expected, but then you remembered his firm instruction not to wake him.
Maybe he simply valued his solitude—or his sleep. You could understand that; mornings were a sanctuary for some. Still, the uncertainty of your role gnawed at you. What kind of man didn’t even outline what he wanted from his housekeeper? You glanced at the kettle again, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling.
You reassured yourself that time would bring clarity. By nightfall, surely, you would understand his routine and expectations. For now, you took comfort in the steady rhythm of small tasks, grounding yourself in the familiar while the unfamiliar loomed just beyond your reach.
As you moved around the kitchen, its grandeur dulled by the thick coat of dust, the scale of your work became painfully clear. The counters, once polished to a gleaming finish, were now layered with grime. A tower of mismatched dishes teetered precariously in the sink, their surfaces streaked with stains that told of long-neglected meals. The pantry was nearly bare—just a few stale loaves of bread, an old jar of jam, and some long-forgotten tins tucked into the corners.
You sighed, shaking your head as you rummaged through the cabinets. At least there were some spare biscuits, and with the tea brewing steadily, you’d make do for now. A trip to town for supplies seemed inevitable, though the thought of braving the peculiar townsfolk again didn’t thrill you.
After nibbling on the dry biscuits and sipping the hot tea, you wandered through the halls, taking in your new surroundings. Even as the sun’s rays peeked over the horizon, the house remained shrouded in shadows. The wooden panels nailed over the windows blocked most of the light, forcing you to rely on the flickering glow of the few lit candles. The air felt thick and heavy, the faint scent of mildew lingering in the corners.
The living room, if you could call it that, was a chaos of clutter. Melted candle wax had pooled and hardened on the floorboards, books lay scattered across the furniture, and a once-elegant rug was curled at the edges, its patterns obscured by dust. A broken clock leaned precariously against a wall, its glass face cracked and the hands forever frozen in time.
You crouched down to scrape some of the hardened wax from the floor, the task already feeling endless. A sigh escaped your lips. Yes, there was much work to be done—more than you had expected.
But as daunting as it seemed, you reminded yourself of the warmth and security that this place, for all its strangeness, provided. Rolling up your sleeves, you resolved to tackle the disarray piece by piece, determined to bring some semblance of order to the house. Whatever secrets this place held, at least you’d have the satisfaction of a clean floor beneath your feet.
The afternoon had slipped away, and your work felt far from done. The kitchen and dining room had consumed the better part of the day, leaving your back aching and your hands stiff. The thought of tackling the grand living room and foyer loomed over you like a heavy cloud. You’d been busy with the senseless tasks of cleaning and reorganizing, but there were still errands to run. The idea of facing more work in the house was enough to make you pause. 
You slipped into your warm coat, wrapped a scarf tightly around your head, and stood at the door, pausing for a moment. You glanced up the staircase, half-expecting to see a glimpse of your master. But there was only silence. No movement, no sign of him. Perhaps he was still asleep. 
With a loud sigh, you grabbed your purse and stepped out into the chilly air, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders. The path down to town felt long, but it was a welcome distraction from the house and the work that awaited you when you returned.
The journey down the hill felt longer today, your never-ending thoughts slowing your steps. You passed the same familiar buildings, the same curious eyes peering at you from behind the small shops and homes, but today, there was a different sort of tension in the air. You knew the townsfolk still whispered behind your back, their words like echoes of a story you couldn’t quite grasp. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the task at hand: groceries. Yet, their comments continued to swirl in your mind.
“Don’t meet her eyes, she carries his curse within her,” one of the shopkeepers muttered under her breath to a customer as you walked past. You caught only fragments of their conversation, but the few words you did hear made you shudder in place. 
Their whispers were distinct—filled with warnings, judgments, and fear. It was as if the townspeople saw you as a shadow of the Count, carrying with you a dark energy that left them uneasy in your presence. Their words wrapped around you like a curse, as though you, too, were tainted by something malevolent. They spoke of you as if you were a mirror of the Count’s darkness, forcing them to avert their eyes and steer clear of your path altogether.
You pushed yourself forward, determined to finish your task. The items you needed weren’t difficult to gather, but the weight of their gaze made everything feel heavier. You hurried, and by the time you reached the shop’s counter, you realized you had forgotten a few things, the very basics that had slipped from your mind in the rush of the day.
With a sigh, you made your way back to the estate, the basket of groceries now even more cumbersome. The long hill back up to the house made your legs ache, but it wasn’t just your body that felt worn—your mind too felt numb, with feelings of anxiety and uncertainty making it impossible to think about what to do for dinner. 
When you returned, the sun was already making its way down, and the house was as silent as before. You set the groceries down in the kitchen, eyes wandering over the untouched spaces, the dust that still lingered.
You quickly got to work, preparing a simple dinner for yourself and your master. The faint smell of burning wood and the steady crackle of the fire filled the air, offering you little comfort as you set the table for one. The clink of the dishes was the loudest sound in the room, your own heartbeat keeping time with each dish you placed.
As you adjusted the final details on the table, you heard the soft creak of the door. The flames flickered unexpectedly, casting dancing shadows across the room. A chill swept over you, settling in the pit of your stomach as the temperature seemed to drop with his arrival.
You turned, and there he stood, filling the doorway with a presence so striking it almost stole your breath. His gaze locked onto you, and the cold that had crept in from the draft seemed to melt away, replaced by something much warmer—an almost familiar tension that pulled at your chest, making it harder to breathe.
He wasn’t what you had expected. His appearance was nothing like the monster the townspeople had whispered about. There were no signs of age or decay, only ethereal beauty—as if he was sculpted by some divine hand. His skin was pale, smooth like porcelain, with a soft glow that seemed to catch the dim light from the candles. His dark, glossy eyes were like deep pools, glinting with a mystery that held your gaze far longer than you intended. His perfectly sculpted cheekbones added to the sharpness of his face, giving him a sense of quiet nobility, yet there was something undeniably otherworldly about him.
He lingered at the doorway for a moment, his eyes scanning the room before settling on you. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—shock, maybe, as though he hadn’t expected you to be there. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying you, and the weight of his gaze made your shoulders tense. Your fingers found the hem of your apron, fidgeting as you tried not to squirm under his scrutiny.
Then, almost imperceptibly, he seemed to catch himself. His posture straightened, and his expression softened, the sharpness of his gaze retreating behind a veil of composure, as though he’d realized he might have given too much of himself away.
Your heart pounded as you thought of what to say. Gathering your courage, you managed a small, polite smile. "Good evening, sir," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "I—I prepared some soup and fresh bread. I thought it might be to your liking."
He approached you slowly, each measured step echoing in the room, the sound of his heels against the wooden floor making your chest tighten with anticipation. As he drew nearer, the air seemed to shift, heavier with every step. Just as he reached your side, he stopped abruptly, his gaze dropping to the dinner you had so carefully prepared.
"Thank you," he said, his voice smooth and velvety, resonating like a soft hum that seemed to linger in the stillness. There was a pause before his eyes flicked back to you, and his next words came softly but firmly. "What is your name?"
The weight of his presence pressed against you, and your nerves heightened as you whispered, “Y/N, sir…” You kept your voice low, unsure whether to meet his gaze or keep your eyes lowered. The tension prickled at the back of your neck, your hands clasping tightly before you.
He didn’t sit immediately but instead lingered at the head of the table, his long fingers idly tracing the wood of the chair. When he finally spoke, his voice was commanding yet smooth, every word material.
“I apologize for meeting you so late,” he began, his dark eyes briefly glancing at you before settling on the untouched bowl before him. “I work well into the night and, as such, must sleep during the day.” His tone carried authority, leaving no room for argument.
He picked up the spoon, stirring the soup languidly, the movement unnervingly slow. “You’ve done well so far,” he remarked, the faintest trace of approval in his words. “The dining room is spotless. It has been far too long since I dined in here. My work consumes my time, leaving my poor estate neglected.” He paused, his gaze sharpening as it flicked back to you. “Cleanliness is paramount. My work demands focus, and I will not tolerate distractions. I trust you will uphold these expectations.”
“Yes, sir,” you replied quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope to please you and exceed your standards.”
His jaw tightened subtly, and for a moment, you worried you had misspoken. But he continued, his tone precise. “As I said, I cannot tolerate distractions. You are not to enter my workspace or my chambers. The entire upstairs is off-limits. There are valuables there that require privacy and care.” He hesitated briefly, his mouth parted slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “There is little up there that requires your attention.”
The restriction struck you as strange, but you nodded. “Understood, sir.”
“Your duties,” he continued, his tone crisp, “include daily cleaning, maintaining the estate grounds, and running errands in town as needed. For groceries and supplies, bring back receipts, and I will reimburse you with your pay.” He paused, his voice growing softer but no less firm. “There are also a few rules you must follow.”
“Yes, sir?” You straightened slightly, bracing yourself.
“Firstly,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “I am not to be disturbed during the day. My rest is crucial, and interruptions will not be tolerated unless it is a matter of life or death.”
“Yes, sir,” you said quickly, nodding.
“Second…” He cleared his throat, “Do not touch the wooden planks. The windows are boarded up due to a previous mishap, and unfortunately, there aren’t many architects nearby to fix it.”
“I won’t, sir.”
“And finally,” his voice dropped lower, carrying an ominous edge, “do not venture outside after sunset. The forest is dangerous—predators prowl in the dark. You would do well to heed my warning.”
A chill coursed through you at the severity of his words, the weight of his warning making it clear he meant every syllable. “I understand,” you murmured.
He gestured toward the table before finally lowering himself into the chair. “You’ve done well today,” he said, adjusting the napkin in his lap with methodical care. “I trust you’ll continue to prove yourself capable.”
“Thank you, sir,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease curling in your chest.
He picked up the spoon again, swirling the soup without taking a bite. The hesitation made you anxious—had you made the wrong choice of meal? Your mind raced back to the town, chastising yourself for forgetting to stop at the butcher. You watched as the vegetables spun lazily in the broth, but his expression remained impassive.
“That will be all for tonight,” he said abruptly, his tone cool. He set the spoon down, folding his hands over the edge of the table. “You may take your dinner to your quarters.”
“Goodnight, sir.” You nodded, retreating with careful steps, the weight of his presence lingering long after you exited the room.
You eased your tired body onto the mattress, but sleep eluded you. The encounter with the Count played over and over in your mind, every word, every glance dissected in the stillness of your room. There was something peculiar about him—his aloofness, the subtle weight in his voice, the way he seemed to measure his every movement.
What exactly did he do? He hadn’t mentioned it, though whatever it was must be lucrative, given the grandeur of the estate. Yet, that same home felt hollow, like a gilded cage rather than a place of comfort.
Your thoughts wandered to his appearance—so striking, so unexpected. He was undeniably beautiful. How could someone so captivating hide away in such a bleak and isolated castle, so far removed from the rest of the world? And why was someone who seemed so young living alone in such a vast and lonely estate? Where was his family?
And then there was that look he gave you—just for a fleeting moment, but enough to unsettle you. It was as though he was disappointed upon seeing you, his dark eyes carrying a strange mixture of pain and defeat. You couldn’t name it precisely, but it lingered in your mind, an odd tension you couldn’t shake.
Everything about him was odd—the house, his demeanor, his rules. And yet, there was something magnetic about him that kept your thoughts tethered to him, even as your body begged for rest. It would be no surprise if you dreamed of him too. His image lingered in your mind like a shadow cast by moonlight—too vivid to ignore, too enigmatic to understand. You closed your eyes, trying to banish the thoughts, but his face remained, carved into the fabric of your imagination as you fell deeper into sleep. 
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taglist: @a1sh1teruu @filmnings @professormingisglasses @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @yunyunrin-reads @seonghwasstar @innocygnet
for taglist request or removal, please send me an ask
act II: the count ➜
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fourohfourlifenotfound · 8 months ago
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Okay so hi I'm not super in any of your fandoms (watcher + try guys + dropout, hello welcome) but I'm a software developer and BOTH try guys and watcher announcing a custom streaming platform so close together had me suspicious.
So with just one, I'd assume that maybe they scraped together the money and resources to hire enough devs to make a well-designed secure platform (you want security for your login info and payment info). But two? Seems a bit odd.
So I actually looked a bit closer, at their privacy policies:
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So it looks like Vimeo has decided to up their game and partner with existing yt content creation outlets to make streaming platforms.
Wait, what about Dropout? Dropout uses it too!
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What does this mean, exactly?
Well, it means that Vimeo is providing a base software that gets customized for use by the companies (watcher, 2nd try). It means that Vimeo has a hand in your data associated with these platforms (account info, payment info, watch info, etc...). Is that a bad thing? Idk yet. Read through the streaming platform's privacy policy and Vimeo's privacy policy and make your own decision about what you feel comfortable sharing. But realistically the only additional info collected compared to your average youtube use is the financial info, and that seems to go through another third party (4th party?) (like Stripe or something like that. very common, most of your financial transactions online use things like that). It also likely means that Vimeo is taking some kind of cut of the profits made from these subscriptions (and lets be real, in this day and age, they're not just demanding a flat fee. It's likely some percentage of your subscription cost). The companies switching over (watcher and 2nd try) are making the gamble that the money made on subscriptions after cost taken is more than their adsense from yt, which isn't a wild idea considering how much we know yt loves demonetizing videos and paying their creators poorly.
It also means that Vimeo seems to be on some sort of marketing push, and that more of your favorite channels may swap over to streaming services in the near future.
Vimeo???? Yes, vimeo, that bootleg youtube that's been around for like as long as I can remember being on the internet. I guess they finally found a way to usurp yt's market control and good for them ig. Maybe this will be the thing that finally forces yt to fix their creator relationships? time will tell Why are you posting this in my favorite media company's tag?? I wanted fanart! Sorry to intrude, I just think this is neat and would love to hear opinions from other people on this knowledge.
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skulljackxiii · 9 months ago
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GrojBand Comeback Tour - Final Act P.1
Support me over at Patreon: www.patreon.com/skulljackxiii ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Overall Narrative: With their last Summer together, GrojBand made one last ditch effort to perform in their best gig yet, being the opening act for a reunion concert for the infamous Drama Brothers, before they had to seriously think about their futures. But it turns out that life had some detours for the band as a music promoter discovered them and offered an opportunity to participate in a music competition, where potential bands battle it out throughout the country to see who was the best in their own respective musical genre. 
By himself, Corey saw this chance and took it without the rest of the band from knowing about it, he decided to make one last ditch effort to keep the band all together. At the start of this journey, Corey has been keeping all sorts of secrets from his friends that he'd never normally do; like him stealing from his dad and use his own college funds to help secure necessities and cover the entree fee for the competition, and him not telling how scared he is of the thought of him losing the one thing that gave him purpose, the band. So he held onto this to himself, but this wouldn't last long as Laney was able to piece everything together slowly bit by bit until everything came together near the end of the competition. Until then, GrojBand went on their merry way in this journey and had gigs in so many cities in the country with a fresh batch of lyrics ready at hand thanks to his sister Trina following them. 
All of that is possible thanks to Nick Mallory becoming their roadie, but that isn't all he does as he's also the bus driver, stage hand, moral support, and their protector from danger. The danger implies to not only Trina but also a separate group that has it out for GrojBand, a dangerous international crime family. Due to the band's shenanigans in each city they visit, they indirectly interfered in this crime family's dealings causing them to lose heavy financial losses. It happens so frequently that they believed that GrojBand is some secret task force sent to ruin the infrastructure of their operations. So they went out of their way to get rid of them by any means, all the while the band was unaware and safe from harm all thanks to Nick Mallory preventing each attempt.
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bullet-prooflove · 3 months ago
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5000 Follower Celebration: Her Name Was Lola - Mitch Keller x Reader
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Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93 @redpool
Companion piece to:
2015 - Mitch asks you not to get married.
The One That Got Away - Mitch has been thinking about you.
Love Song - Mitch doesn't expect to see you in his bar after all this time.
Clean - Mitch asks you why you're back in town.
Home - Mitch gets an answer to his question.
Sunshine (NSFW) - You've always been the sunshine in Mitch's life.
Georgia Peach (NSFW) - You get a little territorial when one of Mitch's exes comes sniffing around.
Rhinestones (NSFW) - Mitch reminds you of the night you met.
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You don’t realise Mitch is married. Not until his wife shows up while you’re covering the bar after one of you sets and tells you she’s looking for her husband Mitch Keller.
She’s a tall, red head with curves that would make a Kardashian jealous and wide doe eyes that flutter like Bambi. Her name is Lola and she is indeed a showgirl, one that he got hitched to during wild night in Vegas when he was so fucking high he tried to swim in the fish tank at the Bellagio.
He tells you all of this when he finds you sitting out back on the terrace, smoking a joint and contemplating whether to slash her tires or set fire to his truck.
“You promised me I’d be the only one you’d ever put a ring on.” You remind him as you blow out a stream of smoke from between your lips.
He understands the weight of that promise, how much it had cost you at the time to take that leap of faith with him. You’d been engaged when the two of you met, to a city council man who could provide you with a financial stability you’d never had known during your childhood in that trailer park. With Sean Albernacy, you had money, you had power, and you had security. You were also bored as fuck which is why you’d been warming Mitch’s bed since that night at the rodeo.
“Don’t marry him.” He’d begged you the week before your wedding, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek. “Let me be the only man that ever puts a ring on your finger.”
He had barely has two cents to rub together. He can’t offer you anywhere near what Albernacy can but he can offer you love, he can offer you passion, he can offer you a lifetime of fun and freedom because the two of you are cut from the same cloth. Both wild, adventurous, untamed.
“Tell me I’m the only girl you’ll ever marry.” You'd asked as his lips began to wander.
“Oh honey.” He had smiled as he'd guided you back into his lap. “You know you’re the only girl I’d ever let tie me down.”
You don’t turn up to your own wedding, you leave your soon to be husband standing at the alter while Mitch has his wicked way with you in a motel room out in Oklahoma City.
In the present Mitch takes off his cap and runs his hand through his hair as you blow out a smoke ring into the darkness.
“I fucked up.” He says finally as he places his cap back on his head. “I fucked up because I was fucked up and I’ve been trying to fix that. I didn’t expect her to turn up here…”
“Why the fuck did she turn up here?” You ask him, because women like that don’t just suddenly appear because they remember they have a husband. “Why the fuck are you even back on her radar?”
“This isn’t how I wanted to do this.” Mitch says, his voice a little rough as he rubs his palms over each other. It’s an anxious behaviour, one you are barely used to seeing because Mitch, he’s always calm, especially in the face of adversity.
“I don’t understand.” You say as he tilts his head towards you.
“I want to marry you.” Mitch says frankly. “And to do that I had to divorce her so I sent a P.I to serve her papers and she decided she wants a payout instead.”
“Oh.” You say as you take in this new revelation. It’s something the two of you have talked about in passing but it’s never been tangible, not until now. “How much does she want?”
“About half of what the casino is worth.” Mitch informs you as he adjusts his hat.
That’s his entire share, it’s an impossible amount of money. If he does that, if he cashes out to get those papers signed that’s everything he’s worked so hard for gone and you can’t stand the idea of that.
“Well she can go fuck herself…” You respond as you stub the remains of the joint into the ashtray.  “She doesn’t have to sign the papers for you to get a divorce especially since the two of you haven’t been together…”
“She’s threatening to drag it out.” He tells you as he rubs his palms over his weary features. “It could take years…”
“Then it takes years.” You say as you reach out and clasp his hand. “I’m not in a rush.”
“But I am.” He tells you, the expression on his face pained as he looks at you. “I don’t wait to wait any longer Sunny, I wasted so much time with all that stupid shit…”
He trails off then staring down at your hand, his thumb tracing over the space where a wedding ring should be.
“I love you more than I have ever loved anybody. And all I want is to belong to you, for people to know that I’m yours and only yours. I want to love you, cherish you, obey you.” he says with a hint of humour, the edges of his mouth turning up. “I just want what we should have had all along.”
“We can still have that.” You tell him, the fingertips of your free hand chasing along the stubble of his jaw. “It just might take a little while to get there and that’s ok, there’s still a lot of fun we can have in the meantime.”
“I just want our happy ending Sunny.” He whispers as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. “I want to see you walk down that aisle in a pretty dress and promise myself to you before God and all our friends, I want them to celebrate our love, I want…”
He pauses because it hurts that he can’t give you those things right now, that he fucked up so badly that he can’t just go ahead and marry the woman he loves.
“We’ll get there Mitch.” You promise him, your palm coming to rest upon his heart so you can feel it beating underneath the tips of your fingers. “I promise you we will.”
Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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gamerwoman3d · 1 year ago
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Please Be Bi-Han 🙏
🔞 An MK1 x Reader 🔞
You aren't supposed to be in this timeline.
And to you, this timeline shouldn't exist. But it does. And this timeline is particularly exploitable, given the things you know which no one else in this timeline does. You slip into the timeline and abuse your knowledge to unethically gain just enough wealth to live very, very comfortably. And you laugh because this timeline is literally just a game to you. Admittedly, you came here to try to seduce the hotties. But when you figured out just how easy it would be to game the financial system here, you did that.
Imagine not being shocked at all to see Liu Kang at your doorstep with his Lin Kuei goons. You could laugh. You know him. You know all three, no, all four of them; your attraction to them is what initially drew you to this timeline. The fourth you knew by smell alone; the campfire scent in the air proved that Smoke was with them, somewhere ready for action yet invisible to your eyes.
Imagine closing the door to your beautiful private mansion in their face before any of them even speak. Imagine bolting it, locking it, chaining it, only to tell them through the speaker, "Whoever breaks this door down and finds me first gets laid."
🔞 Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞
Now you, you have installed several small panic rooms throughout your mansion with which to play hide and seek. So you go do that, smirking to yourself as you watch the group through the security cam app on your phone. But back up a moment to just before these guys arrived.
Liu Kang smirked as he collected his warriors at the edge of a portal that would lead conveniently into a hidden driveway outside the privacy walls near your garden.
"I have a fun little mission for us today. Geras discovered someone manipulating the financial trajectory of our timeline that isn't supposed to be here. We need to go get them, and convince them to stop, without violence."
"Respectfully, Lord Liu Kang - If you don't need violence, why did you call us? If we can't stab it, it's most likely someone else's problem," Smoke said out of turn.
"There are other methods of coercion, Smoke. And if Geras' revelations for this mission are proven true, then methods of seduction are on the table," Liu Kang responded flatly.
Liu Kang wanted to laugh. The synchronized single-eyebrow raise of the three masked ninjas before him was too cartoonish to seem real.
Fast forward.
You get a good run, scrambling to your hiding place.
"I thought this might be the case," you hear Liu Kang say in your earbud, from audio played through the phone collected from the front door security recorder.
"Seduction really is the game this evening," Scorpion said, "even with you saying as much, I am still surprised."
"Are we making a competition of it? Or am I the only one that will be chasing after that cutie?" said Smoke from seemingly nowhere.
"Don't blow your cover, brother. We're not sure if we're being recorded. It could give us an advantage if you'd keep quiet," Sub-Zero said.
"It's a competition," Scorpion interjected before slamming his boot into the door, rattling it in it's frame.
A few kicks, body slams did nothing. Sub-Zero guided the others out of the way, froze the door handle in it's place, then pulled the mechanism - deadbolts and all - through the crystallized steel. He tossed it to the side and booted open the door, which swung freely and hit the interior wall with such force that one might have expected the crash to come from a vehicle accident.
You bounce in your place, trying not to giggle as you watch the men through your tablet. You had hoped Bi-Han would breech the door first, but now the men crept inside and began to hunt for you. You saw all except Smoke, just before the power went down, taking your security feed with it.
You were in the dark, now, lit only by the glow of a tablet that showed the wifi disconnected. You swiftly realized that Smoke must have gone to cut the power - and had the foresight to cut the backup power first.
Smart of him, you thought. But now, in the dark, there was nothing left to do but wait for one of them to discover your hiding spot. Every little noise you heard made your heart jump in anticipation of being caught.
"Please be Bi-Han, please be Bi-Han," you chanted in a whisper under your breath.
FOR PART TWO - LINKS BELOW POLL
...
And now I'll be a bit evil.
ADVENTURE TIME. C'MON GRAB -
Part 2a(i): Sub-Zero discovers F! Reader
Part 3a(i): Sub-Zero toys with F! Reader (to be read after part 2a(i)
Part 2b(i): Smoke discovers F! Reader
Part 2b(ii): Smoke discovers M! Reader
Part 3b(i): Smoke fucks F! Reader (to be read after part 2b(i)
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kinokkotsu · 1 year ago
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Tender — Nanami Kento x Reader
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々synopsis: After years of balancing love life and work life, Nanami has finally came up with a day where he asks for your hand in marriage.
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Please let — Promise Of The World (from Howl’s Moving Castle) play in the background for better experience xoxo.
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A normal life is what Nanami has always desired to have.
He always dreams to become a person who is a provider for his partner and his children— a responsible and respectful one.
Now that he has been in a relationship with you for over three years, he couldn’t bare to wait any longer. He wants to become a member of your family. He has always visualised cooking meals with you in the kitchen, the room filled with nothing but only laughs of joy. He has visualized staying in a foreign country where the peace radiates— somewhere near the countryside maybe, with a cat and a dog, he only needs to see the curve of your lips.
He has been working hard for the past few years in order to provide you financially, so that you must not worry over bills and expenses.
Now that everything has been settled, it is time for the ring.
The sun is setting and the birds chirp while they fly back to their homes. Nanami awaits in the living room, anxious. He has a small box in his hands. You won’t be back from work till 5.30 and it is currently 5.17.
Thoughts run wild in Nanami’s brain while he sits.
Was he being too desperate? Is three years such a short period time to get married? Will you even actually like the idea of getting married to him?
He wonders.
Time passes so fast that the door swings open as you come in swiftly with a tired smile on your face. “Dear..I’m hom- oh my, you almost scared me,” Unexpectedly, you laugh when you see Nanami sitting on the sofa with his face all pale and sweaty.
“welcome home,” he greets as you hum and lock the door securely. “We need to talk,” Nanami utters.
You glance at him with a slight surprise, “talk? about what?”
At this point you are as anxious as he is too. With his face being too serious, the atmosphere somehow makes you uncomfortable. “What is it? Is something wrong?” You ask, putting your hand your on your thighs when you settle down next to him.
Now the sky is getting darker, radiating the area with dark orangey glow. The city lights illuminate the night sky as the sun peaks down from the horizon.
Nanami sighs— a deep one. He gets up as he kneels down in front of you, “kento,” you call him out In surprise.
“It has been three years since we’ve been in a sincere relationship..with our friendship lasting for over a decade I believe it has finally reached the day where I shall ask for your hand in marriage,” he says, using big words which claims a weak grin from you.
Kento looks up at you and gives you a soft smile, “will you marry me?” he asks.
You look away. The tears burn your eyes while you sniff them away. Nodding profusely, you brush the tears away. Your throat is as dry as a sandpaper at the moment, you couldn’t speak.
He smiles, ear to ear.
He gently pulls your hand closer to his body before giving a peck on it, pushing the ring onto your fingers afterwards. The ring size is just perfect. He knows of course. He has every single detail of you memorized, unintentionally.
“I’ll protect, forever..only until death do us apart.” He vows before embracing your whole hand and putting your palm onto his head. Your fingers run through the blonde strands before you give him a tender kiss on the forehead.
You sob, unable to say a word just yet. He looks up at you, smiling as you do. “..My wife— my woman,” he says. Your stomach twists with joy. Never has you ever been loved so conditionally by a man, there is this man from your teenage years, appealing as the future father of your children.
You hug his head while he lays on your stomach, “..love you so much, Kento.”
“I love you too,” he matters before he returns the hug as he wraps his arms around your waist.
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You can tell I have been watching ghibli movies so look forward to seeing more cheesy stuff like this too. Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated.
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wisesoultarot · 1 month ago
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What do you need to know about this connection?
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Instagram | Want to tip me for my work? | For personal reading
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Image 1 (Crown):
What do you already know about this connection?
Even though you encounter obstacles in this relationship, you are certain that this is the individual you will marry or the love of your life, and you are prepared to remain steadfast and resilient. You believe you are ready to defend this bond from any harm. Your devotion to this person endures because they are your sanctuary, and they comprehend you in a way no one else does.
What do you need to know about this connection?
It's important to recognize that when communication breaks down, leading to unnecessary conflicts and tension in a relationship, taking a break to reflect on your thoughts and feelings can be beneficial. Afterward, making peace with each other is crucial. This bond, and the person you're with, is considered your destiny, and you are destined to be together. Indeed, this person may be your future spouse. It's essential for both parties to accept each other's differences and embrace who they are, rather than resisting it. A greater understanding towards one another is necessary.
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Image 2 (Rose):
What do you already know about this connection?
You understand that this relationship is destined for a better future. It seems the direction of this connection largely hinges on you, and you're aware of it. If you sense a deep connection with this person and they provide a sense of security, you're in it for the long haul, as you are someone who is independent, both financially and emotionally. You don't rely on anyone; all you need is for this person to cherish you, shower you with attention, and praise you. You desire to feel special, knowing your own worth and values. For some, it may be that this person was unfaithful, or they left you for someone else, yet you sense their enduring passion for you and anticipate their return. The longer you wait, the more you learn about them, and you're already experiencing this. You realize that if this connection isn't meant to last, or if this person isn't the one for you, then perhaps someone else is out there waiting for you. With this in mind, you find yourself feeling content, complete, and happy.
What do you need to know about this connection?
This bond will remain strong and overcome any challenges if it is rooted in truth and honesty. Should a person lack sincerity in heart and mind towards another, the bond will inevitably fracture. Regardless of whether this individual remains in your life, you are destined to evolve into a complete, successful being. A time may arise when the weight of this bond becomes too heavy, but it will lead to a firm conviction in love and relationships, and a resolve to commit only when the true sentiments of the other are known. You are poised to attract high-caliber individuals into your life. Soon, you will face a decision: to choose between this person and another who resonates with your elevated vibrations. If one fails to meet your needs, the other will be ready to cherish you completely.
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Image 3 (Hand):
What do you already know about this connection?
It appears there is currently a pause in your connection. Perhaps one of you is denying their feelings due to a fear of vulnerability. Both of you may have fears that are preventing you from advancing this relationship. Since you are both concealing deep emotions and aspirations, your interactions may sometimes seem overly direct or aggressive. However, you sense that in the near future, you may both overcome these fears and either start dating or enter into a committed relationship. You feel that this connection has the potential to succeed.
What do you need to know about this connection?
In the near future, both of you may grow closer, but for now, patience is essential from each side. A small effort from both can advance this connection. Working as a team, rather than as individuals, is crucial for this relationship to flourish. The choice is yours: to wait or to give up. Take control of your destiny and steer your own life. If expressing your feelings to one another feels right, then do so rather than merely waiting. At present, focus on understanding your emotions and intuition. Connect with your heart, envision each other in your dreams, and trust your instincts. Enjoy the freedom of the journey together without fixating on the outcome. Concentrate on nurturing a strong connection at this moment.
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doberbutts · 7 months ago
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How can I have hope? I work for poverty wages and live in a car. I have no health insurance. I think I have scabies.
Are you in the US? Most, but not all, states have programs for folks in your position. Emergency rooms and certain urgent care facilities *cannot* turn you away legally even if you don't have any money, and most will also have a financial aid office that can help you either secure funding to pay your bill at a later date or that can reduce your bill to basically nothing.
If you live in or near a city, there should be a mutual or community aid office that can also help you with bills, finding a better paying job, health insurance, giving you an allowance for food and clothing, some even give grants to those who can prove they're working but are paid too little to keep their head above water.
The major thing is that these types of aid are considered government aid, and thus immigrants are largely not allowed to access these programs regardless of documentation status. Some states, however, are sanctuary states and will still allow you if you are an immigrant if you can prove your sponsor isn't providing for you correctly, or if you can prove refugee or asylum status.
How good and helpful these programs are largely vary state by state and I'm sorry to say that usually the better programs are in blue states. But they do exist, and there's a chance that accessing these resources will help you escape this situation you're in. How to access these resources can vary state to state- for me, the second I filed for unemployment after losing my job I received a million phone calls asking which programs I needed help from. I know that did NOT happen to a former roommate in Maryland when she was laid off when the business she worked for closed, so the ease of access can really depend.
I know things look hopeless right now. But there are safeguards in place to help you, if you can access them.
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