#for my sweet sweet bonuses

[b1gwings]

swashbuckler rogue my beloved

[sieglinde-freud]

genuinely believe laslow and nyx’s support conversation, regardless if you get their S or stop at A, is among both of their most important conversations they have because it allows them a rare moment of vulnerability. while they have a lot of good conversations, a lot of them have both laslow and nyx taking the part of either comic relief or as the listener/observer which is very fitting for both of them! but then they never get to delve into their perspectives and thoughts on some of their more vulnerable traits the way that they do with eachother.

with laslow he never really talks about awakening he references it but its never the topic. his words and actions are obviously influenced by it but you very rarely get to him be this introspective. hes very observant with his support partners but this and his odin support are the only time where hes forced to confont himself. sometimes he'll be sad and melancholy but he never discusses WHY. if youre lucky, he might mention he had a mom at some point and thats about it!! knowing inigo, we as players know why hes like that. he was pigeonholed into the role of keeping morale up, he lost one of the gemstones needed to perform the awakening in the bad timeline, ditched that world (which. his feelings on really only get discussed with nyx!!! which is insane?!?!), then had to start killing real people in order to survive until he met up with the shepherds again! but he never talks about it! i can count one hand the amount of times in both awakening and fates he does and i still have fingers left!!

and then with nyx its similar because while she does discuss her past its mostly just for explanation and not to delve deeper into it. which, makes sense as shes probably not too into trauma dumping on a bunch of strangers but then shes never forced to see that part of herself in someone else and do some reflecting on her own. heroes obviously came out way after fates but they kinda confirm that nyx's curse in part due to herself: its a self punishment that shes not conscious of but its driven by her not being able to forgive herself WHICH IS SO COOL but. you know. fates dropping the ball with writing. used to it. but while yes, that curse did come as kind of like some magical divine karma, she has already attoned for it: she’s grown up, matured, and taken the time to change that selfish part of herself that only valued power and nothing else. the only thing holding her back from moving on is herself.

so, laslow and nyx to having that moment in their supports where they both admit their guilt and let themselves be judged by eachother kinda breaks them out of this cycle of self hate theyre on and it gets them both on the path to forgiving themselves which they never really accomplish anywhere else. some supports teeter on it, but they brush it off pretty quickly. in a weird way they kind of mirror eachother, but they’re not used to looking at a reflection thats not so distorted by their own beliefs. they admit to eachother that no matter what happened in the past, they’ll never see eachother as anything less than a trusted ally and friend, and if they can do it for eachother, maybe one day they can do it for themselves.

and if they hit the s support, you can already see the change. laslow spouts the absolute banger of a line:

Laslow: Well, much as I might want to, I can't bear your burden. Nor could I expect you to bear mine. But with burdens so heavy...don't you think we could lean on each other a bit?

and its just such a fitting conclusion to the story of two people learning how to love themselves and walking that path of forgiveness together. anyways so im really normal about them

[writing-good-vibes]

another lonely valentine's day

💗 happy valentine's day !! 💗 what better way to celebrate than to make our favourite babygirl suffer? this takes place in an au where the accident never happened, and corey is still working towards his college dreams by mowing lawns, having affairs and babysitting.

WARNING for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut (non-penetrative and oral sex), angst from a guy who is upset that his married boyfriend doesn't love him, some mildly stalkerish behaviour, and some arguable hurt/comfort. 4.5K word count.

🎀 very cute dividers by @/gigittamic 🎀

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

"Corey?"

Corey sighs and checks the time. It had only been ten minutes since he put Jeremy to bed.

"Corey?!" Jeremy calls again, louder this time, his voice high and lifting at the end of his name. It grates on Corey's nerves.

"What is it now, Jeremy?"

"I'm thirsty!"

"You've just had a glass of milk."

"I want another one!"

They had a deal -- since Jeremy had gotten in so much trouble for his silly prank last Halloween and Corey had very generously done some self-serving damage control -- that Corey would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted (within some reason, as negotiable on the night, but usually involving too much energy for Corey's liking), and stay up as late as he wanted after he went to bed, in exchange for leaving Corey alone for the rest of the night. And if he didn't, Corey would tell Mr Allen just how much of a little shit Jeremy had been for him. It was a system that worked, even if it meant telling a couple of white lies about the evening's activities.

Jeremy was always a brat, it must have been coded directly into his DNA, but he'd been extra irritating before going to bed tonight. He tended to talk Corey's ear off anyway, asking personal questions that Corey would always lie in response to whether he strictly speaking needed to or not, and tonight he had extra ammunition.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's because you're so ugly, isn't it."

"No, I just don't have one. I could if I wanted to."

"No you couldn't. Girls don't like boys who are ugly and poor. That's why you're bossing me around on Valentine's Day."

The back of Corey's neck itched. Sure, that's why he was spending his Valentine's Day babysitting the brattiest kid he'd ever met. Because no one wants to go out with him. Not because Jeremy's dad says "Jump," and Corey asks "How high?"

He shuts Jeremy up by letting him watch a playthrough on youtube of some horror videogame that one of Corey's friends back in high school would talk about nonstop. Turns out the game is way less scary when some hunk just talks over it, and although some of the music starts to freak him out a little, Corey surprises himself when he laughs along with Jeremy at most of the scares, even at the rabbit.

After traipsing back upstairs with another glass of milk, warm this time, Corey leaves Jeremy with a warning not to bother him again. Our deal, remember?

"What are you doing on Valentine's day?"

"Nothing," Corey replies, much too quickly. He can hear Mr Allen stifle a chuckle on the other end of the phone. Corey's cheeks burn, "Um, I mean, I don't have any plans, yet." Yet. As if they're lining up round the block to take Corey out and he just hasn't decided who's worth his time. "Why?"

"Well, Theresa and I were wondering if you'd be able to babysit Jeremy for a few hours?"

Corey bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. He soothes it with his tongue, "Sure, no problem." He kicks himself later for being such a sucker.

Mrs Allen is flustered when he arrives, putting the final touches of lipstick and perfume on while she explains the usual ground rules. Corey knows the drill. She looks beautiful, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders and red flowers on her dress. He tries to imagine his own momma getting dressed up for a date, but he struggles to remember Momma and Ronald ever going anywhere without him. They hadn't even had a honeymoon.

Corey hovers awkwardly, trying to keep out of the way as Mrs Allen buzzes around, from the mirror to the coat stand by the door. While she puts her coat on, Corey's eyes wander as Mr Allen comes downstairs in a pressed suit. He waves at the older man, who gives him a wink that dangerously toes the line of 'friendly', before he disappears towards the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs Allen starts, before lowering her voice. "There's a box of chocolates in the kitchen for you, Corey. Roger put them on top of the fridge so Jeremy wouldn't see them; a little treat for you after he goes to bed."

Corey checks the time again. He hasn't heard a peep from Jeremy for a while, which is a good sign.

But the TV isn't holding his attention tonight like it normally does, and even though the Allens always tell him he can use their Netflix, he just can't settle on a movie.

Instead he scrolls through Roger's profile for a while, looking at his watch list and what he's been currently watching, what's been recommended to him and his most popular categories. Corey makes mental notes of where their tastes are similar and where they differ, thinks of how he can subtly integrate all of this into a conversation, to show just how interesting he is, how compatible they are.

His rumbling stomach puts an end to his media-stalking for now. Momma had made meatloaf for dinner, as grainy and bland as always, and Corey hadn't been able to stomach much of it. Not with the butterflies fluttering in his gut as he watched the clock, desperate to get out of the house a soon as possible tonight.

He lets a movie start playing, some 90's thriller than everyone in his American Lit. class used to rave about, before pulling himself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen.

The Allens' fridge is always fully stocked. Fruit and vegetables in the crisper, health foods that Corey's never even heard of before, branded candy and juice and condiments fill the door, cuts of meat that they probably actually knew how to cook instead of turning them to rubber or relying on boxes of lean cuisine. They even have an ice maker. There's a couple of bottles of Heineken -- because Roger only drinks Heineken in the house -- at the very front. It feels like a trick, Corey takes one anyway.

On top of the fridge, amongst juice boxes and tin that could be cookies but Corey guesses might be their sewing kit, is a red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Just like Mrs Allen promised. Corey holds it in his hands, rubs his thumb against the satiny pink ribbon that wraps around it.

In middle school, Corey had gotten a Valentine's candygram one year. He walked into homeroom and found the pink paper heart and a cherry flavoured dumdum sat conspicuously on his desk.

There was a chorus of hushed giggles from behind him. Over his shoulder he sees Kelly and her friends, whispering. Whispering made Corey nervous. Then, Kelly waves at him shyly, a knowing smile on her face. He waved back, face burning.

He ate the lollipop over lunch, and folded the pink paper heart and put it in his pocket, carried it around with him all week. Sometimes he'd take it out to look at it, reading the message over and over and over again -- Be my Valentine?

Momma found the heart when she collected his laundry at the end of the week, emptying out his pockets onto the kitchen table, picking up the pink paper heart with her probing fingers.

Corey didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

There's a gift tag pre-attached at the bow on his Valentine's chocolates and Corey flips it open, expecting a list of the candies that are inside, but that isn't it. It's a message, handwritten in black biro in neat print-capitals. The words start to swim in Corey's vision, merging into an inky pool until he pushes his glasses up to wipe at his eyes, trying to hide his tears from an invisible audience. He isn't fooling anyone, because his lip starts wobbling instead.

He brings the candy back into the living room with him, along with his beer and sits criss-crossed on the couch, then rips the ribbon off in one go.

Corey sinks half the box before he can stop himself.

The rest he tries to savour, rolling each chocolate in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue until he can figure out the flavoured centre while he watches his movie. The truffles are his favourites, then the pralines, followed by caramels, vanilla cream and pecan clusters, then finally the strawberry ones come last.

Between eating, he drinks his beer like a palate cleanser, finishing it only to go get the other bottle from the fridge. Two beers down, Corey can feel the buzz under his skin, in his tear-pink cheeks, and the relief of tension leaving his unsettled self.

If he takes the candy box home, Momma would ask too many questions that he didn't want to answer -- that he didn't even want to think about -- so he throws the empty tray in the trash can in the Allens' kitchen and chews a stick of bubblegum to cover the alcohol on his breath. It wasn't fool proof, but it was the most he could do.

Upstairs, Corey listens for movement from Jeremy's room. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lamps downstairs glowing up through the spiral of the staircase. Corey circles the warm light, never quite letting it catch him, as he dips into Jeremey's room to turn his TV off, then continues on to the master bedroom.

It's dark in there too, as Corey stands in the doorway. The bed is made neatly, sheets tucked cleanly under the mattress but rumpled in places where someone had sat down to pull on a stocking or tie a shoelace. He looks around familiarly, at the contemporary beige art on the walls and at the framed family pictures on the dresser, goes through the jackets and dresses that line the closet, and the messy draws full of almost designer sweaters and workout clothes and underwear. Mrs Allen's expensive lotion sits on the nightstand, next to where Corey always discards his glasses.

Laying in their bed, on Mr Allen's side, Corey looks up into the darkness. His cheeks are wet and getting wetter, and he rolls onto his front, muffles his sniffling in Mr Allen's pillow and breathing deeply the faint, shouldn't-be-comforting scent of the older man's cologne. Dark and woody, but classic in a way that compliments the rich floral perfume Corey always smells on Mrs Allen's pillow.

Part of him hopes Roger will know, hopes he'll feel the dampness there on his pillow while he tries to sleep, hopes he'll catch the taste of salt, and know exactly what he'd driven Corey to.

It's long-past midnight by the time Mr and Mrs Allen get home.

Corey hovers awkwardly by the door while Mrs Allen kicks out of her heels, hangs her coat on the stand, her conversation slower now as she thanks him again for babysitting. Corey preferred her like this, when she no longer had to worry about making their 7:30 reservation, or whether Jeremy was ready for bed before they left. When she isn't so tense, it made it a lot harder for Corey to interpret her tension as something else, something worse.

She counts his money out for him, but as he zips his coat up and prepares to cycle back home in the cold, Mr Allen stops him.

"Hold on, Corey, I'll give you a ride." The first words he'd spoken directly to Corey all night.

"Oh, no," Corey insists, hesitating anyway. "It's okay, really. I don't want to --"

"It's no trouble. We wouldn't want you out alone at this time. Unless you've got a secret black belt you haven't mentioned?"

Corey laughs, his real boyish laugh that Mr Allen likes so much.

Mrs Allen leans up, whispers something in her husbands ear, a perfectly French-manicured hand patting his chest once. Corey averts his eyes.

Then, Corey and Mr Allen are stood outside in the biting February air.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Corey asks as they pull out of the driveway. He rubs his cold hands together in his lap.

Roger turns the heater on high. "We did, thanks."

"What was the restaurant like?" He doesn't normally ask questions, doesn't normally like to know the answers, but he's feeling just a little vindictive tonight. Curious, too.

Roger catches his eye through the rear-view mirror. He smirks. "It was nice. We've been wanting to try it out for a while, actually. We don't go out as much as we should anymore."

"I just watched a movie," Corey says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Like it's how he was going to be spending his Valentine's day anyway. "One that my friends at college always recommend, but I never get time to watch movies. Momma -- my mom -- she's always so picky about movies." Corey can hear himself start to ramble, clutching at the straws of interest. "And Jeremy was okay tonight," he lies, then changes his mind. "Well, he said I don't have a girlfriend because I'm ugly. But he didn't get up after he went to bed."

Roger sighs, "Ignore him, you know what he's like. Theresa coddles him, but he's a little terror sometimes, same as any other boy. And besides, you know that's not true -- you're not ugly." His hand leaves the wheel and lands on Corey's thigh.

The younger man hums, suppresses how utterly pleased he feels at being told that. You're not ugly, and god if Corey won't be thinking about that for who-knows how long. He doesn't say anything when Roger takes a right turn, heading for the long route back to Corey's side of town.

A stupid, sappy old love song comes on the radio. Corey reaches out to change the channel, settling on WURG, where Willy the Kid is hosting the Anti-Valentines show till late. Heartbroken love songs for all those unlucky enough to be without action tonight.

"You liked the chocolates?" Roger says. It ends in a question mark, but Corey hears a period.

"Yeah, I ate the whole box." He did like them. They were perfect and thoughtful and he's so very, very grateful because he shouldn't expect anything at all.

They pull into the empty lot of the Dollar General and Roger turns the car off, letting the sudden silence -- the stillness of the night -- settle over them. A distant streetlight casts a sickly orange light into the car, the light and shadows chiselling Roger's features deeper, more stern. Corey chews his lip until he tastes blood.

Still, it's Corey's hands that wander first. Because he's been so lonely, waiting all night long for Roger's attention. Looking after Roger's son and drinking Roger's beer and eating Roger's cheap Valentine's present, while Roger was at an expensive restaurant, eating his $80 steak, with his wife who deserves so much better. Corey doesn't though.

And Roger, not for the first time, thinks What the fuck am I doing? when his lips meet Corey's through the darkness. The younger man tastes of bubblegum and beer, but beneath that he can taste those damn chocolates. The taste suits him; sweet and boyish, a little bit cheap.

Any lingering thoughts of Theresa, of how it shouldn't take more than half an hour to drive to Corey's house and back, of how she's waiting for him with a promise -- whispered in his ear as he picked his car keys up off the the table by the door -- are quickly replaced with thoughts of them getting caught, of one of Haddonfield's finest driving by and seeing them, of a sharp tap on the window that makes Corey look up, mouth open and eyes wide and looking every bit the pretty boy he is, of talking their way out of a night in the cells for public indecency because This isn't what it looks like Officer, I swear!

And then Corey's pulling away, twisting himself around in the passenger seat so he can lean down, and Roger can't really make himself think of anything else but the way Corey is so obliging. Undoing Roger's belt, his fly, Corey pulls the older man's boxers down low enough to free his cock, slapping heavy against his toned stomach; Corey presses a wet, pouty kiss to his tip. "I missed you."

"You did?"

Corey nods, wrapping his hand around Roger's length, his fingertips just about touching. "So fucking much."

Another kiss, kittenish licks, Corey's soft hand stroking him slowly, working him like Roger isn't already rock hard for him. Roger closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy Corey's ministrations, learnt precisely by what Roger -- and Roger alone -- likes. They shouldn't be taking their time, however Roger is downright incapable of stopping Corey's hand as it smears his own precum down his shaft, slicking the younger man's movements, but not enough to take away the hint of hot and heavy friction that keeps Roger on the edge.

"I'll make it up to you, hm?" Roger manages, and Corey finally goes down on him, mouth wet and warm and always welcoming, as if to say, Go ahead.

With a sharp inhale, Roger starts, "I'll take you out somewhere. Somewhere nice. I know a restaurant that you'll love, where they do the best desserts you've ever had in your life. You'd like that, right?"

Corey hums in agreement; the vibration makes Roger throb even harder, pulsing against the soft roof of his mouth.

Roger always sounds so sure of his words, so assertive in his thoughts. It makes Corey believe him all the more, makes him want to nod and agree to whatever it is Roger tells him he thinks. Like how he always says Corey was such a tease, all those weekends he'd take his shirt off to mow the lawn, skin glistening with sweat right where Roger could see him. And how Corey had known exactly what he was doing with his wide-eyed virgin routine, as though Roger could have ever said no to him. And that Corey's so easy, so eager, so desperate. That Corey will always say yes.

"Or we could go to a bar. Shoot some pool, have some beers, catch the game. We could have a boys night." He grabs Corey's hair, applying a pressure that is more a suggestion -- more, deeper, please -- than a command.

"And then back to the hotel. Somewhere we can get room service, of course, I know you love that. And I'll take such good care of you. You know that, don't you, baby?"

Roger's getting close and he knows it, especially when Corey swallows, his throat tight and hot and clenching around Roger's cock and he's almost --

He pulls Corey off him, a thin trail of saliva dripping from his plush lip to Roger's spit-shiny head, and watches as the younger man wipes the rest of the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I think you feel guilty," Corey says, voice level and surprisingly measured. There's no elaboration on what Roger should be feeling guilty about, just Corey's wide eyes and swollen lips, and Roger's left to fill in the blank space that Corey leaves behind.

Guilty about making me babysit. Guilty about driving me home. Guilty about doing this with me and then going home to sleep with your wife too.

The list goes on and on and on, and Roger tightens his grip in Corey's hair while he thinks, feeling the smooth, waxy strands twisted between his fingers. Corey will fuss over it in the rear-view mirror on the way home, combing his own fingers through those locks, back into his neat side-part, and Roger will watch him for too long, wishing he could see Corey's hair in it's full glory, not just sex-mused but his natural, bouncing cherub curls, more often.

Roger's hand is still in Corey's hair but he doesn't move, just waits to be told what to do.

"Get in the back."

It's only marginally less cramped in the back seat and darker still, the warm orange glow of the streetlight even fainter as Roger pulls Corey into his lap, lets him burrow into his neck while Roger slips a hand between his legs, palms the growing bulge over rough denim. Corey keens into it eagerly, legs twitching as he tries to keep himself from clamping his thighs around Roger's hand and humping it.

When his whines get louder, a strong hand grabs the back of Corey's knee, moving him to straddle Roger's trim hips, makes sure he's settled before teasing the zipper of Corey's jeans down, once again feeling that hard swell in his underwear.

There's a growing damp patch on the white cotton, sticking it to the leaking pink head of Corey's cock. Roger thumbs the wetness, smearing it through the fabric over Corey's burning skin, and Corey doesn't want to wait. He desperately pulls at the elastic of his briefs, pulls them down and hisses with relief when his dick springs free, resting against the pudge on his lower stomach, leaving a streak of precum on his auburnish happy trail.

Roger clasps one large hand around the both of them and Corey moans like it hurts; he grips tight, squeezing just right to press at the sensitive spot beneath his tip every time Corey's length slides against his.

Corey bucks in Roger's grasp, enough that Roger doesn't even have to stroke them anymore, just holds them still and grinds up against Corey's needy frotting. The developing rhythm is less co-ordinated than Corey can usually manage when he's on top, but the newness of the sensation, the way he can never quiet repeat the same motion or hit the same spot twice is maddening.

With all their clothes still on though, it's almost like it was back then, back when the most they did was dry hump on the couch while a football game played forgotten in the background. And it's not fair, Corey thinks. This is it? This is all he gets?

Roger once told him, "More is just never enough for you, is it, baby?", and although Corey had been kind of preoccupied at the time, the thought had burrowed it's way into his mind, repeated on a loop in Roger's low voice while Corey twiddled his thumbs in class the next day. Momma always told him something similar, when she'd decide he was being ungrateful over something or nothing -- it was always nothing -- that she didn't know what more Corey could want. A roof over his head, food on the table, his mother's love, always. Did he not already have enough? What more could Corey want? Boxed chocolates, empty promises and messy back-seat fumblings.

Roger is proven right. It's Valentine's day and Corey wants more.

"That's it, good boy. Feels good doesn't it?"

As Roger's hand slips further down the back of Corey's jeans, beneath his underwear, Corey catches his wrist, slowing the movement of his hips but not pausing, and tries to direct Roger's fingers closer to where he wants them.

Roger pulls back, resumes simply palming Corey's peachy ass. "Not tonight," he says firmly, and Corey makes a dissatisfied noise against the crisp white cotton of Roger's shirt.

"Please?"

Roger chuckles, "No, Corey." Still firm, but letting Corey down gently. "I know you want to play, but we can't. Not tonight."

"But I really want to, really badly," Corey pleads, scattering kisses up Roger's neck. It's not often Corey has to do the convincing. Rutting harder to prove his point, leaning back so Roger can see that playful little smile on his lips that always get him going, "And it's Valenti --"

"Corey," and it's a warning this time, given in a tone that Corey's never heard Roger use on him before. It's a tone he'd heard him use with Jeremy, though.

Corey shuts his mouth instantly, which is what he's always done best, and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. The way his skin itches makes him want to scream.

After being told off, he can't bring himself to look back at Roger's disappointed face, so Corey looks down at their cocks instead, both wet with spit and precum, which is somehow less awkward. The spark in his gut rekindles slightly at the sight of Roger's dick, smaller than his by less than a half inch but big enough to knock the breath out of him, rubbing against his own.

Roger's hand has resumed stroking them together -- quickly, efficiently, like he's doing them both a favour.

A loud squeak breaks through the near-silence when Corey reaches out to brace himself against the window, his hand slipping in the condensation made up mostly of his own panting breaths. Another time, perhaps, it would have made him laugh, and his breathy laugh would have made Roger laugh and then --

Roger comes hard in his hand because he really can't let his shirt get dirty, and Corey follows with a shuddering groan, a half-word that could have been anything -- Fuck, Roger, Sorry -- warbles out with it.

"It's okay," Roger answers. "You're okay."

Corey licks Roger's hand clean, sucking the mess from his fingers. Tongue working between each digit till they're soaking wet. Tentative, playful nips at fingertips, biting just barely at his knuckles, never hard enough to leave a mark. No evidence gets left behind.

Feeling each ridge of Corey's teeth, Roger remembers the look on Corey's face from earlier, how his cheeks burned and he shrunk in on himself, making himself small and docile. If Corey bit down hard right now, sinking straight to the bone, then Roger would probably deserve it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Corey whispers, lips brushing Roger's wet fingertips. Even in the quiet of the car, Corey's voice is smaller than it deserves to be. His big, brown eyes are glazy when they meet Roger's cold blues.

Roger stays quiet, feeling the warmth of Corey's heavy breath between them. In, out, in, out. He holds Corey's flushed face in his wet hand, strokes his thumb softly against his cheek, feels the barely-there stubble under his palm, watches Corey's eyes flutter shut, his lip twitch with the hint of a smile, his brow crease, fat teardrops well under his lashes until they spill down his cheeks.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

Mr Allen drops him off right outside his house -- "You're coming to do the gardening tomorrow, right?" -- and watches as Corey climbs out of the car and up the front porch steps. Joan lurks at the window, the curtains twitching closed once Corey gets to the door.

With one hand on the door handle, Corey turns to wave. Mr Allen is mostly shadowed in the driver's seat, but Corey half-smiles at him anyway, still looking even as Momma pulls him into the house by his scruff for being home so late.

As Corey lies in his bed, he stares up at the darkness of the ceiling. Or maybe his eyes are just closed because his fingers, slippery with the lotion from his nightstand, are shoved down his underwear. The gift tag from his chocolates -- For my Good Boy, ❤ R -- burns a hole beneath his pillow.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

mfs will say some shit like this and then be mad u turn into a big creature with claws & such smh

[luvisia]

my job is throwing cash at me to make me stay at this point

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[rubys-domain]

why do i feel like building 2 pc 2 pc is harder than building 4 pc

[hg-aneh]

Bonuses:

Eden Crowley my sweet summer child

[kykyonthemoon]

How to function your very tall boyfriend

Having troubles reaching things that are too high for you? Don't fret. That's what having a really tall boyfriend for.

A request by Sora.

🌻 Character x F!Reader Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel and Caleb (first time writing for Caleb <3)

Tags: soft, sweet, lovers, established relationship. This fic is for short girlies like me out there <3

Masterlist

Request a fic

𝑿𝒂����𝒊𝒆𝒓

You stood on tiptoe, reaching the full length of your arm towards the row of shelves in front of you. A finger touched the box but you still couldn't get it. You looked around the archives, looking for the help of a ladder, chair, or anything. Then, the door opened, and you saw Xavier's face peeking inside.

Without waiting for him to speak, you waved to your savior. You looked at him, then pointed to the box located at the highest position on the shelf. 

"You want me to get it down for you?"

You gave him a nod. And, with a gust of wind, he appeared right next to you.

Your hair was still hanging over your face from the breeze that had just passed. When you recovered consciousness, you noticed that the box you required was in Xavier's hands.

“Wooooooooow!”

That was all you could say. Your eyes widened and looked at him, mixed with admiration and gratitude.

Xavier maintained a somewhat tired expression on his face. He handed you the package and said in a calm tone:

“Do you need anything else?”

Your gaze was still locked on Xavier. As usual, he was already quite attractive, but when he rushed to your side and grabbed stuff for you in the blink of an eye, his coolness grew tremendously in proportion to your heartbeat.

"I need… that one!"

You pointed your finger at another row of shelves. In truth, you already had everything you needed for the mission, but watching more of Xavier using his skills in bringing everything from a higher place down for you wouldn't hurt.

"Okay."

As soon as he finished speaking, Xavier dashed to the shelf before returning to your side. All in a blink of an eye!

"That one too!" You pointed your finger in another way. "This one! That one! Two up there!…”

In only a few minutes, all the boxes stacked on high shelves were brought down and placed around you to form a wall made of cardboard.

"Woooooooow! "Xavier, you're so cool!"

You couldn't help but blurt out, causing the skin on his face below his blue eyes to grow scarlet. He came closer, put the last box in your hand and said:

“I've taken down all the things from higher shelves for you. Isn't it time I received my reward?”

Caught off guard when he suddenly leaned closer, you blushed a little in reply:

“Y-You… What do you want then…?…”

Xavier smiled mysteriously. He turned sideways and pointed at his cheek.

“You already know.”

Embarrassed, you placed a quick kiss on it. Xavier seemed unsatisfied.

“You really don't need all of these boxes, right? I heard that Jena will cut off the bonuses if she catches anyone tampering with the team's records. I can assist you clean up, but the prize must be more than this."

You chuckled. You'd become accustomed to his solicitation tactics.

"Please help me then. I assure you'll be pleased with the latter prize." After that, you lifted up his chin and gave Xavier an even deeper kiss on the opposite cheek.

��𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

You were used to visiting Zayne's house every weekend or on days off. Even when he was not home, you still liked to be there waiting for his return. You had a habit of eating snacks, especially sweets. So you brought a lot of things to his house to eat together. And always, he kept them nicely organized in the refrigerator or cupboards over the stove.

But sometimes, he put them out of your reach. At moments like that, you called out his name from the kitchen.

“Doctor Zayne. Doctor Zayne. Doctor Zayneeeee.”

He appeared soon after. On the bridge of his nose was still a pair of reading glasses. He carefully adjusted it and sighed.

“What do you need this time?”

“That jar of fruit gummies.” You pointed at it.

“I'm not your ladder.” Despite his grumbling, Zayne still took it down for you. With his height, it did not appear to be a problem at all.

"Thank you." You said. “I don't want to bother you. Why did you have to put my snacks so high up there?”

“I put it away so some sweet-loving worm doesn't eat too much.”

“I'm not a worm.” You replied, pouting. Zayne patted your head.

"Alright. Would you like anything else?"

Zayne kept telling you not to eat too many snacks, but he still took them all down. He separated them into parts and placed them on a large plate. The rest was put away to make sure you did not consume too much.

Knowing he was concerned about your health, you didn't ask for anything else but ate all of the treats he brought out. However, it was only when Zayne was away that you could properly appreciate his caring nature. Outside your snack cupboard was a letter with Zayne's handwritten words, which you took forever to read. It turned out he had moved your food to another place within your reach. Inside that cabinet was a candy tray with a lid. Zayne had prepared everything for you, with one additional note: Don't eat too much.

You burst out laughing. In response to his concern, you decided to rearrange his working space. Because he had left in a hurry to go to the hospital that day, his books were still not put away. That night, you caught him walking back and forth in front of his bookshelf, his expression rather serious.

“Did you rearrange the bookshelf?”

"Yes."

You replied. He placed his both hands on the bookshelf in front of him, skimming through the book titles printed on the spine. The book he had been reading in the morning was nowhere to be seen. Rather, you slithered right into the gap between his arms, making him turn to face you.

The sudden close distance made him a bit surprised. However, he maintained his composure and gazed down at you. The book he was looking for was in your hand. He smiled:

"What's wrong? You couldn't put it back since you found its place to be too high?"

You said with a pout, "If that's the case, then I won't give it to you."

You hid the book behind your back. WWho would have imagined that Dr. Zayne would boldly lean down, one arm around your waist to draw you in, while the other hand taking the book away from you.

You could hear his heartbeat matching yours as he pressed his body against you to return that book to its proper place on the shelf. He looked down at you, who was extremely confused. You asked:

“Aren't you going to read it?”

"No. I'm preoccupied with something else.”

He leaned down again, and kissed you.

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

Your favorite store had just been redecorated, and the items you needed had been moved elsewhere. Most of them were within your reach, but some decorations with lights were located high up. You turned around to look for help, but the store staff was already busy with another customer. So you looked in the other direction, where you found Rafayel staring at some little decorative fish bowls.

“Rafayel. Please help me get this thing.”

Rafayel turned to face whichever way your finger was pointing. He would waste no effort to reach the lamp you needed. He placed his hand on a spherical night lamp.

"Is this the one?"

"Not that one. The one in purple.”

His hand went to another. "This?"

“Nooooo. I said the purple one…”

"This one has purple in it." Rafayel put his hand on a purple lamp, but it wasn't what you wanted.

“Rafayel. The purple one. In the shape of a jellyfish."

“Hmm…” Rafayel pretended not to see what you described, even though it was right in front of him. "All I see is a seahorse and a whale."

He's definitely teasing you. You scowled:

“I'm not joking with you, Rafayel. Get the jellyfish lamp!”

“Are you sure?” He reposed the question with great seriousness. “This jellyfish is so ugly and painful to look at that my eyes automatically ignore it.”

You puffed your cheeks and said each word clearly: “Take. That. Jellyfish. Lamp!"

"Okay." Rafayel gave a shrug. At last, his hand found the precise object you wanted. He lifted it. But instead of placing it in your eagerly outstretched palms, he put it on a higher shelf.

“Rafayel!” YYou yelled out of rage. He grinned from ear to ear.

“Here, you told me to take it, so I took it. You didn't mention that I had to give it to you"

“You!… Argghhh!…”

You were so furious that you failed to speak. You stood on your tiptoes and jumped up, trying to grab the item, but Rafayel raised the object entirely.

“Give it to me! Give it to me!” You danced in a circle around Rafayel, who was clutching the jellyfish lamp like a trophy. All eyes in the store turned to both of you. You stopped. Your face was red, both from anger and embarrassment.

You looked at Rafayel, who was teasing you with that handsome but punchable face. Then, like a light bulb had just turned on in your head, you thought of a way to "repress" him.

Your hands stretched out. Rafayel thought you were aiming for the lamp so he raised it even higher. But it was his collar you were after. He wasn't on guard so you pulled him down so easily, so close. Until your lips touch his delicate ones.

Rafayel rolled his eyes. He was so surprised. Taking advantage of the situation when his arm was gradually falling, you immediately grabbed the jellyfish lamp and stepped back, holding it triumphantly in your arms.

“Ha! I snatched it from you!”

Rafayel was in disbelief. He had earlobes the color of ripe tomatoes. With one hand softly brushing his lips, he turned to face you.

“You… cheated.” He said, "In that case, you can snatch me too!"

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

It had been a long time since both Caleb and you had a chance to go home to visit Grandma. A family meal was inevitable. He took you to the supermarket near your house to shop and prepare dinner.

Caleb knew too much about your taste. You simply followed him and let him select nearly everything. But when you were walking by the snack shelves, your gaze unintentionally paused at the top row, where there was a particular kind of cookie that you and Caleb used to enjoy together as children.

After noticing your halt, Caleb turned to face you.

“Oh, they still sell this?” He spoke up.

“I want to buy it!” You told him. One hand reached up but you couldn't get the snacks. You heard Caleb laughing hysterically next to you. You folded your arms and pouted: "What are you laughing at?" Why don't you get it for me?"

"I assumed you could handle anything on your own since you're already an adult." Caleb made a joke. “Remember when we were kids? Every time you couldn't reach something, you ran to me and tugged my arm?”

You reminisced about your childhood days. Whenever you needed to get something from a high place, the first person you called was Caleb. He would bend down so you could climb on his shoulders and then carry you like that until you got what you wanted.

“Yeah. I remember." You replied. “But why— Ouch!”

Caleb suddenly bent down, wrapped his muscular arms around your thighs and lifted you up.

“Caleb?! What are you doing?!" Your arms wrapped around Caleb's neck, holding on tight as if your life depended on this. You looked down at Caleb's grinning face. He responded:

“I'm helping you get your cookies.”

“N-Not like this!…” You blushed. You had grown up and no longer the innocent little girl you used to be. Being lifted up by him like this made you extremely timid. “People… People are looking at us…”

“Ignore them.” Caleb paid no attention to his surroundings. “Just look at me.”

You felt the heat radiating from your cheeks. Caleb didn't stop there, he asked you:

"Ready?"

"Huh?"

Without waiting for your response, he spun around so fast in that posture, which made you scream suddenly. You leaned entirely on Caleb, counting on him to keep you both balanced. He continued to rotate a few more times, before becoming lightheaded himself. Then he came to a complete halt and rested his back against the shelf.

You both burst into laughter. Laughing until your stomach muscles start to hurt. But Caleb still didn't let you go. He breathed heavily and said:

“I just remembered. Besides helping you get things from high places, I also helped you climb that wall when you snuck out without Gran knowing!"

“It was completely your idea!” You pinched his nose. “After that, both of us got grounded by Grandma.”

"Sorry." Caleb chuckled. “Shall I make it up to you with cookies?”

“Then help me up a little higher.” You uttered it out with joy. “Let's buy all the cookies here!”

[bokettochild]

Linked Universe Enterence p.3

Okay! So I have thoughts!!!!

First off, does anyone remember when JoJo shared those first snippets? How there was a fun little detail that suddenly disappeared when the comic actually became more than doodles?

Yeah, I'm talking about this guy

(Not the grouchy old man being offended, the owl LOL)

I know there's a chance I'm wrong, a big one at that, but I think it would be really cool if, if only for a short while, JoJo brought him back, even if it's just for this era of Hyrule. Let Time have his owl buddy!

Anyways, to the actual comic!

I noticed that the boys are all still together, so I'm guessing they're waiting until they come to a cross-roads to actually split up like Four advised last time. So we have that to look forwards to in the coming updates!

I love that she's really highlighting the similarities and differences in this arc, showing us who knows what and what they've done, but also the little things; both with owls and the antifairy!

I adore the Owlan reference/appearance!

And Time immediately agreeing about the "long, drawn out lectures part" made me laugh. (His expression, my Hylia!!!)

That is the face of a man who kept accidentally asking to "hear it again" and regrets it with every bone of his being LOL

It's good to see more call backs to the last comics too! Having Hyrule be wary of the statue because he remembers seeing it before, and Warriors agreeing, but also reminding that it didn't cause harm. The fact that Hyrule keeps his sword pointed at it though, wary, does say a lot about how cautious he's being all the same (Wild ought to take notes)

And of course this whole panel

Twilight's awkwardly trying to assure the rest without spilling the secret, Sky laughing and turning to look at Legend, and the fact that the vet is just so entirely done with even just the thought of being a rabbit. (I love his face, omgosh).

Te way I screamed "anti-fairy!" when I saw this, and then was so, so delighted that Legend and I had the same thought (I am unwell about this man).

I'm equally unwell about the fact that Legend just has to say "ouch" (which you only say at inconveniences and not real, actual hurts) and immediately everyone's turning, weapons out and ready to help him face...whatever. Like, he's fine, guys, but it's sweet you care (now Legend, please take note and realize you belong, you idiot)

Love that Time hears "fairy" and immediately is all ears. All the more so at the "anti" part. Man was raised by fairies and he absolutely doesn't like the idea of something that would hurt them.

Meanwhile Legend is just being freaking Haku (Spirited Away) over here!

Tell me you don't see it!!!!!!

Also, his casual use of magic to purify something, to just make it no longer a threat, rather than hurting it. That need to save EVERYONE is really showing through here, huh?

And immediately, everyone is shocked that he did that, but also what it means about fairies. About dark magic. But Time and Wars especially!

Gosh, just Legend's little worried face and Time's offense at the idea of fairies being corrupted and harmed. Shows a bit about them here too I think. Time is maybe slightly obsessed with fairies (reasonably so) and hates them being harmed, but he shows his worry on the matter in anger. legend, meanwhile, becomes more sombre, quieter: it bothers him too (maybe reminds him of a certain predecessor?)

Get this man a tiara, he's a freaking Disney Princess over here, good grief!!!! He's carrying fairy food on what? The slim chance he has time to stop and feed them? Honestly, i know he's probably as attached to fairies as Time (although with a healthier relationship with them), but this is just too cute. this man is going to be the death of me!!!

Anyways, here's the bonuses!!!!

SUN APPEARANCE!!!!!!!! We have a canon Sun appearance!!!!! Like, sure, sleepy student Sky, but it's SUN!!!!

This smile. Oh my gosh I adore him. He's just so glad he got to help the corrupted little one become normal again.

JoJo was having fun with Four I see LOL

Man really said "hang on, let me check my purse, I think I have snacks in here"

Freaking Mom Coded

[sunderwight]

Bingqiu AU where SY and LBH grow up as childhood friends (idk maybe they're both at QJP but Shen Jiu is less of an asshole, or maybe SY transmigrates into Random Village Bully Child No.3 when Binghe's mom is still alive -- or both) and there's none of the tension of the idea of "one day Luo Binghe is going to rip my limbs off" for Shen Yuan.

So he and LBH can just be bros! Fantastic! Shen Yuan has never had a little brother before but he's had a little sister, he knows how to do this. Just spoil the cute kid rotten!

It's only fair compensation for how many terrible things LBH is gonna have to endure on the road to ruling the world, after all. SY also feels more freedom to change minor aspects of the plot around, too, like maybe he'll stop Liu Qingge from dying, definitely he can help LBH get a better start to his cultivation journey, and maybe the abyss and xin mo thing doesn't really need to happen...?

The list of things SY considers meddling with ends up including wives.

Like really, come on now, Luo Binghe may be a stallion protagonist but there's no need for that many women. Especially when at least half of them are just increasingly cheap copies of the other half, and that's being generous about it. Some of PIDW Binghe's wives were, frankly, horrible people. And if he's being honest about it, it wasn't fair of Binghe himself to take on that many either. Even if anyone would naturally give their left arm to be the protagonist's wife, after a certain point Binghe just can't spend that much time actually with them! And then he can't form the kinds of deep and meaningful bonds which might actually help heal his trauma!

SY's not looking to interfere too much, of course. Ning Yingying is not his favorite wife, but she's fine. She causes trouble but it isn't on purpose, and she's genuinely sweet and willing to befriend Binghe before he's anything special (although even now, it's obvious Binghe is special). Ning Yingying can stay.

And of course, so can Best Wife Liu Mingyan.

But Sha Hualing? Well, she offers some political advantages, and as the demon wives go she's not the worst. She's kind of iconic and was very popular, but Shen Yuan thinks the harem could do without her scheming and malicious attitude towards the other wives. The cost of harmony was too high for the political bonuses offered, especially when Binghe might as well just take her ancestral lands by force and be done with it. He's going to advise against that match.

And the Qin sisters. Sure there's the legendary threesome, but Wanrong's dead weight and it never struck SY quite right how Qin Wanyue pressured Luo Binghe into sex. The threesome wasn't even good anyway.

Better Qin Wanyue than the Little Palace Mistress on that front, though. But aish, that's complicated, the Palace Mistress is even more politically vital to securing HHP than Sha Hualing is for her father's kingdom, and almost as bad for the peace and harmony of the harem. Ultimately SY will leave it up to Binghe, but if Binghe asks, he's going to advise against the Huan Hua wives too.

With thoughts like this in mind, SY starts talking to Binghe about how to establish a household, what to look for in a spouse (or twenty), and other topics of that nature. What sort of household Luo Binghe ought to strive to have, and what sorts of standards he should himself to. Also while of course assuring him that Shen Yuan isn't interested in women. Lest he worry that Shen Yuan might be trying to steal any of the wives from him, at any point. He's not competition!

SY: I am helping to pave the way for Binghe to have better marital relationships! I am the best big brother slash best buddy ever! don't worry, no matter what happens to Binghe, this gege will be your no.1 cheerleader forever!

LBH: is he saying I should get a palace if I want to marry him? well... that sounds reasonable. ok, I will do it! (•̀ ω •́)✧

[onlyswan]

hi art im a BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BIIIIIIIIG (big) fan of your in which series i literally reread them all the time to feel Something lol. but have you ever thought of making a masterlist of the drabbles in timeline order?? ur obviously not obligated to since it’s your blog and im sure it’ll take a while. but just thought it’d be cool to read their story in order! :-) luv u

hi hi!! i sorted out the plot-driven drabbles in timeline order with a few other sprinkled in there off the top of my head which i also think would be cool for u to read but doing all the drabbles would take me forever i’m sorry 😭🫶🏼 (maybe soon! or i’m thinkin’ when i leave the blog to wrap things up :p) but thank youuu sm for all the love and interest in the iw!couple it really means a lot to meee 🥺 <3 and i hope this helps for now!! <3 ilyyy

in which drabbles from their first meeting leading up to them moving in together + some bonuses! ★

> in which music waters a wilting flower on a chilly autumn night

> in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door

> in which you always get what you want and jungkook is dying to kiss you

> in which jungkook kisses you for the first time

> in which jungkook says i love you for the first time

> in which jungkook doesn’t understand you sometimes

> in which you say i love you to jungkook for the first time

> in which your boyfriend, jungkook, gives you a concussion

> in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves

> in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat

> in which you come home tipsy and jungkook is upset

> in which you always come home to jungkook

> in which jungkook won’t tell you what’s wrong and you get emotional motion sickness

> in which leaving the past behind is not as easy as forgetting, and you want to be everything jungkook wants to know

> in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give

> in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to)

> in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay

> in which moving in together is a herculean task and jungkook teaches you how to fold his underwear

> in which you’ve found comfort in laying on top of jungkook and you just… won’t let go

> in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing

> in which your period cramps bring you to tears but jungkook’s gentle hand is warm

> in which you wake up in the middle of the night without jungkook by your side

> in which jungkook likes cooking late at night

> in which you and jungkook go on a spontaneous drive

> in which jungkook loses you in the grocery store

> in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges

> in which jungkook doesn’t mind you waking him up— he just wishes it’s not in the middle of a good dream

> in which you and jungkook visit your hometown and a typhoon welcomes you

— main in which masterlist! ★

[servantofthefates]

Life-Changing Money Manifestation Tip 💰

This is not a technique I learned from books, or a principle my elders taught me. It is simply something I have observed to be unfailingly effective.

I know it might seem counterintuitive, impractical, and perhaps even downright foolish. But it has been consistently true for me and the people around me.

The tip is: Never ever be frugal with money.

Even when you're afraid you won't have enough, be open-handed with your spending. Spend on your needs, spend on your wants, spend on others who deserve your generosity. Just. Keep. Spending.

The fuck, right? What if you already don't have enough to begin with?

Well, you know how they say, "Love is infinite" or "There's enough love to go around" or "Love multiplies, it doesn't divide"?

The same is true for money.

Money is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like coins, bills or gold.

Love too is energy. It just happens to have physical manifestations like kisses, words or gifts.

And it is common knowledge that if we wish to be loved, we must first love ourselves, and give love freely to those who are worth it. We must let love flow through us.

Same with money. If we want to have it, we must first spend it on ourselves and give it freely to those we deem worth it. We must let money flow through us.

And flow it will.

Just as it is nearly impossible for a cold-hearted person to invite love, it is also very hard for a stingy person to invite money.

I have seen this first-hand many times.

This man owned a boutique advertising agency. He gave out bonuses and free international trips to his team the way corporations give out cheap pizzas to their employees. And back then, this man's business thrived. Some months, he made more than global agencies did. And the awards were pouring in too. He was on top of the world.

Suddenly, his elderly mother got terribly sick, and he panicked. He knew he had to spend a fortune on her medical bills, and his fear got the best of him. So he cancelled the free trips. He stopped giving bonuses. Eventually, he even cut down salaries and moved to a smaller office.

One year later, his business went bankrupt. Because all his talented employees left. And with that, the trust of his clients dried out. His business — which had the potential to become an empire — ended up becoming just a TikTok trend.

Because he held on to money too tightly... money felt suffocated and walked out on him entirely.

The opposite example is me. No, I do not also own an ad agency. But I have learned to never worry about money. And since then, money has never disappointed me.

Last year, someone dear to me had been praying for a MacBook, but her parents couldn't afford it. I too couldn't afford it. Not without digging into my savings. So I did. Because I know money will always come back to me. And it did.

Two days after I placed the order, I received an email from Shareworks that my stocks were ready to be withdrawn. The amount? Double what I paid for the Mac. These stocks are released yearly, so I tend to forget about them. But they came at the right time.

And it is like this every time.

I buy a Louis Vuitton bag with money meant for my holiday. Suddenly, a friend invites me to go with them on a fully paid trip to the same country I was planning to visit.

I buy a bunch of tarot decks with a week's worth of transportation costs, and my company announces we're working from home for a week while they repair some rain damage.

I buy a box of Patchi chocolates when I'm already short on my monthly budget, and my salary gets released early because it's the holidays, and the CEO is feeling friendly.

I know life is not always as sweet as I described it to be. Sometimes, it's not about Louis Vuittons and Patchis, but about diapers and cough medicine. I am perfectly aware some people are struggling — not about holidays and tarot splurges, but about keeping the electricity on and putting food on the table. I will not pretend to know the solution to their hardships.

What I do know is there are people who are considered poor in my community who are seriously way happier than me. And I know I have had bosses who made thrice as I did who were far more miserable than me.

And that tells me that despite our different stations in life, energy is energy. And it's always best to let it flow freely.

So I repeat... never ever be frugal with money.

When it knocks on your door, say, "Hey, nice to see you!" When it leaves your house, say, "See you again soon!" And when it finally seems to be making itself at home, do not lock it in the basement. Cook dinner with it. Invite your friends over. Watch a movie. Do karaoke. Look money in the eyes and say, "I'm glad you've decided to stay."

[possiblyunhinged]

In the past year, especially with the recent elections across Europe and in the US, it’s become blazingly clear that regardless of your political leanings, everyone is fucking fed up to the nines. You can see it in our attitudes towards traditional media and government. Sure, we land on different conclusions about what might get us out of this mess, but the reality is—it’s not in our hands. It probably never has been.

The Luigi Mangione situation has truly blown my head off my shoulders—the sheer arrogance and disconnect from normal people that traditional media and government officials have shown. Take the Mayor of New York, for instance. Sweet Jesus. He’s like a character from a shit pantomime. Whether you’re on the left or the right, he’s the villain of the piece. People are done. And let’s be real, it’s only going to get worse—because I’m a positive princess like that.

Trump isn’t going to magically make prices drop; he’s literally said as much. I can’t fathom a single politician who could genuinely make a difference when the CEOs already hold all the power. Musk and his ilk were invited to the table long ago, and let’s not forget the donors—pouring huge amounts of money into all political parties. It’s a silent agreement: their influence comes first, their profits are prioritised, and the rest of us are left to scrape by.

What gets me is how people still talk about “the rich” like it’s actors and musicians pulling the strings. Sure, they’re rolling in it, and the entertainment industry has plenty of rot, but compared to the wealth of CEOs? Negligible. The real bastards are the ones we couldn’t even name. The ones cutting corners, exploiting workers, and choking the planet with plastic while pocketing the profits.

Meanwhile, the entertainment industry puts on this Truman Show pantomime—a performance of accountability so we can cheer and boo. Every public takedown, every cancellation, every PR scandal—it’s all theatre designed to make us believe the system works. And while we’re caught up in the spectacle, what the fuck are the people at the top of the means of production doing? Bumping up their profit margins and giving themselves bonuses.

These people live without consequences. And when the internet (rightly or wrongfully) memed the murder of a CEO, they responded with Gotham-level theatrics to reassure their donors that they’ll always protect their own. They even tried to pin terrorism charges on a man whose frustrations most normal people can empathise with.

Why is it that those in power are never arsed about creating a spectacle of a CEO in handcuffs, dragged out for decades of exploitation? Because the system doesn’t just protect them—it is them.

At this point, the only thing these people are achieving is making everyone angrier. And the politicians we like? They’re the ones who seem to reflect the nonstop screaming going on in our heads. The incompetence, the lack of solutions, the sheer disregard for normal lives—it’s all making tensions worse. And it’s going to blow up in their faces. (Not literally—calm down, loves.)

I know I sound like David Icke, okay? But sincerely, I’m fed up and I would love nothing more than a shred of accountability for billionaires—and for politicians and journalists alike to do their fucking jobs.

It’s embarrassing.

[elizais]

when you know, you know.

when they realise just how much they love you ft: nikolai, bram, poe part 1 here content/warnings: mentions of murder (poe's ability), shortttt, i tried to keep it as a gn reader but i might have slipped up at points. i wrote bram without the sword and in current day bcs i was struggling dudesss i think this is my first time trying to write for bram and poe so please take these with a pinch of salt but the lovely person who requested it was so polite i couldn't pass it up <3

nikolai was.. lively to say the least. i mean, just having a partner would be (in his eyes) something tying him down. but, for you? being with you would comply with him wanting to be free. you granted him freedom from all of the negative thoughts that could plague him.

walking down the high-street with you, hand in hand as he pondered all of these ideas. the both of you were strolling towards a cafe that kolya had begged to go to for its "famous pirozhki".

he was not in his usual attire today, wearing a simple blue turtleneck sweater and jeans that fit him loosely. you had to admit, he looked close to incredible when you contrasted it to his usual wear. even though his outfit was different, his personality did not falter in the slightest.

swinging your arms forwards and backwards quickly as you walked, he giggled at whatever joke he was thinking of. turning towards him, you smiled. "kolya?" you poked his upper arm for his attention. "what type of bird is that?" you asked, glancing at a small bird hopping through tree branches. as he looked over, it flew away.

his braid fell over his shoulder, laying softly as he considered making a witty joke. the truth of what he was thinking was of how much he adored you, how you pointed out birdies, watched comedy shows with him, tried your best to cook his favourite meals, put up with him using his ability to scare you..

he thought back to earlier, you had brushed his hair into the usual neat braid as he spoke about what tricks he was going to pull on sigma and fyodor too. he laughed as you frowned, claiming "leave sigma alone, he has a casino to take care of, babysitting you is my job."

bram was, aside from being a vampire and that, perfect. his personality was complex, but you often joked that it wittled down to him just wanting to sleep.

today, you were both sat on the sofa as he spoke about aya. you were brushing through his hair. "she was telling me about some artists, i think she meant composers." he explained, going on about music as you giggled. his hair was showing some curls towards the ends that you were entertaining yourself with.

he was kneeling in front of you so that you could face his back and toy with his hair.

"what is amusing?" he asked politely, refraining from turning around incase he messed up the braid you insisted so stubbornly on putting in his hair. you pulled the long braid onto his shoulder and he saw how you had refined the hair past the bobble into a sweet curl.

he smiled softly as you spoke, "what genre do you want to listen to? does aya have any recommendations?" you teased and he let out a soft chuckle. cherishing these sweeter, saccharine moments were as good at keeping him alive as his ability was.

he put up with the garlic jokes, playing dumb vampire films on tv (he really does love hotel transylvania!), the teasing.. all because he loves you !!

poe was like a breath of fresh air to be around. there was never a need to be loud or extroverted with him. and those were just bonuses on top of getting to hang out with a raccoon all of the time. you were currently in another room trying to trim karl's nails.

key word: trying

ed was in the study, writing another novel. whether it's for ranpo or not? who knows. karl wasn't putting up a fight but more so.. wriggling around. any sane person would have given up by now but with the amount of time this raccoon spends around your shoulders? zero chance.

once you finally finished, you swooped karl into your arms and carried him back to edgar. "ed? have you eaten or drank water recently?" you asked, setting down karl and walking over to him as he closed the book before him. he nodded as he looked up to you from his armchair.

"yes, and i have finished it!" he exclaimed, you furrowed your brows in confusion. "finished what, love?" he presented you the book proudly. "it's just like the film we watched a few weeks ago. you said you wanted to live in that manor house, no?" and that's when it clicked for you.

he carried on, "when you want to go, all the characters will be there! i had to add in another to die but other than that? it's the same!" he excitedly explained. tracing over the clothbound cover with your name on the front, he added one more thing. "oh! and to figure it out in one of the office desk drawers it will let you know what happened."

you smiled at that, he didn't want you to struggle. unfortunately, his ability was only murder mystery related so he couldn't write a book about a sunshine land where nothing went wrong. yet he tried his best, for you!

[thegreatnpowerfulspuukiiz]

lowkey very much highkey wish they put the movie versions of some of the songs on the soundtrack even just as lil bonuses bc im obsessed with how the “gooooo” notes just keep stacking and how you can hear when each brother joins in.

also i know everyone’s been memeing bitty b’s singing voice for it just being JT pitched up but i genuinely like it?? 😭 like yeah ik it sounds a little weird but i genuinely think it sounds like the kid they got to voice bb’s speaking lines and i unironically sing along to the actual song in this pitch just bc it’s easier for me to hit (i can’t sing low lmao) plus i think it adds a nice soprano sound when the boys are all singing together and makes the harmony feel fuller.

ALSO WHY TF DIDNT THEY PUT THE PRACTICE VERS OF PERFECT WITH POPPY ON THE SOUNDTRACK ITS SO GOOD PLUS I LOVE THE PART WITH THE DOUBLE “rewindddd” and poppy’s sassy lil “a-rewiiiindUH”

AND HOW DAREEEE THEY NOT PUT SWEET DREAMS ON THE ALBUM???? it scratches my brain sooo well and it’s one of the only songs from the twins that you can loudly and clearly hear veneer’s voice!! like i can hear him in the other songs but he’s singing bass and vel’s so loud that she sometimes drowns him out (not saying i don’t love her voice bc it’s AMAZINGGGG)

anyway that’s it’s that’s the post i need band together to go ahead and come to streaming for FREE bc i’m insane.