#general thoughts/opinions remain

[sampoststuff]

Talking about my own experiences to explain why OP you are TA, even though/if you were being well meaning. TW for grooming, will put under a read more

Rarely do I add onto posts in the main reblogs but I was groomed at 16 (groomer was 20, or so he claimed, I never found out otherwise but idc at this point). We only knew each other online and he hadn't tried to ask me out or flirt with me until like, half a year or so(?) after we met. In general talking to him as friends, I personally felt was fine, as I had irl friends from my brother who ranged from 19-20.

He only asked me out fully twice, but he would still make flirtatious comments, and he would also say things like "you're smart/observant for your age" if I offered advice or talked about some of my life plans I had at the time. I also feel like I would comfort him a lot more than I should've. Obviously we all go through our struggles but I feel like I had to be more cheery than what I was, given whatever I was going through. Regardless we'd chat constantly and I was still excited to have him as my friend, chatting on Discord and gaming.

The first time he asked me out, I didnt give him a direct answer, and the next day he was like "oh this girl I know wants to date me actually so you can disregard what i said", and the second time he asked me out was when i was 18, and I basically gave him an indecisive answer, but internally I did play around with the idea of dating him. The next day, he said something to the effect of us needing to stop talking to one another. I was confused because otherwise we were fine as friends. After sending a message explaining how I'd give him some space and that I'd still be there for him if he needed me, he said "I literally dont want to be friends with you, and for the record I have a girlfriend." He blocked me and I'm left crying as I'm heading to work. At this time, it was summer, getting into fall, and for a while I was struggling with seasonal depression. This basically sends me into a bad headspace and I finally realized that I needed to get on antidepressants. We don't talk to for like, 4-5 months, until he finally messages me again. I do end up talking to him but it's at this point I'm completely devoided of any real positive feelings from him. I told him about what I've been doing recently and how I got on antidepressants and then he makes a comment how he "didnt believe that I needed to be on antidepressants". I really shouldve blocked him by this point, but I think I was still just used to being reliant on him as a friend/almost partner, but we casually talk for a week or two. The tipping point was when he learned I had a job and then over the course of a few days was like "I dont have any money to buy my friends anything." So i felt like I had to give him money, so I did. My mom found out about me giving money to him (and she knew about this guy anyway, as I first told her that I met him online through gaming and basically updated her on everything, she kept a watchful eye and ear out, don't worry), and she gave me a reality check and said I needed to confront him about what was going on, about why he was flakey and if he was honest about things like his age or certain struggles he was going through (she found his facebook and yeah, that's normally an invasion of privacy but I think it was warranted). And basically just to cut him out of my life since I was 18, about to turn 19 (and I never flirted with him, mainly just complimented him, and I never sent him anything like nudes and neither did he). I had one last conversation with him but my memory just really blocks it out, it was over a discord call. I never really got closure from talking to him but I dont plan on ever reaching out to him again (plus he blocked me afterward, loser).

I'm 22 now, and I get that OP you're 17, and are coming from a place of concern, and I would say that concerns/awareness of groomers are (rightfully) being taught more to the younger generation. But I want to stress that while a 7 year gap can be weird, this doesnt seem like the case of grooming, especially since they did not meet when W was a minor. Like many commenters are saying, they are in similar stages of their life where they both align, socially and goal wise. There is the case of adolescence stopping/brain finishing development when you're 25 but honestly? I could easily meet and date a 27 year old now, Hell, I couldve probably met a 27 year old when I was 20. It really depends on the circumstances on when they met and how they met. This is just my perspective though.

And like, you can be friends or know people that are considerably older than you. Jobs and college are literally like this. And 7 years is not old. You wouldnt call the 7 year age gap between a 40 year old with a 47 year old weird.

I also think that you're not giving her enough credit and are babying her (while you yourself are 17. Sure you are closer in years and are offering a friend perspective but you're also talking about grooming, which is mostly centered around a minor and adult, or when it involves someone with a clearly stronger power imbalance, like a boss with their employee). I do get her struggle in bring social recluse/isolated, as I'm on the autism spectrum, which does make things harder like picking up on social cues and have had period in live life where I kept to myself socially because putting in the effort to mask more was draining (and wouldnt you know it, makes it "easier" to be groomed), but it's not impossible, and it gets easier to manage. I mean, she managed to get into that friend group you mentioned, which is great for her! And I hope she does come back fo the meetups or otherwise keeps in touch with them in some way.

I apologize for the rant (and I do consider my experience to be 'lucky' almost, because it couldve been worse), and in the end it's not my business, but really wanted to express that her dating a 27 year old at 20 is okay. She met her partner in a good environment at a good time. You should reach out an apologize and talk it out.

AITA for disapproving of my best friend's relationship? (CW for grooming)

Context: about a year ago I (17, transmasc) joined a local group for queer teenagers to hang out and do stuff together (we meet once a week at the library). The group consists of roughly 10 people and I usually get along with all of them, but my closest friend in the group is W (20, transfem). I would say she's my best friend in general, and I think she'd say the same for me. I'm still in high school and W goes to the community college here.

A few weeks ago, myself, W, and another friend from the group, J (18, cis guy) were over at my place. After a while W said she had some news for us - she'd gotten into a relationship! W used to be (and still is) very socially isolated. She didn't have any friends to speak of before joining the group, not even online, so for her to find a romantic partner was super exciting and I was honestly really proud of her. I obviously wanted to hear more about it, so I asked her to elaborate and this is where things go off the rails.

She said that her new girlfriend (let's call her L) was also trans, and that she was 27. She said they'd met in college and started spending more and more time together. She told us she'd honestly just expected to be friends, but over the winter break L officially asked her out, she was elated, and since then they'd been spending basically all their free time together. immediately alarm bells started ringing in my head - I asked her if I'd heard it right, that L is 27, and W responded yeah, and she knows it's a little strange, but she doesn't mind, so whatever.

I tried to calmly tell her that a 7 year age gap is way too much and that it's not a safe relationship to be in. She immediately got defensive, saying she's an adult and she can do what she wants, etc etc. I said I don't care if she's technically an adult, that's still fucking creepy! I asked J, who had been keeping quiet the whole time, to back me up, but all he did was give me that "I don't know, it's not my place to say anything" bullshit. I was genuinely shocked, I thought he would have supported me but he just… waffled. We had all gotten pretty heated, and at this point W had stood up and started shuffling over to the door. She started in saying I was overreacting over nothing, that they'd been together for not even two weeks, and she didn't need my permission to have this relationship. She said she thought she could trust me, she only told me because she thought I'd be happy for her, on and on, and then she walked out.

It's been a few weeks since then, and she hasn't shown up to the group at the library. I've been too scared to text her because she's clearly pissed off at me. I recognize that I wasn't very good at keeping my composure, and I definitely could have been kinder about it, but I was just scared for my friend. It would be worrying if anyone had gotten into a relationship with that much of an age gap - but she has essentially 0 social skills, and hasn't been in a relationship before, so I'm terrified that she's being taken advantage of because of her inexperience.

What are these acronyms?

[ranvwoop]

Obligatory Statement. I have been aware of current happenings! This is for sure! I can just sort of wish that Shbble can be somewhat at peace in all of this

consider this my public denouncement of That Guy

[icharchivist]

i mean i get why it sucks but i've been having an existential crisis that keeps me up at night for most of my life too and i'm not producing people expressly to abuse them and use them as tools about it. Astrals are just on something else i guess

i'd say it's a question of scale in general, as in an existential crisis coming so deeply from a whole different life in your head would fuck someone up much more. but anyway i keep saying Lucilius' way to treat other is bad, in those same posts in fact, just that his issues with depersonalization/derealization are also extremely compelling and actually make me feel bad for him. Those two feelings can coexist, and i don't mean that you have to be nicer to him or anything. i'm just saying he's still an interesting character.

[coredrill]

koyanagi based

[sheeezu]

Yes, this is a new account, I just made this. I don't care if people question the authenticity of my post, my experience as a shifter, or whatever I'm about to say.

I don't know how to use Tumblr, nor do I know how to make my post reach people who need it, nor would I be a narcissist and say "you're lucky if you found my post!" I don't mind if this reaches an audience or not, I'm glad to get everything off my chest.

Yes. I've shifted.

I have shifted realities, more times than I can count on my fingers, and that is for a very specific reason, which I'll explain later.

I'm writing this because I'm about to permashift, and no, I won't hear out any antishifters or people who don't like permashifting in general, I don't care about your opinion so don't waste my time.

Before I start, I'd like to say one thing:

I was irrational minded, I lacked belief in myself and shifting. Shifting often times felt like a chore more than a fun activity, and i have to admit, it became an unhealthy habit.

So? Why did I mention this?

Because I had been lurking around shifting communities and I realised everyone feels like this, a very (mentally) painful feeling where the lack of shifts starts acting as your biggest enemy, and the phrase:

"Shifting needs practice!"

Sounds like poison when it comes from an experienced shifter.

Though, is the phrase actually true?

No, not at all.

Shifting does not need practice!!

Here's why:

(BTW, I will explain my "method", no matter if I have time or not. Also, I don't call this reality "Current Reality", instead I call it Void reality, so don't get confused.)

The "practice" you're doing is only affecting your void reality (taking time out of your day, making you constantly think you're in your learning phase, so it doesn't exactly lead to your desired reality, does it?)

Of course, if you view it as a skill, it will in some way act like that, it'll become a skill for you, and you can never succeed on your first, second, third, hundredth try, because in your brain you have registered the fact that shifting is this grand, universal task, and that it is very difficult (because its common sense that you practice difficult things to get good at them)

Practice is a very humane and earthly act, if people have succeeded doing just practice, then good for then, they're right in their own way, but it didn't work for me, and in my opinion it's the worst way to view shifting, and often times it is demotivating, and you'll mess up you're entire journey.

Shifting is not a skill, shifting is a universal law.

I'll become more clear as I explain my journey:

My journey:

I found shifting from a random YouTube video 3 years ago. I might have only said cool and moved along.

A year later something traumatic happened in my life, which shook me so badly I needed an escape.

First of all, I chose astral projecting, but I realised I was too much of a coward to do so.

Then I came towards shifting, first DR was very typical, it was Hogwarts.

Having no knowledge whatsoever in the topics of spirituality, meditation, I went straight to methods, because they were like guides for me, I was very inexperienced, of course, and looked at other people and what they were doing for guidance.

Alice in wonderland method didn't do much, raven method was too uncomfortable (side note, all this raven method does is make you too focused on your void reality, cmon, in your DR are you laying down like a starfish?) And I was having terrible trouble with my intrusive thoughts (which made the floor disappear from under my feet, made the stairs for the stairs method too short to climb or straight up made them dissappear as well)

I didn't have any luck that year, no mini shifts, no lucid dreams, or sleep paralysis. And my DRs never remained constant. They always changed on a daily basis.

I was big on methods, I couldn't realize they never worked for me.

Although, this year of failure led me to finally figure out where I belonged.

A DR made out of scratch, which I spend much effort in putting the pieces of it together.

The DR, which was called "Home reality" really made me feel settled in my journey.

LOA, and the consciousness theory were the leading factors which made me shift.

And don't worry, it isn't what you're tired of being told, I didn't just apply any orthodox definition of LOA and succeeded.

Background to my first shift:

It was a particularly stressful day, I really missed my home.

I was studying at my college (I still am, but...) and I was dreading giving a chemistry test, I did not prepare. In my mind, one thing was constantly looping in my head.

The scenario of the chemistry teacher coming in, and taking the test, and the next day I get it handed back with a big fat zero.

But then I stopped and wondered, having already known about the consciousness theory, so according to it:

"I am constantly letting this thought run in my mind, and constantly letting this reality dictate what happens next."

Basically, I realized what was about to happen next was indirectly in my control, but with my line of thinking, I was letting this reality control it directly.

I stopped, like actually stopped thinking.

And with a blank mind I thought.

"I won't have to take any test today."

And went around telling my classmates this with a confident tone.

The teacher came in, said we'll instead do some practicals in lab.

So the test got cancelled.

Going home, I got excited, i felt powerful.

I decided to apply this to shifting.

Before shifting, I took a nap during the day, (if you're tired your body insists on sleeping, so your mind will get hazy and you will start acting lazy towards your goal)

And after living how I normally would, before bedtime, I listened to some songs, and look at a Pinterest board which reminded me of my home reality.

My method and what happened next:

First phase of shifting:

When I laid down on the bed to start shifting, I first got comfy (for me, if I feel sleepy for some reason, I laid on my back, I can't fall asleep in that position, but if I think ill stay awake until I reach a "detached state" then I sleep on my side, it's comfortable)

I obviously wasn't checking the time, but I spent about 10 minutes getting relaxed, all I do to relax is:

a) look at the blackness (closed eyes, looks like starry skies) and try to believe I'm looking at the milky way.

b) think about my home reality, just faces of my loved ones, and nostalgia inducing images.

c) Affirm, but don't focus entirely on affirming, usually in the back of my mind I'm repeating "I have shifted to my home reality" "I have shifted my senses to my home reality" "I have stopped sensing the void reality" "I am smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing and seeing my home reality" no other fancy affirmations required. (Now that I think about it, you need to affirm NOW because this method has two phases, one where you are shifting, and one where you have shifted, and you are in the 3D, where you are occupying your DR self, their thoughts, and memories, and popular method usually only have one phase, either you are shifting, or have shifted. So my point is if you affirm later and you'll be affirming when you're supposed to be in your DR, and obviously, your DR self won't be spouting out affirmations about shifting to a random reality for no reason.)

During this time, you'll feel tingly all over. It's a good sign.

And you'll feel a certain detachment, like you aren't exactly here, you have no idea what position you're lying in, and where your feet are. (Please, for the love of God do not start counting your feet or get freaked out that you can't feel your leg, you'll come back to the void reality.)

So you can start the next phase.

Middle phase (optional):

To prepare for the next and last phase, you can do this to get ready, or don't (First read the third phase)

This is all about connection to your DR.

Think about memories from your DR, focus on the faces of your loved ones, the way you act, talk, your mannerisms in your DR, or you can simply say affirmations like these one:

My name is ___.

I work as a ___.

My age is ___.

Don't try to imagine vividly or anything, lightly touch upon the basic details of your DR, the construction and foundation of any reality and the person, who has existed there for their entire life.

(That's you!)

Phase three:

Take a sudden, abrupt stop from your stream of thoughts. (Yes intrusive thoughts will still pop up but don't give any importance to them) when you're in a blank state of mind, not longer than 30 seconds, you need to build up to the last step of your shifting method, and journey.

a) start imagining hearing the voices of your loved ones or just any voice, calling your DR name, your nicknames, with different tones. (For example, i heard my name in an angry tone from my father when he was scolding me, I heard my name followed by a laughter when my S/O teased me.)

OK, for me, I started feeling intense, groundshaking symptoms at this moment. Sudden flashing of lights, extreme feeling of floating, and ofcourse, feeling tingliness so much that it felt like pins and needle on my entire body. (I did ignore the symptoms)

b) plan the rest of your day in your DR, which you will be spending.

AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T SAY IT LIKE THIS.

❌️When I reach my DR ❌️ I will have to go to that eye specialist for that appointment.

Instead: (and the more you personalize it, the better)

Ughhh, I have to go to that appointment- this day will suck.

(Don't mind my example, that was the only thing I could think of at the moment)

c) in this reality, you are constantly thinking of something, your thoughts are definitely what constructs this reality, and your current thoughts are affecting your subconscious. (By this point, your subconscious is grounded in your DR, so don't worry about that bastard.)

Now, you're going to start thinking, thoughts which are going on in your DR self's mind, start with one sentence, with which you'll be able to start consciously thinking like your DR self.

And think in the style, tone, and mood of your DR self, and keep the thoughts strictly related to your DR.

Thats it, but what happens afterwards? And what happened to me?

So for me, I started feeling weird while I was thinking.

And I remember I thought this:

"Ugh, I don't want eggs for breakfast."

(I'm not saying this is the key to shifting, at this point, I had covered various topics, including, weather, my upcoming work assignment, and praised my S/O for a good 5 minutes.)

And I started panting, like suddenly I was trying to catch my breath, the room felt bright, so I opened my eyes, and well, I was in my home reality :)

I was delirious for a few second, my S/O was looking at me worriedly, but surprisingly, it didn't even take me a minute to adjust, it felt all so natural and I wasn't scared.

I didn't even feel emotional, at all, and didn't hug my S/O with tears in my eyes, I straight up asked to be served breakfast, incase anyone was wondering.

So that's it.

Although i have much to say, I'm tired of writing, but I'm more than willing to answer each and every one of your questions, although I only have 7 hours left till I permashift, I'll remain mostly active till then.

And no, I'm not rereading this to fix my grammar, so just ask if anything confused you.

Ask away.

I'm still not sure if this'll reach anyone or not.

[rainrot4me]

Jeff the Killer General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jeff as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 2.6k

A/N: NSFW is reader with female anatomy.

Basic:

- Big isolation guy. He enjoys pestering people or hanging out, but when it comes to personal things like missions or killing sprees, he prefers to be alone. His head’s already loud enough that he doesn’t need to add to it when he’s trying to focus.

- Blunt. Like to the point it’s a drag to even talk to him sometimes. He doesn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything besides himself, so why would he need to hide what he actually wants to say?

- Dangerously short temper. It barely takes one nasty remark or even a hint that you have ill intent towards him before the killer is on your ass. Would rather beat the shit out of you than take the time to reconcile.

- A STARER. Has absolutely no remorse when just boring his eyes into someone, eyes wide and horrifying. He loves to watch every expression as he’s ending someone’s life, every bit of anger or fear, but especially the blank stare in their eyes afterward. You catch his glance all the time, and instead of looking away politely like a normal person would, he just smiles as he glares even harder.

- Loves story based video games that Ben shows him. Life is Strange, Night in the Woods, and What Remains of Edith Finch. Has to play them all in their entirety before he can do anything else, so he’ll be glued to the couch for days.

- Has a difficult time with names, so he comes up with nicknames or terms to make it easier. “Twitch” - Toby, “Sockets” - Jack, or “Glitch” - Ben. Don’t worry, he’ll give you one, too.

- A laugher. When he’s in pain, when he’s sad, when he’s happy, that man is laughing. Choked out dry heaving chuckles or tipsy short airheaded giggles, it doesn’t matter, he will be laughing.

- Terrible sleep paralysis and nightmares keep him up during the night, the most sleep this man will ever get is a little over 3 hours. It really doesn’t help his mood, either.

- The scars on his cheeks used to bleed and get infected so bad he could barely shut his mouth due to the swelling. He would numb it down with pain killers and anything he could find, but it wasn’t until Slender tried to make him into a proxy that they eventually sealed and scarred over, creating wide gashes (weird cryptid powers).

- Thinks about his brother every waking moment. He feels so much pent up regret and sadness concerning Liu, but refuses to search for him or even shed a tear. This sends him into mental breakdown episodes, and sadly, the only relief is just to create more carnage.

- Actually really hates violence unless he’s the one delivering it. Doesn’t like violent movies or music because they romanticize everything he hates about himself. Any media he enjoys is either really bland or really toned down, stuff that won’t trigger him.

- Cuts his own hair, and yes, he’s horrible at it.

- Messed up his appearance to make himself ‘beautiful’, but just ended up so disgusted and ashamed of himself in the long run. When his mental fog gets bad, he’ll just stand in front of the mirror and stare at himself, letting every negative thought wash over. Outside, he’ll brandish it like a weapon, something to get victims to submit. But on the inside, it’s just a nasty reminder.

- Showers only when it gets to the uncomfortable point. He doesn’t have the time or energy or wash himself every day, but when it gets to the point he feels the blood and grime subconsciously, he’ll get over it. Even if he does wash himself, half the time actually in the shower is just letting the water run over him and staring at the tile wall.

- Gets all of his money and random trinkets from victims. Proceeds to spend all that money almost immediately after on a pack of Blue Moons. No orange slice, either.

- Messy, disgusting room. Has no healthy habits of keeping him or his space tidy, so it’s always near disastrous.

- Even though the media and lots of outlets perceive him as this insane maniac killer, those were all big stories from his teenage years. Even though he doesn’t feel like he’s matured, he’s definitely found a happy medium away from spree after spree of slaughter. He still itches to take down a whole neighborhood, but he’s found his ways to cope.

- Very good at hand-to-hand combat. He wields a knife if things get a little rough, but prefers to use his hands to do the dirty work. Makes it feel more personal to him.

- Late-night kitchen demon. You’ll find him rummaging the fridge or making a bowl of cereal in the complete darkness, but he’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him.

- Annoying, painfully so. Hell wrack EJ’s ear off or pester Toby about little things, but he can’t help but get giddy when he sees he’s ticked them off just enough.

- Really agile. Had a thinner build, but muscle definition and tension really adds to the aesthetic. Really defined v-line and hips bones, as well as carved out shoulders and collarbones. Looks like a beefier skeleton, but hot.

- Lip piercings. Snake bites. They’re not healed and they’re not pretty, but he thinks they look badass.

- Scars and jagged pieces of flesh everywhere on his body. They’re either from mission aftermaths, rough targets, or his own doing, but they’re all gnarly and barely healed half of the time. They hurt terribly, but he’s constantly cracked out on painkillers that he doesn’t even care anymore.

- Enjoys the shoegaze music genre. Aldn, Wisp, Elita, Deftones, and surprisingly, The Cardigans and The Cranberries. They remind him of his childhood.

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Baby” “Babe” “Cunt”

- Big words of affirmation guy. He’ll act disgusted and shove you off, rolling his eyes about your sweet words- but in reality, he’s gushing so hard he can’t stand it. Reassurance makes him feel more loved than anything.

- The fastest ‘enemies or lovers’ troupe you’ll ever experience. It’ll only take one face-to-face argument before you both get too close and he’s pulling you in for a rough make out. He’s bad with emotions, what makes you think he wouldn't be bad at reading love/hate signals too.

- HATES to show any sign of weakness or adoration. If you’re laying with him or holding his hand, as soon as someone enters the room he’s shoving you off. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s a deep-rooted fear that someone will use you against him.

- If he’s spent the night in your bed, he will always be gone by the time you’ve woken up. Out of fear of vulnerability, he will only fall asleep after you and wake up before you, otherwise he just won’t stay with you at all.

- He’s like dealing with a little kid. Yes, he’s been through heaps of mental anguish and trauma, but he’s gone through all of that without a hand to hold. In some sad way, he sees something motherly and comforting in you which drives him to latch on and become dependent. It's weird, but so is he.

- Jealousy problems. Big time.

- “He touched you. So I cut his arm off. What is so hard to understand here?”

- Needs to be bossed around. He can and will rot in his bed all day unless you tell him to get up and do something.

- Absolutely melts when you kiss him unprovoked. When he doesn’t force you or tease you into one, but when you decide to kiss his face or hands on your own terms. It’s his favorite thing.

- In his manic brain, he wants something calm, someone who can settle him out. You offer him stability and a chance to unwind and that’s really all he needs.

- As a nervous response, he’ll intentionally push you away if he knows you like him. He holds a lot of regret, so he doesn’t want to drag you along with the rest of his baggage. Will say and do things he knows will hurt your feelings so you leave on your own.

- “And what made you think I’d want you? Because we kissed? Hah! How cute.” Meanwhile, he’s in his room pining himself to shreds.

- Watches you sleep constantly. Doesn’t matter where you are or how far, he will trek through your window or into your bed to watch you snore quietly against your pillow. He likes the vulnerability of it and acting as your ‘protector’, like you have no choice but to rely on him in this state.

- You are the last person Jeff wants to break down in front of, but when it eventually happens, and you’re there with open arms- the killer can barely breathe from how full his heart feels. The feeling of just being able to sob and bury into your shoulder while you rub his back is incomparable.

- Possessive AND protective to a fault. Wants everyone to know you’re his, but at the same time, really enjoys when you flaunt yourself so he can stare down the wandering eyes and really show them who they’d be messing with. Either way, eats it up when you feel good about yourself and safe in him.

- Nasty, terribly toxic relationship. You both bounce off of each other and are constantly arguing, but you both get over it because you’ve grown codependent. There’s nothing ‘casual’ about the two of you, you’re either fuck buddies or desperately clawing at each other for survival. Jeff is an obsessive guy, he either wants everything to do with you or he’ll hide away and tear himself apart over you.

- Jewelry is such a yes for him. If you’re wearing thick earrings or chunky necklaces that brighten your face, he eats it up. He’s such a sucker for silver.

- Does not ask for kisses, he takes them.

- “C’mon baby, I can’t help it. You’re just so fun to mess with.”

- Since he doesn’t sleep much, likes to lay on his back while your head rests on his chest/shoulder. He’ll tangle his fingers through your hair or brush your cheek with his thumb while he stares at you or the ceiling. Even when he has doubts about you loving him, your body always subconsciously shifts towards him while you’re snoozing, and it makes him feel just a little better.

- Fake punches/hits you when he’s bored. Will hold his hands up and box at your face but never making contact, just enough to have you side-eye him. He thinks it’s funny.

- Shoulder kisses.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Can and will touch you inappropriately no matter the circumstances. His rough hands groping your ass or shoving between your thighs to give flirty little touches in front of everyone, his shit-eating grin when you get embarrassed.

- “Stop glaring, sweet cheeks. I know you want me.”

- Will fight to his dying day that he’s a top, but as soon as you even give him a glint of dominance or snap at him, he’s folding so fast. Dominant person, submissive lover.

- Killing machine on the field, pathetic ass bottom in bed. It takes forever to get to that point, but once he’s mentally checked out and half-drooling on the mattress, he’s so pliable and lightheaded he’ll take it with ease. You have to really work for it, but Jeff trusts you/wants it bad enough subconsciously that he’ll force himself to go into a subspace.

- All-time favorite position is laying you out on your back, one leg up on his shoulder while the other is being held down at your side. It really opens you up and gives the nastiest, most lewd noises that have him pussydrunk. Bonus points for reaching a hand in to choke you.

- “And to think you were beggin’ me to stop while your pussy is soaked. I mean, look at you, babe. You’re suckin’ me in somethin’ awful.”

- CHOKING. Either you or him, he gets off on it so bad. Choking you is so satisfying, he loves the resistance and struggle as you gasp for air, face flushed and eyes rolling with his fist around your throat. Meanwhile, if you’re choking him, his body nearly convulses from the pleasure. He loves the lightheadedness and pressure of it, hoarse chuckles as both of your hands grip around his neck and just squeeze. He thinks he could cum just from being strangled.

- “What’s wrong, baby? Lil’ too much? Ah- You’ll get over it, just open up f’me.”

- Hair pulling, strangling, biting, smacking—really anything that’ll cause pain.

- Standing side-by-side in the mirror, his body is littered with nasty cuts and scars while yours is littered with pretty bite marks and hickeys. He loves it.

- Eating you out is so tiring, but it’s all worth it to look up and see your heavy, glassed-over eyes beaming down at him, lips parted as you’re gasping.

- Hard, quick thrusts that have you gasping and yelping. His hips snap against yours rhythmically until you throw your head back, then he leans in close and shifts his knees closer to really speed up. He never has a set pace, but prefers always adjusting to whatever has you making the most noise.

- “C’mon… Louder- Hah- I’m not stoppin’ till you’re cryin’ for it.”

- A bitch fight every time you two get together. Bickering with the other about ‘who can last longer’ or ‘going until you beg for it’ and it irritates the shit out of both of you. Gets you both riled up that you’re more fighting than fucking, but by the end, you’re both dead exhausted and reduced to panting messed laid out on top of each other.

- Refuses to pull out. He can’t get you pregnant, Slender made sure of that (God help if this heathen was allowed to procreate), so it’s either in your cunt, ass, or mouth, nowhere else. Even if he’s jerking himself off, he’ll wait to cum until he can get to you and finish himself out.

- Stands over you and stares hard enough until you’re reduced to your knees, words never even leaving his lips before you’re unbuckling his belt and shifting his jeans down. He’s fought you enough, sometimes you like to just be good for him.

- Pulling him in by his belt >>>>>>>>>

- Eating you out or sucking you off so much that drool leaks from his scars, eyes so hazed and soft as he hums and moans against you.

- “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

- Fucked you with the handle of his knife because you read something about it in a book and wanted to see if it actually felt good. He was weirded out at first, but when he watched you jerking your hips and mumbling for him to fuck you, he’s never fucked his cock in faster while rubbing the blunt of the handle against your drooling clit. Same thing with running the blade against your skin. It just elicits some reaction out of you that he can’t understand, but it turns him on terribly.

- Has a big thing for cop x prisoner roleplay actually.

- “What? Officer, how am I supposed to finger you with these handcuffs, hm? I guess you’ll just have to let me go, yeah? Or do you not want it as bad as your pussy leads me to believe?”

- Really loves fingering you while he’s buried in your ass. Curling his fingers up to make you arch your back just a little more, having your head spinning from the overstimulation… yeah.

- A 2-3 round champion. He’ll never be able to just cum once and be satisfied, regardless if you’re ready to stop or not, he’s forcing his cock back into wherever it was or in a completely different hole and riding himself out to his next orgasm. If he’s not shaking and on the verge of passing out after sex, it wasn’t good enough for him.

- “Jeff, stop! We could get caught!” “Or you could just shut up and take your panties off. You’re soaked, there’s no point in fighting me when I’m already this hard… C’mon, baby, give me your hand or something…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

I'm at work rn, and I'm completely burnt out. Can you create where Mc is burnt-out and is still being asked to do favors by others, but still tries their best. And Vil, Malleus, or Leona thwarts off all the people annoying Mc? Sorry if I asked it weird, I have never requested anything before and don't know how to ask.😓

Leona Kingscholar:

You’re getting scolded by Leona first and foremost. The fact you even agree to do simple tasks for others when they’re fully capable of doing it themselves annoyed him, but he generally kept his mouth shut, at least depending on the request. Seeing you push yourself to your limits for the sake of other people is what really grated his nerves, especially when they lacked gratitude and continued to ask for more as if they were testing your limits. He didn’t often get involved on your behalf because he saw you as fully capable of making your own decisions, but it seemed you were perfectly fine being taken advantage of and that wasn’t sitting well with him. His words are harsh, to the point, a clear threat of what will happen if he sees one more person approach you with anything even resembling a favor.

Malleus Draconia:

If Malleus is willing to use his scary boyfriend privilege for anything, it would be against those trying to take advantage of your kind heart. He had always admired it about you, though he worried about the level of naïveté you showed when it came to helping others; these things always had a price, and he wished it wasn’t always at your expense. Malleus shoos them away like they’re nothing more than annoying birds, the menacing smile remaining on his face as he led you away before they could attempt to appeal to you. He did have to question why, even despite looking exhausted, you still wanted to try so hard for others, prepared to forbid you from accepting extra requests until your own work life had calmed down a bit.

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil is another person who really preferred letting you handle your own business, only stepping in when you asked for his opinion or he really thought you were acting out of line. This was one of the times he couldn’t bite his tongue, hoping you didn’t take it personally when he delivered his honest opinion that you were acting foolish by taking on more than you could handle. He understood that at times you were too nice for your own good but that made you a target for lazy people who couldn’t fulfill their own tasks and instead wanted to push the stress onto you. It was all gain for them and no reward for you, which Vil holds a finger up to silence you when you attempt to fight back that just helping was a reward in itself. He didn’t hide the disdain on his face when he confronted the next person attempting to get a favor from you, telling them to do the work themselves as you were on vacation at the moment.

[benjinotes]

𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 - benjicot blackwood

summary: an unexpected visit to a pleasure house causes tension to rise between you and your brother's new nephew.

pairings: benjicot blackwood x fem (stark) reader

warnings: mentions of sex, but without actual smut, profanity, and spicy.

ask me for permission before translating.

Benjicot knew the rumors that went around about you, about your rebellious personality, and about your sharp tongue.

He generally did not believe rumors, given his experience with distorting and exaggerating stories. Most of the things that circulated about him were often fabricated by the foolish Brackens who liked to tarnish his name, and a few others were created by those who even enjoyed his more violent side. This made him a little skeptical.

At first, Benjicot even thought that the stories about your audacity and rebelliousness were mere exaggerations, whispers from the North to the people nearby, or even your brother's own words to ward off any suitors you might have, but everything changed when your families became one and he began to observe you closely, noticing that every rumor he heard reflected the truth of your personality.

He clearly remembered the first cutting word you threw at him when you two met, he also remembered the excessively sweet smile you gave him, a smile so sweet that only a careful look could detect the falseness. He appreciated every acidic word and every forced grin so intensely that he wished those marks were embedded on his skin, like a burning reminder of who you really were.

The duality between the two of you left Benji thirsty for more, turning every encounter into a game of challenging looks, provocative smiles, and falsely sweet words, yet he loved it; the more contact you had, the thirstier he became, more and more overwhelmed by your presence and personality.

He knew that every word you said to him was a conversation calculated to get into his head, and every discreet touch was caught up in an intense conflict between the rebellion you possessed and the probability of getting something out of him, something he didn't even know if he had or was capable of possessing.

Either way, Benjicot didn't care; he liked to be used, both by you and by the stubbornness that flowed through your veins.

He liked to be a easy prey for you. Maybe that was why he followed you through the dark and cold streets of Winterfell at such a late hour.

As he follows you through the dark, icy streets of Winterfell, Blackwood remains hidden in the shadows, careful not to reveal his presence. The snow beneath his feet cushioned his steps as he walked down the silent alleys, lit only by the faint glow of distant lights. Despite the cold in the air, his determination to unravel the reason for his visit to a place that, in his opinion, was not suitable for a lady like you.

Benji watched in surprise as you entered one of Winterfell's pleasure houses, hiding further into the shadows as you glanced back before completely passing through that door as it fell to pieces.

The idea of you going to a place like that made him possessed and yet intrigued, so he followed your steps without hesitation, ignoring any kind of logic that told him to stop, but nevertheless, his mind was more consumed by you than by anything else.

He needed to find you.

In the corridors of the pleasure house, Benjicot could not contain a discreet cough at the profusion of thick perfumes that permeated the air, and as he tried to ignore the fragrances, he could not help but thinking that those intense aromas perhaps served as a smoke screen, to cover up the residual odor of sex that escaped from the cracks in the bedroom doors, where moans and loud noises presided.

As he turned towards the other hallway, Benjicot felt a subtle presence behind him. A light current of air, filled with the intense scent of the place, made him stop instantly and slowly feel the dagger he had attached to his belt.

Slowly, widening his eyes in surprise, he found you there, without the cloak that had previously protected you from the cold outside, a sly smile playing on your pretty lips. It was as if you knew exactly what he intended with that visit, even if he didn't know himself.

He put the dagger down quickly.

"You have a gift for appearing at the most intriguing moments, Blackwood.” You hummed in a falsely sweet but confident voice.

"Lady Stark." Benji greeted you in a stupid attempt to ease the embarrassment he was feeling for following you, and you almost laughed at that.

"Stop the act." You started. "I'm sure Alysanne wouldn't like to find out that her nephew is in a place like this." You said it teasingly, and he licked the inside of his cheek mockingly.

"And what about your brother?" He snapped back and lowered his head so it was at your level, his heart pounding when he saw that you hadn't moved an inch. "I'm sure your brother wouldn't like to see you in a place like this."

"You're right, he wouldn't like it." You hummed once more, putting your head in his direction, almost mixing both breaths into one. "But he wouldn't be surprised if that's what worries you, Benny." You said the last word with a shameless smile, and when he suddenly blushed, your smile grew even bigger.

And the air around you seemed to electrify with the rising tension.

Benjicot felt his breathing becoming heavier as your provocative words echoed in his mind, and he seemed unable to tear his eyes away from yours, mesmerized by the closeness of your faces, the mixture of your breaths creating a suffocating hunger.

"So, what's your real reason for being here?" You muttered, your voice low and full of challenge, your gaze fixed on his, searching for the answers you already knew.

Benjicot opened his mouth to respond but hesitated, feeling the internal struggle between reason and desire. He knew he should move away and maintain his composure, but the proximity of your bodies and the intense look you gave him made his thoughts hazy and filled with your essence.

"Maybe I came looking for something... or someone." He finally responded, his voice barely audible as he felt your nail scrape his cheek. However, his voice was full of intention.

"Really?" You teased him again, leaning even closer until your lips were almost touching. "And did you find what you were looking for?"

Benjicot felt his heart beat faster; a current was running through his body and giving him chills. "I think so." He whispered back, his breathing ragged but just as thirsty as yours.

The closeness was unbearable, and before he could think twice, his lips found yours in a kiss filled with desire and repressed tension. At first, the touch was soft, almost tentative, but it quickly turned into something more urgent and intense, as if you had both been waiting for this moment for a long time, and in fact you both had been.

The kiss was full of tongues and teeth; he kissed you as a starving man and even dried up, because with the strength he held you, you were almost sure you would see the mark of Benji's fingers as soon as you undressed. However, you didn't care as you hugged his neck and tried to unite the clothed bodies into one.

And, when you finally both pulled away to breathe, your lips slowly separated, and Benjicot still kept one hand firmly on your waist, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and surprise at what had just happened. You both breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling rapidly as both tried to catch your breaths, both thirsty for more.

Still, with swollen lips and a mischievous smile, you pulled away from his body and said. "Well, that was fun." Then, without waiting for a response, you turned and walked down the hall, leaving him standing there with confusion, still trying to process what had just happened.

Watching as you disappeared from his view, he couldn't help but smile in disbelief at what had happened, and he was a little disappointed that it had ended so quickly.

But one thing was certain: Benjicot liked you that way — intense, unpredictable, and provocative.

And he definitely wanted more of that, more of you.

— I apologize if there are any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

— I hope you liked it, because honestly, I don't know how to feel about this. 😭

tag: @maidr-00

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

I have a request for Astarion ! What if reader is usually the one being seduced by Astarion (because that's how he is) but reader one day does the very chivalrous hand kissing to Astarion after maybe protecting him from an enemy?

Rizz if you will.

It's Called Chivalry, Darling

pairing : astarion x (gn) reader

summary : astarion makes a point to be chivalrous so you return the favour to distract him from being worried.

warnings :talk about weapons and fighting, reader gets hurt.

a/n: thanks sm for your request :). i tried my hardest to execute this idea, i hope you like it anon :0 (i have not played baldurs gate)

“I think we could stock up there. ” You point to a row of buildings, signs practically unreadable, grabbing the attention of the others in your group. They all hum in agreement before heading off in their own directions. The only store you assume you’ll be needing is a general store, so you head in that direction. 

You reach for the handle but someone else's hand beats you to it, pulling it open for you. Turning to look, you make eye contact with the ever handsome Astarion, smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Why’re you opening the door for me? What do you want?” You point an accusatory finger in his face, causing him to chuckle. His laugh is so soft it almost makes you drop your finger. 

“It’s called chivalry, my dear. You aren’t familiar?” He follows behind you as you enter the store, rolling your eyes at him. The store is mostly empty, besides a few men looking through the wares available. But even with all the open space for him to walk, Astarion seems to tail you as if the store is crowded. 

“Ooh get some more of that stuff, remember you used it on me? It made that cut on my arm feel like nothing.” He points from behind you at a healing balm in a small, glass jar. You stop in your tracks to grab it, causing Astarion to push into your back, and you look back at him with a confused stare. 

“Why’d you stop? ” His brows are furrowed, face close to yours.

“Why are you walking so close to me?”

“I just can’t stand to be far from you, my love,” He places his hand on his chest dramatically, voice incredibly theatrical as if he wasn’t already dramatic enough. You're sure that people in the store are shooting glances your way but, unusually, you can't bring yourself to care.

Not when Astarion is looking down at you with playful eyes and a giddy smile on his face. He looks so sweet like this, so free of worry and attitude, his guard is down. But you can't let him realize your thoughts, so before he could even notice your staring you force your face to remain as stoic as before.

You once again roll your eyes then continue your search for anything the group may need. Once you finish you head towards the door, making a point to open the door for yourself which causes Astarion to grunt in disapproval. 

The group finds each other once more and you head out of town, fully prepared for what might be ahead. At least that's what you think, maybe a stupid thought considering you're never truly safe on this perilous journey.

As you travel along the trail, your group seems to split off into its own smaller groups. Whispering and laughing with eachother, making far too much noise in your opinion. And Astarion, slowly trickling from the front all the way to the back where you're walking, finds his place beside you. 

“Why do you always walk so far towards the back? That’s a dangerous position for someone as small as you, no one to keep you safe from behind.” He chuckles to himself as he notices your brows furrow. 

“There’s nobody to annoy me either.” His hand flys to his chest, pretending to be hurt once more, his pace faltering ever so slightly then catching up with you again. 

“Ouch. How you wound me so with your cold words darling.” 

“Astarion, if you wish to accompany me in the back I’d appreciate if..” Your sentence is cut off with a yelp of surprise as you trip over a dip in the road, stumbling forwards. But you don’t fall very far, Astarion’s hand gripping onto your wrist and pulling you towards him. Your chest hits his, and you take a moment to regain your bearings before taking a step away from him.

He raises your hand, still in his grip, up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles, “You must be more careful, darling. Don’t want you getting hurt.” 

You know your face is pink, you can feel it, and the smirk on his face solidifies your worry, but you remain composed and give him a simple nod as you pull your hand away. 

“Shall I hold your hand to ensure you don’t trip again?”

“In your dreams, fangs.” He smiles, it's always so soft during these moments, and the sight alone almost causes you to take back your words and give in to his offer, but you stand your ground and keep your hands close to your hips. Astarion lets out a small laugh at this.

You continue to walk in peaceful silence, Astarion making small quips so the air is never truly silent around you. You've come to realize that Astarion can't stand silence whenever he's around you, and he makes a point to keep the noise level up. But when his tone shifts, and he becomes quieter, you take a peak around. You notice that the group is much closer than before but you don’t mind. Safety in numbers and what not. 

But something feels off. It’s eerily quiet. Not even the whistle of a bird and you swear the wind has stopped entirely. And you think the rest of your group notices as well, perhaps the reason that they had moved closer was so they wouldn’t be caught off guard. Their hands stay on their weapons ready to take them out. 

And then it happens. A group of goblins jump from the surrounding forest and circle around your party. Usually something as small a threat as a goblin would be no problem but in such large numbers they might prove to be a problem. When they initiate a fight, thrusting their blades towards you, you draw your blade. 

Slowly, you pick off goblins, one by one. They’re stronger than you expected and their weapons are much nicer than the ones you had encountered in the past. But you keep your guard up and they’re unable to land a blow on you. It’s when the amount of goblins in front of you is reduced that your guard is let down even the slightest. And your focus shifts. Not the smartest move.

You look around you, realizing that Astarion is no longer by your side.

In your state of distraction, a goblin is able to strike you, leaving a relatively large cut on your arms and cutting the arm of your shirt into a tattered piece. The pain causes you to refocus for a moment, just enough to kill the goblin before you look back towards Astarion.

When your eyes reach his position, your heart drops to your stomach. He is completely surrounded and you're certain that he is unaware just how shitty his situation is. So without a second thought, you leave the goblins in front of you behind, and rush over to him. 

Swinging your blade with as much force as you can muster, you kill the goblins behind him and grab his wrist to pull him out of his unfortunate position. You kill another, after ensuring he is no longer in the way. The two of you pick the goblins off together, standing back to back. And when the fight is over you finally allow yourself a moment to breathe. 

But it doesn’t last long. 

Astarion pushes at your shoulder, causing you to stumble forward, you hardly catch yourself but you do. When you’ve found your footing you straighten up, turning to him with furrowed brows, “What was that for?” 

“Why would you do that?” His tone is so aggressive it catches you off guard, “You could’ve gotten hurt! How could you be so irresponsible? Look at your arm, Gods!"

He holds your arm in his hands, hesitating for a moment before ripping off a piece of his own shirt. Gently, he pushes the arm of your shirt up to uncover your wound and begins to wrap the piece of cloth around the wound with shaky fingers, muttering curse words under his breath.

“You could’ve been killed Astarion! I would’ve gladly gotten hurt in order to prevent that.” You try to keep your cool. The pain is hardly noticeable with the amount of adrenaline pumping through your body. And you honestly find yourself more worried about him being angry with you Obviously, he’s yelling in your face, but it might just be shock getting to him. 

“Why would you do that for me? That is absolutely ridiculous.” He huffs, throwing his hands in the air, then allows them to fall back down to his sides. And an idea suddenly enters you brain. 

Slowly, with caution to not annoy him further, you reach for his still shaky hand. He stares at you, brows furrowed, but he doesn’t pull away. Gently, you place your lips against his bloodied knuckles, making an effort not to hurt his already irritated skin.

“It’s called chivalry, Astarion. You aren’t familiar?” You notice the smallest change in his eyes as they soften, even a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He isn’t mad, just worried. And you know that all the annoyance has fled his body at your attempt to make fun of him and his flirtatious remarks. Honestly, he's a little flattered you remember what he said, and flustered from you playing his own game against him.

You take a step closer, placing a hand on the side of his face to pull him in closer, to plant a soft kiss to his cheekbone. His curls touch your fingertips, and you take the opportunity to play with his soft hair for a moment. When you pull away, a pink tint lingers on his skin, allowing color to flow on his beautiful face. “You know I don’t want you getting hurt.”

This time he lets out a soft laugh, “That’s enough, darling. I understand what you’re doing, you can stop mocking me.” He turns away from you, but you rush to his side, wrapping your hands around his arms. You lean into him, resting your head near his shoulder as you look up at him.

“Shall I hold onto you so you don’t trip, my dear?” You mock his usual flirty tone, and he pushes your head away gently in an attempt to hide the color rushing to his face, ruffling your hair up.

“What, I'm not allowed to flirt with you but you can do it to me?”

"That's exactly right, my dear."

[ceoofyearning]

half algorithm, half deity - (Mafia AU) Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Rhysand’s Sibling)

Summary: You try to date other people, but in truth you’ve only ever wanted Eris Vanserra.

Tags/Warnings:

Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI), SMUT with plot, Angst, Modern Mafia AU, Established FWB, Mentions of past Tamlin x Reader (brief), Mentions canon typical violence, Mentions of minor character death (Rhysand’s mom and other sister)

Alcohol, Oral (M & F receiving), Rough but make it tender & loving too, Hair pulling, P in V, Overstim if you squint (please lmkif i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.5k

Links: Masterlist | My Art

Despite your father’s best efforts, you didn’t inherit your family’s propensity for violence. 

You drink your wine and remind yourself of that fact for the umpteenth time tonight. But if this male gives you another backhanded compliment or, Mother forbid, another unsolicited criticism, you might reconsider that fact. Rhys had made sure you knew how to gut a man in just three moves and you remember each precise stroke as effortlessly as a breath.

To dissuade yourself from such thoughts, you take another generous gulp of wine - your only saving grace as you listen to him drone on and on about his most recent business acquisition. For the past forty-five minutes, the man has managed to recount his entire genealogy, his academic history and recited what felt like an itemized list of all his professional accomplishments. This is supposed to be a date, you’re tempted to remind him, not a chance to whip out his dick and measure it. 

He has yet to ask you anything about yourself, of course, entirely preoccupied with stroking his damn ego. You’ve stopped trying after the fifth cycle of appropriately timed ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, seeing he doesn’t seem to need you to continue his tirade. Your pointed glares and longing glances at your wristwatch remain unnoticed too. The number of drinks you’ve had seems to be an entirely different story, however. 

"You know, you should really slow down," he remarks, his sardonic smirk exposing a set of eerily straight white teeth.

“And why is that, exactly?” You ask before taking another long sip of wine with deliberate slowness. His jaw clenches ever so slightly, his smile little more than a collection of clenched teeth. 

“You wouldn’t want to be too drunk for later.” He makes a show of raking his beady eyes over your form. The predatory glint in his eye makes your skin crawl and your hackles raise in equal measure. 

“Bold of you to assume there would be a later,” you drawl, your eyes narrowing into slits, nostrils flaring in silent outrage. 

“Oh, there will,” he declares with an impressive amount of unearned confidence. “How else are you going to pay me back for this meal, sweetheart?” He says it as though it’s a given, like your body is something he’s owed for this paltry display. Fuck, if you don’t leave now, you’re sure you’ll end this night behind bars, probably charged with manslaughter. Rhys would get you out of it, of course, but he’d be incredibly smug about it and you couldn’t have that. 

The man makes another show of tracing his slimy gaze over your body, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “I must say, I wasn’t a big fan of the dress - too revealing to be classy, in my opinion - but I suppose it wouldn’t matter when it’s on the floor of my penthouse.”

You admit that you don’t try very hard to hold back a gag. Without even dignifying him with a response, you hail the waiter and gesture for the bill in the hopes that the expression on your face is enough to convey the urgency you feel. To her credit, it only takes her a minute to rush to the table in all black and white salvation, the bill in hand. 

With haste, you pull out the cash from your wallet and slam it down the table. It should be enough to cover everything, even the tip. You give the man one last scathing glare before you rise from the table. A fish out of water - that’s what he looks like, wide-eyed with his mouth opening and closing, probably on the cusp of claiming to everyone in the room that you’re crazy, that you’re overreacting.

Before he can do any of that you pivot sharply towards the exit, ignoring the man’s indignant sputtering. Your feet protest beneath you, your new stilettos digging painfully into your skin with every step. Only when you’re five blocks away from the restaurant do you let yourself slow to a stop. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, undoubtedly ruining the makeup you spent such a long time putting on earlier that night. 

Suddenly, the dress you felt so confident in now feels suffocating. The fabric clings to your skin fat too tightly, constricting your every movement. The silken garment you had thought to fit you like a glove now surrounded you like a cage. You tug at the neckline, trying to find some relief, but the discomfort only intensifies.

Frustration bubbles in your gut as you collapse onto the nearest bench to catch your breath. You feel so stupid. Although you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been looking forward to a nice night out after an entire week of slogging through work. Instead, you ended up sacrificing what little free time you have to satisfy some asshole’s vanity. 

The city continues in indifferent chaos around you. The fluorescent streetlights overhead and the headlights of passing cars slice through the night. People bustle past, absorbed in their own lives, oblivious to your existence. At this moment, you’ve never felt more alone. 

Seeing Feyre and Rhys fall in love has been an eye-opening experience. You’ve watched them gradually find happiness in each other, watched them build a life together. There’s also Nes and Cass, Viv and Kal - all so utterly content, so in painfully love. It is a relief to know that love is possible despite the kind of lives you live. After what happened - your gun slotted in between those bright forest eyes, finger frozen at the trigger; the stumbling string of sorries, of depthless regrets; white marble tiles stained crimson by blood - happiness hadn’t seemed like a possibility. All you’ve had since then are inconsequential flings and ill-conceived dalliances, nothing that could lead to anything more.

It’s difficult to admit that you want something more.

But since you’ve started seeing other people, it’s only been a series of disappointments one after the other. What made basic empathy and human decency such a scarce resource these days? In all honesty, you’re starting to lose hope, starting to think that maybe that love just isn’t in the cards for you. 

You cared for Tamlin in your own foolish, fumbling way. He was solid ground, he was stubborn certainty. He clung to control so tightly that his nails left angry red indents on his palm. In many ways, you were his antithesis, his unmaking. He tried to be good but the both of you hadn’t been good for each other. Perhaps the two of you had been too lonely, too stubborn, too fucking young to realize not all forms of love were healthy.

Eris Vanserra is an entirely different matter. He came to you as a flicker of flame in the darkest night. He was a breath of fresh air - a lungful of ember and possibility - setting you alight from the inside out. More importantly, Eris understands you the same way one side of a coin knows the other. That, however, didn’t mean you could be together. 

Perhaps in some ways, knowing made the longing worse.

Your hand clenches around air, around the vestige of a memory you can’t seem to let go of. Your fingers itch to dial the same set of numbers you’ve deleted from your phone time and time again. You remember it anyway, though. Your mind has faithfully cataloged every memory of him - silky red hair brushing against your cheek, amber eyes crinkling in mischievous delight, arms wrapping around your body, making you feel safe for the first time in your life. 

Your body moves before your better judgment can catch up. Before you know it, the familiar set of numbers is staring accusingly at you from your phone screen. Droning rings of an outgoing call pierce the silence. On the third one, Eris picks up. 

“Firefly.” That word. You can hear the amusement in his tone. You refuse to acknowledge the hint of relief you sense there too, the note of near manic joy. It’s been months since you’ve last seen each other, since you told him that you needed something more - more than stolen moments, more than simply falling in and out of each other's beds only to be nothing but mere strangers come morning. 

You say nothing, trapping unsaid words behind teeth clenched so tightly it’s a wonder you don’t break your jaw. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Eris laughs, smooth, sensual, and utterly addicting. The sound sends a shiver down your spine. You fight the sudden urge to feel his lips shape the words with your own, to feel the vibrations of his laughter with the tips of your fingers. 

“Tell me where you are,” he tries again. You can hear him lean back on his office chair, undoubtedly working late yet again. To anyone else, he would’ve sounded perfectly calm. 

“I don’t know,” you sniff, fighting back the traitorous tears. “I’m near the Moonstone Palace.” It’s the overpriced restaurant you had been in earlier, the reason you’re going to have to struggle with rent this month. You could always ask Rhys, but you’ve long since divorced yourself from your family’s wealth.

Eris exhales, and you hear a suspicious amount of rummaging in the background. “Could you send your location to me?” He suggests, and you can make out the faint sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Okay.” It comes out as a resigned sigh. 

Before he hangs up, he makes sure, “Are you safe?”

“I am.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” 

Eris arrives in ten.

You’re slumped on the bench, clutching your purse to your chest as the frigid night air rushes past you. In your haste, you completely forgot to retrieve your coat before rushing out of the restaurant. But then, the low growl of an engine captures your attention. You turn to find a sleek black Benz gliding into view before coming to a halt right in front of you. 

The window rolls down to reveal Eris’s smug face, familiar and foreign all at once. His bright fiery locks, longer now, have been tamed into a braid behind his back. Loose strands frame his sharp features, highlighting the severity of his beauty. He looks paler than usual, freckles now barely visible across his cheeks. 

Eris grins, voice laced with far too much delight. “Didn’t I tell you, Love? You wouldn’t be able to stay away.” 

Your nostrils flare involuntarily, equal parts irritation and wry amusement warring in you. When he notices the redness of your eyes, however, his smile banks. The only reason you can tell he’s worried is because you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time learning his tells, mapping the meaning behind the slivers of genuine emotion that sometimes slip through his carefully constructed mask. You’ve got it down to a science, interpreting him the same way astronomers find reason in the depths of the cosmos.

Without another sly remark, he steps out of the car and slips out of his coat as he strides toward you. When he moves to wrap the garment around your body, you try to protest. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You’re freezing,” he insists before dropping the surprisingly heavy coat over your shoulders. The effect is immediate. Eris is a walking furnace most days and traces of his heat still linger on the cloth, thawing the ice that has gathered beneath your skin.

You groan in relief despite yourself, finally acquiescing and pulling his coat tighter around you. Eris smirks, and you shoot him a perfunctory glare in response. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t comment on the way you bury your face in the upturned lapels, inhaling a lungful of his cinnamon and woodsmoke scent.

“Fun night?” He asks once you’ve plopped down the passenger seat. 

“Obviously,” you reply, words thick with sarcasm. “I had the time of my life, really. Nothing like a date with another entitled, self-involved trust fund asswipe to liven up my Saturday night.” Eris looks entirely too pleased with this information. 

He shrugs. “Your dates can’t compare?” He shoots you a knowing look. You resent the implication, but can’t entirely deny it either. 

The truth of the matter is that you’ve never truly gotten over Eris. As brief as your explosive affairs may have been, the male has found a way to burrow beneath skin, to etch himself onto the surface of your mind. There is no washing him off you. In these last few months, all you’ve done is find fragments of him in faceless men. 

“Can’t compare to your arrogance, maybe,” you retort a beat too late.

 

“Oh Firefly, you know you love it,” the smug bastard shoots back smoothly. 

“You think you know me so well,” you grumble, crossing your arms defensively.

“Well enough.” Eris’s smile widens, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well enough to know those men you’ve found aren’t worth your time.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he is at least vaguely aware of your failed attempts at dating. Embarrassment coils in your gut, betrayed only by the steadily rising flush of your cheeks. “Maybe one day I’ll find someone who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a hint of mischief lingering in his eyes. “But where’s the fun in that?” He leans toward you, face hovering over yours. The intensity of his gaze feels dangerous, almost like a threat, a promise that he could easily tear down all your walls if he pleased. Memories flash - of him devouring your mouth with his own, of bare bodies intertwined on soiled sheets, of him greedily drinking in each moan from your mouth as you clench tightly around his length - playing on torturous repeat in your mind. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Your breaths come short, voice trembling. Eris’s smile widens, canines glinting beneath the warm light - a well-honed predator to and through. 

Eris chuckles. “And yet, here you are.”

You sincerely can’t tell whether you want to clock him in the jaw or pull him down for a kiss. But then, in a rare show of mercy, Eris withdraws. He simply pulls your seatbelt down and fastens it beside you before turning back to the wheel. You release a breath you don’t realize you are holding. 

The engine roars beneath you and Eris begins to maneuver the car back onto the highway. You slump further down in your seat, only to have several objects dig into your ribs. You jolt up, patting down his coat for the offending items. In your search, you produce a stiletto hidden in the inner lining and a Glock 19 in one pocket. 

“Really?” You quirk your brow at him as you drop another knife on the car floor.

Amber eyes dart towards you for the briefest second, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, before turning his gaze back to the road. You don’t doubt Eris has more hidden on his person, maybe even in this car. 

“Can’t be too careful,” he replies with a shrug, his hand flexing on the wheel. You follow the movement with rapt attention, transfixed by the rhythmic contractions of the muscles beneath, by the faint blue of the veins that run in webs up his forearm. 

Eris, the bastard, catches your preoccupation with his body. Of course, he does. 

His smirk widens into a full grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Enjoying the view?"

You snap your gaze back to his face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Keep your eyes on the road," you remind him, stalling, trying to regain your composure. “Perhaps you should put up a show for me, and I’ll decide then.” 

Eris chuckles at the challenge, a deep, resonant sound that never fails to send shivers down your spine. 

The rest of the drive to your apartment is spent in comfortable silence, Eris content to leave you in your corner, brooding and bundled up in his coat. You lean your head on the window, letting your thoughts drift by at the same pace the scenery slips away from view. You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until you feel Eris tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“We’re here.” 

Your eyes flutter open, reality reluctantly coalescing into focus in front of you. There's an amused expression on the redhead's face as he watches you wake. A part of you is tempted to curl back into a ball, content to pretend at peace just a little longer. Eris has no such qualms, however. He undoes your seatbelt and tugs you out of the vehicle. His arms remain loosely wrapped around your waist, though, even as he closes the door to the passenger seat.

“I should go.” He is so close his hot breath brushes against your cheek, the scent of mint permeating the air between you. 

“You should.” 

But none of you move to part. Your hands remain tightly fisted on his otherwise pristine shirt, while his arms create a cage around you, his body pressing you against the cool metal of the car. 

“Why did you call?” Eris asks instead. His cheek rests on your temple, his nose buried in your hair like he can’t quite help but gravitate towards you. Your grip on him tightens the same way the sun pulls celestial bodies into its orbit, completely, inevitably.  

“You know why.” 

“Tell me anyway.” He pulls back just enough to look straight into your eyes, molten amber burning into you. 

“I want you.” You confess. I’ve only ever wanted you, your mind further supplies. His gaze is searching, as if scouring for all the ways he can turn over your words in his head if the new angles would reveal some hidden meaning.

“I want to forget.” You continue, tugging him down by the collar. He follows willingly and rests his forehead on yours. Lips hover over your own, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. His mask turns translucent. Joy, pain, and regret flash in quick succession across his face before you can even parse their meaning.

“As do I, Love.” 

The moment you step into your apartment, all traces of tenderness dissipate. 

Eris has you trapped between the wall and the firm line of his lithe body. He easily towers over you. With one thigh wrapped around his slim waist, only his firm grip on your hips and his thigh slotted between your parted legs keep you upright. Your remaining leg stands precariously on the tips of your toes, teetering dangerously in whichever current Eris pulls you in.

His mouth is latched onto your neck, leaving blooms of red in his wake. You should tell him to stop, tell him not to leave any visible marks. But all words and reason are lost to you when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin in time with a particularly well-timed roll of his hips. 

“Eris!” You keen, clawing at his back in a vain attempt to find purchase. But there is no safe harbor to be found, not here. Eris is a force of nature. He is the living embodiment of wildfire, burning brightly, holding you so firmly, that it’s as though he intends to fuse your bodies together.

“What is it, Firefly?” He whispers the words against your ear, right before he catches your lobe in between his teeth. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. “What does my pretty girl want?”

“You.” It comes out as a demand, a desperate plea. 

“Use your words, love.” His movements settle into a languid pace, excruciatingly slow, pulling a whine from your throat. His single hand encompasses your entire jaw. Pads of his fingers press against the joint, his grip firm but gentle. Eris turns your face so you’re looking straight into his burning eyes. “Let’s try again, shall we? Tell me, how do you want me?” 

“I need your cock in my mouth,” you whisper your want against his lips, confessions you’d never be able to make in the light of day. Amber eyes roll back at the image your words evoke. Eris forces his eyelids shut as you continue to speak. “Then, I want to feel you inside me, fuck me into the mattress, until your name is the only word in my mind, until I can feel you for days after.” 

“Firefly.” With his face in the crook of your neck, he groans like you’re torturing him. You allow him a few short moments to gather himself - heavy heated breaths blown onto your nape - before tugging him by the hair insistently. His braid comes loose and a river of red falls in delicate curls over his freckled shoulders. Eris is an entirely different person when his head snaps up to meet your gaze.

“On your knees.” 

Electricity crackles through the air between you at the sheer command in his voice. Obediently, you sink to his feet, gazing up at him with wide hungry eyes. To his credit, Eris’s expression remains impassive, his ardor betrayed only by the tension in his jaw and the glint in his eyes. With his thumb, he presses down on your bottom lip. 

“Suck.” 

Your mouth parts to welcome him, until you feel the cool press of his signet against your lips, a welcome contrast. You swirl your tongue around the digit, bobbing your head for a few beats. Eris clenches his jaw, the pad of his thumb lightly digging onto your tongue as he pulls it out. You release it with a pop of your lips.

“Good.” 

Eris tilts his head, a silent permission to continue. While you gradually slip off his belt and undo the zip of his trousers, Eris gathers your hair in his fist. With a single push, his impressive length is revealed to you, long and heavy. Anticipation sparks in your chest, eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Go on then.” 

So you do. You flatten your tongue against the base of his cock, licking a stripe to the tip. There, you take the head into the wet heat of your mouth and suck. Eris makes an involuntary thrust, despite the tight leash he normally keeps around himself.

“Fuckin’ Hel,” he groans, grip now deliciously digging into your scalp. You moan your appreciation against him, and the male shudders in response. For a few moments, you simply alternate between lazily bobbing your head and swirling your tongue against him as best you can. Your hand twists in tandem to accommodate the remaining length of him. 

“You’re a damned tease,” he accuses. “A demon.”

With wide eyes, you blink innocently up at him from beneath your lashes. Eris scoffs, rolling his eyes, but allows the torturous cycle to continue. When you sense his movements grow more erratic, his muscles tensing beneath your palms, you slow your movements just in time to deny him his release. At the third time of doing this, Eris looks close to breaking.

“Enough.” He growls, the command reverberating through the silent room, through every fiber of your being. 

You still immediately, the intensity in his voice sending a thrill through you. He adjusts his grip on your hair, winding the strands around his knuckles and tugging lightly as if to test his grip. You groan at the bite of pain, your arousal dripping from you.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty face now, Firefly.” He whispers with such disorienting tenderness. “Tap my thigh twice if it becomes too much, understand?” 

“Yes.” Your too-eager reply draws a lopsided smile from Eris’s otherwise stoic demeanor. “Please,” you add as an afterthought as you brace your hands against his thighs.

Eris tilts his head once more, and you take that as your signal to proceed. Your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing out, tongue curved around his length. His thrusts begin tentatively, but it doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat with each thrust, his firm grip on your hair directing each movement. You will yourself to relax, angling yourself to take him better, deeper. For a while, all your thoughts evaporate, your entire focus simply on breathing through your nose and watching the look of ecstasy unfold across his face. 

“You feel amazing around me.” Eris pants as he pushes impossibly deeper. You struggle to take him, throat spasming around him. “My good girl,” he coos, his thrusts stuttering. You groan against him when one stroke allows him to bottom out completely. Nose nuzzling the thin line of red on his lower stomach, tears bloom in your eyes. You look up, only to find him already gazing at you. His amber eyes were wide with want, transfixed at the sight of you taking him completely. 

“I’m about to come, Love. You’ll be a good girl and take it, won’t you?” A drawn out mhm is all the permission he needs. “Every. Last. Drop.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust. 

Then, on his final advance, Eris holds you there by the head until the very last moment, until the fire in your veins has spread into each lobe of your lungs. When you swallow around him, he chokes, rolling his hips into your mouth. Your fingers curl into claws against his thighs but you don’t tap out. He moves once, twice, then he’s gone. Eris allows you a bit of reprieve by retreating into your mouth as his length pulses the rest of his release onto your tongue. 

“Fuck.” He rasps. Then, with a single tug, he pulls you off of him and onto your two wobbly legs. Eris only gives you a few seconds to catch your breath before his mouth crashes against yours for a kiss. He groans as he tastes himself on your tongue. 

“So perfect for me, made to take me.” His hands roam your body as though eager to discover every square inch of exposed skin. This is Eris in his rawest form, you realize, all control turned into liquid flame in his hands. He practically tears your dress from your body, pushing down the silk until it pools on the floor. 

“Yesss,” you hiss, clawing at his shirt and shoving it off his broad shoulders. “Only you.” Heavy thunks follow soon after - the gun holstered at his side, the knife strapped to his thigh.

“I fucking love you.” He growls in between breaths. Without giving you a chance to reply, he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at the raw flesh. 

You don’t even realize he’s corralled you into your room before he pushes you onto the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the ankle. Eris stands tall before you, rendered in sharp angles and steady lines, softened only by the warmth in his amber eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels between your parted thighs like a supplicant before their God and your body is the only conduit of worship he knows. 

“You okay?” He asks this while his head is pillowed on your thigh, as though he hadn’t just blown your mind. Eris, you’ve discovered, is a collection of contrasts - rough one second, and painfully tender the next. No amount of studying him could let you predict the direction of his passion. You don’t mind, though, you’d happily be carried away in his current.

“Perfectly.” 

“You remember your word?” He removes your stilettos, brushing over the raw skin where the straps have dug in.

“I do.” 

“Say it for me.” He lines your heels neatly at the foot of your bed. 

“Ember.”

“Good.” Eris begins his meandering path up your legs. A kiss on your ankle, lips ghosting over your leg. Once his lips reach your thighs, he starts to nibble and suck on your skin. The simple declaration of possession shouldn’t please you as much as it does, but it only deepens the pool of desire and anticipation in your gut. 

“Eris,” you whine, breathless, as he pauses at the seam of your thigh. His smirk only grows at your increasingly desperate pleas and the erratic movements of your hips.

“Use your words, Firefly.” Eris reminds you beatifically. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” you begin, already struggling to form a coherent string of words. “Please?” 

“My mouth?” He asks, pretending to consider it. “But I thought you said you wanted my cock?”

His taunting jolts you out of your reverie, always rearing to meet his fire with your own. You come up to your elbows to level him a raised brow. “Well, you’re already on your knees, aren’t you?” Despite knowing you’ll pay for your words later, you try to inject as much bravado into your voice as you can. The effect is dulled by your obvious desperation though.

Eris chuckles, shaking his head as if in disapproval. “What to try that again, Firefly?” He blows a hot breath towards your core, the sudden sensation sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. “I’m sure you can do better than that.” 

You clench your teeth, a vain attempt to keep the pleas trapped within your mouth. Eris remains steadfast, of course, staring you down with obvious amusement. His lips travel a languid path, teeth teasing, mouth nipping, veering closer and closer but never close enough. This is a battle you’ve already lost from the start. 

“Please?” You grit out. “Can I please have your mouth?” 

“You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?” Eris laps at the marks he’s left, just a few millimeters from where you want him to be. Practically vibrating with need, you dangle on the sharp edge of anticipation. The bite Eris plants on the soft flesh of your thigh is what pushes you off the precipice.

“Please,” you plead, each syllable dripping with need.  “Can I please have your mouth?”

“Well, since you asked so prettily,” Eris drawls, entirely indulgent. He places your leg over his shoulder and dives in. First, he runs the flat of his tongue over your flimsy thong, lapping at your slit. You shudder at the sensation, melting against the sheets as he continues.

“You taste divine.” He growls, the vibrations making you tighten around nothing. Then, closes his mouth over your slit and begins to suck. You throw your head back, heel digging into his back, hips arching towards the pull of his mouth. Your arousal seeps into the cloth. A heartbeat, a fraction of eternity, then Eris licks the lace greedily like a man starved.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He mouths against the fabric. You feel the truth of his words as surely as the growing flame in your gut. Then, he slides your undergarments down one thigh, keeping it wrapped around the other, a mockery of a wedding garter. Finally, his lips close around your clit as he slides one long finger in you, then two, scissoring them inside. You release a choked sob. His fingers are much thicker than your own, but the stretch is a burn you’ve been craving for far too long. 

“Fuck, Firefly, you’re so damn tight.” He murmurs against your skin. He begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making it a point to curl his digits in just the right spot. The precision of his movements is enough to drive you out of your mind. Eris shifts between murmuring sweet nothings against your heated skin and drawing precise circles around your clit.

At some point, Eris’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with his own. It doesn’t take long for you to climb that familiar high. Hurtling over the edge so fast, you don’t even realize you’re cumming until you’re overtaken by a wave of pleasure. It saturates your senses until the only thing that makes sense is Eris, Eris, Eris. 

He doesn’t stop. His fingers hit that torturous angle, while his tongue laps at your bud. “One more,” he demands and you whine in protest. “Just one more, Love.” 

“‘S too much-“ you try to say, but your words crack into a sob. “I c-can’t-“

“You can,” he coos. “My good girl, my lovely little Firefly.” The praise does more for you than his hands could. “Always so perfect for me.” 

Desire is a living thing inside you, an inferno building beneath your skin. You crush his fingers in your grip, while the other threads itself through his silken locks, needing something to anchor you unspool for him.

“Eris, I’m-“ your voice cracks, reality blurring around you as you spasm around him, hips gyrating, driven only by pure primal instinct. He groans, as though your pleasure is as good as his own. His fingers speed up, his tongue licking your bud to and fro with dangerous precision.

“Cum for me, Firefly.”

You do. You break into flames with his name on your lips, back bowing, eyes trained to the unseen sky. You barely even register when Eris climbs into bed with you, too preoccupied with reacquainting yourself with your body. Only when he pulls your pliant form over his chest do you meet his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” There is concern in his gaze, and you wipe the worry from his face as you run your knuckles over his cheek. 

“Perfectly.” An invisible tug calls you to dip your head and taste yourself on his lips. Eris licks the seam of your mouth and waits patiently until your lips part for him. 

Without breaking contact, you wrap your hand around his girth and begin stroking him to full hardness. Your tongues meet, and you relish the trace of your taste in his mouth. Once his cock is ready, you line him up with your entrance. 

You lower yourself onto him, slowly, inch by inch, until you’re fully on his lap. For a moment, you simply stay like that, with him seated deep within you, lips locked in a languid ebb and flow. When you begin to move, you do it together, rising and falling in question and answer to the other. You wonder if there will always be this constant compulsion to have Eris near, the need to feel his skin against yours, to feel his beating heart thump in step with your own. Somehow, against all reason, he’s managed to worm his way into your life, to make a home for himself within the chambers of your heart.

Eris becomes the ruined wreckage of a man as you slide off him up until only the tip remains, before slamming back down. Eris keeps his gaze on you as though he’d rather die than miss a single moment of this. He groans, meeting each and every single one of your movements. His one hand grips your hip, guiding and grinding, fingers digging into you. The other cups your breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple. When your thighs begin to ache, legs quaking, powered only by desire and desperation, Eris easily flips you over. 

“Harder,” you choke out, “deeper.”

“So demanding,” Eris teases but seems happy enough to comply. He places a pillow beneath your hips. You almost whine at the pause, but Eris doesn’t give you a chance. He begins with an unforgiving pace, pistoning in and out of you with abandon. The new angle is torture specifically designed to tear your remaining sanity into shreds. Your legs lock around his waist, hands clasped tightly with his own. His lips hover over yours, drinking in each whimper, each moan, like it's ambrosia and you’re the sole source. 

“Are you about to cum for me, Love?” Eris breathes. And you nod frantically.

“Tell me, Firefly, who’s making you feel good, hm?” He punctuates the sentence with a hard thrust that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You are,” you rasp, convulsing around him as his cock nudges the perfect spot inside of you.

“My name,” he demands.

“Eris.” It comes out as drawn out moan, a plea, a promise.

“And who do you belong to?” The force of each slam has you seeing sparks, and when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb? You’re gone, utterly defeated and consumed by the flame. 

“You!” You scream, repeating his name over and over and over. 

“That’s right,” he purrs. Your thighs shake, back arching completely off the mattress. The world breaks apart around you, reality melting into a flash of blinding light. He slows down and fucks you through the throes of rapture, extending seconds into eons while you flutter around him. With one last grind of his hips, you feel his cock throb as he spills deep inside you. 

Eris collapses on top of you, surrounding you in his scorching warmth. For a long while, only your shared breaths exist in the silence. He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, as though unable to help himself.

Eris doesn’t tell you he loves you again. He shouldn’t, for both of your sakes. But you feel it in the featherlight kisses he leaves over your shoulder, his gentle touch as he traces each curve, line, and ridge of your body. He does it with such ease, as though it’s an art he’s perfected through the years, through lifetimes. 

Instinctively, you begin to run your hands over his back, fingers running over the lattice of faded scars there. Anger is a flaming arrow through your chest. Beron is not an easy father to have. Eris, as the prospective heir to his empire, receives the brunt of his brutal scrutiny. What you’d give to have the opportunity to tear that old bastard’s head from his shoulders.

As if sensing your sudden agitation, Eris’s roaming hands become more insistent, kneading away all the tension from your muscles. “Relax,” he whispers against your ear. 

Although he rolls off of you, he doesn’t go far. Without letting you out of the cage of his arms, he curls beside you like a cat, each plane of your bodies perfectly aligned. With his head resting over your heart, a rumble of contentment escapes him.

It’s startling to think that to anyone outside of this room, Eris is a villain, as well-versed in savagery as his father. But you know him, seen parts of him the world would never know. You and Eris have always been two sides of the same coin. 

He understands what it’s like to endure and inherit a father’s rage, to house a mother’s bottomless grief, to be saturated with so much shame it steals your every breath. The two of you are so different and yet are hewn from the same ore, forged from the same fire. Although there are a multitude of reasons why the both of you can’t be together, it feels as though Eris is the only one who's ever truly seen you as you are. 

But self-denial is a circus act you and Eris perform with practiced ease. You’ve already fucked up before and it wasn’t you who ended up paying the price. No, it had been your mother and your sister. Their blood will stain your hands for the rest of your life. 

You won’t make that same mistake again. 

Two twined heartbeats, breaths released and taken in unison, Eris drifts off as your fingers card through his hair. You drink him in, long lashes fluttering as he flits into sleep, faint freckles like stars scattered over the ridge of his nose, and his face, for once, open and devoid of that familiar mask. You map its planes with the tips of your fingers, cataloging each detail and etching them onto the back of your mind. 

Eris will be gone come morning. He always is. The only proof of his presence would be the ache between your thighs and his scent still lingering on your sheets. But for now, though, he is yours, as fleeting as this moment may be. 

This is enough, you tell yourself. 

AN: hello this is my first smut fic in a while & this is a bit different from my usual thing so i was a bit nervous about posting this one. Let me know what you guys think!

Dialogue and banter aren’t my strong suit but i tried my best ;u;

This started as pwp fic but now there’s plot and I’m invested. I’ve got a few ideas and I kinda want to do a series of one-shots for these two.

English isn’t my first language. If you see any mistakes please let me know thru DM! Thank you 💙

[mesetacadre]

I'm far from the first person to say this but there is a lot of overcompensating that goes on when communists oppose criticisms of specific communist figureheads. Stalin did not personally order the genocide of millions of people but he also wasn't the sole builder of socialism, nor was he the source of every good policy the USSR implemented. Same goes for Mao, Honecker, Lenin, Castro, etc. I don't think I need to harp on about why it's a remain of liberal historiography and ideology, although that should be acknowledged. Following in the same vein as this other post of mine, it constitutes a conscious and prolongued effort as a communist to adopt class, and more generally, a focus on the collective and processes instead of individual actions as the vehicle of your discourse. The better perspective with which to approach criticisms of a single transistor is to recontextualize it within the whole CPU that it's a part of, if you allow me the metaphor. You hinder yourself when you stoop down to the level of great man theory.

Lenin is a particular example because he tends to be great-manned both from the perspective of people criticizing and defending Stalin. He was neither a pure-hearted libertarian who was betrayed after his death by a conniving Stalin who hid Lenin's thought on him and who arrested/killed every other opponent, nor was Stalin a 1:1 replica of Lenin's positions but in a different stage of socialism. In both of these positions the role of the Bolshevik's party mechanisms and channels are completely ignored, as if it was a simple hereditary mechanism. In a democratic centralist organization, the Congress is the supreme organ of decision, and every office, from General Secretary to the base militant, is beholden to its decisions and has the duty to carry them out, as well as to contribute in its democratic process. Lenin was the Chairman of the Council of People's Commissar, sure, and the de facto "leader". The CPC was a mostly executive office, but like any other organ in the CP, it had a decided political role. The Congress is still the highest organ.

In the 13th Congress, when Stalin was elected to the position of General Secretary, there were 748 voting delegates. It is a misrepresentation of democratic-centralist principles to discount or ignore the vote of these 748 delegates. Lenin, as much as he was an important figure, was not the only politically competent communist, nor the only influential one. Never, even during the tensest months of the civil war or the underground work, was Lenin's criteria followed without criticism or input. He wasn't infallible or without fault, anyone can make mistakes or forget to consider some angles. This is also why Lenin was such a respected leader, because he did not govern alone. Stalin also governed like that, quite famously being skilled at listening to a discussion and being able to synthesize everyone's positions into a logical common ground. I am less concerned with what Lenin, at the end of his life, after two gunshots and a few strokes, personally thought of Stalin's aptness for the position, and more concerned with the opinions of those 748 delegates, all taking into account the discussions that took place in every lower organ of the party. What matters is that the party, democratically, elected Stalin to the position multiple times, and that his responsibility in leading cooperatively were proven competent throughout his tenure. Lenin was not an angel, nor the embodied spirit of revolutionary marxism. He was a very skilled and knowledgeable revolutionary whose words are not the gospel. The achievements made by Stalin's collective leadership (plus the entire party!) and the effective advancement of socialism are much more important than Lenin's opinion, as much as we can respect him. He wasn't clairvoyant

[enwoso]

Alessia Russo + reporter!gf, where Alessia is nonstop flirting with Reader on national television when you're trying to interview her

LIVE TO ALL — alessia russo

masterlist

you were a sports journalist for itv, travelling up and down the country as well as across the world each week to cover matches as well as try and get some of the players thoughts and opinions on the game.

today was the england lionesses vs sweden at home, at a sold out wembley. the game being tense but the girls pulling out a win by one goal and of course it being scored by non other than the alessia russo who just happened to be on your radar to interview.

normally it would take some convincing from some players to get them to do a quick post match interview, most players after a win wanting to celebrate and after a loss was when it was even harder to get players to interview as they just generally weren’t in the mood, understandably.

however luckily you wouldn’t have to do much convincing to get england’s star girl for an interview as she just so happened to also be your girlfriend. so one little bat of the eyelashes and a flash of the smile and the blonde would be right over.

so as your team handed her a mic as she walked over from the pitch hugging you tight as you sent her a loving smile trying your best to remain professional but the girl just looked so gorgeous even after running around a pitch for ninety minutes, her hair slicked back a few flyaways had came loose above her as well as her cheeks being slightly flushed pink probably from the amount of running she’d done.

“so alessia another sold out wembley for the lionesses, does the feeling ever change walking out and seeing that many people in the stadium?” you began the interview as alessia nodded along with what you were saying, her bottom lip inbetween her teeth as you watched as her eyes roamed your face as she held her eye contact with you instead of the camera like she was supposed to.

there was a slight pause between your question and the blonde starting her answer, “oh um it definitely helps to keep us motivated whilst we are playing- as we love seeing our fans pack out stadiums and creating as much noise as possible!”

“speaking of motivation, what helps to keep you fired up especially when your playing top teams like sweden?” you asked as you seen alessia giggle to herself, you being thankful for the fact that the camera can’t see the look your throwing alessia right now.

“well away from football there’s definitely someone who does that for me-” the blonde making direct eye contact with you as a smirk crept onto her face. you knew exactly what she was insinuating on and while the your relationship wasn’t exactly out there it wasn’t a big secret either fans definitely had their suspicions and alessia right now was definitely adding fuel to that fire.

she carried on, you sending the blonde another stern look that told her to behave, “but the staff at england as well as the girls we all do our part to ensure that’s we can all play to the best of our ability to ensure we get the result that we want as a team and as a nation” she smiled innocently as she finished awaiting your next question.

you began to explain the importance of the goal that alessia scored to start off the lionesses euro qualifying campaign while alessia well she was just staring at you, totally zoned out as she licked her lips. her eyes scanning your outfit as she imagined maybe what it would look like on the floor of your shared bedroom…

“and finally how does it feel to finally get your first goal at wembley especially the one that sealed the win for you guys” you finished with a quick smile, slightly kicking the blonde which wasn’t able to be seen by the camera which shook the blonde from her daydream.

“oh- um, wait i- sorry what was the question?” alessia flushed red with embarrassment as you were the one now with a smirk, knowing by her face she hadn’t been listening and also having a suspicion of why she hadn’t been but nevertheless repeating the question again for her.

“yeah, it’s always a good feeling to score at wembley makes it that little bit special but anything to help the team out”

“well thank you alessia and well done for tonight!” you applauded with a smile as alessia nodded, “thank you babe” alessia said so causally, you quickly spinning around mouth wide open as you eyes widened.

the interview already been finished as your team off-mic’d you both. alessia with a smirk which was widening on her face, you knew she had done that on purpose.

“i love you?” she whispered, as she looked at your less than pleased look on your face.

“your on thin ice miss russo!” you warned narrowing your eyes at the blonde as she slung her arm around your shoulders guiding you both down the tunnel as you knew she was rolling her eyes at your stern tone.

“hey! it’s not my fault the person who was interviewing me happened to be my really sexy, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend!”

[apricot-blossomss]

Is it okay if I ask what type of s/o would the Gods be into? I find that really interesting and would like to hear your opinion since I really love your writing <3<3

This request came just right, bc I really want to write but I'm mad busy rn, and this was a lot of fun! so I kinda wrote for ... everyone.

If you're conventionally attractive, you are in Zeus' dating pool. You're exceptionally beautiful? I'm so sorry. Once he has set his eyes on you, you are not safe anywhere. There is no other factor that matters, except maybe if you're exceptionally hospitable and kind to guests, which might attract his attention. Which is not a good thing.

Poseidon would love someone unpredictable, someone who never gets boring and never fails to surprise him or catch him off guard. He'd love the excitement of it all and is generally pulled to exciting and outgoing people, but also people who are more introverted but break out of their shell at unexpected times.

If Hades had a type, it would for sure be someone a little more ... alive than him. He's clearly going for that opposites attract thing, just look at Persephone. Also, I reckon he'd like someone who can stand up for themselves, as standing up to his brothers was always very hard for him and he would admire you greatly for it.

Demeter would like someone who is humble, orderly and respectful and appreciative of the beauties of nature. Someone who finds joy in the little things and never fails to call their grandma for her birthday.

To be honest- you don't have a romantic chance with neither Hera nor Athena, Artemis or Hestia. Though I thought it would be fun to make some platonic headcanons for what kind of mortal they would take interest in in a platonic way.

Hera admires loyalty, it doesn't even have to be to a spouse, it can also be your family or friends. Also, she appreciates people who remain strong even in the face of long term hardships or anguish, and it might earn you her favor. It's not that she pities you, but that she admires your strength to keep fighting. Also, she'd love to talk shit about men with you as much as the next goddess...

Artemis isn't about the whole opposites attract thing. As with Orion, she is likely to make friends with someone who shares her interests, as she also surrounds herself with her huntresses. She loves to talk about hunting and the wild and would like someone who isn't afraid to get themselves dirty. If you're a guy, it's pretty hard to get in her good grades though.

Athena is all in for academic weapons. Critical thinkers, challenging the status quo and earning great archivements. Someone she could have an intellectual conversation with, who offers new points of argument and is able to hold their own in an argument, she is the goddess of warfare after all...

I don't think there is anyone Hestia doesn't like, though she would favor people who spend a lot of time with their family and are kind and hospitable to others. Kindness to strangers is something she very much appreciates.

Apollo doesn't really have a type. His mortal lovers are symbolic for his creative inspirations, so he would not settle for a type but be all over the board. The variety of his lovers concludes that Apollo isn't looking for a specific kind of person. He simply watches or spends time with someone and BAM he's completely and utterly in love. He does love himself an artsy spouse though.

Ares needs someone calm and peaceful- it might seem a little contradictory, but Ares needs someone to ground him, to listen to him and provide the calm for his storm. Actually, he's all for domesticity, though a hot love affair doesn't turn him away either. If his spouse had a strong personality and could stand up for themselves, he would really respect that, but he would also be your guard dog if that wasn't the case. Ares just needs someone to love him unconditionally, quite like the next god on the list.

Not to be disrespectful but Hephaestus does not care who you are, he's just happy with someone who treats him with dignity. Be kind to him and he is putty in your hands. After all his family put him through, he'd also appreciate someone to rant about them to, who can also sit in silent understanding with him at other times. But honestly, he isn't setting the bar very high.

Not to call her vain, but you would have to be insanely beautiful to be on Aphrodites radar. She simply considers herself too good to spend her time on anyone who isn't pleasing to her eye- and that really cuts down the pool of potential lovers. Also, she would only stay around for someone who is ready to give their full attention to her at all times, she is a very demanding lover.

I think Hermes would want someone who is able to keep up with him, but also root him when he overdoes it a little. It would take quite a lot for him to actually stick around, because for him to make time in his busy schedule, he'd have to be head over heels in love.

Dionysus would probably not have a specific type either, simply because he wouldn't want to cut short his dating pool. Though he would like someone who is able to let loose at least sometimes and surrender to his pull of madness and ecstasy.

Extra: Eros would mostly go for someone attractive, but he wouldn't let that be the only factor. Just as the unpredictable and surprising nature of his arrows, Eros could fall for anybody, picking out a trait he loves about them and obsessing over it for the day (I'm thinking 'Someone New' by Hozier if you know what I mean).

[yaseraphine]

astro observations 5 - appearance and vibes / Cancer rising men

Men used as examples in this post : Booba / Troye Sivan / Nekfeu / Bill Gates / The Weeknd / Salvador Dali / George Michael/ Pharrell Williams / John Cena / Cyril Hanouna

Physical appearance 

Weirdly enough, a lot of them have chad faces / the type to be labeled as a "professional moggers" or whatever it is called / probably the most objectively handsome men in my opinion / square jaws / soft watery eyes / smooth skin / irresistible and sweet smirk

When they get older, some of them end up having the Dilf/ Daddy type of looks with this softness still remaining that usually makes women melt (yes i used John Cena as a dilf example..sorry guys)

"There must have been an angel by my side"

The eyes and the jaw is huge here, they also are generally muscular -> the chest area is prominent in a way

They tend to look like cherubs. They have an angel-like appearance.

Really angelic and cute appearance. A little shy the first time you meet, get flustered easily, pink ears and cheeks

The eyes are really expressive and sparkly. It's like you can see stars being reflected in their eyes when you look at them. A really soft, poetic and deep gaze that can make you blush a bit. Their eyes from what I have seen are full of emotions. Really captivating but not in a intense scopionic sense, it's more magical kind of like bishonen, the standard face of male protagonists in shojos or just generally a lot of animes (think of Howl in the Ghibli movie Howl's moving castle)

Body : usually smaller than average. Twinks or buff dudes with a heart of gold. There is no in-between in my experiences.

If you know about Kibbe or Kitchener's body type and face type essences systems :

Kibbe body type :  Flamboyant gamine, or gamine , some could be soft classic even

Face type / essence : Gamine, Ingenue or more rarely Angelic (ethereal)

First impressions, vibes, general way of presenting themselves

Right off the bat, there is something significant about the way they speak and interact with people. They usually have really soft, deep and soothing voices. Talk in a really calm and composed manner. They take their time to speak. They take their time to pronounce each word.

Have a way with words that is usually really captivating. Really calming presence. Natural talent for poetry, play on words. They can be really good at voice acting. They usually have a really good diction too. Really good storytellers.

Appears really shy though. Can’t really hide their emotions, we can easily read right through them.

A lot of them are artistically inclined, really sensitive men. Women feel safe around them and they are often surrounded by women.

Really appreciated by women. The type of men little girls want to marry when they grow up.

They usually know how to keep people at ease by using humor too. They tend to be quite funny and have a really relatable humor. Usually really good at imitations too. Good at picking up on people’s emotions. 

Really caring and attentive to their loved ones.

Likes to call people by pet names/ cute nicknames like "darling", "angel" "sweatheart", etc ..from my experience. The type to say "let's go kids!" to their group of friends. Even if they are men, they are just usually really maternal.

Usually is quite expressive in their "face body language" and likes to make goofy facial expressions. Their emotions are just visible on their face.

Makes deep eye contact, nods at everything you say. The type to tell you " no no it's ok keep going 😆😅" when you're losing your train of thoughts.

If you accidentally overshare, and they obviously see you’re embarrassed, they will reassure you.

Killers on the Dancefloor ? : Something also quite random about them is that they all have these silly little dances and signature moves that they do. If you invite them to a party, be prepared to be impressed. It’s a bit silly and kind of cute but at same time they’re killing it.

You feel like you can cry in their arms vibes. They have this friendly energy.

A lot of them tend to create a community since they need it. Always in search of their soul family.

A lot of them tend to have groupies from what I have seen. Like they can become the main pillar that holds their friend group together. 

Generally really paternal/maternal, kind of like a reassuring parental figure. Just like Capricorn risings, they have this parental figure vibes to them. It's like you can count on them. However , Capricorn risings represent more the archetype of the Father, representing tough love and practicality. Cancer risings on the other hand represent the archetype of the Mother, focusing on emotional security and vulnerability.

When Capricorn risings look like they would give you great life advice and be a good mentor, Cancer risings look like you can be vulnerable and open up to them, like they can provide you emotional healing. Kind of like a therapist in a way.

The Devil hidden behind those angelic eyes : 

Smooth Operator - Sade : “his eyes are like angels but his heart is cold”

“No place for beginners or sensitive hearts

When sentiment is left to chance

“No place to be ending but somewhere to start”

“A license to love, insurance to hold

Melts all your memories and change into gold

His eyes are like angels but his heart is cold”

Despite all this potential to be an amazing, emotionally mature, sensitive and creative person a lot of them will fall in the shadows. Deception, emotional manipulation, victimization, gaslighting will be their driving force and fuel through life. Because of unresolved negative and destructive emotional patterns, they will become the most vile and manipulative creatures you’ll ever meet, all of this disguised behind a mask of sympathy and openness. They will trick you into thinking you can open up yourself to them, that they’ll understand you. You will not realize until it’s too late that you’ve been tricked by their sweet words and their skills to read right through people. They will project and consistently play victim. They will become professional actors. They will be the type of men Raye describes in her song named :  “Oscar Winning Tears.” She says that about the song : “This is about a man who put me through hell, and then proceeded to cry about it. I wanted to create a big dramatic classic feeling record with live strings to capture the audacity of his silly tears, to feel powerful whilst telling this story”

=> “Truly, I'm vulnerable, I love a sentiment

Quickly I opened up, I learned my lesson then

Thought I was safe again, thought he was innocent

I was so wrong”

“I can't deny

I thought you were the man, but you had a plan

The fuck you lying for? Fuck you crying for?

You did it again (yeah, ah-ah-ah)”

“So I'll take this front row seat

And baby, baby, you can go ahead

Cry those Oscar-winning tears

Popcorn and I scream

Baby, baby, you can go ahead

Cry those Oscar winning (tears) tears, baby”

The white lies will begin to be stained by red dots of blood. Their heightened intuition and sensitivity will not be used for good and will become a deadly weapon. A weapon that traps its victims in a sugar coated hell. Let’s not forget that their shadow (their 7th house sign) is Capricorn, represented by The Devil in Tarot.  The light of their angel-like charm will pull you in only to realize too late that you’ve fallen deep in the shadows, embraced by the hands of the devil. But it’s too late. You’ve already fallen too deep in the umbra to even see just a gleam.

Cancer risings sadly tend to be stuck in really toxic emotional cycles from what I have seen. 

A lot of them tend to be master manipulators. The type to guilt-trip and gaslight you. 

Real-life examples of this shadow side: 

Shane Dawson was extremely well-liked on the internet. He was infamous for his funny skits, was good at imitations and kind of created this relatable persona that people got attached to. Cancerian energy gave him this familiar and “sweet” guy vibes that made people admire his apparent transparency. Turns out he was extremely manipulative and problematic.

Nekfeu , In his songs, there is a scary amount of self-awareness regarding his toxic behaviors and the patterns he tends to repeat. This to me is the peak example of how thin the layer is between each signs’ light and shadow side. This hyper self-awareness towards their shadow side while simultaneously consciously repeating it describes really well those men. They don’t use their intuition for good.

Laughable loves / Ridiculous loves (risibles amours)

“And each time I care, I can't be myself

Why this need to hide everything ?

None of these girls matter, and I met you

You were different, it scared me, and I screwed up

We were part of a whole thing, we were high perched

If I lost her, I would have looked for it”

“My boy's envies/desires turn into a boring game

Relationships which lead me nowhere

Even if I'm trying to find the solution in this illusion of seduction

I've got the feeling that I only knew one woman

I know the risks of love but I'm still having a taste for the risk

the boy’s envies/ desires is to be understood in “my boyish desires”. He is rapping about the desires he has that are one of a boy, not  a man. He knows it, knows it is self-destructive. Throughout the entire song, he shows really obvious self-awareness.

=> It is really hard to find good/ perfect translations to his play on words since sometimes he uses french idioms that aren't easily translatable in english without losing the meaning. (i found the lyrics' translation here => https:/lyricstranslate.com/fr/risibles-amours-laughable-loves.html)

/!\ disclaimer - mention of domestic abuse /!\

When I made that post, it wasn’t known yet that one of  the main examples used here (Nekfeu / the guy in the two pictures in between The Weeknd holding his grammys and next to troye sivan in the "there must have been an angel by my side" part) recently got exposed for having “allegedly” physically, psychologically and sexually abused his ex-partner. (i put allegedly in quotations marks because girl there are much higher chances he did it then not. I will always stand with the victims. If you went through something similar know that : Victims we always believe you and we stand by you ! ). While preparing for the post, the news wasn't out yet so I had to change the way I portrayed him accordingly. I think a reminder is always needed because putting him here will unfortunatly make him have some "visibility". I don't want to present him in a positive light or to make him gain potential new fans. If I can use this post to raise awareness, I will do it gladly. Especially with the current state of the world, and how more and more women's rights are getting taken away.

The Weeknd , being a cancer rising with a capricorn stellium shows this duality really well. His lyrics are raw and confessional. He shows a lot of self-awareness regarding his terrible and toxic behaviors. He is absolutely aware that he is stuck in karmic cycles yet this awareness isn’t enough to get him out of those self-destructive cycles.

Cyril Hanouna, is a very controversial french radio host and TV host and producer. He is known for being extremely narcissistic and for always playing victim, saying people are trying to attack him unfairly. He is extremely manipulative and sly, and pretends it’s always other people’s fault.

+BONUS / Additional visual examples :

[threeacttragedy]

Great blog but if all was not good with L and A why was he holding her in the water in Italy. Seemed off

Appreciate the question because it's one that's been on a lot of people's minds for months!

The relationship between Luke and Antonia will always be a mystery. We will never be privy to everything that happened between them. We will never know whether they were serious, casual, phony, simply part of the same friend group, whatever label you want to put on them.

Eventually I will write out my thoughts on Antonia -- because, trust me, I have some (and, no, they're not mean-spirited) -- but to make a long story short, some things to note that also "seem off" are:

Italy was roughly four months ago. We have not seen Luke and Antonia together since. The only interaction appears to be two likes per month from Luke on Antonia's grid.

Even if we're going to consider the Spanish resort pictures, we have to take into consideration that Antonia was removed from Luke's narrative. Luke seemingly filled that grid post with images that were Polin and/or Lukola coded (the two fingers -- that man will never be able to put up two fingers again without evoking a carriage scene; the chaise-style bench; the cake and its accompanying emojis). He also immediately came to the rescue by clarifying the cake picture (effectively squashing any accusations that he had removed Nicola from the cake). Regardless of whether Antonia was there, Luke removed her from his narrative. It was Antonia that tried to slip it back in with her October 25 post. The interesting thing there is that no one would understand her reference to being in Spain except...Lukolas. The general public wouldn't give that picture a second thought.

To my knowledge, Luke didn't like posts from third parties that included Antonia in them over the summer. For example, when Rory posted to his grid on July 6, 2024, he included pictures of Luke and Antonia (separate images). Luke did not like this post. Sienna posted the same day, with a picture that included Antonia. Luke didn't like that one either. I am not saying Luke has to like every post (in fact, I've blogged on this already), but it is something to consider.

After Papsmear, there was really no reason for Luke not to step up and "claim" (gross word, by the way) Antonia. The damage had been done. He could have protected her in some way from the fandom, but he chose to remain quiet. Wait, not quiet, he chose to post his I-Won't-Let-Cressida-Ruin-Our-Evening story.

To be honest, the entire Luke and Antonia situation has had me going back and forth for months. My advice to people is to look at things collectively. Do not look at a single event and decide, oh, yeah, that's the absolute final answer. Instead, use that single event (assuming you find it intriguing enough) as the starting point for your opinion on the matter. Remember to go backwards, forwards, and sideways in your analysis, and be willing to adjust your theory as you collect information.

[evilwickedme]

I keep seeing news that Israel has rejected a ceasefire deal from Hamas and/or that Hamas has rejected a ceasefire deal from Israel, and I'm having a very hard time keeping up with what's true, what terms have been rejected by who, and how ceasefire negotiations have been going in general. Do you have any information you could share or sources you could direct me to that would give this kind of news in an unbiased way? I think that saying that either side rejected a deal without explaining what parts of the terms were not agreed with is dishonest and I hate that I keep seeing it.

Thanks and I hope you're well and safe.

I'm not going to source this with anything specific cause my job is in the news so I'm just doing this off the cuff while literally on the bus there lmao

Both sides are in fact constantly rejecting ceasefire deals, for their own reasons. Some scattered thoughts from the last several months of coverage

One of the biggest points is ending the war. Hamas keeps going back and forth on this but is mostly insisting that even for the first, humanitarian stage of the hostage/ceasefire deal Israel must agree to take out all of its troops and essentially leave Hamas to remain the ruling party in the Gaza strip

This is essentially the only hard no on Israel's side. Netanyahu especially refuses to end the war without a military victory that essentially is impossible to get without entering Rafah (and in my opinion is currently impossible to achieve at all). There is a willingness to pause the war in exchange for the hostages up to a certain degree, but there simply isn't a chance that Israel is going to give up on defeating the remaining Hamas military divisions in Rafah and hopefully killing Sinwar

A lot of the problem is that Hamas will present a deal that Israel finds unacceptable, Israel will take time to deliberate, come up with a middle ground, and then Hamas will actually make a worse offer in return. A lot of things that Israel is currently putting on the table were things Hamas originally requested and was willing to be on those terms, but now they want things that are even further from Israel's interests.

For example, at first Hamas was asking for women and children to be allowed to go back to northern Gaza. Now they are asking for the entire civilian population to return to northern Gaza... And for Israel to not even check that no Hamas agents are going back up north, where there are still many rocket launchers that were never found. Personally I would like that not to happen, as I would like rockets to not be launched at me. Maybe that's a lot to ask, idk

Another example is the fact that at first Hamas asked for a certain number of terrorists to be freed, but that about a third of them (iirc) would be picked by Hamas, with no veto power given to Israel. The offer currently on the table gives Israel no veto power at all, and unlike the deal from November where Israel only freed terrorists who failed to kill anyone, this time Israel will be required to pretty much exclusively free murderers.

The truth is Hamas has very little interest in a hostage deal. They don't want the terrorists in Israeli prisons as much as we want the hostages that are, according to current intelligence, being used as human shields, many of them surrounding Sinwar at all times. The first hostage deal led to humanitarian aid being brought into Gaza, which due to Israeli negligence has been taken over by Hamas; aid is being increased (although not enough) with no "return on investment" so to speak for Israel.

(sidenote: yes, there is not enough aid entering Gaza. Also, a lot of the aid is being taken by Hamas officials, with the remains being sold at outrageous prices to the refugees. Shit is bad from all directions here)

Meanwhile, the IDF has essentially pulled all its soldiers out of Gaza. There are currently only two military divisions in Gaza iirc, and they're mostly just staying there with not much happening. The current attack on Rafah is "small scale", and comes as a direct result of rockets being shot at south Israel on Sunday, resulting in several people being grievously injured. Overall, not much military action is happening, meaning that, for example, agreeing to cease military activities in Gaza is relatively unimportant to Hamas rn (emphasis on to Hamas).

And another truth is netanyahu ALSO doesn't want a ceasefire. The moment this war ends the public will demand an election (hell, a THIRD of the public is demanding an election NOW, before the end of the war), and he has lost many of his more casual voters. He will be forced out of the government either by his party or by the voters, and netanyahu wants power over all else, fuck the hostages.

He doesn't WANT to answer for his actions in front of his citizens. It's no coincidence that he is willing to be interviewed by the foreign press but no Israeli papers or channels; it's no coincidence that he refuses to allow the Israeli negotiators to come up creative solutions, instead giving them extreme restrictions. And his absolute refusal to even acknowledging the possible existence of a future Palestinian state is going to fuck Israel over in unimaginable ways

In short, fuck Hamas, fuck Netanyahu and the current extreme right wing government, #bringthemhome #freegazafromhamas and #ceasefirenow

As usual, I recommend a mix of Haaretz, the NYT, and the wall street journal as my favorite although never unbiased journalism on i/p. It is so important that we all understand that nobody is unbiased about any political issue, including me, and especially not about Israel and Palestine. It is an extremely charged subject that is best parsed out by reading from a variety of sources, and always noting that if something is only quoted or referenced by sources from one "side", it's frankly probably not true.

I hope for the best, and may this nightmare end as soon as possible