#i am as usual utterly flabbergasted

[queer-scots-geordie-dyke]

On what fucking planet is a premeditated pogrom literally called a "Jew Hunt" by the perpetrators "football hooliganism"??? Especially when the football fans in question returned to Israel *days* ago and the violent targeting of Jews and Jewish businesses in Amsterdam is still ongoing.

Be so fucking serious right now.

[peachpitfics]

Wildest Dreams

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Your Father has betrothed you to his eldest, most despicable friend. You confide in your closest friend, Benedict Bridgerton, that you wish your first time could be with somebody else, somebody you liked.

Length: 3.5k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Propositioning a friend, first time, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm.

a/n: Wildest Dreams is part i of iii ~ requested by anon here.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

The blood drained from your face, your hands clasped together in clammy nervousness – your father had just told you that since you have failed to successfully find a husband within the first year on the marriage mart, he will be arranging a betrothal between yourself and Lord Roger Howard. Lord Howard was six and sixty, he was your father’s eldest friend. Every interaction you ever witnessed was filled with contempt and disrespect, especially with service staff. His words were often filled with bigotry and unfairness. You found him repulsive, his yellowing chipped teeth in his villainous smile. The way his poorly maintained fingernails curled at the ends. His white moustache stained into unsightly colours from cigar smoke. The thought of having to be near this man, be intimate with this man, nearly drove you toward deaths door.

Your knees shook, standing from your armchair in the sitting room, not speaking a word to your father as you exited. Scurrying up the stairs, throwing yourself onto your bed, you felt your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Tears streamed down your face, you did your best to suck in deep breaths, but panic continued to wash over you. There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this fate. There had been some suitors interested in you, but you had chosen to wait, to see if the one person you had wanted would make himself available to you. Now it was too late, those suitors had moved on with other young ladies, and the man you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

Your lady’s maid knocked meekly on the door, having come to prepare you for this evening’s ball. The Queen would be there, and you knew she would be disappointed in this match your father had forced upon you, not that that would help you.

“Shall we get the family jewels out miss? I hear it is to be quite an exciting night” You could tell she was putting it on, trying to sound excited. It seemed to come off as patronizing instead.

“Whatever you should think is appropriate” You tried to keep your feelings to yourself, but the streaks through your makeup sold you out at first glance. You spent the rest of your preparation in silence, usually the two of you indulged in a little gossip, it was supposed to be fun.

All evening you hid behind larger groups, behind servers carrying trays of champagne, doing your best to ensure the inevitable could not happen. Finally, considerably late in the evening, your closest friend deigned to arrive. Almost surging across the dance floor and into Benedict’s side, you linked arms and impishly whisked him out through the conservatory doors.

“Miss Y/n” Benedict exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?”.

You breathed heavily, ducking, and weaving through overgrown plants and florals. You scouted each entrance, paranoia clinging to your side like a child in a sack race.

“My father has committed a most heinous act” You spill to Benedict, there is only concern etched on his face, “I am to be married to Lord Howard”. Your breath never steadied, sweat beaded where your forehead met your hair line. There was that panic you remembered so fondly, only hypervigilance had eliminated that feeling from the centre of your chest.

“Oh lord,” Benedict’s mouth hung open, utterly flabbergasted, “I cannot believe he would do that to you” Both of his hands found their way to your shoulders in compassion.

“And yet he has. My own father has bargained me away to some elder beast! There is nothing I can do to stop it” Your hands ran through your hair, untangling one of the twists.

Benedict did not know what to say, all he could do was lurch forward and take you into his arms. His strong arms reached around you, pulling you tight. The sound of his steady breath and rhythmic heartbeat calmed you quickly.

“When I was a little girl, I wished on a falling star I would find someone who loved me as their equal. I now wish for that same thing on this very night. To think that I have wasted my life dreaming about love, finding someone like me, with the same interests, the same age as me even!” You thought aloud. Benedict was always someone you could tell your innermost thoughts to, he never judged you once, and he was the kindest of listeners.

Benedict Bridgerton also knew exactly who you were dreaming about – it was him. You had been friends for several years, and it had always been obvious to anyone with sight, that you and Ben were infatuated with each other. But Benedict was young, and impulsive, unlikely to marry at this time.

“I do not want to spend my life with that old simpleton! I want to experience life and love!” You cried out, “My elder sister divulged what it is married couples do on their wedding night – I do not want that with him! I cannot live my life without having ever experienced the touch of a man who cares for me!” Your cries turned into whispers; whimpers scattered throughout.

He held you close to him, making a caring swishing sound, it kind of sounded like the ocean. Benedict sure knew how to comfort you when you were in need.

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Your father’s voice echoed off the glass walls, sending you into a frenzy, quickly separating from Benedict, dabbing your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Yes father?” You responded.

“Lord Howard is here with me. There is something he would like to say to you” Your father called. Benedict hid low amongst the broad-leafed plants, the darkness of the conservatory shading him. You appeared from the shadows without explanation, not that your father was seeking one. Lord Howard stood hunched next to your father, who was 20 years his junior. It appeared as though he bowed, but it was hard for you to discern.

“M…m…miss Y/n?” He stuttered, struggling to see through the spectacles at the end of his nose, “There is a question I must ask you. With the permission of your father, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage” Spittle flew from his mouth in between sharp consonants. Dread flooded your body, you felt like you were being submerged in a pool of water, the tears in your eyes, simply the only way for the water to escape.

There was animosity in your father’s gaze, warning you there was simply one answer to the question asked. Taking in a deep breath, “Yes, Lord Howard, I will accept” You murmured. Lord Howard did not look pleased, he did not appear bothered either, he simply nodded once and turned about, marching back to the main ballroom. You wondered if this was what your marriage was going to be like? Would he ignore your existence and leave you to your own life if you produced an heir? You could not ascertain whether this was a good thing or not.

Benedict hung his head, having watched this entire exchange from the shadows. There was an element of guilt on his part, he blamed himself, unable to give you what you wanted in time to save you. When your father had left you standing still, tears staining your dress, Benedict slid out from the darkness.

“I think I am going to ask the footman to take me home… I only have so much time before my time is not mine any longer” You lower lip trembled; the peaceful silence of the conservatory disturbed by the soft sounds of sobs.

“Y/n,” Benedict muttered, his hand running down your upper arm. Electricity connected your flesh in a zap, your breath caught in your chest as his skin joined with yours. His tender hands grazed yours, tickling the palm of your hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head, moving to take your hand away before he closed his around it. His tongue flicked over his lips several times as he contemplated what he had to say. Sometimes you heard the other young ladies tell stories about Benedict, you never knew if they were true. They spoke of how he was finest of the Bridgerton brothers, they also spoke of his rakish tendencies, however mostly in a jealous fashion.

The forecast in Benedict’s eyes swiftly shifted from clear blue to a stormy grey. You had not noticed how tall he was before, looming over you like a dark cloud. His face illustrated apathetic gloom, his hand boring you into him, like he was the eye of the storm.

“There is something I must speak with you about, in private” Benedict rolled his tongue aggressively on his teeth as he spoke. Everything about his demeanor was confusing, you felt strangely like prey, wondering why it felt good. Benedict snuck out the conservatory door, your hands clutched together while he led you to his carriage, asking his footmen to make way for the Bridgerton house.

“What is this about Benedict?” You asked as soon as the door was secure and the carriage moving.

“Y/n, please give me a moment and I will explain everything. I do not know if I have a solution to your problem, but I may be able to offer a compromise. Something I would only do for you, if you asked, because I care about you so deeply” Benedict paused, this intense look of thoughtful worry about him, “If you would be agreeable, I would like to suggest that I… bed you for the first time” Benedicts voice was low and resounding.

Your lips parted abashedly, your cheeks flushed pink, blinking became uncontrollable. All you could do was sit completely still, astronomically stunned by what Benedict had proposed. You understood that for whatever reason, Benedict could not give you everything you wanted, but he was offering you something. He was offering you an experience you may never have gotten to have otherwise, a chance to feel loved and wanted in intimate affection with another person.

“Say something, anything, please. I cannot stand this silence” Benedict rubbed his temples after a few minutes. His eyes were still dark with longing, he looked over with you a deviating sense of ownership.

“You would do that for me?” You entreated, hands shaking so hard you nearly sat on them to make it stop.

Benedict nodded surely across from you, the carriage pulling up at the Bridgerton house. Your eyes locked, the carriage completely still and silent, you took a moment to consider the ramifications of your choice. Ben’s posture was resolute, his gaze expansive, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“Yes” You swallowed hard, Benedict snatching your hand from your lap and dragging you from the carriage, running up the walk and into the house. You made short work of the very many stairs on the way up to his bedroom, sure that nobody could have seen you, as you ran that fast.

Blood rushing around your body, you stood just inside Benedict’s door, trying desperately to catch your breath. Benedict shuffled about the room, lighting a few candles, closing the windows for the evening. He looked back at you, having already stripped into your underclothes while his back was turned. A most shameful lust driven smile sketched lightly onto his face, he made the long voyage acrost the bedroom to stand a foot or two in front of you.

“Thank you for doing me this favor. I will owe you always” You remarked, your eyes dancing figure eights on the lush carpet squishing under your wiggling toes.

Benedict’s shoulders were more relaxed than you had ever seen them, his posture always just so. Strands of hair bled onto his sticky forehead, dark eyebrows brewing overhead transfixed eyes. That charming smile, filled with foolishness, had not been seen since leaving the ball – this was something so chronically serious to him. He effortlessly tugged at his maroon cravat, casting it to the floor, his proud neck craning to get another glimpse of you from another angle. His throat bobbed when he stepped closer again, just one more step. Fiddling with his waistcoat buttons ardently, watching the frustration set into your eyes, Benedict finally shed his coat and pitched it across the room, knocking over something unbreakable in the corner. It did not steal his gaze; his eyes were set on you. Benedict lifted his suspenders off his shoulders, allowing them to dangle by his hips, the chest of his white, silk undershirt gaping open. Your teeth instinctually bit into your lower lip at the slightest sight of skin you had not ever seen before. The corner of Benedicts mouth upturned smugly, his lips rolling together as his breath became audible. Standing just one foot apart, the tension between you was palpable. You wondered if someone had struck a match, might the room simply explode, there seemed to be so much chemistry between the two of you.

“Please, continue” Your hands pressed to your stomach, you watched as Benedict unlaced his boots, one foot at a time on the stool at the end of his bed. His blistering eye bore into you even still. Making his way back to you, still at hardly an arm’s length, his brawny arms crossed his body to pull his undershirt off over his head.

You swooned audibly, almost gasping seeing the entirety of his torso bare for the first time. Your lips wet, your eyes unblinking, Benedict smiled cheekily, knowing the effect he had on you. His hands moved past his navel, your eyes following, to the button atop his breeches. Benedict made quick work of his trousers, having teased you plenty. Your back straightened, your gob smacked jaw snapped shut at the sight of his naked body.

Benedicts tongue flicked over his teeth, “Would you like me to redress, y/n?” He badgered, pretending to reach for his shirt on the floor. You careened forward, lessening the space between you to essentially nothing.

“I do not know what to do, not truly” You admitted, feeling yourself choking on nothing. Benedict reached out to your hands, taking them in his, placing them on his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the feeling of his light chest hair beneath your fingers. His sculpted pectoral muscles and taut stomach, a trail of dark hair leading you downwards made you feel ravenous for him. He looked at you as you looked at him, eyes filled with desire, faces pink in the candlelight. Benedict leaned in to kiss you, pulling away left at the last second to place a single kiss on your neck.

“You. Are. Wicked” Your face flitted over his, grazing your noses and lips together in potential kisses. Benedict leaned into you, his kiss soft, warm, and breathless. You gasped at the first separation, taking in hasty breaths before crashing back into each other. Everything you were doing felt completely wrong, reprehensible – but with a kiss as intoxicating as Benedict Bridgerton’s, you were afraid not even heaven could help you.

Your hands slipped into his thick, dark hair, pulling him down and into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing up onto him. His hands rested under your thighs, carrying you toward his bed, you could feel his hardness pressing against you. 

This was not what you had been expecting, this was no impish boy. Everything about his movements was intentional, well-practiced. His hot, amorous kiss; the way his tongue slipped thankfully over yours, how his teeth greedily nipped at your auspicious bottom lip. His hands moved passionately across your back, his long kisses surprisingly hard on your neck, laying you down on the pile of bedding. He frantically shoved it off the bed, throwing pillows, knocking himself in the face once or twice. You laughed together, slow sizzling tongues dancing as one as Benedict removed your floor length under gown.

Benedict knelt above you on the bed, gently stroking himself, looking down on you. There was that dark cloud you had noticed earlier.

“I want you to enjoy me” Benedict rumbled, making you a promise. You did not yet understand, but you would. Taking his finger, Benedict dipped it into your mouth, bringing it to your nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb at a glacial pace. His touch was peculiarly possessive, his lips rested around your other nipple now, sloppily dragging his tongue around in spontaneous circles. Big open-mouthed kisses surrounded your breasts, your shock and surprise manifesting in noiseless writhing.

Benedict positioned himself between your legs, lying down forcing your legs apart. Wanting to snap your legs shut, you refrained, trusting Benedict with your life. His breath was agonizingly warm on your inner thigh, his lips parted and gliding up from your knee. Benedict dotted small, chaste kisses along your hips – you deduced he was headed for the pinnacle of your thighs, a place you had never felt burn and ache quite like this.

His tongue slid gently up the slit of your pussy, you breath shuddered, his harmless laps amazed you with every movement. Eye lids fluttering, breathy moans filling the room, Benedict’s graceful tongue swirling your clitoris in curious patterns, drinking in your wetness as though you were a drug to him. Your fingers crawled down into his hair, your hips bucking toward his retreating tongue, you squealed lowly for more.

“Are you quite alright?” Benedict groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice set you on edge, your toes clenching in different ways.

“I do not know what you are doing, but I would like for you to keep doing it” You moaned intermittently, between gasps as his tongue flicked roguishly at your clitoris.

Benedict spread your legs wide and high, taking his finger and resting it at your entrance. He tediously sunk his finger inside you, curling up, making you yelp out in astonishment. Finding a steady pace, his finger already snug inside you, Benedict began at you again, never failing to find exactly the spot he was looking for. His alteration of speed and pressure backed you onto a cliff face, body incandescent and damned to revelry. Pressing his fingers into you rhythmically, Benedict pushed you over the edge, the sensation of falling and flying all erupting at once as you moaned and yelped uncontrollably. In the aftermath of your pleasure, you watched Benedicts eyes, his head still clutched between your legs gently sliding his tongue over you, his charming, sexy smile reflected in his eyes.

Slowing rising to his knees, Ben positioned your legs higher, resting your calves on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, his pressed his tip against your wet skin. Your skin erupted in a tingling sensation, unbridled attraction and hunger liquefying your brain.

You looked up at Benedict in clear understanding, nodding gently, your eyes focusing on the powerful look of restrained urgency on Benedict’s face. He pushed forward smoothly, eliciting a groan from each of you, not even pressed to the hilt yet.

When Benedict filled your pussy fully, it felt like being winded. Panting like a dog under him, Benedict stilled himself, noticing how full and tight you felt, his cock twitching with pleasure. Benedict moved slowly at first, long unbroken strides forward, thrusting into you. Every drive forward, simultaneously blissful, and hot, curving to pound into that sensitive spot just inside you. While every drawback, was likened to slow-motion, devastating deprivation. Ceaseless, savage moans made Benedict grin above you, thrusting harder, wholly triumphant in setting you alight. You knew you would burn for him for the rest of your life.

“Make that sound for me again” Benedict grunted sinisterly, thrusting back into you brutally, forcing that loud intonation from you again.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your hips moving with his in most divine unison. Benedicts teeth grazed your ear, your breathing syncing in ceremonious adoration; his momentum increased, driving into you with new eagerness. Your nails buried in his plump behind, pulling Benedict tighter into you. With propulsive sureness Benedict plunged into you one last time, his cock twitching inside you to his irrevocable release. Never had you felt so full before, his face exquisite above you, leaning down to a soulful kiss.

“I’m proud of you, taking me like that” Benedict panted, taking a second before withdrawing and rolling next to you. He lay on the flat of his back, chasing his breath, his heart thumping through his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear it. His words made you blush, hiding your face in your hands, his seed leaking out of you onto the linen.

“It is not always going to be the same, is it?” You pondered aloud, staring at the detailing on the ceiling above you.

“I will not lie, y/n darling, I do not think every single instance will be the same” Benedict reached over, gently slapping your thigh in solidarity.

“That is disappointing to hear” You sighed dramatically.

Benedict chuckled sweetly, “Perhaps at his age, he will not have the capacity to complete more than the marital act”. You knew he was joking, trying to lift your spirits, but you genuinely hoped that might be true. Other worries began to plague your mind, worries of potential children. What if you were unable to conceive his heir due to his age?

You rolled onto your side, looking into Benedict’s clear, sky-blue eyes, “There may be another favour I ask of you, dear friend”. Benedict's eyes widened curiously, prepared to do most anything for you.

--------------------------------------------------

Tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr // @marvelouslyme96 // @moreover-clover // @saintmagx //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[sgiandubh]

To be a fly on the wall in that room. What could he possibly be saying to her to get her to laugh like that? As per usual when the camera is focused on Sam's face but he's focused on Cait's, you can see how much he's in love with her.

Dear Fly On The Wall Anon,

That's their secret and we are not Marple, to peer into people's dishes at the restaurant. We're proud shippers and we are much better than this.

I can only imagine he was telling her something #silly and sweet, after all, he is her 'ridiculous human being', isn't he? Describe and discuss, in parallel, the semantics of her rapport to McInsipid: 'shy'. That's all - this is how you excuse a child who wouldn't say hello to Aunt Edna and her moustache, but this is not how you'd talk about Someone. You'd be a bit embarrassed, for sure, but you'd have to put on a brave face and counter the bad impression.

If you'd ask me about a certain Someone, I would gladly tell you how flabbergasted I am by his shocking mind, by his ability to bargain in Arabic at the Khan el-Khalili bazaar, in Cairo, by the way he managed to make me (mildly) interested in somebody as dull as Quevedo and by the very peculiar way he did change me forever. And most of all, I would tell you, Anon, about the way this guy makes me laugh and about how I could sometimes staple things into him and about how I knew I was utterly fucked and revoltingly happy the very moment, the very first damn moment.

When I see that smile of hers, I don't need more. I know. And so do you, most probably. And this is all that matters, because this is all that remains.

Here's another one. @thefrsers posted it already (and all credit goes to her, because she found most of these pics first!). But I don't really care:

[ilikekidsshows]

I know it's not nice to talk behind other people behind their backs so I won't say a name, I'm just utterly bewildered that a huge ml fan blog seriously just called Marinette and FELIX thoughtful schemers while calling Kagami and Adrien the opposite and I'm like??? First of all: WHERE are Marinette and Felix THOUGHTFUL schemers?

Marinette is not nearly as thoughtful as her fans claim she is, she 24/7 forgets about everyone and everything around her the moment she wants something. Just because she cries that she's sorry and isn't maliciously intentioned doesn't make her a THOUGHTFUL schemer? It's a miracle if she ever considers anyone in 90 percent of what she does. Its still questionable if Marinette has accepted yet that Cat Noir is even REAL underneath that mask since nothing about her behaviour and leadership implies that whatsoever.

And Felix?? I don't even know what to say about that claim?? In what reality is FELIX a THOUGHTFUL schemer, but Adrien and Kagami are apparently some impulsive airheads who have to be lovingly kept in check by the former two??

I don't wanna be a bitch, but how much copium is this massive fan blog on at this point? I used to really value their takes on the characters, but as of recently so many huge sugar blogs seem to be going bonkers on copium and ending up saying the wildest victim blaming things that clearly is much more rooted in their fan work than actual canon.

Like, okay, I get that Marinette fans are still in insane denial because they want Marinette to be a thoughtful schemer, so they disregard Canon in favor of whatever alternative show they have formed in their heads by now. But i get it, it's what Marinette was SUPPOSED to be, so I see where that denial is coming from. Especially cuz I know that in their fanfictions said person truly rights Marinette like a thoughtful schemer and what most of us wanted Marinette to be. I'm just bewildered that they apparently really can't see that Canon is doing something else entirely, but fine.

But FELIX? where the fuck is FELIX thoughtful? Why am I seeing so many Marinette stans have this attitude towards Felix that totally victim blames Adrien and throws Kagami under the bus? Are Marinette stans so in denial about that how Marinette is portrayed being toxic and even borderlining abusive towards Adrichat that when they now saw a similar writing pattern in Felix they just automatically go about it as usually and give him their Marinette treatment?

Cause that's the only type of mental gymnastics I can imagine being strong enough to make such a statement. I'm flabbergasted that they meant that as a SUGAR statement. Victim blaming abuse victims and throwing them under the bus to make their power controlling/abusing significant others out to be the thoughtful brains to their impulsive hearts with no attention span isn't sugar!

But I guess that's what forceful positivity and refusal to acknowledge that anything can actually be WRONG with your comfort show and main character gets you. This is not just about this one said person. So many Marinette stans in particular are so on edge by now because of how much they are trying to stay in denial that something is actually wrong, so they react in some sort of extreme way whenever anything is brought up to them instead of agreeing with them that fanon is the real Canon, and people just "don't get it".

So many Marinette stans I once followed for fan content I used to enjoy I had to unfollow and even block by now because not only are their portrayals of the characters not Canon compliant anymore, or they are stay "Canon compliant" in such a forcefully positive way that they just lean into the worst aspects and expect you to be cool with laughing at the victim (which is normally Adrien because abusing abuse victims and calling it love is just what Marinette stans to at this point to cope I guess)

Sorry, for going on such a long rant. That post really just broke the camel's back for me. I suppose I should block them now to make sure I don't get heated over one for their future posts again since that's unfortunately bound to happen again with their point of view, I just really wished there was a different way cause I rlly don't want to block all those blogs I once loved following. But so much has changed since season 4 😞

---

Abuse Apologia the Show is priming the audience to view abusive and toxic characters as saints. The only reason this didn't work with Gabriel’s “redemption” was because they started doing it too late into the game and because Gabriel became the perfect scapegoat for Marinette’s behavior in the finale. Marinette always made mistakes and then made up for them, but now everything she does is justified because she’s the greatest Ladybug ever because Jeanne d’Arc said so.

No, seriously. Just take a look at all the things that are said about Marinette in universe. The writers are doing such a bad job of writing her as a good person, the other characters have to lie about how she “constantly takes care of others”, and the Marinette stans grab onto these statements since they're the only indicator that Marinette being kind instead of completely self-obsessed is the intended canon. And that’s all that matters to Marinette stans, not what Marinette actually does, but what is said about her.

Marinette rarely thinks of others until she’s already caused damage. She’ll ruin a friend's week if it means she’ll get to spend time with Adrien, sure, but she'll also forget about a TV interview she agreed to or an outing with her friends for no reason. She's not that busy, because she always has time for harebrained schemes and can constantly disappear with no warning and no consequences. Her annual Heroes Day good deed is to forget about it until the morning of when she takes macaroons made by her parents to her classmates. All these were things Marinette then made up for, but the stans insist she’s being “punished for things that aren’t her fault”, and now the show agrees with them.

But, now that Marinette is no longer challenged by the narrative when she acts this way, it just makes it seem like she’s forcing her will on others when she’s supposedly trying to help. Because, we have to remember, the “thoughtful scheme” here most definitely refers to Marinette lying to Adrien about his father being a good man and Adrien himself being human. Marinette is so thoughtful for not wanting Adrien to be upset and have to rethink how he lives his life so that his free will doesn’t get hijacked (again). How thoughtful of her to endanger Adrien’s free will and possibly life by not telling him this extremely crucial information! If by “thoughtful”, we mean “thoughtless”, then sure.

Marinette used to make these kinds of calls even before the retool, but they weren’t this extreme and she used to realize when she’d been wrong or she’d luck out and manage to get things right even with no input from the people involved. ‘Dark Owl’ is a primary example of how Marinette just decided for Damocles that he would happily retire from superheroics after getting to win a fight with a supervillain one time although she did realize that helping Damocles find his own way of helping was a better solution. Marinette also decides to take it upon herself to fix her dad and grandfather’s complicated relationship despite being told of Roland’s extremely strong personal boundaries, and it was to her luck that it worked out well in the end. Basically, the end result tended to work out even as Marinette got pushy with her help in the past. But with the season 5 finale, the disrespect for Adrien’s autonomy is just so much more severe than anything that’s come before that I don’t think even it turning out fine in the end would make it okay.

Because now that we see the extreme version of this pushiness with Adrien, the way Marinette just goes with her first idea when it comes to how she should help others, instead of ever considering what they would want just makes it seem like she doesn’t respect the people she’s helping, which also explains why she lies about how she accomplishes everything with no help from anyone. People who need others’ help are kind of pitiful. She feels bad for them, so bad she has to help, but she doesn’t respect them enough as people to ask what they want or to follow their desires. When Marinette helps people, it’s on her terms, so it’s about her first and foremost.

Even Marinette’s “thoughtfulness” is toxic.

Félix is presented the same way. He’s the only self-aware Sentimonster who knows he’s a Sentimonster, so he decides he should get to decide what happens to all the other Sentimonsters by becoming the Peacock Miraculous holder. And we even see that he actually can’t be trusted with that power, because every single Sentimonster he creates he also destroys at the end of the episode because it wasn’t useful anymore. And Marinette enables him by letting him keep the Miraculous.

Adrien and Kagami are paralleled a lot in the show. Maybe this is the one pattern the Marinette stans can recognize, because that would explain how they automatically move their toxic Adrinette dynamic excuses to Feligami. Or it's just that the way Marinette's and Félix’s toxicity has been slowly built up as more and more extreme while all characters are constantly praising and forgiving her for it taught them to view this kind of behavior sympathetically when it comes to who they view as “good people”. It's just like how real life abuse apologia works. We easily excuse the people we care about and know personally because we know they aren't bad people. They're just stressed out. They don't realize they're being hurtful. They have good intentions.

It’s almost like glorifying abuse in a children's cartoon is a bad thing that can lead to real life harmful attitudes being enforced.

[bruinhilda]

Ah, it's spooky season. So people will discuss horror with me more often. And it will usually go to Stephen King, and discussions of this and that part of his massive catalogue of work.

And inevitably, the other person will be anything from aghast to flabbergasted that one of my favorite of his books...is the universally maligned The Tommyknockers.

Look, I'm not going to tell you it's his best work. However, I will argue that it's not his worst. Maybe it doesn't hit for you. I understand. But I'm a little tired of being shit on because it hits for me.

Common complaint number one: "It's about aliens, not the supernatural. How cringe."

It's about dead aliens resurrecting themselves via their ship's radiation field. This is not really explained, or even explainable. The technology in question might as well be magic. They're pretty horrifying ghosts, considering how they possess and eventually mutate the town.

Also, y'all really love It, written just before this and referenced a few times in Tommyknockers. That monster is also alien in origin. Is it the flying saucer that makes Tommyknockers cringe? Or is it the fact that Pennywise is an extra-dimensional alien from outside of space that pushes It into more supernatural (and therefore less "cringe") territory for you?

Common complaint number two: "It's so goofy. Did you see that TV miniseries?"

Yeah. Hated it. They stripped out every creepy moment, every horror element, changed the flying saucer wedged sideways into bedrock into a characterless generic alien ship shallowly buried in the topsoil, and made sure to make all the goofy elements as ridiculous as possible. Oh, and we have to have a happy ending and no real consequences. Can't have the sequence where a neighboring town, half the rescue services in Maine, and a bunch of lookee loos are killed horribly by a forest fire driven wind shift. Can't have the entire town be way past saving by Gard's sacrifice. Of course the TV series was goofy as hell. They were very careful to scrape as much horror off the absurdity of the situation as possible.

Common complaint number three: "Even Stephen King thinks it's bad."

It was written during one of the worst parts of his life. It wasn't as good as his cocaine-hazed brain insisted it was when he was writing it. Failure hurts. To him, it's the seed of a good story mangled and strangled by drug addiction. He's never going to look back on it fondly.

It's still a good story. Yeah, it should have been great. There's a lot that could have been better. But it's still a solid horror story, about a town that was utterly damned by something that happened long before humans evolved, and that couldn't be stopped by characters acting "smarter" in the narrative once it started. That's compelling to me.

"I just don't like it." Valid! It obviously just doesn't do it for you. There's a stack of Stephen King novels that just don't do it for me. They can't all be winners. But what's a winner for me and what's a winner for you will differ. I am just asking you to stop shitting all over me when I mention my appreciation for a book you didn't care for. Especially when your conversation makes it clear you didn't actually read the book, as has happened in more than half of the "debates" I ended up in every time this has happened.

Thank you for reading my rant. It's October! Go forth and experience the strange, the terrifying, the mysterious, and the grotesque!

"Even if it's cringe?" Especially if it's cringe. You cringe because you're afraid. Horror is there to let you face fear. Including the fear of being embarrassed by other people's opinions. Embrace it.

[kammieceleek]

A Personal Farewell to a Fic

So...

I've done these before, usually as a last note for a fic I did very few author's notes on, but I've never done one on Tumblr and most people probably don't want to hear this, but fuck it, I'm writing it.

This is my personal farewell to Bride of the Monster Duke, a fic that to this day is my longest and most popular and will probably remain so for quite a while. It's a fic that has a lot of meaning to me as a project and a symbol of how far I've come in a decade of writing fanfiction, and looking back on those ten years I've definitely come a long way from that lonely thirteen-year-old writing Warriors and Gravity Falls fanfic in her room.

And honestly, to that thirteen-year-old, I wanna say you've got this. Don't stop writing, don't stop creating, don't give up on anything because one day, you're gonna write things that people will love. You're finding yourself in your work, someone that people will love and care about deeply if you just take the time to put it out there and find those people.

Anyway, this is about a current work done by me in my twenties, not soothing my inner child, heh.

I started BOTMD as a personal project last May, inspired by a love of romance fantasy manhwa, at the time not realizing that not only would it become my most popular story ever but it would lead me to meeting friends online, people I probably never would've met otherwise. Star (love you so much, funky little internet-sis) and I were in the same server, but the same could not be said of Storm (love you too, big internet-sibling!). I only got into contact with them because I put this particular work out and they read it. And that's not even mentioning all the artists who for some unknown reason thought my writing was good enough to make art for it.

I was utterly flabbergasted with how much love BOTMD received, and I cannot be more grateful than I already am for everyone who's ever read the fic. Whether you found it on day one or you're finding it a year from now, everyone who's given the story this level of love and support deserves the biggest fucking internet hug I can give.

Thank you, everyone.

Thank you to the artists who brought this brainchild to life.

Thank you to Dana Terrace and the Owl Crew for bringing me this show that I fell in love with.

Thank you to Hunter and Willow for being my biggest inspiration and the source of my biggest writing streak in years.

Thank you to Star and Storm for sticking by me with this story and helping me write it, even when I was being weird and crazy, and for being my partners on our next project, Legends of Gravesfield.

And of course, thank you to the readers, because you guys made sure this story went around and more people read it.

Love all of you.

So long and thanks for all the fish!

[basaltbutch]

also out on trail i had the silliest set of circumstances happen to me. let me outline it to you real quick;

im vaguely bored upon reaching camp again after four days of brushcutting the same trail. have to go take a piss and realize i can also go wander off and look at the scenery.

so i find a nice spot w a bit of the view but hidden from the trail. go to piss and wonder why there's something sharp against my bare skin when i was pretty sure it was clear. go to brush away the pokey bush with my arm.

not a bush.

Wasps.

i have been stung on the ass and forearm by 5-6 very angry ladies because i pissed on their nest. their very wonderfully camouflaged nest. also the only nest for a long while and i know this bc we didn't see this species at all while working in the two miles around camp.

hightail it back to camp to let the guy in charge of us know who is utterly flabbergasted and i cannot stop howling in laughter because HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN. he tells me to keep an eye on it to see if it'll get worse but my breathing is clear and im not displaying anaphylaxis so fingers crossed i will be fine.

we eat dinner. go to bed. chatting with my fiance since we're on the same crew. my sentences are slowly becoming more and more fractured and im acting in a much sillier way than usual.

"hey." he says. "did you know that some people can get high off of wasp stings & experience pain relief affects?"

"i feel good," i giggle, feeling a mixture of wine drunk and incredibly high and also pain & fatigue free for the first time in my life.

swelling on my arm (others are fine) gets worse over the next few days until im eventually pulled from the field a day early because it's been 48 hours and the swelling's still spreading.

96 hours later. swelling is still slightly present but vastly reduced, doctor says i should be fine if i keep taking benadryls and other overcounter allergy meds.

still mostly pain and fatigue free and am also relieved of a lot of the long covid symptoms i had been feeling over the past 5 or so months.

wasp sting will always be my white whale drug but i fear if im ever stung again it will be a life threatening allergic reaction o7

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

Hi, sorry if I'm pestering you.

Continuation of ELady Sealing Herself: Imagine him awakening in Hyrule after breaking his seal, then proceeding to pursue her clues with dogmatic determination. His Shuiro (forehead marks) seeming to reassure him. Though, he found it odd, even ironic, how often he found comfort in the memory of what the Shuiro meant to the Sheikah, that they believed it mentally connected one to their spouse (especially if he'd initially been resistant to the idea). And though he did not know it, it gave him a type of heightened insight when it came to her & that their matching Shuiro had been how she'd been able to show him that she hadn't abandoned him & how she was able to hide clues within their shared memories in the first place. Regardless, perhaps it would be worth integrating said tradition into Gerudàn culture? And the weapon(s) that she forged for him, often helped to keep him grounded.

The Hero & Princess have zero clue what he's doing because, to them, it appears entirely random & nonsensical. His minions are similarly utterly befuddled. (In the case of HW, Ghirahim is very concerned for his sanity.)

But to Gan, it makes the most sense in the entire world. Like swimming to a fish. Or flying to a bird.

When he finds the final clue. It leads him to the sight of where they first met. He discovers a sarcophagus hidden in plain sight with her inside. Inscriptions in both Gerudo & Sheikan adorn the sides, glowing faintly as though in step with a heartbeat, keeping her frozen in time. Seals that only seem to react to him. She looks nearly no different than she did before. Hair a bit longer. A frown set upon her face as though in the midst of a fretful sleep, brought on by weariness & heartsickness. (And if you're willing to go that far, she's also heavily pregnant, so it was only 6-8 months at most before she sealed herself & their child. Who is fine.)

His eyes become shiny for a moment before he blinks the moisture away. All it takes is a single, tender touch to her skin (any touch, whether a caress to the cheek or the super corny route of waking her with a kiss) & she begins to breathe again. As though merely asleep.

“Tànumehqiz. Hàrsé tïto lï’tànàhad pixlōp Vah Amàhrta'jï Xetmama taa al’sōl ne saktàrso.” (“Awaken. It is time to arise from Amàhrta's domain or the sun will leave you behind.” Basically the same as “Wake up.” Vah Amàhrta being the goddess of dreams, so her domain would be the land where dreams are made manifest. Where all things go when they sleep.)

Her eyes flutter as she awakens, her eyes opening, bleary, before focusing on him, a slow smile pulling at her lips & happy tears coming to her eyes.

Gan’s smile is soft as he speaks, “Sàv'otta, ledpi'úl euyin.” (“Good morning, tired eyes.”)

(Though, in the case of HW, I am so curious about just how utterly flabbergasted that Ghirahim & Zant would be. Because, I'm imagining this taking place after he's resurfaced in the HW game.)

^^^ The only thing I see Equal Lady doing after she wakes up... after smooching Ganondorf, of course. Then again, thats hard for a preggo lady to do... but shes strong so she could do it, right?

And now our Lord and Savior ChatGPT With their sermon*

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reaction: Wind Waker Ganondorf would be overwhelmed with emotion upon finding the sarcophagus. His usually stern demeanor would soften, and for a moment, he would allow himself to feel the relief and joy of being reunited with his beloved.

Actions:

Tenderness: He would caress her cheek gently, whispering the awakening words with a soft, trembling voice.

Determination: His eyes would shine with unshed tears, and his determination would be renewed as he watches her awaken.

Reverence: He would hold her hand gently, pressing it to his forehead in a gesture of reverence and love.

Quote: “Tànumehqiz. Hàrsé tïto lï’tànàhad pixlōp Vah Amàhrta'jï Xetmama taa al’sōl ne saktàrso.”

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reaction: Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would experience a rare moment of vulnerability, his stern and ruthless exterior cracking as he sees her lying there. The sight of her, pregnant and preserved, would stir deep emotions within him.

Actions:

Shock: He would initially be struck with disbelief, kneeling beside the sarcophagus and running his fingers over the inscriptions.

Affection: He would gently touch her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin and whispering the words with a voice thick with emotion.

Protectiveness: His resolve to protect her and their unborn child would be stronger than ever, a fierce determination burning in his eyes.

Quote: “Tànumehqiz. Hàrsé tïto lï’tànàhad pixlōp Vah Amàhrta'jï Xetmama taa al’sōl ne saktàrso.”

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reaction: Twilight Princess Ganondorf would be deeply moved, his usual intensity giving way to a rare moment of tenderness. The sight of her, pregnant and frozen in time, would fill him with a powerful mix of emotions.

Actions:

Tenderness: He would caress her cheek gently, whispering the awakening words with a soft, trembling voice.

Determination: His eyes would shine with unshed tears, and his determination would be renewed as he watches her awaken.

Reverence: He would hold her hand gently, pressing it to his forehead in a gesture of reverence and love.

Quote: “Tànumehqiz. Hàrsé tïto lï’tànàhad pixlōp Vah Amàhrta'jï Xetmama taa al’sōl ne saktàrso.”

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reaction: Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf would be filled with a powerful surge of emotion, his usually confident and commanding presence softening as he sees her. The sight of her, pregnant and preserved, would stir something deep within him.

Actions:

Shock: He would initially be struck with disbelief, kneeling beside the sarcophagus and running his fingers over the inscriptions.

Affection: He would gently touch her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin and whispering the words with a voice thick with emotion.

Protectiveness: His resolve to protect her and their unborn child would be stronger than ever, a fierce determination burning in his eyes.

Quote: “Tànumehqiz. Hàrsé tïto lï’tànàhad pixlōp Vah Amàhrta'jï Xetmama taa al’sōl ne saktàrso.”

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reaction: Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would be overwhelmed with emotion upon finding the sarcophagus. His usually stern demeanor would soften, and for a moment, he would allow himself to feel the relief and joy of being reunited with his beloved.

Actions:

Tenderness: He would caress her cheek gently, whispering the awakening words with a soft, trembling voice.

Determination: His eyes would shine with unshed tears, and his determination would be renewed as he watches her awaken.

Reverence: He would hold her hand gently, pressing it to his forehead in a gesture of reverence and love.

Quote: “Tànumehqiz. Hàrsé tïto lï’tànàhad pixlōp Vah Amàhrta'jï Xetmama taa al’sōl ne saktàrso.”

In each case, Ganondorf would experience a powerful mix of emotions—shock, tenderness, protectiveness, and determination. The sight of his beloved, preserved and pregnant, would bring out a rarely seen side of him, filled with love and reverence. His actions would reflect his deep affection and commitment to her, showing a softer, more vulnerable side of the usually formidable ruler.

[dangermousie]

This scene was genuinely adorable and I am rooting for those two puppies HARD!

You know, there was probably no bigger JJY hater on tumblr than yours truly (about the only cdrama FL I liked less was Cheng Xiao) but...but...she is utterly and completely fine in CP6. I have zero issue with either her acting or her character or her look or her chemistry with her costars - she is completely and utterly fine. I am not sure if it's because the role is better than her usual stuff (eg nobody could make Beauty of Resilience tolerable), because she's got a director who knows how to direct her, or even the fact that she has less makeup than usual and thus her face can be more expressive. This isn't a Dylan Wang level of "he can ACT this well?!" flabbergasted reaction like I got with LBFAD, but it's still pretty damn impressive.

Honestly, I am glad, I can look forward to In Blossom and her other dramas now. This also means that Cheng Xiao and Yang Chaoye is now the SOLE cdrama leading ladies who are an automatic nope for me (though YCY was fine in Heroes, so maybe there is hope for her with a good director?) As far as MLs, the only ones left who evoke a horrifying level of pls god why are Aoi Rupeng (tho he's new so maybe he will improve some day) and Yang Yang, who is gorgeous but an utter Ken doll who's been around so long that it's clear he will never improve. (I am shallow enough to not mind a block of wood if the looks work for me - Alan Yu is a worse actor than YY will ever be and I adore looking at him for some reason; but YY doesn't do it for me hormonally so there we are.)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #39

I learned a very important phrase today. And it is "pathological projective identification". If mentions of the mechanics of psychological abuse is a trigger for you, you might want to avoid reading the rest of this.

Essentially, pathological projective identification is what happens when an abusive person has some aspect of themselves that they find intolerable to consciously perceive, so they instead pin it on someone who is in a position that is less able to fight back - for example, their child, their partner, their subordinate at work, or even a friend with poor boundary skills.

So practically, what it looks like is, some person who is selfish (but doesn't want to see themselves that way) accuses someone else of being selfish, and usually that other person is in some position where if they don't internalize the message, they'll either be abandoned (literally or psychologically) or further berated. So in the end, for the person being abused in this manner, it's, "accept the label the abusive person is putting on you, OR ELSE."

I've spent a lot of time trying to make sense of what happened to me and my siblings, growing up. In so doing, I've learned much about the mechanics of generational trauma and various forms of abuse, and how these things, when given to a child, end up impacting the resulting adult. But I never knew about this particular mechanic until today. How wonderful it is to still be able to learn things, even after having studied this subject for such a long time!

Here's a video that explains it all a lot better than I can:

I was utterly flabbergasted at how similar "Terry's" lived experiences, as described here, so closely mirrored my own, in some respects. I'm glad that I finally have a label for the result of this sort of thing - a reason why, on a bad day, sometimes I get worried that I've been "the problem" in my family this whole time. Sometimes this worry gets so bad that I think that I am making life worse for the people in my immediate vicinity. Sometimes the worry that I am making life worse for the people around me gets so bad that I think that the good thing to do might be to permanently exit my meat-mech prematurely (don't worry; I have coping skills in place to help me when I get like this, so I'm not at risk or anything - it's all good).

But now I have a label for this thing. It has a name. It is a phenomenon that is well-known enough that there is specific language used to describe it, coined by people who have been studying this stuff for far longer than I have. There is a reason for the Bad Mental Health Days that I sometimes get, in which I relentlessly berate myself in the very same ways that my past adult overlords used to, and why I sometimes still believe all of the things about me that they used to say.

Having language to describe this phenomenon means that I am not broken. It means that I am not alone. And it means that it is a solvable problem that can be worked on until it's no longer an issue, instead of some vaguely-defined flaw in my personality that will be with me forever and ever. It's not, "I am just an anxious, ruminating, weak-willed person by nature." It is, "something happened to me that is known to psychologically injure people, and injuries can be recovered from."

And isn't that liberating!! Wow!!

I'm not sure if it's this way for other people, but for me, having the hows and the whys and the mechanics of a thing laid out makes me better able to understand it, make room for it, and in the end, do something about it. I think this is part of the reason for having labels for things - it's not supposed to be for the purpose of condemning people; it's supposed to help people understand that their lived experiences are part of the human condition, instead of some anomalous thing that makes them fundamentally unlovable or something.

Hey, Sephiroth? Have you spent any time thinking about your own lived experiences? Your childhood? The ways you were treated, and how that impacted the way you view the world and others in it? Have you stopped to look around long enough so that you can start to think about the fact that your circumstances aren't really all that unique? During your time at the Edge of Creation, did you look around at other people's stories so that you can see that there have been other child soldiers, other experimental supersoldiers, other people who have been used, abused, and exploited in the same ways you have? Have you stopped to look around long enough to see that you really, really aren't alone? That you, like all those other people, can have a place in the world? That you can work on your things, find peace, build a version of "normal", and learn to enjoy things?

If you have spent time thinking about these things… tell me, what have you learned? I know that you can't tell me, but I'm gonna ask anyway because you're worth considering and understanding, regardless.

And if you have not spent time thinking about these things, when will you? Though I'm sure you have a lot on your plate right now, I'm also fairly sure that you have sufficient time on your hands to consider the impact of how you were treated as a boy and how it shaped you. I imagine you have sufficient time on your hands to start to believe that the "normal life" you wanted is within reach, and to consider how to shape yourself in service to that dream.

In the meantime, with this new knowledge that I gained today, I'll be over here, doing my best to shape myself into someone who is not vicious with myself. After all, when I get like that, the people who love me get very sad (which is natural and expected), and I don't want to be one more reason for them to be sad - we're already living in late-stage capitalism, plagued with wars and prejudice just about everywhere, on a planet that is dying due to climate change (it got up to almost 50F today in some parts of where I live; it's supposed to be 32F or below this time of year…); they have more than enough reasons to be sad as it is, doncha think? If we want there to be fewer reasons to be sad, if we want the world to change... we have to look at ourselves first. There is a musician in our world who is no longer with us; he said it far better than I ever could:

May any of what I've written and shown you give you some kind of food for thought. Who do you see when you look in the mirror? I hope that the image you see is just as beautiful to you as what I see when I look at your soul.

Please stay safe; don't disappear and give us more reasons to be sad. You're loved, you're needed, you're cared for, and you're worth your own effort. If you haven't been acting like you're worth more than simply what you can do… please start acting like it. As much as I and others who love you might like to zoop over there and do it for you, it's not within our power to do. So you gotta do it instead. Okay?

I'll write to you some more later.

Your friend, Lumine

[burning-fcols]

“Um hi? Are you talking to me?” @ angel for camera man au - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ᴅᴏʀᴋʏᴅᴇᴍᴄɴ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 ❝ 'Course I am cutie~ ❞ Angel purrs, leaning in even closer to the fresh meat. A bit on the dorky side, unlike the usual filthy creeps or rough sides-of-beef that normally come under Valentino's employ. But Angel doesn't have a problem with the virgin vibe. He actually likes it... It's different. Cute in an utterly flabbergasted sort of way. The type of guy who seems like he could die of blood loss simply from the nosebleed he'd get if the seasoned star shot him so much as a wink.

Gaze shamelessly roams up and down the lizard's form, slow and appreciative as Angel's dexterous tongue slides across his lips. Flashing a razor grin, a hand leisurely walks two fingers up the newcomer's chest, ❝ You don' see any otha' fuckin' FINE men 'round here, do ya? Aside from myself, anyway... ❞ Ending his statement with a light boop to the others nose, he finally straightens his spine and allows the camera man some room to BREATHE. As if anyone could take a deep breath in the room for Angel's next shoot: cigarettes, perfume, and lingering sex polluting the air.

Flipping his bangs and then readjusting his chest, Angel takes his time pushing up the voluminous fluff— not breaking eye contact, ❝ I'll be sure ta put on a good show fer ya. So you make sure ta pay real close attention... Get some tasteful shots, 'kay baby? ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[benjaminthewolfnsfw]

Whitesnake: Melt Your Heart, Melt Your Mind, Melt Your Body (Vore Story)

When I first saw that Whitesnake: Melt Your Heart scene in the anime, I immediately went to search up vore-related content inspired by it. I was positively flabbergasted, however, when I could not find anything at all. So, I decided to make some myself. Enjoy!

WARNING: GOOEY DIGESTION

(I think I am FINALLY getting a proper grasp on writing gooey digestion btw, so yeah, I am super happy about that!)

****

     “...Stone…Free…” Jolyne weakly called out, whilst desperately attempting to bring out her stand. Thanks in part to the bone that Emporio had previously given her, the newly transferred inmate had been able to escape the dream which Whitesnake, although currently unknown to Jolyne, had put her under, leaving her awake and well aware of the true nature of her true situation as a result. If she were unable to escape the visitation room soon, however, this would not remain the case for very long.

     As Jolyne’s remaining energy only continued to drop, the slimy, white, gurgling, acidic goop stuck to her body went on to melt even deeper into her skin, utterly engulfing the cells, and further depleting her ability to resist. The still unseen Whitesnake knew, however, that more important than preventing her resistance, was keeping Jolyne away from his target.

     Jotaro Kujo had met with his daughter inside the prison visitation room not even thirty minutes ago, and just like Jolyne, had unknowingly fallen within the trap of Whitesnake. Unlike Jolyne, however, Jotaro was yet to awaken, and as a result lay unconscious and unmoving on the other side of the table, utterly smothered with Whitesnake’s melting goo, and utterly unable to be reached.

     Jolyne heaved her breaths in and out as she once again attempted to use her stand. “...Stone…Free…” she practically choked on her own tightened throat as she extended her stand’s blue thread out over the table towards her sleeping father. Jolyne’s body, mind, and spirit strained profusely in accomplishing this task, causing her to clench her fist vigorously around Emporio’s bone in order to once again receive pain from its sharpness, in an attempt to block out her weariness. Finally, Stone Free became strung around Jotaro’s arm, leaving Jolyne with nothing else to do other than tighten the hold. If she could successfully do this, there was a significant chance that Jotaro would be snapped out of his dream, a chance which Jolyne knew she must clutch even harder than the bone.

     In the meantime, however, the gooey, white walls around the room, as well as the somehow still functioning light fixture hanging upon the ceiling, only continued to melt from the slimy digestive juices slathered generously across their form, dripping the goopy contents down towards the ground, where it subsequently started to pool. A light ambiance of growling and glorping positively enveloped the air around its occupants, whilst the temperature therein continuously rose slow and gently. A considerable glob of goop proceeded to plummet from the ceiling and land upon Jolyne’s back, just as her stand, Stone Free was finally able to cause Jotaro to start bleeding out. 

     “Ungh!” Jotaro grunted out in a disturbed, slightly startled tone.

     Jolyne, now that her father was awake, proceeded to release Stone Free from his arm, before causing the stand to disappear entirely into her body. She now needed to focus on getting the two of them out of the room, and in order to do that, Jotaro would first have to understand what was happening.

     “J-Jolyne…” Jotaro suddenly stammered out after taking a few seconds to reorient himself. “Is this reality?”

     Jolyne silently gave her dad a blink before responding. “I wish I could say that it wasn’t, but I can’t…this is in fact the real world.” she murmured softly in response.

     “I see…” Jotaro stoically replied in his usual deep tone. “Our stamina is being exhausted fast from this goo. I don’t know who or what is behind it, but it certainly isn’t Johngalli A.”

     Johngalli A., user of the stand Manhattan Transfer, had been using the thing’s aerodynamic sensory capabilities to track down Jolyne and Jotaro, so he may be able to line up a shot all the way in the men’s prison. They had become utterly straightforward pickings by this point, being ensconced deep within Whitesnake’s gooey, gurgling trap of a acidic-slime-coated visitation room, and both of the wakened victims knew from this fact that they needed to escape right away, in order to avoid this deathly fate.

     “Jolyne…” Jotaro’s voice slightly wavered from how drained the man was. “Can you bring out your stand…just a little?”

     Jolyne shakily bit down on her lower lip. “I…don’t know if I can…” she was ultimately forced to admit.

     Jotaro slowly gave a grunt of comprehension. “I see. Then in that case…” he eventually continued on whilst clenching his fists in determination and steadily bringing out Star Platinum.

     Jolyne was only able to watch as Star Platinum progressively became more and more solid, until at last, the stand was opaque enough to be able to interact with physical objects. Jolyne, having only become a stand user recently, was not entirely aware of this distinction quite yet. It was for that exact reason, then, that it came as even more of a surprise when Star Platinum finally made a move.

     “ORA!” Jotaro hollered out as his stand sent an utterly unhesitatingly brutal punch straight into Jolyne’s side, causing her to instantly get yeeted into the the visitation room door. Jotaro presumed that doing so would give the two of them an opportunity to escape, so they could finally get out of this prison. Rather unfortunately for them both, however, instead of also getting flung into hyperspace and leaving a great gap in its wake, the visitation room door simply stretched out like rubber, causing Jotaro to gasp from realization. 

     Successfully absorbing the impact as a result of this, the visitation room door then proceeded to fling back with a rather fine yeeting of its own. Bounding poor Jolyne all the way over to the other side of the room, the similar resulting impact upon the opposite wall left her splashing straight down into the goopy, liquid-covered floor, something which also appeared to be made of the same material as the walls.

     “Whatever or whoever is behind this…must have considered this before…” Jotaro finally commented whilst his daughter remained still in irritation.

     “....uuuuuuuurrrrrrgh…” Jolyne at last let out with a groan, as the relatively shallow pool of present goop began sloshing over onto her being. “Thank you, captain obvious! Now do you mind pulling me out of this gunk?”

     Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Jotaro once again began struggling to bring out Star Platinum, in order to rescue the fallen Jolyne. It wouldn’t take very long, however, before he was once again halted from his goal.

     “You’d be best holding onto your remaining sliver of strength, Jotaro Kujo.” an unknown voice suddenly spoke, their voice echoing around the chamber walls, all amidst the constant gurgles and growls. “And the same goes for you, as well, Jolyne.”

     “Unh-urng-STAR PLATINUM!” Jotaro immediately cried out, practically forcing himself to bring out his stand, in preparation for a coming fight.

     “...it seems that my master had heard correctly…” the voice responded quite calmly. “...you Joestars really are extremely stubborn when it comes to admitting defeat. Very well then, I suppose I shall just have to end this right now.”

     “...w-who are you?” Jolyne breathlessly asked, her lungs significantly struggling to take in yet another bout of precious air. “...and who is your master as well?”

     “Hmph. Well, I suppose if I am to bring the both of you to your deaths, it would only be fair for me to reveal my name.” there proceeded to be a slight pause, before the voice had made up their mind.

 "Listen well then, for my name is Whitesnake. My master’s identity, however, shall forever remain as a secret.”

     Jolyne’s strength continued to falter as the acidic goop around her continuously slathered her form.

     “J…Jolyne…” Jotaro attempted to heave out to his daughter.

     Jotaro was still desperate to find a means of escape, even as his body slumped down onto the desk. Star Platinum had completely disappeared by this point, and he was unsure if he could manage to even manage to bring out the stand anymore, with his energy rapidly depleting due to the goop. Still, Jotaro resolved to stay awake. He absolutely refused to give up until he knew that their options were zero. He had no doubt been in similar situations before, yet no matter how many battles he scoured, he still could not find an applicable answer.

     Jotaro’s attention would soon be snapped away from this search, however, as he suddenly felt something warm and slimy brushing up against his cheek. Instinctively diverting his eyes towards the side, Jotaro was suddenly jolted with yet another bout of realization.

     “...since when…” Jolyne mumbled out. “...since when did the room get so much smaller?”

     Poor Jotaro’s body went on to heat up significantly, partially due to the mortal terror that had been slowly seeping into his brain, and partially because of the natural warmth that was to be present inside where he knew they now were.

     “...no…Jolyne…look closer…” Jotaro feebly replied.

     Jolyne gave a subtle noise of confusion before gazing about her field of view. Almost immediately, she noticed what Jotaro had prior. 

     “...the walls…the walls…they’re not just dripping…” she immediately vocalized her thoughts despite her draining reserves. “...they’re…they’re…WAIT…W-WHERE’S THE DOOR?”

     It was right there and then,  within that singular moment, that everything finally clicked.

     “THIS IS…THIS IS A…WE’RE INSIDE OF A…” 

     The rapidly churning, soft walls proceeded to tighten in further and periodically slosh about its contents as Jolyne simply processed reality.

     “...so you’ve finally figured it out, haven’t you?” Whitesnake mockingly commented. “I hope you both understand, then, that there is no hope to escape from within me. Both of your bodies are now destined to melt down to gooey mush deep inside of my stomach. I highly suggest you lie down, now, and get out your final goodbyes.”

     The shifting, smoothened walls of Whitesnake’s heated, gurgling gut proceeded to tighten in even further, leaving hardly any room for Jotaro to lift up his head from his position onto the desk, and forcing the formerly shallow body of liquid that had been helping to digest Jolyne, to form into a considerably deeper swirling pool, leaving the poor woman without any room to breathe one could speak of. Her instincts kicking into overdrive as she vigorously raised up her head, Jolyne splattered the thing’s sopping form up against the slick, pillowy walls of the stomach, an action which proved to be the one to empty her energy.

     Jolyne was not even able to close her eyes before her body drifted into unconsciousness, leaving the gaze frozen and still with the deep-set horror and desperation of its formerly conscious, dying owner, full on display for her father. That was the moment when Jotaro finally caved in.

     “Rather wise decision there, Jotaro. Now you will go out in peace.” Whitesnake cooly addressed the poor man. “...and now, there is nothing in my way of doing this.”

     Squelching in slightly more in order to gain a slight grasp upon Jotaro’s unmoving left hand, Whitesnake went on to engulf the thing within the walls entirely.

     “It's much faster to do this from the head, but here, there’s no need to rush.”

     Whitesnake proceeded to focus with a rising sense of thrill in his being on bringing the disks out of Jotaro. Upon being able to sense two slim, cold, metallic objects lying against the walls of his stomach, he immediately gave a pleased smile.

     Without skipping a beat, Whitesnake began phasing the items through the rumbling layers of the chamber, before at last pulling them out the rest of the way with his fingers the moment that they could be seen upon the other side.

     “...at last…” the stand lamented to himself. “...at long last, they are mine in my grasp.”

     Heaving out a cathartic sigh as he readjusted himself against the form of the visitation room walls, Whitesnake gave a contented pat over his giant, bulging stomach, churning away his two victims whilst it casually rested upon folded legs.     

     “...and now…” Whitesnake continued on. “...there is only one single thing left to do.”

     Deep within the churning gut of the stand holding Jotaro and Jolyne’s bodies captive, the white, viscous stomach acid was finally able to melt down its prey unimpeded. Both of the Joestars’ gooey bodies were positively dripping forth cells and cloth by this point, the searing, sloshy acids seeping deep into their flesh. Layer after layer of skin, muscle, and blood became melted away and transformed by the slimy goo, breaking down the recognizable traits of their bodies as more and more slush of their cells pooled into the liquid contents of the stomach. 

     Even the metal and wood desk and chair which Jotaro had been laying upon weren’t safe from the brutality. The legs of the objects were barely able to hold themselves straight anymore, due to their structures melting down, ultimately causing themselves, as well as Jotaro himself, to take the deep plunge inside the sloshing pool as well. Now having joined with his daughter, Jotaro’s goopy body could hardly keep its own form intact as it continued to melt and fall apart. Finally, it simply collapsed upon itself and became a mere pile of mush. The multi-colored glob of cells and cloth were then broken further along with the equally as digested remains of Jolyne, swishing and swirling around inside the unforgiving chamber. 

     Eventually, however, nothing at all was still left. The only trace that remained of the two living humans locked inside the deathly trap of the stand Whitesnake was merely a homogenous, soupy, cellular chime.

     Rubbing both hands firmly across his protruding, growling gut, Whitesnake absorbed the disks back into a different part of his body, in order to ensure they were safe, before tranquility closing his eyes. Laying himself back against the wall with a smile, Whitesnake thus began the process of gleefully enjoying his prize. His prize that was the remnants of two of the formerly living descendants of Jonathan, churning helplessly away in his stomach. Able to impede the plans and progression of his stand master, Pucci, yet far more importantly, his stand master’s master of DIO, no more.

[messyo5]

Warning, I am using this post as my personal diary💕

Guys he recommended me music. AND THE BEST PART IS THAT OUR MUSIC TASTE DOES NOT LINE UP. He recommended me music like a rlly long time ago and told me to judge it, lots of hyperpop(red flag)(I don't care who I offend, no I'm not transphobic, I just hate hyperpop, it makes my brain feel like electrified baked beans in a perpetuated state of fear) which ofc I told him kind of politely that I thought hyperpop is shit("this stuff makes my brain feel like electrified baked beans B, this activates my fight or flight response.") And after that he played Laufey and I like laufey like any reasonable person but also in the way that I like calm nice indie music (like the eldest sister I am) so I told him that usually lines up with my music taste, describing it like "your music taste is 👹👹🌼👹🌼👹👹 and mine is 🥀🤠🥀🥀🤠🥀🤠" because I like my sad indie Bon Iver Phoebe Bridgers music with a touch of country Zach Bryan Johnny Cash. AND MY GOD HE REMEMBERED?? So he listened to a Clario based playlist thing (bc I said I like clario specifically when he scrolled past a song by her I presume?) AND HE PICKED OUT MUSIC FROM IT TO SHOW ME AND SENT ME LIKE 4 SONGS AT MIDNIGHT WHAT. I'm losing my marbles people. This is horrible. I'm truly in distress. What am I to do. He listened to my music recs and the music I post all the time and somehow managed to pinpoint my exact music taste from that (I only like clario a little bit actually so he had to track down actual different from that music). What. What? I'm flabbergasted. Utterly and totally. I feel so bad for him why me. ANYWAYSSS💕💕💕💕

Tldr: music is the international language of humanity and therefore my favorite love language and somehow this man had the audacity to give me really good music recs that fit me which is so so so unfortunate bc I now care more for him.

[wandererhills]

I am still utterly flabbergasted at the sheer amount of people who seem unable to understand the fact that "everyone who knows about the game is playing the game" is not in any way, shape or form, something that can be meaningfully true or enforceable, and that a world in which declining to engage in a fake social ritual are met with angry comments to stay in line is neither the world we have to live in, nor the world we should live in.

Like I personally do not mind the game because I don't encounter often and the version I am the most familiar with has as one of its implicit rules that you have to say people they "lost" at the most unexpected moment, usually in a party setting, which turns it (to me) into an actually funny Intentionally Annoying Thing, same way the scoobypost is intentionally annoying and funny.

But the knowledge that people apparently... take this shit seriously??? And see the game as an Actual Game with rules that must be enforced, or worse, with rules that enforce themselves no matter what because of some psychological mumbo-jumbo that is in no way connected to anyone's lived experience??? It's fucking absurd.

The game is an in-joke, and the term for a joke that you force people to engage with even tho they don't want to is "unfunny prank" at best and "bullying" at worst. That is all there is to it.

no interpretation of the game's rules actually matter. the game is at least somewhat flexible in implementation. while the annoyance is definitely 99% played up, it's not completely faked. everyone who actively participates in the game is kinda annoyed by it. it's a parasite. it's just that said annoyance is very much outweighed by the "i'm participating in a social ritual! cool!" impulse, and people thinking that their experiences are universal.

nobody really likes the game. its an optimized meme package that tickles the neurotypical social brain just right to keep indiscriminately spreading. anything else is rationalization, i'd think. you're immune to the social brain tickling but its clearly and unfortunately taken up enough of time and space in your "understand how this thing works" impulse to be able to spread itself to your followers.

the "you have lost the game" is clever window dressing, because the real goal of the game is to tell other people about it. so uh. congrats. you have won the game.

one, if my inbox is to be believed, some people sincerely enjoy The Game for what it is. I have no reason to assume they'd be lying to me about that.

two, here on out anyone else who insists that I really AM playing The Game is getting blocked on sight and I'm not joking

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Warmth

Bela Dimitrescu x They/Them Reader

A/N: Yes, I’ve contracted the RE8 fever, and a bit late at that, what about it? Anyway, hope ya’ll like it. I don’t think there is anything that I should have to warn any of you about but let me know if I’m wrong. Word Count: 2,176

Being the fire stoker for the Dimitrescu daughters was simultaneously the best and worst job in the castle. It was the best job in that the daughters saw them as too valuable to kill or maim since they did their job so well. It made the daughters actually quite appreciative of them. Worst because if (Y/n) were to, god forbid, let a fire die in one of the girl’s rooms, their own light would be just as quickly snuffed out for such an error. That appreciation could turn to devastating hate on a dime if they were to slip up.

Winter was the most critical season. (Y/n) was often running room to room stoking the fires of each daughter’s most favorite areas of the castle to keep the most desirable temperatures. Often times they would fall asleep in the halls outside of the most at risk rooms and jerk awake at the slightest drop in temperature. Lady Dimitrescu had caught them dozing off once and scared them terribly when they awoke. Luckily, the Lady simply rolled her eyes and continued on her way, but not before reminding (Y/n) how easily a fire could fizzle out without the proper care and consideration. A warning.

The castle was huge, (Y/n) wished to argue, it wasn’t their fault that the daughters and their favorite rooms were so spread out. They’d like to see the Lady tend to every fire all throughout the harsh Romanian winter and see how long she could go without suffering from exhaustion. Well, on second thought, could the Lady even get tired? (Y/n) shook their head and sighed, rubbing at their bloodshot eyes. Lady Bela’s room was next in the rotation so they made their way to her wing while checking the state of their matchbook. They’d need to visit the kitchens to get a new one soon.

As they neared Lady Bela’s chambers they noted a slight chill which made their blood run cold.

“No, it can’t be...!” They gasped, fully sprinting down the hall now. They somehow remembered decorum despite the frenzy they had worked themself into and knocked upon the door, announcing their presence before stepping in. Their heart dropped to their feet.

The fire had completely died and Lady Bela was shivering in her bed, only her golden eyes could be seen staring at (Y/n) from beneath the covers as they rushed to the fire place with trembling hands.

“I’m so sorry Lady Bela!” They apologized fervently. How could this have happened? They had the timing down to a science! They had gotten too comfortable as Lady Dimitrescu had suggested and now the eldest daughter was sure to kill them for their carelessness. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know how this could have happened! I swear I’ll fix this, you’ll warm up in no time!”

Soon enough, the fire was blazing, the snap of the wood causing (Y/n) to flinch back. They heard the rustling of sheets and saw a black silk nightgown in their left periphery before they scrunched their eyes tightly shut. This was it, they had outgrown their usefulness. They held their breath and waited to be dragged away by Bela’s sickle but the biting pain never came. Instead, they were enveloped in chilled arms and wrapped in a luxurious duvet. An Ice cold nose dug into their neck and made them flinch.

“You will warm me. Move before I allow it and this will be the last fire you tend to.” Bela shivered and chattered against (Y/n)’s neck.

“Y—yes Lady Bela. Of course.” (Y/n) replied, back stiffening as Bela moved curl up in their lap. It was a bit awkward considering she was taller than most, but once settled she seemed pleased enough.

They sat like that for what felt like hours to (Y/n). Enough time to make their legs cramp and back ache. If Bela didn’t let them go soon, they were sure they’d have more than one displeased Dimitrescu sister to worry about. Fortunately, Lady Bela seemed to have grown tired of them and rose from their lap with a sigh before languidly moving back to her bed.

“Move along little human, if you let Cassandra’s fire go out I can’t say she will be as merciful as I.” Bela informed, looking back at (Y/n) over her shoulder with half lidded eyes.

“Yes, of course! Thank you Lady Bela, I swear I’ll never let it happen again!” (Y/n) bowed deeply before running out of the bedroom, shutting the door tight and quick not only to keep the heat in, but to hinder Bela a moment if she decided to change her mind on being merciful. They ran down the hall like a bullet leaves a gun to tend to Cassandra’s fire next, praying it hadn’t met the same early death as Bela’s.

***

It happened again.

It happened again and (Y/n) was absolutely beside themself. They had never been so sloppy in their life and even if Bela wasn’t going to kill them they almost wanted to sickle their own shoulder for their ineptitude.

“Tell me, what did you promise me yesterday little human?” Bela taunted from the bed while (Y/n) frantically stoked the fire to a roaring blaze.

“I— I don’t know what to say Lady Bela, I am disgusted with myself. Truly, I’ve never—“

“Hush now.” Bela glared from the pile of soft covers. If she wasn’t a vampiric bug woman with murderous tendencies, the scene would have been adorable. But (Y/n) knew better than to entertain the thought for long. Then Bela stretched her hand out from beneath her mountain of blankets.

“Come, warm me little human.”

“Whatever you wish, Lady Bela!” (Y/n) nodded, giving the fire one last look as if to say, ‘behave!’ and then they quickly stood beside Bela’s bed. There was no time to be shy when Bela lifted the covers, (Y/n) dove right in and let Bela maneuver them however she wished.

Unlike the day before, this warming position was much more comfortable and so much more dangerous. (Y/n) could feel that they were starting to drift off in the luxurious bed. If they fell asleep here, surely they would not wake again. Well, that might actually be kind. Who wants to be awake for their death anyway?

“I can feel your heart slowing, little human. Perhaps you’d best be on your way before you succumb to sleep and leave another fire to die.” Bela whispered a bit snidely.

“Right!” (Y/n) shot up and fell out of the bed, scrambling to their feet and anxiously smoothing the covers back down, “Thank you again for your mercy, Lady Bela. I’ll do better!”

“See to it that you do.” Bela replied airily as (Y/n) left the room. They failed to notice the small smile curling Bela’s lips as she watched them go.

***

Two weeks. Nine out of the fourteen days Bela’s fire had died before (Y/n) could stoke it. Sometimes, it even happened twice in one day and (Y/n) was dangerously close to a mental break. Bela, miraculously, seemed to have the patience of a saint and had yet to kill (Y/n) for their failures, simply making the fire stoker warm her with their body before sending them away. Despite the circumstances that preceded the impromptu cuddling sessions, (Y/n) couldn’t help but enjoy every moment they held Bela close or visa versa. It was actually really nice. They would have been lying if they said they hadn’t felt an attraction for the eldest daughter growing within them as they became used to life in the castle.

That didn’t mean (Y/n) didn’t feel horrible though. Each failure, every shiver drawn from Bela’s body, hacked at them like an axe and it was only a matter of time before they became the timber for the next fire.

So they set out for today to go differently, they quickly stoked Daniela’s fire and the one in the library, as well as the parlor, before bounding over to Bela’s room to arrive nearly half an hour earlier than usual. They knocked, announcing their presence, before promptly opening the door. They were already halfway across the room when they glanced up, pausing mid step when they saw Lady Bela out of bed standing over the fireplace. She stared back with wide golden eyes, seemingly frozen in time as well if not for the trickle of water pouring from the small bucket in her hands.

The sizzle of the water meeting the hot wood drew (Y/n)’s eyes to the fireplace and they watched slack jawed as smoke billowed and the small fire drowned into nothingness.

“...what?” (Y/n) whispered, their eyes shifting back to Bela who had the decency to look thoroughly embarrassed before fruitlessly hiding the bucket behind her back. The unusually meek display from the eldest Dimitrescu daughter seemed to spark (Y/n) to speak further out of turn, though words did not seem to be coming easily to them as they just continued to say, ‘what’, only getting louder and sounding more confused and utterly flabbergasted with each utterance. Their arms gestured between Bela and the sodden, burnt wood several times before Bela finally groaned and tossed the empty bucket into the nearest corner of her room with a clatter and a dull thud against the carpet.

“That’s enough!” Bela said sternly, causing (Y/n)’s jaw to snap back shut. She stalked over to them and lifted them by their shirt, quickly pushing them back against a wall in such a way that left their feet slightly above the floor as their hands scrambled to hold onto Bela’s.

“You will speak about this to no one!” She hissed, a buzzing sound emitting from her chest.

“My Lady,” (Y/n) wheezed, “I won’t say anything I swear!”

Bela scrutinized them closely before lowering them back down with a shallow nod.

“Good. Now,” she cleared her throat sheepishly before turning back towards her bed, “light the fire.”

(Y/n) didn’t need to be asked twice, scrambling to their knees in front of the fireplace. As they replaced the soggy wood with fresh timber, their mind raced. Why would Lady Bela douse her fire only to demand it be relit? Why would she do such a thing when she was so susceptible to the cold?

Once the fire was blazing once more, they tentatively turned to Bela, watching as she sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her feet. If (Y/n) couldn’t know the motives behind such a play, they were sure to lose their mind. So, they tested their luck and addressed Bela who gave them a warning look.

“Lady Bela, forgive me, but why ever would you douse your fire? Lady Dimitrescu had informed me of how important it is that you and your sisters stay warm when she assigned me this position. And... well, please forgive me if I’m wrong, you seemed to have made a bit of a habit out of it...”

Bela clenched her fists and growled, making (Y/n) jump to their feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” They said, making a dash to the door only to bump into a wall of Bela’s flies. This had to be it. They should have just kept their mouth shut!

“Stop panicking, little human.” Bela sighed and finished reforming in front of (Y/n). The fire stoker nodded, but their heart still beated ferociously in their chest. Being told to stop panicking by a Dimitrescu was like a great white shark telling a bleeding seal in open water to do the same.

“I’m only going to say this once so listen closely,” Bela averted her eyes for a moment and bit her lip before focusing back in on (Y/n), “you’re beautiful... handsome? Pleasant to look at and very warm and soft, sweet. I can’t very well snuggle up to a fire without being burned so I... stop looking at me like that.”

(Y/n) had a cute little smile on their face that seemed to be growing by the second. Their eyes were bright and alert as they soaked in every word and Bela couldn’t stop the small smirk tugging at her own lips.

“If it’s cuddling you wish for my Lady, you need only ask. I do enjoy the time we’ve been spending together as of late. Well, minus the heart attacks every time I see the fire’s dead.” (Y/n) informed.

“Just please,” they added, “no more fire sabotaging. I hate to see you shiver.”

“Easy enough,” Bela hummed before pulling (Y/n) back to her bed with visible excitement in her eyes, “hurry now, you got here early today so we have extra time!”

Before, Bela had been rather stiff with her demands. It was like (Y/n) was warming a block of ice wary of melting, but now she all but flung herself at (Y/n) with no inhibitions now that her secret was out. She hummed pleasantly and (Y/n) wiggled in her hold while icy fingers trailed beneath their shirt to settle on heated skin. It was shaping up to be a rather eventful winter.

[hellolovers13]

one line, any fic

Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.

I was tagged by the lovely @larrieblr. Thank you so much 🥺💕

I'm tagging @harryslonecurl @bananaheathen @liberty-barnes @pocketsunshineharry @almightyprincess @lunarheslwt @neondiamond and everyone else that want to play 💖

Up on the Roof with a School Girl Crush (4k | M) “You don’t even know your own number?” Harry was giggling at that. “Excuse me, I only answer to prayers usually.” “Does that mean you want me to get on my knees for you? Won’t that break your second date rule?”

I Hope We Never Change (13k | E) "I haven't figured out what I am yet, but I know I’m yours."

Plant New Seeds (2k | T) What do you know about fairies? Zayn’s response was once again utterly unhelpful. 🧚🏻‍♂️+🌈=🍆+💦=👸🏻(👨🏼‍❤️‍👨🏼)

haunted (800 | M) The 12-week mark was over. He was supposed to be safe. Safe.

fragile line (1,6k | M) Harry flinched. Always scared these days. Scared of Louis’ touch. Scared he might find out.

Chicago (3,5k | G) He sought out Harry’s hand in the dark, squeezing gently. The first touch they’d shared in years.

Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You) (20k | E) “You regretting it yet?” Louis laughed. Half the kitchen was covered in flour, including most of his shirt and even some of Harry’s hair. Harry just looked at him, flabbergasted. “Why? Why would you turn on the machine, when it’s so clearly overloaded and on the highest setting, too? What were you expecting to happen here?” “I did tell you I am absolute shit at this.”

Slow Hands (3,2k | E) “I’m sorry, Daddy.” “Are you? You sure don’t look it. What are you still doing on his cock then?”

And since I haven't published ten stories yet, here is something unreleased

??? “Bedroom? Please. Don’t want to make a baby in the entryway.”