#i usually find those kinds of mannerisms grating

[iri-vail]

i started watching love between fairy and devil and omg this is the best-looking most silliest looking show i have ever seen i am completely in love

[coffee-and-tea-time]

 Lovesick! Patient x Reader.

Can't you stay longer? ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨♡

Yes, you can…ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨♡

Coffee speaking! This is planned as a unwilling to willing but this part is with a full unwilling reader and Tea is healthy again :D so y'all also are less likely to find weird things in the posts lol

Hello! Tea speaking! Since 7UP is already uploaded (we gotta find them names later), it's now turn for my favorite! (Pepsi is better than Coke and you can fight me on that)

tw: yandere behavior, threats, this place should have better security, kidnapping?, deaths of a random person, unwilling reader, written in you/yours

It was only a cold, you just need to go to the hospital to get the certificate and maybe some paracetamol and then leave, easy, isn't it?

As you walk through the hallways of the hospital, you turn left, having a hard time trying to find your way yourself in this big hospital. It seems like your sense of orientation failed this time, as you bump into a man who is dressed in one of those hospital gowns patients wear.

“I’m so sorry sir, I-”

When you were just about to explain your situation, the look of the man before your eyes makes you shut the fuck up really quickly, his blue eyes looking at you seem off but the toothy smile creeping out of his face makes it looks even scarier… oh dear, what have you stepped into?

“I can’t believe they let you in without somebody to guard you… I’m really happy, I can’t believe I found my darling in such an abrupt manner”

You don’t understand half of his words, but one thing is for sure, you have to run as far as you can from this lunatic, but an unexpectedly quick grip on your wrists and a forceful pull towards the room he came from makes it impossible to scape.

The room is the usual hospital room with stretcher for patients to sleep on and medical equipment, you wonder how it can be that there's no doctor or nurse in sight to ask to supervise their patients, but you don’t have a lot of time to meditate about how bad the personal of the hospital is as the man makes you sit on a chair that was close to one of the beds.

“Oh, you are so so precious, for the first time in my life I’m really grateful for my luck; I promise to take care of you, the nurses can bring anything you want from outside the hospital gates… We can always break out of this place”

He says such a terrifying thing in such a loving tone that it makes you doubt your own mind for a moment, he doesn't seem like he's gonna harm you as he kneels to wrap his arms around you in a tender and caring hug as you keep sitting.

You take the chance, since he is too focused on hugging you and murmuring sweetly, to take a peek around the room to see if there's anything you can use, it seems like a room that was used some days ago, your eye catches some broken things on the corner of the room, making you wonder what happened here, but you can't afford be lost in your thoughts here, it may end up badly if you make the wrong move, you don’t have that much of an option though since you don’t know how stable this man is.

So, you scream, you scream bloody murder until you almost go out of oxygen in your lungs.

what a useless attempt to seek for help

“Mm? Did something happen Darling? Why did you suddenly scream so loudly? Did you get hurt on any part of your body? Do you need something? Maybe you want some kisses to ease your mind?”

Is he dumb?

You can’t help but look at him dumbfounded as he holds your face reassuringly. Then, a nurse enters the room and you don't waste the opportunity and start talking to them in a quick peace due to the nervousness of what will come.

“Excuse me, I had an appointed but ended up kind of lost and then here in this weird situation, I probably should go head home already”

The nurse looks kind of confused by the situation, but the pity in their eyes is noticeable as they quickly get closer, eager to help.

“I’m so sorry about this, I’m new here so I don’t know much but for some reason there is a warning about not wandering around here more that necessary, you must have been in a panic to see that no workers come here”

You foolishly calm down by their gentle voice as they attempt to get closer with a sympathetic smile from the black haired man, which gets up to stand in front of you while facing the nurse, preventing them from getting close to you.

“You are not gonna take my darling anywhere, my dear just got a little scared for a moment, we don’t need you here to bother”

“Sir, you need to go to your room, this person is not an inpatient, they have no reason to be here, there’s no need to make a fuss about this, so now you need to move aside so I ca-”

oh

You watch in shock as the man takes out a scalpel, the world seems to go into slow motion for a moment just to turn into high-speed a second later, you end up front seat to see how the man stabs the nurse’s neck and then quickly go for their chest, aiming for the heart, without blinking as his white clothes gets stained with red.

“Please forgive me Dear, it wasn’t my intention to show this kind of gruesome spectacle to your pretty eyes, let me guide you to my room, you can sleep there to forget all about this annoying insect, I can sing you a lullaby if that helps, I'm pleased to help”

He says as he gets closer to you again leaving the corpse behind him, lifting you up into his arms, not even seeming to be struggling with your weight, which took you by surprise as you grip him fearing you'll fall off, you don’t trust this man but you really don’t want to taste his patience or self proclaimed ‘love’ for you.

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[starless-nightz]

May I request nico di angelo with a younger sister whoes a lot like percy, leo, and or jason?? (maybe bianca too)

Nico with a younger sister! reader whos a lot like Percy, Jason and Leo

note -> Nico is literally my brother yall!

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, slight angst(?), protective! Nico, idk what else to add here sorry.

Nico is fiercely protective of you from the moment he realizes just how much you remind him of the friends he's lost. Your mix of Percy's bravery, Jason's leadership and Leo's humour stirs up a great amount of emotion in him, and he gets this deep-seated urge to keep you safe, even if you can more than handle your own.

You are the radiance which brings so much light into Nico's life. You are full of life and optimism, a complete opposite of Nico's really serious and withdrawn nature, something which he finds refreshing yet at times overpowering. You're one of those people who would drag him out of his dark mood into participating in activities within Camp Half-Blood, even when he's all stingy about it.

Nico can't help but see glimpses of Bianca in you, particularly in the manner you show concern for him. Your kind nature and the fact that you try to put others before yourself remind him so much of his lost sister, and that makes him both so protective and a little scared of losing you, too. Sometimes he will be just watching you from a distance, with eyes soft in a wistful stare that usually flies right past you.

You share a lot of Percy's daring and recklessness. Be it charging into a dangerous situation or telling a joke to lighten the mood when all is truly serious, you have a knack for lightening up the mood. Nico does scold you time and again for being too reckless, yet in your ears, there's always a hint of fondness with which he does that. He constantly worries about you, even when he knows you're capable.

Your humor reminds him of Leo so much-your constant jokes, trying to coax a smile from him whenever you can. It's one of the few ways you actually break through the stoic exterior he often wears. Even as he rolls his eyes or acts like he's annoyed by it, he silently enjoys how you bring laughs into his life-something he has missed sorely.

Nico is in awe of your bravery. You're as responsible as Jason and have innate leadership qualities that he does, as well. You're one of these kinds of people that has always got to step forward when the going gets tough-even if it puts you in harm's way. That's something Nico really looks up to you for, even though he often wishes you'd take a little more care.

You both balance each other out perfectly. Where he is quite a lot more internal and brooding, you're the one who encourages him to be a little more social-whether it be joining you in conversations with other campers or joining in activities that Nico would usually steer clear of. He helps to keep your feet on the ground and reminds you that sometimes things need to be taken seriously, and when you need it, he's there in support-albeit quiet support.

You both watch each other's backs on quests. While you are perfectly capable of holding your own in a fight, Nico's always watching your back in case things get too intense. Tease him as you will that he is overprotective, but you know the truth-it's because he lost people before and doesn't want to lose you too.

You make it a point to check in on Nico, that he's eating proper, sleeping enough, and isn't shutting himself away from the world too much. He's not great at talking through feelings, but he is grateful you worry about him. It reassures him he's not alone; someone still values his well-being. Grumbles at times, but to him, it means more than he's able to express.

Nico has a soft spot for the more serious moments of yours. When you drop the jokes, the playful attitude- it brings out a caring side in him reminiscent of Bianca. And he's caught off guard by it every time. He sees the compassionate and deep thoughtfulness that's a side of you, and it reminds him you are not just a mirror of his past friends but your own person.

Your relationship with Nico is one of understanding. You're both really different, but in a way, that underlying bond that siblings do have runs deep. You understand the loss he faces, and he realizes that behind the light-hearted mask you wear, you too bear the load of being a demigod. This mutual understanding of each other's case makes your sibling bond quite unbreakable; it's a source of strength for both of you.

You're one of those few who can actually make Nico laugh. An endangered species, perhaps, but when it finally does happen, when you do get one real laugh out of him, it's some sort of minor victory. You treasure these moments, knowing well how much they mean. And Nico-never to say so, of course-loves in secret how you can lighten up even the bleakest of days, just that little bit.

[kallie-den]

A Commanding Weakness Ch. 8

Kuznetzov, the Inyx’s second-in-command, enters therapy with Alara, who shows her that her desire to be more feminine is at the route of her "paranoia"

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---

“You’re telling me…” Lieutenant Kuznetzov said slowly. “There’s… really nothing going on? No conspiracy? Nothing to worry about? It… was all in my head?”

“All in your head,” Counselor Alara Hisarlik replied, placing careful emphasis on those words. “It’s as I’ve told you. I know this may be difficult to accept, but I’ve been investigating thoroughly over the past two weeks. Your fears that the crew of this ship are being manipulated or infiltrated in some way are entirely unfounded.”

“I see,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov muttered. “Thank you.”

She was grateful, wasn’t she? After all, this was what she’d been hoping to hear, wasn’t it? It was the best possible outcome. A few mental health issues aside, there was nothing to worry about. The Inyx wasn’t in danger. She should be relieved.

So why, instead, was Lieutenant Kuznetzov finding it so hard to accept?

Maybe it was how bad things had gotten. More than ever, Lieutenant Kuznetzov was sure something was up. So many members of the crew were behaving strangely - the science officer, the ship’s doctor, even the captain. Every time she entered a room, Kuznetzov was greeted with eerie silences and glassy stares, as if there was some sinister secret that everyone but her was in on.

Paranoia? It was possible, of course. But Lieutenant Kuznetzov would never have made second-in-command if her instincts weren’t worth a damn, and they were telling her that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Alara prompted. “You seem troubled, Lieutenant.”

Or perhaps it was Alara Hisarlik.

She’d changed. Hadn’t she? There was something different about her. Lieutenant Kuznetzov just couldn’t quite seem to put her finger on it. She seemed… what was it? Calmer? Happier? More confident? Yes, all of those. But those were good things. Weren’t they?

So why did Lieutenant Kuznetzov suddenly feel so uneasy around her?

Maybe it was her cabin. Two weeks ago, it had felt warm. Inviting. Since then, the counselor had redecorated, stripping back much of that pleasant decor in favor of a far more spartan vibe. It wasn’t bad, exactly. Just about every cabin on a warship like the Inyx could be called ‘spartan’. But the difference was palpable.

Or maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was all in Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s head.

“I’m just…” Lieutenant Kuznetzov confessed. “I can’t shake the feeling that… Look, are you sure? Absolutely certain?”

“Certain,” Alara insisted, as she took a sip of her tea. Somehow, her icy calm wasn’t comforting. “Completely. It’s all in your head.”

“I… see.” Lieutenant Kuznetzov found herself unconvinced, and it was clear that she wasn’t going to get any answers here. She made to stand up. “In that case, counselor, I’ll try to put it out of my mind. My apologies for wasting your-“

“No, sit.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov was so surprised, she found herself sinking back down into her seat. Alara Hisarlik wasn’t usually one to give orders - certainly not with that kind of steel in her voice. She sounded more like Captain Vasser than she did her usual, mild-mannered self.

“Excuse me?” the lieutenant said.

“What kind of counselor would I bet if I just let you walk out of here?” Alara tutted. She was smiling - it was meant to be warm, perhaps. Comforting. It didn’t come across that way. “Lieutenant Kuznetzov, I’m deeply concerned for your mental well-being. Paranoid delusions, anxiety, uncertainty… we really must get to the bottom of this.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov flinched. She hadn’t been prepared for such bluntness. “Perhaps you’re right,” she admitted.

Painful though it was to face up to it, her conviction that something was amiss aboard the Inyx was entirely undercut by her lack of evidence. Put another way… yes, she really did sound paranoid. She couldn’t blame the ship’s counselor for being firm when the moment called for it, she decided.

“Of course I am.” Alara laughed. “I’m an expert. Now, please, get comfortable. We may need a little time.”

She reached over to a small, wooden jewelry box that was resting on a nearby table. From within, the counselor produced what Lieutenant Kuzentzov just about recognized from historical photographs as a watch - the old, analog kind, worn in a pocket and attached by a chain. This one was gold, it seemed, with fine Roman numerals around the face, and when she strained her ears, the lieutenant could just about hear it tick.

“Do you know what this is?” Alara asked, touching the watch fondly. Her eyes were fixed on it.

“A family heirloom?” Lieutenant Kuznetzov guessed. From how she handled it, it was clear the pocket watch was of great significance to the counselor.

Alara just laughed, though. “Not at all!” she exclaimed, voice rich with humor. “It’s just a replica. I had the ship’s computer fabricate it for me recently. But it’s based on something I saw in an old movie, while I was growing up. I remember being quite fascinated with it. It really awakened some things in me. Things I hadn’t thought about in years - until very recently, in fact.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov shifted uncomfortably. How was this related to her counseling?

“Anyway.” With a flourish, Alara lifted the watch into the air and dangled it by its chain as she sat back in her chair. “I’d like you to look at this, please.”

“Why?” Lieutenant Kuznetzov asked, although she was already looking. The pocket watch had a way of catching the eye.

“Because I told you to.”

The lieutenant blinked. She couldn’t tell if Alara was joking.

“An external visual focus can often be conducive to the kind of mental state we want you to achieve in therapy,” Alara explained after a moment. “That’s why. But you really must trust me, lieutenant. We won’t get very far if you keep asking ‘why’ like a precocious child. I know what I’m doing. Trust that your welfare is my highest priority.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov felt her choler rise at the reprimand, but she quickly reasoned herself out of anger. Alara had a point. She was the ship’s counselor. It was natural to think that she knew what she was doing, and that she had the lieutenant’s best interests at heart. Alara was probably a little offended she kept questioning her. Maybe Lieutenant Kuznetzov should try being a little more cooperative. After all, if she really was paranoid, she certainly needed Alara’s help.

And if there really was some kind of conspiracy afoot, and if - as her instincts were telling her - Alara was now part of it?

Lieutenant Kuznetzov shook that thought off. It was all in her head.

“You’re right,” she said, after taking a few deep breaths. “My apologies.”

“Thank you.” Alara nodded. “Now, please. The watch. Look closely.”

Obediently, Lieutenant Kuznetzov turned her full attention to the pocket watch. She wasn’t really sure what else she was meant to do besides simply looking. It was nice to look at, she supposed. The watch was pretty, and there was something pleasing about the perfect regularity of the second hand as it moved around the face. It was impressive to think about how, in the pre-electronic age, humanity had been completely dependent on clockwork pieces like this to tell the time with any precision. A fine pocket watch must have held an almost godlike sway over people, simply by counting the minutes and keeping them to schedule.

“Yes, good,” Alara cooed, “keep your eyes focused right in the middle there. Let yourself be aware of the hands moving without looking straight at them.”

It took Lieutenant Kuznetzov a few minutes to slip into that particular mental groove. At first, her attention kept wandering - and with it, her gaze. It was so easy to find herself following the tip of the second hand instead, as it moved in a circle around the watch’s face. But deep breathing helped - it was just like reentry training, she told herself - and so did letting her eyes half-unfocus until the ticking of the pocket watch seemed to be happening in a blur all around her.

“OK,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov said eventually. She felt strange. Sleepy, almost. Maybe she was more exhausted than she realized.

“Good,” Alara repeated. “You’re doing very well, Lieutenant. Think of this as a meditation exercise. We’re doing this so that we can communicate with your subconscious mind. That’s where we can find the source of your trauma.”

Lieutenant Kuztetzov frowned - or at least, she tried to. Her face seemed strangely unresponsive to her emotions. Her trauma? That didn’t sound right. But… why? She wasn’t sure. Her thoughts were slow. It was proving surprisingly easy to slip into a kind of meditative stupor as she stared at Alara’s watch.

“Yes, trauma.” Alara seemed to register the lieutenant’s skepticism.

The older woman started to swing the pocket watch back and forth like a pendulum. At first, Lieutenant Kuznetzov felt faintly annoyed, but she quickly found she could stay focused on it regardless. Her eyes moved back and forth, matching the watch’s rhythm, and she leaned forward a little, eager to bring all her concentration to bear on the object.

“We all have trauma,” Alara explained. Her voice was very slow - or maybe the lieutenant just heard it that way. Everything seemed slow to her now. “Every one of us. It shapes us, even though we may not realize it. We carry it around inside us all the time.” Past the watch, Lieutenant Kuznetzov could just about make out a wide grin dawning on Alara’s face. “Or, as in your case, we wear it on our sleeves.”

What did she mean by that? Lieutenant Kuznetzov found that her skepticism had already sunk into the quicksand of her entranced mind. Now, she was simply eager to understand. Alara’s words had an irresistible power to them. They were compelling, and she could sense that on some level, she was just as focused on them as she was on the watch.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Alara told her. “I’m talking about how you present yourself. About this aesthetic of tough, strong, butch masculinity you insist on presenting.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s blood suddenly ran cold. “The… my… what are you…”

What was she talking about? Clearly, it was some kind of reference to Lieutenant Kuznentzov being butch. But what did that have to do with anything? She’d always been a butch lesbian. She was perfectly comfortable with her identity. Her butchness had nothing to do with her present feelings.

Right?

Suddenly, Lieutenant Kuznetzov wasn’t so sure. Her usual reserves of will and confidence were lost in the fog. And Alara seemed very, very certain.

“Don’t you see?” The counselor’s voice was stronger than ever. There was a rich pleasure to it, like she was finally, truly alive, even as Alara sat back in her big, comfortable chair, the perfect picture of calm and assurance. “It’s deeply connected. Your butchness. Your paranoia. They share a root in your psyche.”

"N-no…” Lieutenant Kuznetzov murmured. A murmur was all she could muster. She felt so weak. If only she could look away from the pocket watch… but she couldn’t, she had to keep looking.

Who had told her that again?

It was all so confusing. The lieutenant was losing track. All she could remember was that she needed to keep staring. Then, everything would become clear. Yes. She was sure of that.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Alara insisted. “It’s all going to be OK. All you need to do is listen to me.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov shook her head numbly. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to lose something precious to her. “S-stop.”

“We can’t stop,” Alara said patiently, like she was talking to a child. “Not while you’re still so confused. Don’t you see the connection? The way you present yourself is like a barrier between you and your colleagues. It keeps you apart. Alone. And now you’ve concocted this fantasy about a conspiracy in order to reinforce those barriers. You’d be much happier without them, you know.”

“No,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov repeated. She was finding her voice again. With great effort, she was able to rouse herself a little. She needed to put a stop to this. Right now. “That… is not…”

“Come now,” Alara cooed. “It’s trauma. All of it. How else do you explain those forced-feminization fantasies of yours?”

At that, Lieutenant Kuznetzov froze. She was paralyzed. Her resistance evaporated into the ether. The sheer shock robbed her of it.

How did she know? How did she know about that?

“A new… friend of mine was showing me your holodeck files,” Alara tutted. “I’m afraid that’s not a very healthy outlet, lieutenant. Can’t you see it? This twisted little fetish of yours is simply your true self, begging to be set free.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov was too stunned to argue. Too stunned to react. Too stunned to do anything but accept the words Alara was pouring into her hypnotized ear.

“Yes, we really must address this,” Alara mused. Her grin was overwhelmingly sinister, but Lieutenant Kuznetzov was too far gone to see it. She had eyes only for the pocket watch. “We’ll have to go deep. I’m sure you have some repressed memories that can shed light on this. Listen to me, lieutenant. Let me tell you all about it. Let me show you what, exactly, you need to remember.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov slumped forward in dumb, mindless acceptance. She was completely hypnotized. Her mind was an open book - and Alara Hisarlik its author, as she spoke a new, twisted truth that turned the lieutenant’s identity on its head.

***

“For my records,” Alara dictated to her holocorder, “this is week two, session four of my feminine adjustment therapy with Lieutenant Kuznetzov.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov squirmed at the name Alara had chosen to give it.

By now, these sessions had become familiar. As usual, Lieutenant Kuznetzov sat, hunched and uncertain, in Alara’s cabin while the counselor helped her. As ever, Alara was supremely at ease. She sat back in her chair, tall and formidable, teacup in one hand and notepad in the other, and regarded the lieutenant with an unpleasantly piercing gaze.

In truth, the whole experience was unpleasant. But Lieutenant Kuznetzov had no choice but to go through with it. Because…

She frowned. There was a reason, wasn’t there?

Of course there was.

“So, Lieutenant,” Alara began, “how have you been feeling since our last session?”

“I’ve been well.” Lieutenant Kuznetzov immediately flinched at how uncertain she sounded. “I think.”

“You think?” Alara raised an eyebrow. “Tell me about that.”

The counselor sounded so forceful. So imperious. That wasn’t right, was it? Lieutenant Kuznetzov was growing increasingly sure of it. There was something off about Alara Hisarlik. With each session, Lieutenant Kuznetzov was more and more certain.

But… was that simply her paranoia talking?

She wanted to raise the issue with the captain. But her therapy was too important to jeopardize.

“It’s been… a little distracting,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov confessed.

“Ah.” Alara’s smile widened. Became predatory. “Then, you’ve been following the instructions I gave you?”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov nodded curtly, and tried to hide how much she was suddenly blushing.

“Wonderful.” Alara’s voice was slow and gleeful. “Show me.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov sucked in a breath so hard she almost choked. “C-counselor!” she gasped. “That wouldn’t be… I can’t… t-that’s inappropriate!”

As soon as Alara started shaking her head, though, Lieutenant Kuznetzov felt her conviction beginning to wilt.

“Lieutenant,” Alara tutted. Condescension dripped from her words. “Be reasonable. How am I supposed to supervise your therapy if I can’t inspect your progress?”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov shrank back. Her therapy. Right. It was all-important, and Alara was the only one she could trust with it. She knew that, somehow. There was no room to argue.

“V-very well,” the butch woman muttered. “H-here.”

Alara watched her carefully over the rim of her teacup as Lieutenant Kuznetzov rose to her feet. After a long moment of hesitation and with great reluctance, the lieutenant presented herself for inspection. She unbuttoned her smart jacket halfway down its front, and at the same time shucked her uniform pants down beneath her hips.

Doing so made her blush fiercely. It felt obscene. Like she was flashing someone. And the worst part was that now there was something for them to see.

Instead of her usual sports bra and boxers, beneath her uniform, Lieutenant Kuznetzov was wearing bright pink lingerie.

It was an assignment from the counselor. Alara had even picked out the bra and panties for her. They were so humiliatingly eye-catching, especially for a butch. So lacy. So thin. So damn frilly, with those needless little bows and floral embellishments.

It was exactly like what Lieutenant Kuznetzov wore in all her worst fantasies.

“Perfect,” Alara purred. “You look lovely in them, by the way. Very cute.”

A sudden rush of heat turned Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s thoughts to ash and her voice into a girlish squeak. “T-t-thank you.”

She slumped back into the chair and hid her face. Why did she have to find that so hot?

“I suppose you haven’t worn anything like this in… how long?” Alara asked.

“S-since I was a teenager,” Lieutenant Kuznetzov managed.

“Almost exactly as long as you’ve had this fetish,” Alara noted. “Telling, don’t you think?”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov balled her hands into fists and said nothing.

What could she say? Somebody else knowing about her feminization fetish was a nightmare come to life. She’d always tried her hardest to excuse it to herself. To insist that it was nothing - just a harmless little quirk of her psychology; a little bit of unprocessed trauma that came to the fore, sometimes, when she was in a certain mood.

So what if thinking about someone forcing her to dress like a femme got her off harder than anything else? That didn’t mean anything. 

That was what she’d always told herself. In her late teenage years, Lieutenant Kuznetzov had discovered that dressing in an androgynous or even masculine fashion made her feel good. It completely addressed the uneasy feeling she got in her gut whenever she wore a skirt or a dress. Her newfound butchness went hand-in-hand with her realization that she was a lesbian, and as a butch, she’d found a place in the community.

But slowly, over time, her fetish for feminization had grown inside her like a tainted seed. In her mind’s eye, that unease with femininity had been steadily transformed from disdain into a kind of sick thrill, the need for which she couldn’t satiate anywhere else. Trying to clamp down on it completely hadn’t worked, so Lieutenant Kuznetzov had resorted to indulging it little by little, in masturbatory fantasies or holodeck scenarios. Throughout her military career, it had remained her naughty little secret, never to be revealed or disclosed.

The secrecy made it feel even more shameful. But Lieutenant Kuznetzov had achieved a kind of peace with the fact that she was more than just a fetish. What got her off didn’t dictate her identity. It didn’t undermine who she was. It didn’t undermine her butchness. That was what she’d always thought.

Alara had shown her otherwise.

“You see? You’ve learned to eroticize your own femininity, even as you keep it at arm’s length,” Alara explained for her again. “It’s a symptom of your deep longing for a reconciliation with it. We need to demystify it for you, lieutenant.” She tilted her head to one side. “And yet, you’ve been finding this distracting?”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov flinched again. Why did Alara have to look at her like that? Her gaze made it so damn hard to think, and even harder to lie.

“I get…” she confessed in a whisper, “t-turned on.”

“And there it is.” Alara’s vindication was audible. “Well. Clearly, we need to go a little deeper.”

A chain jangled. Lieutenant Kuznetzov looked up. The counselor’s pocket watch was hanging in the air between them.

She let out a low groan. She hated this part. Whenever the watch came out, she seemed to get so confused. It robbed her of the ability to stand up for herself. To assert herself and her identity. Already, she could feel the room around her beginning to swim and spin as her eyes locked onto the center of the pocket watch.

“Please…” Lieutenant Kuznetzov tried to say. “Can’t we… do we really have to…”

“Yes, lieutenant,” Alara scolded. “We do. Focus, now. You know how this works.”

Without really meaning to, Lieutenant Kuznetzov nodded in submission. That response had been conditioned into her now. Obediently, she stared into the watch and let its rhythmic ticking take her away from herself.

“How about your other homework?” Alara asked as she began to swing the pocket watch from side to side. “Did you cut your hair?”

This time, Lieutenant Kuznetzov couldn’t even flinch. It was like all the strength had gone out of her body. “N-no,” she replied distantly.

Every single week, for years now, Lieutenant Kuznetzov had made sure to get her hair trimmed back so that her neat, short side shave remained perfect. But not this week.

She was dreading the moment someone else on the crew noticed.

“Good,” Alara told her soothingly. “Good girl.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov moaned softly. She hated being called that.

Unless she didn’t. Unless the fluttering in her stomach meant something else. Thanks to Alara, she wasn’t sure.

“Let’s go a little deeper,” Alara said, as Lieutenant Kuznetzov started to slip into trance. “A little deeper into your mind. A little deeper into this fetish of yours. We need to get to the root, lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov nodded, the movement barely perceptible. Yes. They needed to get to the root.

“The root of your paranoia,” Alara continued, songlike. “The root of your masculine presentation. It’s the same, lieutenant. But don’t worry. We can fix them both.”

“But…” Lieutenant Kuznetzov managed to say, as something within her stirred. “That’s not… I’m… butch…?”

She was a butch lesbian. That was her identity. That was who she was.

That was what Lieutenant Kuznetzov wanted to say. But her thoughts were sludge, and she could barely muster words. And besides, she was feeling less and less sure of her identity by the day. After all, wasn’t it just something she’d adopted to keep people at arms’ length? Wasn’t that the reason she was currently so worried about the ship and the crew?

Alara had taught her that. Now Lieutenant Kuznetzov didn’t know what to think.

“We’ll see about that,” Alara laughed, brushing past the lieutenant’s feeble resistance like it wasn’t even there. “Don’t worry, lieutenant. Counseling is all about discovering who you really are. That’s all we’re doing here. Sometimes, the truth can be surprising - but that’s why I’m here to help you come to terms with it. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh…”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov’s shoulders slumped. She couldn’t think clearly enough to find any fault with what Alara was telling her.

She had nothing to worry about.

But didn’t she? Wasn’t this all terribly wrong? Once again, the lieutenant found herself wondering: what if Alara was part of the conspiracy she suspected? What if Lieutenant Kuznetzov had accidentally fallen into their clutches? What if this twisted form of therapy was simply part of their plan?

In the end, it didn’t matter. As she stared at the pocket watch, those thoughts vanished little by little - and soon, she was left mindless, thoughtless, and free of doubt.

Perfectly hypnotized.

“Very good,” Alara cooed. Her voice was unmistakably sinister, but Lieutenant Kuznetzov was beyond hearing it. “Now, lieutenant, I think it’s about time we talk about the way you refer to yourself. Always by rank. It’s so stiff, don’t you think? And ‘Semya’ is such a pretty, girly name.”

Lieutenant Kuznetzov had always hated it. But after a few minutes of listening to Alara, she realized that in truth, she felt very differently.

***

“For my records,” Alara recited, “this is week four, session nine of my feminine adjustment therapy with… Semya.”

She said the name with such vicious softness, it made Semya squirm. Why did simply hearing her own name make her so wet?

“So tell me, lieutenant.” Already, Alara was holding her pocket watch, playing with it between her fingers. Even that had Semya transfixed. “How have you been doing lately?”

Semya managed to peel her gaze away from the watch and did her best to glare fiercely at the counselor. She knew, though, that the effect was hopelessly undermined by her long mascara and the dainty, pink lipstick that always seemed to make her lips pouty. Semya knew exactly what she looked like. She’d certainly spent long enough staring at herself in the mirror that morning.

And touching herself.

She couldn’t help it. She was a slave to her fetish. It had taken over her entire life. But at the same time, Semya knew she had a responsibility to the Inyx and its crew. She was certain of it now: there was a conspiracy afoot, and Alara Hisarlik was part of it. She was helping someone take over the ship using some form of mind control, and she needed to be stopped.

Semya was going to stop her. Soon.

She just needed to complete her therapy first. She might not have been able to trust Alara with anything else - but her therapy? She could count on Alara Hisarlik for that.

Semya’s forehead started to throb. She scowled at the pain. That happened a lot. It was like something deep inside her brain was begging her to remember.

But… remember what?

Everything was so foggy these days, but Semya could at least keep a few key details straight in her head. She was investigating Alara Hisarlik and the threat she posed to the ship, but she also needed the duplicitous counselor’s help to deal with her overbearing feminization fetish. She needed this therapy, or else she’d…

What?

Semya wasn’t quite sure. She just knew it was important. Very, very important.

Somehow.

Semya wasn’t sure why her head hurt. It was, admittedly, strange that she needed the help of someone she suspected of working to brainwash the crew. Paradoxical, even. But that was simply the predicament she found herself in. Wasn’t it?

And given the state she was in, it was hard to deny that she needed help.

“Semya?” Alara prompted. Semya realized she’d lapsed into confused silence. “Tell me. How have you been doing?”

“Not well,” Semya growled. It hurt to admit it, especially to Alara, but there was no point in lying. Not in therapy. “I’m always distracted. And…”

“Turned on?” The corners of Alara’s smile turned upwards.

Semya looked down. “Y-yes.”

Little by little, under Alara’s guidance, she’d been reshaping her aesthetic. Her hair was now almost mid-length, she wore make-up every day, and she’d switched to a more feminine cut for her uniform. And, of course, there was the lingerie.

“Better than before?” Alara asked, although she sounded like she already knew the answer. “Or worse?”

Semya grit her teeth. “Worse. Much worse.”

Her new, feminine look put her in a permanent state of arousal that left Semya all but incapable of attending to her duties properly. It was a miracle that Captain Vasser hadn’t noticed. Even now, Semya could feel herself soaking through her lace panties.

“My,” Alara remarked, with cold, sadistic glee plain on her face. “How interesting. Clearly, we need to go even further.”

Semya almost nodded in instinctive agreement before she realized how absurd that sounded.

“But…” she said slowly. Her head got even foggier whenever she considered resisting Alara. “If it’s getting worse then… shouldn’t we… s-stop?”

Alara just laughed at her. “Silly girl!” she replied. Semya moaned. “These conditions often get worse before they get better. We mustn’t stop now. Understand?”

“But…”

Before another word could pass Semya’s lips, the cabin’s dim, cold lights glinted off the gold surface of Alara’s pocket watch as she turned it over between her fingers. At once, Semya was stunned into silence. Her eyes turned glassy and foggy.

She could hear it again. The ticking. It drowned out her very thoughts.

“Understand?” Alara pressed.

Semya nodded dumbly. “Yes, Alara,” she said, because she knew that was what she was supposed to say.

“Good girl.”

Semya moaned again. Being called things like that drove her crazy. There was no quenching her arousal. Touching herself wasn’t even close to enough, but she was desperate to all the same. She began to rub her legs together pathetically.

Alara seized on that at once.

“You see?” the counselor tutted. “You poor girl. You simply can’t control yourself. You can’t possibly go on like this. We need to get to the root of your fetish.”

As she spoke, she lifted her pocket watch and started to slowly, lazily swing it in the air between them. That was all it took to keep Semya’s resistance utterly smothered.

“Yes, Alara,” she said thickly.

“We need to release your femininity,” Alara told her, malice woven through her voice. “To let you embrace it. To let you relish in it.”

Distantly, Semya was aware that that was the last thing she wanted. Hadn’t she always wanted to rid herself of this embarrassing little kink? To keep it hidden? Not to let it run her life.

But somehow, the thought just wouldn’t form.

“Yes, Alara.”

She slumped deeper into her chair. As she stared numbly at the pocket watch, a bubble of drool formed at the corner of her mouth.

“Very good.” Alara’s grin widened still further. She was nothing like her former self. The counselor was utterly transformed by power and confidence, into something completely sinister. “In fact, I think you’re ready for the final step. For your big debut. For your next session, in three days, I’ll book the holodeck for us. I have something very special planned for us.”

“Yes, Alara.”

After a long moment, a faint sense of terror forced its way to the forefront of Semya’s hypnotized mind. However suppressed and misdirected they were, the lieutenant’s instincts weren’t completely gone. Not yet. Eventually, the terror crystallized into a specific concern.

“Alara,” Semya drooled, very slowly, as she stared vacantly into the counselor’s pocket watch. “You’re… you’re not… doing something… to me. Are… are you?”

Alara just smiled. “Of course not,” the older woman said, and kept swinging the pocket watch. “Put it out of your mind, Semya.”

Against her wishes, Semya did. And then, once her mind was completely empty, Alara explained exactly how she was going to destroy Semya’s tough, butch exterior once and for all.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[alcoholfreenayeon]

Can i request some JeongMi relationship hcs? swf and nsfw plss<3

JeongMi HCs

SFW HCs

They were a surprisingly good match for each other. Both being helpful, kind, somewhat serious and a little mischievous.

It was actually Mina who asked Jeongyeon out. Even though Mina prefers to be the one being approached, she just wanted Jeongyeon really bad and went to those lengths to make sure she was hers,

Jeongyeon was rather pleasantly surprised by it. She was generally used to approaching people first but when her crush asked her out it was a no brainer for her to say yes.

The girls don’t always express their feelings through touch but more often do it through words or actions. Mina likes to write small letters and do little things like giving shoulder or leg massages when Jeongyeon is tired.

Jeongyeon in a similar fashion, likes to tell Mina how grateful she is for her and how much she appreciates her. She also likes to cook food for her or give her little gifts.

They like to visit cold places since they prefer the colder weather.

Sometimes Jeongyeon plays little pranks on Mina.

While they express their feelings in a similar manner for positive things, they also end up doing it similarly for negative things. Like they both end up staying quiet if they sense the conversation leading towards an argument since they really don’t like to fight.

Jeongyeon doesn’t usually take many pictures of herself but the fact that she’s often eager to take pictures of herself and Mina speaks volumes of how much she adores her.

Mina sometimes wonders if it’s better for their relationship if one of them is more expressive physically so she often hints that she’d like to be kissed or hugged or held hoping Jeongyeon realizes the signs since she feels too shy to take the initiative herself.

NSFW HCs

Mina is actually more dominant but prefers to be the bottom one. Jeongyeon occasionally takes charge and likes to spoil her girlfriend regardless of who’s the top.

Mina loves to taste Jeongyeon. She loves eating her out and she’s really good with her tongue. Making a mess of Jeongyeon within minutes.

After an argument the best way for them making up is by making the other girl cum her brains out.

They often whisper dirty jokes or thoughts to each other.

Both girls can be quite diverse in bed with both being quite easily very bratty, dominant, submissive etc.

Jeongyeon is deceptively good at both fingering and eating out. Her technique might not seem very efficient at the start but it’s completely intentional so there is a long build up before she goes all in to suddenly overload the pleasure and cause Mina to orgasm quite intensely

They role play on special occasions and enjoy it quite a lot.

Jeongyeon was quite surprised to find out that the elegant, shy and sweet Mina would become demanding of rough treatment towards her but she found it quite hit after the initial shock.

This led to Jeongyeon discovering that she has a degradation kink and she soon began to become quite good at it.

Jeongyeon is the one who dresses up more often but that effort doesn’t always get appreciated completely since sometimes Mina is too eager to tear it off her.

[lunarmoonanons]

The Conquerors

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Yandere Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys x Tyrell Reader

🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕  

Masterlist

YN was a niece of Harlen Tyrell. Present during the moment he knelt and handed over the reach to the conqueror. She was infatuated with the strange looking man who rode upon the large dragon. Aegon had also taken notice of the woman who hid behind the rose vines. She was beautiful like his sister Rhaenys, and he felt a desire to speak to her.

Once House Tyrell had officially been named stewards of the Reach, Harlen had thrown a grand feast for the new king and his queens. Aegon had graciously accepted, Rhaenys was excited, and Visenya reluctantly agreed to go. 

Rhaenys had been the first to approach the Tyrell girl. Charming the lady with her beautiful purple eyes and kind words. Rhaenys and YN became quick friends, in YN’s eyes. In Rhaenys’ eyes, YN had wormed her way quickly into her heart. This Tyrell lady was so different from the usual servants and ladies Rhaenys had surrounded herself with, she seemed genuine in her affection and words. Kind. That was the word that came to mind. 

Rhaenys flirted and twirled the strands of YN’s hair, making the girl blush. “You know, sweet YN, the city upon which we build our capitol will bloom ever so brightly with you there.”

YN giggled “That sounds quite lovely. But I must stay here, my uncle has arranged a good marriage for me.” That would not do. 

Visenya had wanted to see the fuss Rhaenys was making her way over this Tyrell girl. She was sweet, pretty, and naive. Reminding her of Rhaenys when she was younger. Then the girl had placed her delicate hand on Visenya’s, her smooth skin contrasted to Visenya’s rough hands. YN was braver than she looked, not many people would touch the Targaryen warrior, but YN had touched her fingers to Visenya’s in a loving manner. Enticing Visenya to wrap her forefingers around YN’s chin. 

“Such a sweet thing you are.” Visenya smirked at her blushing face. “I think I’d like to keep you with us on Dragonstone.”

“You are too kind. But I am set to be married soon, I have to stay here.” It seemed YN needed to be shown who she belonged to now. 

Aegon had merely glimpsed at the girl earlier but when Visenya and Rhaenys had told him that they wished for her to return to Dragonstone with them. His older sister was adamant that YN should be considered as part of the subjugation from the reach, and Rhaenys demanded that YN was too kind to let go. So when he made his way over to the girl he was looking her over to find what it was. She was beautiful, her laugh melodious, and was very charming from a distance. 

“You’ve seemed to have charmed my sisters.” Aegon stated. 

“Oh, I hope I haven’t overstepped. They both are quite wonderful and I thought that it would be fine to form a friendship with them.”

“You are quite a specimen. Kind. What do you truly think of us taking these lands as ours?” Aegon tested her. 

“I think.. that you will make a great king. You are benevolent to those who become your subjects. I am grateful for your kindness to my uncle. You command your dragon with a great power that I can't comprehend. I think you are the one who could unite all our kingdoms.”

Ah. So that was what enticed his sisters. Her genuine kind nature. Her honesty. She was a breath of fresh air, from the lords who bowed and postured after he claimed fealty over them. YN was something he wanted. So the fact that she was engaged would not do. 

~~~~~

Once Aegon had conquered six of the kingdoms, he returned to Dragonstone as Kings Landing was still being built. Once upon the island he made his way over to Rhaenys’ room. Kept away, on the plush bed, the Tyrell beauty remained chained. 

She was their precious rose that they must keep away from the masses that would rip her petals away. There were objections when Aegon had stated that she would return to Dragonstone, her uncle tried to say her place was in the reach, YN protested and cried, and her betrothed acted quite foolishly. He challenged Aegon to a duel for her hand. He chose steel, Aegon chose fire. 

YN had learned the day she saw her betrothed burn to death that it was best to just do what the conquerors wanted. To ensure that her family, her people, and her own safety. YN quietly went with them. 

They were kind to her. Never laying a rough hand to her, unless in intimate nights of passion. She was treated as a wife to the king should be treated. But her liberties she enjoyed in highgarden were not the same as on Dragonstone. There were no gardens for her to stroll through, barely any trees to climb, and no roses to be seen. 

Rhaenys was the kindest. She and YN were friends first before Rhaenys kissed her as a lover. When YN tried to plead to return to highgarden, Rhaenys only smiled and said that she was theirs now. That a precious rose like her should be valued and coveted. Then she punished her for asking by taking her highgarden garments and replacing them with Targaryen garbs. Removing her few connections to her home. 

Visenya was the most possessive. Being the first to kiss YN. She had told her little rose that she would be a part of their garden now. Demanding that she was too sweet to share with others. It was her idea that YN must be confined to their chambers. That she was a beauty that belonged only to the Targaryens now. When YN would displease Visenya, she’d non too subtly threaten her homeland. Fire did not match with roses. 

Aegon had married YN as soon as she arrived on Dragonstone. The strange ceremony frightened YN, but she did not voice her fears. She barely spoke to Aegon. He assumed she’d understand soon, but she remained dutiful and silent. He finally had enough of her silence after three weeks, and revoked his promise to wait to take her to bed. He was rough when he stole her maidenhead, but he made his point. She was his now. YN would carry his first child. She would remain chained to the room on Dragonstone. 

A coveted rose that never saw the sun again.

I know that the book has the conqueror as pale with white hair. But I like this fancast of Chadwick Boseman. 

[cryscendo]

tagged by @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion <3

i admittedly haven’t been writing as much as i’d like to be lately. i’ve been busy with work and those of you who know any kind of work i do know that it’s EXTREMELY time consuming.

that said i do have some stuff progressing, even if it’s slow!! Mix In with Water as well as the songfic are still being worked on. and on top of that, i have some new plans in the works as well!!

here’s another excerpt from the songfic!!

~~~

Kurt pushed his now empty cup of coffee aside so that it could get acquainted with his first. He had opted to find his nails to be immensely more interesting to focus on than the man in front of him. He could feel the weight of Blaine’s gaze on him, but he still refused to look up at him. Was this childish? Perhaps. But it wasn’t like it was uncommon for Blaine to somehow make him feel like a kid regardless of the situation.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s voice cut through his thoughts and in that moment, it felt grating in a way it never had before. Blaine’s voice is usually so melodic and sultry, but now it only felt condescending. “Kurt. You have to stop doing this.”

As agitating as it was to follow any order that Blaine was giving him (it’s no secret that Kurt doesn’t take orders from anybody very well), he reluctantly complied. He once again met the look that Blaine was giving him with one of his own — one of displeasure, he should mention.

“Are you done being a brat?” Blaine asks in a biting tone. Kurt would be amused if he wasn’t so irritable. It was so rare that Blaine got snippy with him when they were together. When it would first happen, it would upset Kurt a bit. Unsurprisingly, he did not enjoy being spoken to in that manner. However, over time he was able to see the attitude for what it was just below the surface. It presented a version of Blaine that wasn’t fully composed at all times. It demonstrated a version of Blaine who had a certain immaturity about him and that brought him down from his seemingly untouchable level. This version of Blaine is imperfect, flawed.

“Well, I suppose that depends on if you’re done pissing me off.” Here came in that catharsis he knew he would feel by speaking to Blaine in the way that his mind really wanted him to. It was far removed from the mature adult that Kurt built himself into. But he spent so long trying to be older than he was, so what crime is it for him to embrace that immaturity for once?

[hinataxsunshine]

Enchanted ( Hinata's Version )

Hinata had not met his friends in the beach, in the midst of all the chaos and death. No, This young man met the two people he cherishes most in his life back in the old world. 6 years before the events of the borderlands.

This was the very first page

Not where the story line ends

It was the first night Hinata had ever snuck out of his house. He was usually a fairly good kid. Tried following what his parents said.. most of the time, anyways. He was compliant, even though he did not want ay part of the business. That was Emiko’s job. But, at 20 years old he was starting to get bored. Emiko was his only friend, basically at his mother. But in his circle— his parents circle— everyone judged him for his difference. His eyes, his mannerisms, the way he was born. He hated being seen as only Hinata Aikyo, the son of Kazuya Aikyo. It made Hinata wonder, was that what he was only ever going to be seen was..? So he decided to sneak out, explore the town during the night and.. be himself. He was 20, for fucks sake. He wanted to figure out who he was— who Hinata was. Its how he found himself in the Kabukichō Red Light District. More specifically, how he found himself at what he figured out later on to be the Beach club— a Men’s Host Club. There were so many people.. Men, sometimes two, charming a woman— serving drinks and what not. It was foreign to Hinata, mostly. His eyes were wide as he scanned the place. Should he leave? This wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.. when he had decided to figure out who he was

“Are you new here..?” A sultry voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see an older woman, tilting her head with a drink in hand. He stuttered out a response, trying to figure out how to turn her down and get the hell out of there. But suddenly that plan was thrown out the window as he saw figure walk towards him. A buff man.. in his 30s(?) walking towards him with a face that was so serious, Hinata swore he was in trouble. “Just a moment, ma’am.. I’m going to borrow him for a moment” The serious stranger said and beckoned for Hinata to follow him. Oh he was so screwed. Would his parents find out somehow? Could this get out and recognized?

Kazuya Aikyo’s son seen at a Men’s Host Club..

His Dad would kill him. Following after the stranger, Hinata found himself standing across a low table, infront of a long haired man wearing the nicest red suit and sipping on .. whiskey? Hinata didn’t really know his alcohols.. It seemed that luck was on his side. The man— Takeru, he had learned— who had ordered Aguni— the kind of scary one— was the owner of ‘The Beach’. A Men’s host club. But he didn’t kick him out right away, and honestly, Hinata was grateful for that. He wondered that if he did, then maybe they would have never became friends. It was nerve-wracking at first, and everything in him screamed that he wanted to impress these two. But he didnt want to use the rich card. No— Takeru had no Idea who he was or who his family was. And he wanted it to stay that way.

In the dim light of the club, Hinata could make out the silhouette of Takeru and his features, and he was glad that it was dim— or else maybe He would noticed the faint blush appearing on his face. Takeru was beautiful (and so was his friend, Aguni), Hinata couldn’t deny it. And he could tell that he was already started to develop a crush on him. A puppy crush. One that would probably pass as he got to know him as a friend.

And yet, Hinata was wrong. As time grew on. As Takeru left the club and took over his Fathers Hat Business. As he grew closer to Takeru and Aguni, so did his feelings. Hinata didn’t realize it, but those feelings had grew and grew— to the point that whenever he was near them, his heart would flutter and Hinata just wanted to be near them all the time. They were his friends first, yes. But god, did he love them. They meant the world to him. Takeru was especially the kindest, the warmest welcome into the friendship (Although.. deep down Hinata was skeptical about Takeru and Aguni’s friendship. There were so many emotions between those two. Maybe that’s why he never spoke up.). Aguni had taken awhile to fully get used to the boy, but Takeru.. he welcomed him with open arms. The two hung out often. Restaurant traditions, Pranks (mainly on Aguni), or the fact that Hinata would just hang out at Takeru’s Hat shop when he was bored. And thankfully, They never pried into his personal life. Even when the two had managed to crash a Charity Event— one hosted by Hinata’s father. It was an embarrassing moment, especially when Takeru had walked up to Hinata and his Father, and Kazuya told him that Hinata wasn’t man enough till he found himself a girlfriend.

Still, though. The night had ended up okay. They had met out in the balcony, the three of them. It was calm, and comforting to Hinata. The two of them never spoke about it to Hinata again, which he was eternally grateful for. He was grateful for them. His two friends, older than him and probably way out of his league.. Had shown him the world and that he was his own person.

My thoughts will echo your name,

until I see you again

He had found his way to the beach.. or well— he had found himself near the beach and some Militant Asshole decided knocking him out and bringing him to the Leader— to Hatter, was the best course of action. He didn’t even know it was a place, He just thought it was a Game Arena! And Hinata was out of it, staring off at the place. It was after Emiko had died, after he had gotten her killed. He had been wondering if he should just let his VISA run out, He missed his friends— wondering if they even noticed he was gone.

Although, Hinata didn’t have to worry about that for long. Because the Leader of the so called beach, was none other than Takeru himself. Or rather.. He didn’t go by Takeru here. Hatter was what his friend was called. It had made him giggle at first, a brief reminder of Takeru’s old Job back in.. the other world. A sense of Familiarity. Because now, Takeru (And Aguni he later found out) were here with him. A blessing, yet also a curse. Quickly, Hinata adjusted well to the life of the Beach. It was growing rapidly, people coming (and going..). And Hinata’s Job was to keep the morale up, make sure no one thought wrong of their leader. He did it well, because he loved Takeru. Although, he didnt completely agree with the idea of the beach, nor did he believe about the cards.. Hinata didn’t plan on saying no. He would do anything to prove that he was useful to his friends. That was his plan. Make sure Takeru and Aguni got out of here alive.. even if he didn’t But even if a place like this, a place where sex was welcomed and there were no string to tie you down, Hinata never planned on revealing those feelings. He dabbled in hooking up with a guy here or there.. but his heart never belonged to them. It was set on Takeru and Aguni, although in this place— Hinata assumed there was never going to be a chance.

These are the words I held back,

as I was leaving too soon

Aguni was a problem. He was supposed to be the cruel and stern Militant Leader. Cold and Calculating, although Hinata knew deep down that it wasn’t truly who he was. Its just what he had to be, to keep the Militants who could go a little power hungry in bay. Its why he had to pretend that he wasn’t their friend. Like Aguni didn’t mean the world to him, because it could put Hinata in danger. Or disrupt something

It was the same with Takeru. Pretending not to be as close as they truly were, it was too cruel in Hinata’s eyes. Of course, it was his Idea to begin with. The people here, most of them scared Hinata. What if they thought he was getting privilge? He couldn’t risk it. And besides, Hatter— Takeru, was endulging himself in his own rules as well. His girls as they were known, wore Gold Bikini’s. Had one or two special perks but the main one of course was Takeru himself. He was a wanted man. It filled Hinata with a jealousy he didn’t even know he had. He didn’t even think he should have this Jealousy, since Hinata did it himself every so often.. But he did. Because he truly loved Takeru. Not because he was a leader with a power, or that he was devilishly handsome. No. He loved Takeru because of how kind he was. How he had always been there for Hinata. The smile that was so genuine when there was something Takeru enjoyed. The way he cared for Aguni and him. He loved Takeru Danma. Not Hatter.

Would he ever speak on these feelings? Hinata doubted it of course. But he would always hold those feelings close to him. There was no need to ruin a good thing with messy feelings. Not when he could tell Aguni and Takeru were in love with each other (No matter how much they would deny it). He was fine, of course. At the end of the day, Hinata was just glad that he had stumbled into that Host Club. That Takeru had noticed the wide eyed boy and had his dearest friend fetch him over. Because now, Hinata had a reason to keep going. To survive in this hell, and get his friends out of here. So they could be happy, because that was what matter to Hinata.

I was enchanted to meet you

[lothiriel84]

We Are All Fools in Love

It had all been done properly, of course, with Mr Lennox acting as Miss Hale’s legal advisor, and quite possibly as someone who might soon be expected to share a very personal interest in her financial affairs.

A North and South ficlet. What-if. John/Margaret.

Back in Milton, Mr Thornton went straight to the mill, silent and desolate as it was; as providential as Miss Hale’s business proposition had proved to be, it did nothing to change the fact that he had failed, and although grateful for her kindness, he felt bitterly the mortification of being indebted to her for the retaining of his former position.  

It had all been done properly, of course, with Mr Lennox acting as Miss Hale’s legal advisor, and quite possibly as someone who might soon be expected to share a very personal interest in her financial affairs. And for all that it was apparent how much Mr Lennox disapproved of the investment – on personal grounds, if not economical ones – Miss Hale would not be swayed, in her passionate concern for the welfare of all the hands he had been forced to dismiss on the closing of the mill.  

This, at least, he could do for her; he would give back work to all those who had signed their name on Higgins’ petition, and more besides, once he managed to get the business up and running again. He would be a fair Master, and do everything within his power to ensure that the mill would not fail again. And when Miss Hale did marry, as he felt sure she would do soon enough, all his foolish hopes would be put to rest once and for all; he would think of her as his landlady and business investor only, and nothing more. 

.

Mrs Thornton welcomed the newcomer with icy politeness tinged with a healthy dose of relief that her son was not there for that woman to crow over. She was deeply conscious of the great service Miss Hale had provided in offering the capital John required for the restarting of his business, yet somehow resented the power it gave her to lord over him in such a manner as would be insupportable for any man as proud of his independence as she knew her son to be. 

“He’s not here,” she spoke as plainly as was her custom, foregoing any of the usual pleasantries that were expected in the presence of one they owed everything to. “He has many obligations calling on his time, as I am sure you will understand.” 

Miss Hale nodded gravely, her eyes trained on the dainty, ladylike hands she kept demurely folded in her lap. “Perhaps it is better this way. Mrs Thornton, there is one more thing – I know you will not like it, but surely, for your son’s sake,” there she faltered and paused, as if gathering her courage. “I have given it a great deal of thought, and I have decided to make this house over to you, as a token of my gratitude for the services rendered by your family to my poor mother and father. Mr Thornton needs not be informed for now, as I am sure he would be difficult about it, but it would give me great comfort to know that he needs not worry about finding another situation, should the mill be faced with more trouble in the future.” 

It took all of Mrs Thornton’s considerable willpower to restrain herself from expressing just how insulting such an extraordinary proposition was, as much for herself as for her son’s good name. “I do not wish you to think me ungrateful, Miss Hale, after everything you have done to rescue the mill – but we do not need your charity, and you must see that it is as impossible for me to accept your offer as it would be for my son.” 

“It has nothing to do with charity,” Miss Hale insisted, her lip now trembling under some strong emotion she was striving to hold back. “You once accused me of not knowing the man I rejected, and you were right; I have come to esteem him for the honourable man that he is, and while it is too late for us to fix the mistakes of our past, I only ask to be afforded the small consolation of knowing him safe from any such reduced circumstances as you both had to endure in the past.” 

A much unwelcome realisation dawned upon Mrs Thornton then; that this young woman she had despised for so long was not as disinterested in her efforts to rescue the mill as her son seemed determined to believe. For all that several years had passed, with many a hardship to endure on her part, she too had once been young and in love, and for a time, in doubt of its return. And Miss Hale, for all her faults, appeared singularly unaware of any enduring regard on John’s part, for all that she herself, as his mother, would as soon have doubted that the sun would rise again on the morrow.  

“I ask that you call back tomorrow morning, Miss Hale,” she forced herself to speak, out of the great love she bore for her son. “I shall have an answer for you then.” 

.

Margaret set out for Marlborough Street as early as was deemed acceptable for a morning call. She knew it would take a great deal for Mrs Thornton to agree to her scheme, and indeed, she had kept the particulars of it from Mr Lennox as well, as much out of discretion as her instinctive conviction that Henry would stop at nothing in order to prevent her from wasting Mr Bell’s inheritance on a failed manufacturer from the North. If only Henry could guess at her true motivations – but no, there was no risk of that, as she had spared no effort to conceal her regard for Mr Thornton from the world, knowing that nothing could ever come out of it.  

The mill would soon reopen, and in time, Mr Thornton would once more turn his thoughts to matrimony, as was only natural for a man of his age and position in life. Margaret, for her part, could only pray that he would bestow his affections on a worthier object this time, and find the happiness that was no longer open to her. There had been a moment, when he had called on her in Harley Street, in which she had almost dared to hope – but he had been polite and distant, and then Henry had arrived, and all conversation had turned to business matters alone. 

Mrs Thornton was detained, she was informed by one of the maids upon her arrival, and was promptly shown into a back parlour that was somewhat less imposing than the one she had been received in only the day before. There was a posy of yellow wild roses on a small table, and she was at once reminded of Helstone – of everything that once was, and could never be retrieved. 

So absorbed she was in the contemplation of all that had passed beyond her grasp in the past two years alone that she did not hear the door open, nor the approaching steps that were nothing like Mrs Thornton’s.  

“Mr Thornton!” she exclaimed at length, even as he knelt before her, reaching to take both of her hands in his with a kind of slow, solemn determination that had her trembling with sweet foreboding. “What is the meaning of this?” 

“Mother told me – no, it is no matter – Miss Hale, you must know there is only one way I could ever be persuaded to accept any such gift from you, though I am aware I have no right to speak to you in this manner, after so material a change in our respective circumstances.” 

“You have every right,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “John.” 

The sound of his Christian name coming from her lips had such a profound effect on Mr Thornton that he seemed unable to speak for a moment. “Margaret, take care – if you do not send me away – Margaret,” he murmured, almost feverishly, the warmth of his breath causing her to shiver in anticipation of what was to come. On a strange, reckless impulse, she closed the distance between them, and neither of them spoke again for quite some time.  

[danses-with-dogmeat]

🐍🐕 for sturges? Saw the other person ask for the scenario and ugh it was too good of course I had to ask for more of him

YES. We always need more Sturges in our lives ❤

S) Sad. How do they cheer their s/o up when they are feeling down? How do they like to be cheered up?

Sturges is a damn good listener, and his brain is at its best when he's trying to fix a problem, so for those types of talks, when you need someone to help and give you advice, you can't get much better than him. For those days when you just want to vent, it's best telling him that, so Sturges doesn't keep interrupting you with thoughts on how to help; and when you're just feeling down, when there's no real answer, when you don't really want to talk at all, you should make that clear as well. Once he knows what you need, Sturges is great at doing it, but he usually defers to problem solving, so communication is key.

Though, he is also partial to those days when he can just hold you close and tell you how great you are to try and cheer you up. That often makes him feel better too, even if he was doing fine beforehand.

When he is down though, he's actually not great at talking about it unless you pry. He doesn't realize he's bottling it all up, but he also unconsciously feels like he shouldn't burden you when you're going through so much on your own. When you find you can't get him to talk though, cuddle sessions help a lot for the big softie.

T) Thrill. Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine? 

He's a fan of routine. Though, he won't say no to a new opportunity to make things a little more exciting with your relationship. Sturges likes the domestic feel of having a strong relationship with you, of being able to come home after a long day and feel comfortable knowing what the evening and the next day will entail. It's a bit of a lost practice, the simple routines that he enjoys maintaining, but honestly? This new world could do with a little less excitement a lot of the time.

U) Understanding. How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He tries to be. It's sometimes difficult to put himself in your shoes, since your lives have been so different, but he puts in the effort, that's for sure. As mentioned, Sturges is an excellent listener. He loves hearing your thoughts and listening to you explain your feelings to him on all manner of things. He's just big on honest communication, so that he doesn't have to try and guess as much. Though, when he does guess, he usually ends up being right. It's a sort of superpower he doesn't realize he has. Maybe he's taken a page out of Momma Murphey's book or something, who knows?

R) Reunion. How do they react after being apart from their s/o? How do they cope when they’re away?

Oh, the handy man is used to finding all sorts of things to do. Being on his own isn't anything new, and he trusts that you (especially when you're with Preston) can handle yourself out in the wastes, so he tries not to worry too much. However, he cannot hold himself back whenever you stroll back into Sanctuary unharmed. His face always lights up like a neon sign and he loves scooping you up into his famous big ole' hugs.

Since you're out so often on Minutemen business, Sturges stays glued to your side when you are home. Always out walking with a hand in yours, or an arm around your shoulders when you go out to eat in the evenings, and he even sleeps in late just to keep you tucked cozily in his embrace in the wee hours, when he normally would already be up and at 'em.

G) Gratitude. How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them? 

He's appreciative right from the start. All the good you do for him and his group the moment you meet them? That means you're one hell of a person, and that's not at all common these days.

Sturges doesn't squander that at all, he's a gentleman most of the time anyway, but with you, his kindness and gratitude are all the more prevalent. His manners are impeccable, always opening doors and pulling out chairs and finding the prettiest flowers or the best little trinkets he thinks you'll like. He's even bigger on making handmade gifts as well, putting his tinkering talents to good use whenever he has the time and parts to spare to make something you'll truly treasure. And if that's not enough, he tells you all the time as well, all that you mean to him, giving great pep talks when you feel like you're not doing enough, throwing compliments your way any chance he gets, just to see that smile you give him in return. He loves being in love with you, and he knows he's lucky to have your love in return.

E) Equal. Do they prefer to be more dominant or submissive in the relationship?

Sturges is an easy-going sorta fella, so in the relationship, he likes to defer to your preferences and remain on the more submissive side.

In the bedroom though, he can't help taking the reins a bit more. He's definitely a soft dom, but being able to bring you pleasure in his way is very important to him. Especially since he knows how selfless you always are, he likes to give back by making sure you feel good when you're with him. Which usually means giving you pleasure on his terms, rather than yours, since you're always so intent on pleasing everyone else.

S) -- Q) Quality Time. What do they like to do for quality time with their s/o?

He's up for almost anything, so long as he's with you. You wanna go fight back some raiders together? That works. Romantic dinner down by the lake, with Fancy Lads and aged wine? Also perfect.

Although, if he had to choose favorites, it's the more domestic activities. Just existing with one another as you work on projects around the house, lazing around in bed with you as you read or mess with your pip boy, walking hand-in-hand through Sanctuary on a nice evening, all of those are real big soft spots for him.

[snowbellewells]

Birthday Fic Completed: “We Were Always Meant to Find You”

{One Shot; Post s6 Happy Beginning; CS Future Family Fluff}

Also available on AO3, if that is your preference

by: @snowbellewells​

She was already waiting at the counter, arms crossed expectantly, a knowing look on her face, when the little bell hanging over the door of her diner jangled insistently to announce the first arrivals. After that, it stayed open for some minutes as more and more people poured in like a flood. Possibly the whole town, Granny thought wryly, shaking her head in affectionate wonder as the deluge continued and the murmur of joined, overlapping conversations rose to a dull roar.

She turned and shot a warning look through the front line window at her fry cook, who was taking in the crowd with wide-eyed trepidation. The widow Lucas mimed gathering a deep breath and getting ready for action, trying to calm him. Thank goodness she’d thought far enough ahead to call in some extra wait staff and cooks in anticipation of this gathering. She mentally patted herself on the back for that bit of foresight, ruefully acknowledging that she had no one who could waitress as quickly and efficiently as Ruby once did, even as her granddaughter had teased, flirted, and made it look like a lark all at the same time.

The older woman shook herself from that rather melancholy train of thought before it could travel much further. It was hardly the time for lollygagging and dwelling on missed family members who were realms away and happy there. Granny picked up her order pad and gave a last glance around behind the counter to be certain they were as ready as possible for the onslaught.

As the bell over the entry rang out once more, she smiled fondly to see Snow, Charming, and their little boy arriving with smiles on their faces. They wore the mantle of de facto leadership easily, even in this modern world where their standing as Princess and her Prince went mostly unacknowledged. Despite their casual manner and unpretentious bearing, many of the townsfolk gathered in Storybrooke’s favored eatery turned and looked to them expectantly. Snow White, rightful heir to the throne of Misthaven and beloved only child of King Leopold and Queen Ava, had never demanded honor or praise from those who would have been her subjects in another life. She simply inspired their loyalty with her sweetness, her goodness, and all that she was.

Said monarch was beaming from ear-to-ear as her small family paused just inside the diner, quite possibly as brightly as the widow Lucas had ever observed. A pink, happy flush colored Snow’s usually fair cheeks prettily, and her eyes sparkled impishly, even glinting with what Granny astutely observed were unshed tears of joy. She was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she nudged Charming to speak to their gathered friends and neighbors.

The shepherd prince turned deputy sheriff raised his voice to be heard above the low murmurs and shufflings of such a crowd. “Thank you all for coming!” he greeted with a genuine, winning grin. “It means the world to Snow and I that you’ve

come here to support our family on such a special occasion. That you’ve extended your kindness and acceptance to our daughter and her family as well, is something we will never forget. Emma may not always know how to express it, but I do know that she is grateful. Now, they were right behind us when we left the courthouse, so if we mean to surprise them, we’d better get ready! They should be here any minute!”

That announcement sent the crowd into a flurry of activity, rearranging themselves to seem casual and unconcerned; not at all as if they were breathlessly awaiting the Savior and her small family - now officially one member larger - to sing and welcome and celebrate them to the point of embarrassment. Food and drink orders, seating preferences, and side conversations were forgotten for the moment as all the gathered townsfolk waited with held breath while trying to seem as if they weren’t. 

From her vantage point by the old and battered but sturdy cash register, the Widow Lucas could already envision the very way Emma Swan’s eyes would drop to her boots. She would be friendly and gracious, but a bit awkwardly brusque too. After all this time in Storybrooke, she still wasn’t fond of too much attention. The Captain, of course, as Granny fondly referred to him, would try to follow his lovely wife’s lead, but the tips of his rather notably pointed ears would be red, secretly pleased with the notice and care shown to his newest little love. Henry’s eyes would widen in joy and excitement, Granny knew, though he would have expected no less of them all, his believer’s heart optimistically anticipating the best of others and then often inspiring it. Young Hope would be holding court from the moment she realized everyone was there for her family. If ever there were a wee lass born to be royalty, Granny mused, it was that one. With every bit of her mother - and grandmother’s - beauty and bravery, and her father’s audacity and puckish charm, Hope Jones was irresistible to everyone she encountered.

Sure enough, soon through the diner’s large front windows,  Emma and Killian could be seen leading Henry, Hope, and their newly adopted sister down the sidewalk along Main Street. The last few whispers and scuffles dropped off as family and friends watched, hoping to make the Savior’s family joyously welcome with their little surprise, in a manner they would never forget.

Once again, the bell over the diner’s entrance sounded its tinny chime, and Killian Jones held it open gallantly as his brood tromped through. Emma led the way, holding onto Hope’s chubby toddler hand, as the little sprite wouldn’t hesitate to dart off at a run towards anyone she knew even slightly or anything that caught her interest. Henry brought up the rear, with the sister who had joined their number before him. Dutiful eldest child that he was, Henry was clearly trying to make sure she didn’t feel lost or overwhelmed, but Granny noticed that the young man still cut his eyes toward his stepdad for direction as the little girl stopped on the threshold as though frozen - silent and uncertain. 

To his credit, whatever he might be feeling, Captain Jones didn’t allow himself to appear fazed by the child’s hesitance, merely nodding in assurance to Henry and turning to see to his daughter himself. 

However, before he could say or do anything, the door barely closed behind him, there was a loud shout of “Congratulations! Surprise!” accompanied by hoots and hollers enough to rattle the roof of the old building. The gathered townsfolk - who had seemed preoccupied and settled in their own affairs until that moment - were all now staring at the Swan-Jones family and closing in as they jostled forward to meet the new addition and make her welcome.

Apparently much too close for comfort, Granny saw with anxious concern. The pretty little wisp of a blonde with striking hazel eyes let out a cry of distress and turned on instinct to flee back out the door, only to run smack into Killian’s side. Upon finding her escape route blocked, she attempted to hide herself by burying her face against his denim clad hip. 

Killian’s brow furrowed then with concern as his hands rested on the child’s back, rubbing soothing circles as he murmured, “There now, Sweetheart. No need to fear. These folks merely want to say hello to you.” Looking up, he offered David, Snow, and others of the gathered assembly an awkward shrug of the shoulders and half-smile that begged their understanding and patience. To their credit, many had already begun to move back and disperse to their own tables upon seeing the little girl’s overwhelmed reaction. Archie- bless his sensitive soul- and Belle began to head off the rest, ushering them elsewhere for the time being.

Seeing that Emma, Henry, and Hope had grabbed a booth against the wall near the back hallway and were waiting for them, Killian carefully guided his daughter along with him, even as she remained glued to his leg and barely shuffled along with him as he half-led and half-carried her. Gently, once they reached their table, Killian peeled her from his side to urge her onto the bench seat next to Henry, assuring her that he would be right behind her.

Granny herself moved from behind the counter and came over to take their orders. At this point, she was admittedly curious, too - wanting to meet the newest little princess and personally let her know she was very much welcomed to their odd but special little town. Standing at the end of the table, she attempted to lighten her normally rather intimidating expression, offering what she hoped was a warm and genuine ‘grandmotherly’ smile, speaking in a softer voice than usual as she waited with order pad and pencil in hand. “Hello there, Jones family,” she greeted with a twinkle in her eyes behind her half-spectacles, as she looked into each of their faces in turn. “What would you folks like to eat?”

To no one’s surprise, Emma Swan ordered a grilled cheese and onion rings.

“Ring rings!” Hope echoed in a decisive chirp, though they all knew she didn't like onions, and was instead ordering her own special mozzarella sticks Granny had found, which were circular and allowed the toddler to feel like she was having just what her mom did.

Granny nodded, jotting the order down, though she could have repeated back Emma and Hope’s orders by heart even before they were placed. 

Henry considered for a moment before ordering chicken strips and French fries with apple pie a la mode for dessert. He smiled encouragingly at the sister beside him and emphasized how delicious the meal was before handing the menu back to Granny Lucas politely.

When no further orders were given to her for several long moments, Granny shifted on her feet, not wanting to rush them, but not wanting to linger awkwardly either.

“I’ll have the lemon tilapia with baked potato, Lady Lucas,” Killian broke the lengthy pause with a wink in her direction, when it became clear he was going to have to move things along. “And this lovely lass here is our daughter, Helen. I don’t believe you’ve yet had the pleasure of making her acquaintance.”

The youngster dutifully looked up and met Granny’s eye, but she still didn’t utter a word.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dear,” Granny tried as gently as possible, giving Helen - who appeared to be about seven or eight, of slight build and with a fair, heart-shaped face - a comforting smile. “You’re very much welcome here at the Diner. You can call me Granny - everyone else does. I hope you’ll come to love it here in Storybrooke.”

Emma offered her a grateful expression before glancing across the table at her second daughter and asking, “So, Helen, what do you want to try? Does anything look good to you?”

Wide hazel eyes stared back at the Savior with a frightened, deer-in-the-headlights expression. She shook her head vigorously, curls flying, while still not making a sound.

Tilting her head, Emma studied the child for a moment as Granny waited quietly, trying as much as possible to remain unobtrusive and not add to the little girl’s discomfort. After a moment, some sort of understanding dawned on their fearless Sheriff’s face. If pressed, Granny would venture to call it empathetic, knowing, and more than a bit lost and sad. A subtle glance passed over the table between husband and wife before Emma nodded decisively and turned back to Granny with fierce resolve and a film of moisture shimmering in her eyes that neither of them acknowledged. 

“How about a breaded chicken patty sandwich, a cheeseburger, an order of macaroni and cheese, some tater tots, a brownie, and one of your monster peanut butter cookies?” 

The Widow Lucas didn’t comment, completely understanding what the younger woman was doing - ordering a variety of kid-friendly options so she could learn what Helen liked. Hope chortled merrily, exclaiming loudly in her childlike innocence, “That’s a lot of food, Mama! Is Helen extra-hungry?”

Across the table, poor Helen Jones’ worried eyes popped even wider, as if panicked that she might somehow be blamed for the excess. Almost as though she had forgotten the silence she was keeping until that moment, she blurted out quickly, “No! I’m not! I didn’t ask for that - I promise I didn’t!”

Granny’s own heart broke for the child’s needless fear and the deprivation it was suddenly clear she had suffered. She wasn’t sure how the Joneses would calm Helen and appease Hope in the middle of a crowded restaurant full of nosey and overly involved acquaintances. All the same, it wasn’t her business beyond bringing that sweet little girl the best food she had ever tasted, and she hustled off to do just that.

Once their little family was alone again, tears welled even more certainly in Emma’s eyes. They had known, of course, a fair bit of what Helen had been through, and had already witnessed some of her issues and insecurities in the visits they’d had with her throughout the adoption process. But just now, she ached to make all of that disappear. She could only hope that in time they would manage to show her she didn’t need to be afraid of them. That she was home now.

Hope was still clamoring for her attention, and Helen was now once again pressed into Killian’s side, as if hoping to somehow disappear behind his larger frame where no one else could see her. Catching Killian’s eye, silent decisions were again made between pirate and princess. Killian nodded his understanding, and Emma stood with their youngest to take her to the ladies room for a moment where they could talk, and left her two boys with Helen, trusting they’d find the right way to soothe her.

When it was just the three of them at the table, Killian slowly pulled back from his daughter enough to look her in the eye. He held her attention steadily and promised her that she was not in any trouble, she did nothing wrong, and no one was upset with her. “Take a deep breath, Helen, love,” he coaxed. “That’s it, just like that. Try another one, Lass. There you are.”

The entire time, his metal appendage lightly ran over her shoulders, rubbing a soothing pattern he hoped would further ease her anxiety. Like Emma, he had known - her overly slight appearance and the way she would barely ask for even the smallest items - that Helen had faced not only deprivations, but harsh punishments as well. But he’d still been taken aback at the panic that overtook his daughter right before their eyes. Even as he shot Henry a concerned look across the space between them over Helen’s head, he could feel the rage he had not known in some time - in truth, not since his stint as a Dark One - rise inside him at any who would have mistreated and wounded such a precious, innocent child. Though for years now the vengeful captain had been put away, and he had tried with all his might to curb the violent tendencies he’d once allowed free rein, for a flicker of a moment, Killian yearned to turn the sharp point of his hook on the perpetrators of Helen’s current trauma.

Fighting down the intensity of such a reaction, he swallowed back more words he feared might come out harshly in his anger and scare the child further. He would not speak until he could wrangle his emotions back under control.

In the meantime, Henry leaned over tentatively, putting himself in his new sibling’s eyeline and speaking up, hoping maybe he could help. Surely, a story could cheer her up? He didn’t like to dwell on it too often, but when he had been just a bit older than Helen was now, he’d felt so alone. Like no one believed him, no one was on his side, and half afraid he was as crazy as his own adoptive mother had wanted him to think. When the storybook had come to him, the comfort those tales had given him was impossible to measure. In those stories, he had found family, inspiration, courage, and comfort, and it led him down the path to the life he lived now, one happier than he could have pictured back then, when he had caught a bus to Boston in search of his birth mother - the Savior who could rescue them all.

“Hey, hey, listen,” he urged, encouraged to see that Helen turned those bright, curious eyes of hers on him willingly, obviously wanting to hear what he would say in spite of herself. “You don’t have to worry, alright? Mom and Dad aren’t looking to punish you or blame you for something. They want you to have what you need to be happy… all of us do. You fit right into this family. All of us at one time or another have been lonely and hurt and left out - well, maybe not Hope, but that’s because she was with us from the start. The rest of us had to find each other, just like you’ve found us.”

Helen didn’t speak, but she blinked up at her new big brother. Her frantic breathing slowed to normal and her flurried heartbeat calmed down as he spoke. It wasn’t hard to see that she was hanging on Henry’s every word, whether or not she offered an audible response.

Henry’s tentative smile grew easily, gaining confidence that she was interested, and his whole face seemed to glow with eager excitement as he carried on. “You know what helped me a lot when I was your age, and I felt all by myself and scared?” he asked her.

Right on cue, Helen shook her head ‘no’, but gazed up at him raptly, clearly waiting to hear Henry’s suggestion. Though she hardly knew yet that it was entirely possible in this new hometown of hers, the way she looked at him with such guileless faith made it seem as if she were expecting his magical solution for her problem.

Killian remained quiet, watching the sweet scene unfold without interruption. The maelstrom of emotion which had been churning inside him at the sight of his daughter’s fear subsided, as his chest swelled with pride instead. Watching Emma’s son, the young man he loved as his very own, showing such care and ingenuity in this moment, weaving a tale that would rival any sailor’s yarn to beguile his shy, unsure sibling, nearly melted him in a way he would be hard-pressed to disguise. He left his arm wrapped lightly over Helen’s shoulder and allowed her to lean back against him, cuddled into his side, but otherwise he held his breath, attempting to remain unobtrusive as he saw her beginning to settle comfortably.

“Did you know there’s a story about a famous Helen, who was a queen?” Henry continued, widening his eyes for extra emphasis.

So much had her upset eased, that Helen’s eyes lit up with intrigue at her brother’s words, and she shook her in head amazement, breathing out a soft, “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Henry affirmed, a pleased grin on his face at the way her reserve was lessening and her interest caught.

“Aye, little lass, there surely was,” Killian added in, his voice still hoarse with the rasp of leftover emotion, but calm once more. “Even when me crew and I sailed the many seas of various realms, we heard of her. It was said she was so beautiful that her face launched a thousand ships when she was stolen from her kingdom by the man who loved her. A war was waged for her return.”

Henry quirked an eyebrow at his stepdad, purposefully baiting the pirate with a teasing look he could have learned from no one else. “So now you want to tell it?” he goaded playfully, to which Killian could only huff and shake his head, good natured smile on his own face as Henry retook control of the myth of foolish Prince Paris of Sparta, blinded to the calamity he brought down upon his country, so besotted was he with the beautiful Helen of Troy.

Glancing up from the little tableau beside him, Killian’s eyes landed upon his wife, standing in the open passageway into the hall and facilities of the diner. She had Hope in her arms, their youngest laying her head on Emma’s shoulder mildly, as she watched her son and other daughter bonding happily, despite the rocky start. Though the jade of Emma’s eyes was rather glassy with unshed tears, a radiant smile bloomed on her face, one which Killian returned easily. Thank goodness he had her, and she, him. Neither of them must figure out how to parent the three young lives they had been blessed with on their own. Each of them had an anchor in the other when faced with turbulent waters.

It was just as Henry finished his tale, to Helen’s enthralled approval, that Granny bustled back over to their table, tray laden with their dinner order. “Here we are, dinner for the Jones family, as ordered!” she announced with a bit of a flourish.

Hope began to squirm once more in Emma’s hold the moment she saw Granny’s approach, restful pause at an end. Emma snapped from her reverie watching the rest of their little family to place Hope on her own two feet, and the toddler was off, already clambering into her papa’s lap by the time Granny and Emma both reached the booth.

“Thank you,” Emma told the diner’s proprietress sincerely, a grateful smile on her face as she met the older woman’s eye. Granny smiled and nodded her understanding. Between the two of them, it took just seconds to unload the plates of food onto the table, Killian having enough to occupy hand and hook with his arms full of a wriggling four-year-old and trying to make sure that Helen, finally seeming comfortable and at ease beside him, wasn’t struck by an exuberantly flailing hand or flying elbow.

“It’s my pleasure,” Granny assured, watching the youngsters reach for their various dishes almost wistfully for a moment. “I hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you need anything else.”

No one spoke for a few minutes, as each person around the table began to add condiments to their food where they saw fit and prepared to dig in. Helen, as was becoming usual, didn’t ask for anything or make any comment, but she too seemed to accept that the multiple options Emma had ordered were for her, and she had pulled the chicken patty sandwich and macaroni closer with an eager look in spite of her earlier hesitance.

The quiet munching and hums of enjoyment were broken by Hope a few minutes later. She leaned over from where she was devouring her “rings” to pat Helen on the shoulder and get her attention. The tyke’s eyes were as open and enchanting as her papa’s, and she gazed at her newly gained big sister with a sweet, ingratiating smile. When Helen met her waiting expression, Hope babbled simply, “Sorry I made you feel bad, Sissy. You can have whatever you want. I wuv you.”

Then, without hesitation, she swung forward, nearly dumping herself from Killian’s lap until he quickly righted his hold, and hugged Helen tightly, catching them all by surprise with her exuberant affection.

Yet, to the rest of the family’s happy surprise, Helen didn’t startle or pull away. Instead she gently accepted Hope’s hug as she did the apology and even tentatively returned her sister’s embrace. When Helen brought her hand up to pat Hope’s arm, as if to let her know everything was fine, Hope dipped her head to plant a smacking kiss - playful and slightly crumb-y - to the back of Helen’s hand, just as Emma sometimes did for her when waking Hope up in the morning, or patching a skinned knee, or some similarly light hearted moment. That did make Helen laugh outright. And most of the lingering anxiousness in their booth slipped away when the rest of them joined in.

After that, they returned to their meal with ease, sensing that though it would surely take time and patience, Helen would fit in, and even more importantly, she wanted to. She would just have to learn how to relax enough to be herself and trust that who she was, was exactly who they wanted to know. Even when it was hard or stressful or took time - she was worth it, worth knowing.

Clearly taking a liking to her chicken sandwich and mac-n-cheese, Helen had eaten all of both and was savoring every delicate bite of the peanut butter cookie nearly the size of her face. She looked delighted by the taste of the sugary treat, but also as if she was still thinking about something as she chewed thoughtfully. Eventually, glancing between Killian and Henry, she asked her question as they all were finishing up their dessert. “So, all those people… all those ships… came after Helen of Troy? Just her? They all wanted her with them that much?”

Henry nodded, acknowledging that she was correct.

For a moment, Helen paused again, considering, “No one’s ever wanted me that much,” she finally admitted, in a tone so low they had to strain to hear her. “I was in those homes a long time, and no one came after me.”

Killian clearly wanted to answer, to dissolve the pain behind those whispered words, but he swallowed wordlessly, the sentiment lodged behind the empathetic lump in his throat, while Emma jumped in, voice wavering, but fervent and strong. “Not until now. But we will always come after you. You’re one of us… and you were always meant to be.”

Reaching across the table, Emma took Helen’s smaller hand in one of hers and her husband’s in the other, squeezing tightly and holding Helen’s eyes with a watery smile, refusing to blink until her newest daughter couldn’t help but believe.

With a wide grin, Henry spoke up next, offering Helen what was practically their motto, his absolute faith impossible to miss. “One thing you should definitely know, this family always finds each other.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @stahlop​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @kmomof4​ @jrob64​ @apiratewhopines​ @cosette141​ @elizabeethan​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook​ @sotangledupinit​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thislassishooked​ @scientificapricot​ @gingerchangeling​ @winterbaby89​ @xsajx​ @xarandomdreamx​ @anmylica​ @justanother-unluckysoul​

[mbrainspaz]

I can't tell if I'm misunderstanding local culture or if my coworkers are just the rudest people on earth: A sort of tumblr AITA.

Any other south Texans out there, care to add your two cents?

I've lived in several cultures with wildly different gift giving practices so I'm pretty adaptable but since starting my current job in south Texas I'm at a loss for the first time. Having been a person who's struggled to afford food in recent years the best way I know to show gratitude and camaraderie is by gifting and sharing necessities like food, clothing, and shelter. I've always loved cooking for other people. Granted I do cook some weird stuff like curry and gluten free snacks so I don't expect people to want everything I make. I have a pretty stellar track record though. At my old office my deserts were legendary. Still, I'm not offended when someone turns down gifts of any kind. I wouldn't want anyone to feel obligated to give me anything in return.

Well... I wouldn't have been offended a few rejected gifts, but these people have accepted literally NOTHING I've tried to give them all year—usually just by tossing it aside on a dusty shelf or leaving it sitting out so that I find it later, spoiled. The muffins I made? Left on the counter for 3 days until I finally threw them out. The pumpkin pie with cool whip on thanksgiving? Left sitting on a workbench overnight. The nice warm waterproof coat I made available for the kid who only has a hoodie? Shoved in a dusty sink full of spiders. The spare room in my company house: always open, but they've told me they slept in their cars instead. I've even offered them full access to my kitchen (on the worksite) in case they ever need a snack or a sandwich and NOT ONCE—not even during severe storms—have they ever asked for so much as a breath mint.

I can't wrap my head around it! If someone had offered me any of these things while I was struggling or even just as a kind gesture I would've done everything in my power to show them how grateful I was even if I didn't want whatever they were sharing. The one coworker has literally come up to me at work and talked about how they couldn't afford anything but canned beans for a week—BESTIE, you could've helped yourself to a whole steak I had in the fridge! Or a vegan burger! Have I not told you so a dozen times?! I know what you're thinking: "They clearly hate you!" Not particularly. At least, I try not to let the paranoia get to me. We get along well enough on most other fronts. But wait—there's more!

They also rudely reject all gifts from our boss and clients. A client gave us special cooling scarves in the heat of the summer and I made sure to thank her and be seen wearing mine (it was super nice), and what did my coworkers do with theirs? They're still in the box in the back of a dusty bin. A coffee maker? Also left in its box for 9 months. A mug of hot chocolate? Left to mold. Leftovers of fried chicken and pizza from work meetings goes bad in the break room fridge every time (if I don't eat it). The candy and snacks our boss brings 'round on holidays ends up sitting in the feed room unopened for months (until I finally take it). Sometimes clients bring leftover desserts or donuts, and if I don't take those and put them away they will also sit out until they calcify.

It's no wonder I'm the only one who gets gifts from clients most of the time—I know how to at least ACT grateful. Even if you don't want the thing it's about basic manners.

My two coworkers come from different cultural backgrounds in the sense that one has a rich family and the other has always lived in poverty. Both still own land, horses, and big trucks (because Texas). Both are from south Texas and haven't spent a lot of time in other cultures. My best guess is that this is some kind of sick hyper-individualist mentality bullshit in action. I just don't get it.

No matter what culture you're from I'm pretty sure it's always downright rude to reject gifts the way they do. I'm to the point where I've decided to stop trying to give them anything and I just hope that doesn't make me the bad guy. I'm tired of being insulted for no reason and I hate to see food go to waste. Really at a loss here.

[josefavomjaaga]

I have already quoted some anecdotes from the Souvenirs militaires by Hippolyte d'Espinchal here and here. And I thought I had also already translated his meeting with Bavarian king Max Joseph, but I seem unable to find it again, so maybe I had not? In any case, it's probably mostly of interest for myself, so please ignore if it's a duplicate.

For context: Hippolyte d'Espinchal was a former French émigré; his father had been a close friend of Max Joseph's before the Revolution, and his mother during her exile had fled to and spent some time in Munich. Hippolyte at some point had returned home and taken up service under Napoleon; at Wagram, he had served as a hussar under famous general Montbrun. In spring of 1810, he accompanied Montbrun to France, and that journey led them through Bavaria. Montbrun decided to go to Munich and to pay his respects to the king, and he took d'Espinchal with him.

We were ushered into his chambers and found him alone. His reception was kind and entirely informal. After expressing his admiration for General Montbrun's brilliant conduct in this last campaign, His Majesty deigned to speak to me about my father and the attachment he still held for him, an attachment whose proof was unequivocal, since it was to this feeling that I owed the honour of being decorated with his military order. He enquired with the greatest interest about my brother and his injuries. "Sire," I told him, "my heart is as grateful as it was nine years ago, and the memory of the kindness with which Your Majesty showered my mother in her exile and misery will never fade from my heart."

As he explains in his memoirs, Max Joseph - then Elector of Bavaria - had provided a house for Madame d'Espinchal during her exile in Munich and had constantly looked out for her; on her departure home to France he visited with many members of his court, a huge honour for d'Espinchal's mum.

The king gave me a pat on the cheek with a fatherly smile and turned to the general. "I hope," he said, "that you will stay for at least two days and that my table will be yours", then making a sign to me which showed that he included me in this invitation, he added, "Let's start by lunching in private", and we moved towards a room where the table was already prepared; but how surprised was the general, when he unfolded his napkin, to find there the plaque and the grand cordon of the military order of Bavaria.

And I can just see Max sneaking around that table, personally hiding those decorations in the napkin.

It was impossible to see more kindness and simplicity in the manners of this excellent prince, combined with a great deal of roundness and cheerfulness of spirit; he liked especially to recall the time when he was in France as a colonel (under the reign of Louis XVI), then Prince Max des Deux-Ponts, and always staying with my father when he came to Paris. "If anyone had told me, when I was a colonel, that I would one day become sovereign, I would have been very surprised," he added. He professed boundless devotion to the Emperor; he was also particularly fond of Prince Eugène, his son-in-law, who made his daughter so happy, and retained feelings for his old friends from before the Revolution that have never wavered.

"who made his daughter so happy" - sorry, but that is so Max

Considering how very little such things usually counted in royal marriages - after all, Austrian emperor Francis had just sold married off his daughter to a man whom this daughter had learned to fear and despise ever since her childhood - this remark seems like more evidence that Max Joseph was not much suited to be a monarch. And I mean that as a compliment.

On leaving the table, the king sent for a chamberlain (the Count of Vichy, a French émigré), recommending that he show us around his beautiful residence: "Above all," he said, "don't forget the art gallery". There, I had reason to feel a sense of pride and self-love that explained the king's delicate recommendation. I saw the full-length portrait of my great-grandfather, Gaspard d'Espinchal, Generalissimo of the Bavarian armies [...].

... who apparently had a horrible reputation as a general, but that's beside the point. Family is family.

[eldritchsurveys]

1257.

1. Where would you like to be in 5 years? >> I would like to be alive. If I’m not, then I guess I’ll be in no position to protest anyway. 2. What was the experience that impacted you the most in your life? >> I have no way of determining that. I don't think that's a logical way to judge my life, anyway -- everything I've experienced has contributed to how I am, and trying to "rank" those things in this manner is missing the point. 3. What type of relationship did you have with your parents? >> One I'm still recovering from. 4. Would you be with someone who doesn’t have the same beliefs as you? >> If I'm actually wanting to be close to someone, they definitely have similar core beliefs as me. Otherwise, I wouldn't even be feeling that way.

5. How would your best friends describe you? .

6. Do you usually follow your heart or your head? >> My emotions and my cognition are intertwined. 7. Would you put your family or your friends first if you had to choose one? .

8. What did your last relationship teach you? .

9. What do you think of online dating? >> I don’t have any thoughts about online dating. It doesn’t seem any more interesting to me than offline dating. You'll note that I just don't like dating, I think the whole concept is absurd.

10. Do you prefer dating just one person and see where it goes or dating multiple people until you make a decision? >> I prefer not dating. I don't go out seeking romantic partners like that, I'd rather just make people's acquaintance the regular way and get to know them and see what kind of bond we form over time.

11. What are the qualities you’re looking for in someone you want to grow old with? .

12. What are you most grateful for in your life? >> Well, my life. And being strange and unusual and having such a complex inner world. Also, baklava. Very grateful for baklava.

13. If you could change anything about your past, what would it be? .

14. What’s the one thing you would like to change about yourself today and why? .

15. If a psychic could tell you what will happen in the future, what would you want to know? >> I'd really rather not. I do engage with astrology's divinatory properties, but only to a certain extent. I have an 8th house stellium and considering you can predict death-related matters through the 8th house, I think it's best I don't know too much about what's going on in there.

16. If you knew that you only had one year to live, what would you change in your life? >> I don’t know. I can’t comprehend what it would be like to know when I’m going to die, so I can’t imagine myself in that situation.

17. If money and career were no object, what would you really be doing? >> The thing is, money and career are not a factor in my life at all, so... here it is, here is what I'd really be doing. What I'm doing right now.

18. What do you do when you don’t get something you worked really hard for? >> Cry about it.

19. Do you hold grudges or do you forgive easily? >> I don't think I do either one.

20. What are some of your favorite quotes and why do you relate to them? >> I can never think of quotes off the top of my head. 21. Where do you go when you need some inspiration? >> I don’t have a specific place to go for this. I find inspiration in random places at random times. 22. Who is the first person you call when you’re in trouble? >> I don’t know, seeing as I’m almost never in trouble.

23. Which fictional character do you believe is the most like yourself? >> The fictional characters that are also me.

24. What is the craziest thing that you’ve done with someone? >> Hanging out with Sigma put me in some crazy situations back in the day.

25. Do you like someone you’re interested in to pursue you or do you prefer to do the chasing? >> I can play either role, I'm sure. What matters is the reciprocation, whether they do so in a shyer, receptive way or a more assertive way.

26. What is the best advice you’ve ever been given? .

27. If you could marry anyone in the world, who would it be and why? . 28. Do you think confessions make a relationship stronger? >> I think that depends on a lot of factors.

29. Did you ever judge someone for the dark secrets they told you? >> I actually think I'm the perfect person to tell dark secrets to. I am not inclined towards judgement -- or gossip. I'm even better than a priest. 30. What is your dream vacation and who would you take with you? >> I don’t dream of vacations.

31. What is one thing you’ve always wanted to cross off your bucket list, but haven’t yet? .

32. Would you ever just quit everything and start over in a new country? >> Emigrating to a different country does interest me, but I know that's just not possible for me so I don't think about it much.

33. Would you relocate for love? >> I would relocate for one corn chip. But, yeah, also love.

34. How do you feel about staying friends with exes? >> It vexes me to think that I could be so entangled with someone and then have such a rancorous parting that we couldn't be friends afterwards. That makes no sense to me. Why must that happen? I think I'd like to live and love in a way that makes it far less likely to happen.

35. What’s your love language? >> I don't participate in this shit.

36. If you could choose one superpower, what would it be and why? .

37. What is your biggest regret in life so far? .

38. Who is your role model? >> Skeletor.

39. What was your favorite romantic moment and why? >> Skygazing with the Grim Reaper in The Sims 4. I knew I could win him over. It's me, of course he'd fall in love with me. >:3 40. What is your favorite childhood memory? .

41. Are you still in touch with your childhood friends? >> I didn’t have any friends in childhood. In general, I’m not in touch with anyone I knew ("knew") in school. 42. What do you do when you’re angry? >> I don’t know. I’m so rarely angry that I don’t know what my pattern is.

43. What are your beliefs on God? >> Which one? The Christian one? I like some interpretations of him but not the more common ones. I think Christian mysticism and other smaller sects are onto something for sure. But ultimately, we're just not compatible relationship-wise.

44. Do you believe in soul mates? >> Sure, why not.

45. How long does it take you to really trust someone? >> I don't know, I still don't know what it's like to really trust someone.

[steveezekiel]

CANDIDNESS OF YOUR TRUE STATE AND THE GENUINE REPENTANCE 1

13 WE know we have rebelled and have denied the Lord. We have turned our backs on our God. We know how unfair and oppressive we have been, carefully planning our deceitful lies." 14 Our courts oppose the righteous, and justice is nowhere to be found. Truth stumbles in the streets, and honesty has been outlawed." Isaiah 59:13,14 (NLT)

9 NOW I am glad I sent it, not because it hurt you, BUT BECAUSE THE PAIN CAUSED YOU TO REPENT AND CHANGE YOUR WAYS. IT WAS THE KIND OF SORROW GOD WANTS HIS PEOPLE TO HAVE, so you were not harmed by us in any way. 10 FOR THE KIND OF SORROW GOD WANTS US TO EXPERIENCE LEADS US AWAY FROM SIN AND RESULTS IN SALVATION. There’s no regret for that kind of sorrow. BUT worldly SORROW, which LACKS REPENTANCE, RESULTS in spiritual DEATH." 2 Corinthians 7:9,10 (NLT)

God usually would consider any repentant heart, who comes to Him, for mercy (Psalm 34:18; 51:17; Isaiah 66:2).

You may miss it and go astray, but when you realized that you are wrong, you had to repent and change and find your way back to God (Luke 15:17-21; 1 John 1:9).

God is the Father to those who confess Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour (John 1:11,12). He is loving and caring. Whoever misses it and comes back to Him, such would be received back (Luke 15:18-24).

God is not delighted in the destruction of anyone: 23 “DO YOU THINK THAT I LIKE TO SEE WICKED PEOPLE DIE? says the Sovereign LORD. OF COURSE NOT! I WANT THEM TO TURN FROM THEIR WICKED WAYS AND LIVE. 32 I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE, says the Sovereign LORD. TURN BACK AND LIVE" (Ezekiel 18:23,32 NLT).

He would not destroy you, but requires a change of heart (1 Timothy 2:4; 2 Peter 3:9).

The disobedient who repented not would be Disciplined: 3 WHEN I REFUSED TO CONFESS MY SIN, MY BODY WASTED AWAY, AND I GROANED ALL DAY LONG. 4 DAY AND NIGHT YOUR HAND OF DISCIPLINE WAS HEAVY ON ME. My strength evaporated like water in the summer heat. Interlude 5 FINALLY, I CONFESSED ALL MY SINS TO YOU AND STOPPED TRYING TO HIDE MY GUILT. I said to myself, “I WILL CONFESS MY REBELLION TO THE LORD.” AND YOU FORGAVE ME! ALL MY GUILT IS GONE. Interlude" (Psalm 32:3-5 NLT).

The purpose of discipline or chastisement or correction is the change for good on the part of the person who is being chastised or disciplined (Hebrews 12:9,10).

God's chastisement is not an act of wickedness, but love with the intention to correct and bring back to the right track (Hebrews 12:6,11). Thus, do not hide your shortcomings, the things you had done wrong (Proverbs 28:13).

A believer should learn how to accept a responsibility without passing the buck—shifting the blame or responsibility onto another. In other words, If you missed it, do not try to look for someone to blame for the mistakes you had made.

If you had to be reprimanded for your mistakes, accept it, with gratefulness. Your attitude to corrections matters to God.

If you were the type, when corrected, who would like to fight and do all manner of things to defend yourself and would not want to receive any blame, It means you are still far from spiritual maturity.

You are lacking in the understanding of the ways of God. It means you are shallow and still far in your relationship with God.

Whoever is corrected and wanted to quarrel because of it, is still a baby Christian, such is a carnal believer—being ruled or controlled by the Flesh (1 Corinthians 3:1,2).

Whatever Sin you committed, or thing you did wrong; the healing of your soul started with a genuine repentance: "HE WHO COVERS HIS SINS WILL NOT PROSPER, BUT WHOEVER CONFESSES AND FORSAKES THEM WILL HAVE MERCY" (Proverbs 28:13 NKJV).

It is when you acknowledged your Sins, then you can receive mercy from God. Acknowledging your shortcomings, genuine repentance, and the willingness to receive discipline or chastisement without being grumpy, means humbleness in the sight of God (2 Samuel 12:13).

However, whoever is arguing or trying to defend himself or herself, proving to be right, such a person is still having a truck load of pride in his or her life.

Someone who is still arguing, or angry for being confronted and corrected for what he or she did wrong, is not qualified for mercy before God (1 Samuel 15:18-23).

Note: when you Acknowledged your Sin and Confessed it: a. You would have freedom or liberty in your heart to come and receive help at the throne of Grace (Hebrews 4:16). b. Your heaven would be open. Having an open heaven means receiving favour from God. It is being backed up, or supported by God. c. Such a person would be remembered for God's blessings again.

You will not perish in Jesus' name.

Whatever is contrary to your health that was not planted by God is rebuked and rooted out completely in the mighty name of Jesus Christ.

The hold is broken totally and never to rise again in the mighty name of Jesus Christ. Peace! TO BE CONTINUED

STEPS TO SALVATION

Take notice of this: IF you are yet to take the step of salvation, that is, yet to be born-again, do it now, tomorrow might be too late (2 Corinthians 6:1,2; Hebrews 3:7,8,15). a. Acknowledge that you are a sinner and confess your Sins (1 John 1:9); And ask Jesus Christ to come into your life (Revelation 3:20). b. Confess that you believe in your heart that Jesus Christ is Lord, and that you confess it with your mouth, Thus, you accept Him As your Lord and Saviour (Romans 10:9,10). c. Ask that He will write your name in the Book of Life (Philippians 4:3; Revelation 3:8).

If you took the steps As highlighted above, It means you are saved—born-again. Join a Word based church in your area and Town or city, and be part of whatever they are doing there. Peace!

[seahdalune]

dream.

my dream started at a building. it was small at first, but then it grew in a non-linear way later in the dream... (most likely because of dream shenanigans) when i was at the first floor, the building was the size of the book store at our neighborhood, with several stories. i was also with my parents. when i was at the first floor, and there were lots of movie posters (which were all The Emoji Movie??) and books..... but they were translated into Chinese in the poorest manner possible. it was like those "putting ___ through a translator 10000 times until everything sounds weird" videos. i could even see the english text under the chinese one, that showed me, a non-chinese understander, how bad the translation was. people in my dream even exclaimed how bad the translation was.... was it the sinophobic part of my brain, intruding into my dreams? at some point we went upstairs. the second floor was a large building, and also an art exhibition. the celing were tall, and a lot of people were there. at some point, my mom wanted to take a picture of me and my dad in front of an art exhibit. problem was, it took too long, and a line started to form behind my mom. i had to shout at mom to get a move on.... even though she only took two pictures. a stranger somehow ringed my phone, and told me he was grateful for.... something? i decided to interpret the mumbling to have something to do with me shouting at my mom. dad decided to go to the parking lot to get our car. me and mom took an elevator to go to a different floor and pick something up that she needed. the third floor was an empty-ish mall. not as empty as liminal space, empty like a "closing-time mall", which was exactly what it was. it was 9:30pm at this point, so mom was in a hurry to get what she wanted. i decided to wander off in the other areas of the mall, towards where the Playstation stuff were visible. if there was a Playstation, surely there were some Nintendo stuff. i didn't find that out, but i found something way cooler. there was some kind of popup store that sold Guardian of the Video Game merch, and there was merch of Publi! obviously i wanted to buy it, but i only had like 50000 won on me, so i had to pick carefully.... but i was too careful on that part, because i ended up getting a call from my dad while i was deciding if i should get a bucket hat or a key chain. he told me to come to my mom immediately, that they were looking for me, and demanded me that i explain why i didn't pick up my phone (it didn't ring for me). i got a panic attack at the store, and thought i was gonna piss my pants... oh wait, i do need to piss for real. it was 10:40am, wake up sleepy head.

i actually woke up at 9:30am, but i went right back to bed, because unless it was actually something important (like school) i usually never listen to my alarm, lul.