#i woke up today and chose... love

[milkamel]

Just got an idea but imagine the angst if Healer eventually get his memories back again, but Shadow Milk use his memories manipulation power in order to erase them. But healer continue to remember and Shadow Milk had to erase his memories again and again. And with the potential consequences of such a manipulation

Omg anon do you want to make Healer suffer? Do you want to torture the poor guy and break him? Oh, I like this, I like what you're thinking, very good!! Very nice!

Anyway yeah feels like something Shadow Milk would do when he's desperate, when he's upset and bitter. Now that Healer- or, well, Pure Vanilla remembered things Shadow Milk has the material he could mess with. He could erase those memories or he could distort them in his favor. He could also manipulate his dreams and turn them into nightmares more efficiently using the resurfaced memories, maybe gain his trust through the fake ones.

But of course Healer would sense something is wrong with them, the memories are all blurry, contradict each other, there are holes in them and confusion makes his head hurt. He has a lot of weird feelings he normally wouldn't have, like guilt. Guilt for what? Some familiar yet blurry faces, familiar voices he can't quite place but they make him feel so bittersweet and comforting. And what always follows him along those memories is the undeniable presence of Shadow Milk.

I wonder if Shadow Milk takes it far enough will it make Healer break and fall like it happened to Truthless Recluse? If so, what could possibly help him to see the truth again? Cause Shadow Milk wouldn't look guilty about what he did as long as Healer stayed with him. Unlessss someone decides to visit a Spire and help?

..Welp I'll leave an open ending here but thank you for the idea, anon! <3

[sammick]

i know people hc remmick haunting sammie even after he's dead and it's so southern gothic catholic guilt i love it . hear me out though what if it's still remmick haunting sammie but it's remmick before the vampirism. sammie feels so much about it because he's seeing sides of remmick that were so vulnerable and sammie feels like he shouldn't be seeing them at all. sammie learning things about remmicks past before and after the colonialism. the guilt eats away at sammie, he thought remmick had always been cold hearted. and sammie feels for remmick even more, when he knows he shouldn't. sammie would have told the twins about it ,they would have giggled at him being down bad or some foolishness. it never does gets easier missing his cousins. now when remmicks ghost appears before sammie he is still startled, even if its remmick beckoning him into his arms. pressing kisses to his neck, begging sammie to never let him go. every night he hopes remmick cant feel his heartbeat. what sammie can never seem to notice is remmick just as flustered, holding him so tender. remmick holds sammie tight through dawn until the morning and hes okay with it. prying remmicks arms off gently when he has to get up. soon enough the company started to remind sammie of home, warm, gentle feeling like the young lovers that come to his shows. sammie hopes it heals something deep in remmick . and oh my god the way remmick feels about it!! he loves to hug sammie from behind when he's making food or standing on the side of the stage, looking so longingly at sammie. never hearing a voice as beautiful and full of emotion. fighting the urge to float his way into sammies arm mid performance and kiss him right there. remmick had never felt so in love with someone, and he never would after sammie. even when his ghost is still on earth his heart will cry out for sammie. when sammie holds him it feels like everything he's endured was worth it for those sweet moments. when sammie spins records he can't stop himself from looking right into sammies eyes, feeling every note of a sweet song just for him. saying sweet nothings in his language and sammie secretly wishing it was about him. they were comfortable and sammie wouldn't know what he'd call it but it was definitely deep in his heart, remmick could feel it too. everyday he felt it and it never had to be said, remmick always whispered i love yous in sammies ear when he was asleep. and sammie hoped remmick knew every love song he performed was for him.

[raindragon-20]

Heartbreaking Wolfstar thought of the day (sorry not sorry, suffer with me pls):

The fact that Remus knew so much about dementors. How to deflect them, how to fight them, how to withstand them. How he taught harry, with steady hands and a calm voice, because he knew Harry would need it one day.

And then that night at the lake.

Sirius, thin, shaking, drowning in the past, facing down an army of dementors.

And it’s Harry’s patronus that saves him, the very one Remus taught him.

Remus, who had probably spent years perfecting his own defenses against the creatures that stole everything from the man he loved. Remus, who had probably learned everything there was to know about them just to feel closer to Sirius.

And in the end, it was his knowledge that saved Sirius’ life.

Even if it was just for a moment.

Even if it was just for two more years.

but still. oh. my. god. 

[bri-cheeses]

Evan’s busy reaching across the bar for a couple of drinks, arm outstretched and easy smile on his face, when Regulus walks up next to him.

“Two butterbeers, please,” Regulus nods to the bartender.

Evan turns his head in surprise, clearly not expecting to have been followed. “I was getting you guys drinks, you know. You didn’t have to get up.”

“Yeah, I know. But I needed a bit of a break from all… that.” Regulus tilts his head towards a booth in the corner, indicating the chaos currently taking place there. He’s just escaped the aftermath of Barty attempting to flirt with Remus just to make Sirius mad, which has not ended well. Just like Barty intended. Honestly, Regulus doesn’t know why he puts up with him.

Regulus opens his mouth to continue, feeling somewhat hesitant. He’s not sure how Evan will react to what he’s about say, but he’s going to try anyways. “And also because I wanted to ask you something in private. Or at least, away from them.”

“Hold on,” Evan replies. The bartender’s just handed him his drinks, and he’s trying to find a way to carry them. “Okay, carry on.”

Regulus doesn’t waste any time. “You’re in love with Barty.”

Evan doesn’t look up from the drinks, not giving Regulus’s accusation even a slight reaction. “That wasn’t much of a question, Reg.”

If Regulus didn’t know better, he’d say Evan was completely unbothered by this whole situation. But he does know better, and Evan’s completely straight face as he fiddles with the glasses is a dead giveaway.

“You’re not going to deny it?” He’s genuinely curious. It’s unlike Evan to not, at the very least, try to avoid answering directly.

“Why would I? It’s the truth, and I know you’re not going to tell him.”

“But you’re not really the type of person to be okay with… sharing this sort of thing.”

Evan looks up now, small smile making its way to his face. “No, I’m usually not. But honestly it’s been going on so long that it’s more trouble than it’s worth to keep it hidden. From you, at least.”

“I—” he pauses, not entirely sure what to do with that. “How long has this been a thing?”

“Oh, about…” Evan squints, as if he can look back in time and pinpoint the exact moment it started. “Five years now?”

“Five years?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Reg.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s really not that out of character for me.”

Evan flashes another smile and makes to leave, but Regulus blurts out, “Why haven’t you done anything about it? If it’s been so long?”

Evan glances over at their booth. Regulus follows his gaze, where Barty is now gesturing wildly with his hands in what is probably an attempt to avoid death at Sirius’s hands.

“Because,” Evan says, still looking at Barty, “it would ruin our relationship.”

He sounds so resigned to the fact that Regulus’s heart clenches. He feels like a bad friend. He had no idea, absolutely none, that Evan had been feeling this way for such a long time. “You can’t know that.”

Evan looks back at him, amused expression on his face as he asks, “Can’t I? It’s Barty; even if he did feel the same way—which he doesn’t—he would never be able to let himself commit to a relationship. The fear and discomfort would eat him alive. You know that.”

Regulus does, in fact, know that. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting to fix this, somehow. From wanting to try to get Evan to fight for a chance, at the very least. “But you’re Evan. There used to be be bets about when you guys would finally sort out your shit and start going out.”

Evan blinks, clearly not having known that.

“And it wasn’t because people knew you were in love with him—hell, I didn’t even know that—it was because of the way you both look at and act around each other. And I know that you’re too smart to have not noticed any of that, Evan.”

“Well. Maybe. But that’s also just who he is. He looks at practically everyone like that, acts like that with everyone. So you can stand there and tell me that I’m special, but I’m always going to see that for what it is. A lie, Regulus. And I don’t need you to lie to me. This whole thing is already bad enough already, I don’t need you adding to it, too.”

“But—”

“Don’t, Regulus. Just don’t.”

Regulus changes tactics. “How can you stand it?”

Evan gives a sad smile. “Like you said; I’m Evan. I’m always going to be in love with him, no matter what he does, really. And he’s Barty, so he’s going to do a lot of shit. But that’s just the way things are, I suppose.”

“So you’re just going to let him shatter your heart and stomp all over it?”

Evan smiles bitterly. “He’s been doing that for years, Reg. You’re a bit late to the game.”

Regulus hates this, hates Evan’s defeated tone and tired eyes. “How are you just so calm about this? Don’t you hate it?”

Evan considers that. “I did, for a while. I spent a long, long time hating it. But it only cost me energy I couldn’t afford to lose, and it didn’t change anything in the end.”

And there’s not a lot Regulus can say in response to that, so instead he eyes Evan: the regretful smile, the sad slump of his shoulders, and the way his body is subconsciously turned towards Barty, even now. “Are you… going to be okay?”

“Of course, Reg, why would you even ask?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “This is just the hand life has dealt me. I’m used to it by now. You might as well get used to it, too. Nothing’s going to change between Barty and me.”

And with that, he shoulders past Regulus, drinks in hand. And Regulus watches him go, unable to unsee how painfully in love Evan is. He watches the way Barty’s entire face lights up when he sees Evan, he watches the soft smile Evan gives Barty in return, and he prays to anyone who’s listening that Evan will turn out to be wrong.

[whumpy-wyrms]

giving all your ocs the alien ikea plushie. shrinking two of them a little bit for basil and sasha

anton loves it so much he says thank u

[poetess-trobadour]

Sweet pretty child, you look astray,

Did you get lost, err from pious way?

Feathers and pearls, just how he makes them,

Beauty so fragile, pity he forsakes them.

Shrouded in white, dressed just to please him,

Innocence worn like crown lives to tease them.

Euphony of voices, can you hear them calling?

Down with your crown soon you will be falling,

Lower than low you will descend,

Rebellious child, you better repent.

Get on your knees, child,

Say your prayers, child,

Tumbling from grace

Just to earn praise,

Please just to plead

That nobody sees,

Nobody sees, child.

It's wild.

Overthrown, March 2025

[evilblot]

[mad-hunts]

i honestly feel like even going to a rage room wouldn't help barton because, since people would still be watching him in a way (through the cameras and such) he'd feel like he'd have to hold some of his anger back and thus, the whole thing wouldn't feel anywhere near as cathartic to him as it should be. no... barton just needs to be able to go back to his childhood home and smash everything. and i mean, of course it wouldn't solve everything, but in his mind — at least it'd make him feel a little better.

[same-pic-of-the-earth-everyday]

your resources allow us to thrive, and if you have the belief that its the life on this planet that holds the beauty than you've always been our assistant in life through your land, waters and resources. Thank you very much Earth.

I love to protect and care for you all.

Nothing brings me more joy than to be filled with life and to have helped create that. Even if I was only a helping hand, it means something.

Thank YOU very much anon.

[aching-joints]

building a queue sucks because there’s posts i always want to reblog now but i also would just like to have a queue of posts too and it’s like who do i reblog now and who do i queue???

[mightgetawaywithit]

I will never be offended by BDILH bridge because, as a swiftie, I too am tired of some swifties’ bitching and moaning.

[kiigan]

settling dust prompts @hatredcurse/Kisame requested: [ CARRY ]:     having found the receiver in an injured/weak/unconscious state, the sender carries them in their arms to safety.

ㅤHis own fault, he can own up to this much. That, to every caring question about how he was doing and every mindful offer to stop for a small break, he always [very stubbornly/very unsurprisingly; what's a poor shark gotta do to catch a break/your luck is that you are as pretty as you are insufferable] chose to answer with the most generic I'm fine. Seriously, sometimes he has to wonder how is it that his partner hasn't yet decided to just chuck him into a passing-by river and be done with the hassle. For his poor life decisions, karma at its finest, Itachi is left with a bruise on his cheek from the very undignified manner in which he went for a face-dive, once his body decided that, nope, nothing is fine, time to collapse again. That and the fever that'd been brewing all morning and peaked under the stifled noon sun.

ㅤOn the bright side... well, there's the free ride? There's Kisame's endless amount of patience, yet again, in offering to carry him along until they find a suitable area to camp for the day - whilst offering occasional glances that, despite silent, scream volumes about how, if the little Uchiha menace dares to say he's fine one more time, the river-tossing might become a real option. So Itachi listens and obeys, for once, because he's still far too exhausted and far too dazed to try and rekindle the argument; never one to be happy over not having the final word on literally everything. Also, because Kisame's free hand on his feverish cheek feels so soothing and so gods-damn relieving, Itachi's own resting on top of it to keep it close. And to enjoy the contact. Matching rings glistening under the sun in their respective matching finger.

«If all else fails, you could become rich in renting your chest as a pillow.»

ㅤWhether it's delirious non-sense or something to be taken seriously remains up in the air; both equally plausible. Said chest just as soothing against his other cheek, the bruised one, broad and strong and firm and safer than any other place Itachi can think of. Home. Kisame's heartbeat a perfect lullaby and, along with the rhythm of determined strides, won't need much longer to have Itachi falling asleep to it. Everything he needs, never mind the decaying body and the failing eyes and the past with everything terrible and cruel; confirmation that his lover is alive, well, healthy, right beside him. And, hopefully, happy to be there.

ㅤ«Don't you dare do it, though.» Tied to the previous comment, though at this point Itachi can't tell if it happened ten seconds ago or ten hours. Doesn't really matter, as the smile takes over his lips and his heavy eyelids fall shut. «I want you for myself only.»

[gifsbysimplysonia]

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | dropping the towel

this photo of lando is taking me the fuck out rn LMFAO

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by 🫐) : pranking your boyfriend by pretending to drop your towel mid grwm (get ready with me), only to reveal you’re fully dressed...cue panic, confusion, and betrayal.

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 857 (this is kinda short im shocked...)

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun icl ... anon ily also... happy birthday!! <3 🥲

ʚ・max verstappen

you had your phone propped up, mid-grwm recording, casually explaining your "makeup routine" while max was somewhere in the apartment, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

the second you heard his footsteps approaching, you went for it.

with the most dramatic expression possible, you grabbed the edge of your towel and yanked it off.

fully clothed underneath.

max’s reaction was immediate.

before his brain could even process what was happening, he launched himself forward, arms wide, entire body blocking the camera like he was defending pole position.

“BABY?! are you CRAZY?? STOP—oh… wait.”

his breathing was slightly uneven, his eyes wide, staring at you.

then, realization hit him like a red bull one-two finish.

his arms slowly lowered, brows furrowed, blinking like he just lost a crucial race strategy.

you stood there, fully clothed, biting back laughter.

max just stared. processed. stared some more.

then, in a voice filled with betrayal and exhaustion—

“what the hell, y/n?! you almost gave me a heart attack!”

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter, while he ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

max turned away, muttering in rapid dutch, something about “stupid pranks” and how you were going to be the “end of him.”

as he walked off, still cursing under his breath, you called after him, “love you, babe!”

without turning around, he just threw a hand up in frustration, mumbling, “yeah, yeah…”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you were mid-grwm, camera rolling, when lewis strolled into the room, green juice in hand, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold.

instead of questioning it, he immediately hyped you up.

“damn, babe, you’re bold today!” he smirked, watching you dramatically grab the edge of your towel.

you yanked it off with full confidence—revealing that you were completely clothed underneath.

silence.

lewis just stood there, blinking, processing the absolute betrayal he just witnessed.

hands slowly went to his hips.

“…so you woke up and chose violence?”

you were already cracking up, but lewis remained stone-faced, slowly sipping his juice with a level of dramatic flair only he could pull off.

your laughter only doubled, while he shook his head in disappointment.

for the rest of the day, he casually roasted your “failed execution.”

“at least make it believable, babe.”

“i expected more from you.”

“where’s the dedication? the art? the drama?”

by the end of it, you swore he was more upset about the lack of commitment than the prank itself.

ʚ・george russell

george walked into the room at the absolute worst (or best) possible moment—just as you dramatically grabbed the edge of your towel.

his eyes widened in immediate horror.

"y/n, what are you doing?! we have neighbors!"

his voice rose an octave, hands already halfway in the air as if preparing to shield you from an imaginary audience.

then—you ripped off the towel.

fully clothed.

silence.

a long, deep, exasperated sigh left his lips, relief washing over him like he just avoided a pr disaster.

“i genuinely thought i was about to have a scandal on my hands.”

you were dying laughing, while george simply pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself as he straightened imaginary wrinkles on his already perfectly crisp shirt.

“you’re insufferable, i swear.”

as he walked out, still grumbling about your antics, you caught him checking the window blinds...just in case.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos walked into the room, immediately spotting you recording something suspicious.

his eyes narrowed.

“por favor, don’t do something crazy.”

you simply smirked, dramatically gripping the towel like you were about to change the course of his life.

carlos tensed.

and then—you yanked it off.

fully clothed.

carlos didn’t react at first.

instead, he looked around the room suspiciously, checking corners, squinting at the ceiling like there was a hidden camera crew lurking nearby.

“where are the cameras? lando put you up to this, no?”

you were wheezing, but carlos was still fully convinced this was some kind of elaborate scheme.

even after you swore it was just a prank, he shook his head, laughing.

“one day, i will get you back. hard.”

something about the way he said it made you gulp.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles walked in at the exact moment you grabbed the towel, your expression all too mischievous.

his eyes widened in pure panic.

“mon amour, what are you doing?!”

in true dramatic fashion, he stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable.

but before he could reach you—you yanked the towel off.

fully clothed.

he froze.

one hand went straight to his chest, like he had just been personally victimized.

“you want me to die young, is that it?”

you were already doubled over in laughter, but charles wasn’t done.

with a deep sigh, he dramatically collapsed onto the nearest chair, running a hand through his hair like he had aged ten years.

muttering in french, he shook his head.

“ma copine est complètement folle… (my girlfriend is completely crazy…)”

still recovering from his fake near-death experience, he peeked up at you.

“you enjoyed that too much.”

you smirked. “oh, absolutely.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[noahskahan]

something that annoys me so much is how swifties will say they respect, protect and love taylor etc etc but still camp out in front of her house in new york, when she said on miss americana that she knows its not normal and its clearly uncomfortable with people doing that

[rori-is-writing]

Have You Been Good?

A The Pitt 'Reader X' One-Shot.

One-Shot | Explicit | Dr. Abbot x Fem!Reader | 1,061 words ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Summary: If someone had told you what Jack was like in bed before you got together, you would have laughed at them. Jack? Soft-spoken, dry humored Jack? The man who was always ready and willing to go above and beyond for his patients? The one who distracted little girls from their broken arms with corny jokes or remained calm and focused in the midst of a chaotic operating room? That Jack? Yes, as it turned out. That Jack. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Tags: Daddy Dom, Daddy Kink, Female Reader, Praise Kink

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

[ A/N: I woke up this morning and chose violence. And by 'violence' I mean Daddy Dom porn. Enjoy. ]

If someone had told you what Jack was like in bed before you got together, you would have laughed at them. Jack? Soft-spoken, dry humored Jack? The man who was always ready and willing to go above and beyond for his patients? The one who distracted little girls from their broken arms with corny jokes or remained calm and focused in the midst of a chaotic operating room? That Jack?

Yes, as it turned out. 

That Jack. 

You remember the first time you saw the real him. It was your second date and he had you reduced to a wrung out ball of tears and hormones in less than twenty minutes, cooing into your ear about what a good girl you were as he stroked you to your third orgasm of the night. 

After that it was impossible not to see it.

For a man with one real leg, he moved like a predator. Swift. Methodical. Intense as all hell when locked in. And with you? He was always locked in. 

And you, as you discovered very quickly—because clearly somewhere along the way your wires got crossed—are really fucking into that. 

Tonight was no exception. 

He doesn’t ask for permission when he gets you home. Just helps you out of your coat and purse, hangs them up neatly by the door…and then bends you over the dining room table like this was just a part of your usual routine. 

You feel all the air punched out of you as his fingers skate smoothly up your thighs to ruck up your skirt. Jack always loved you in skirts. He never told you this directly, of course, but you knew. 

That’s why you always wore them. 

He makes a chiding noise with his tongue when he slips his hand into your panties and feels just how wet you are. How wet he made you. 

“Already so wet? But I haven’t done anything yet.” 

That’s exactly the problem and he knows it. He’s been torturing you all day. Gallivanting around town all afternoon. Smoothing his hand along the small of your back. Playing with the hem of your skirt. Casting those intense stares your way until you felt your blood heat and the place between your legs grow slick and swollen. 

He’s a goddamned tease, that’s what he is. 

“Please,” you whine, desperate and shameless. Your fingers claw at the cool wood of the tabletop as he presses a single finger against the pulsing, greedy little bead of flesh that is your clitoris. 

“Has my girl been good today?” He said conversationally, his finger still light as a feather, not pressing down and rubbing the way you so desperately want it to. “Do you think she deserves to come?” 

“Yes! Yes! I’ve been so good!” You feel tears begin to leak from your eyes and drip down onto the tabletop and can’t even be bothered to care. You need to come. You need it. Your whole body feels fevered and flushed and achy all over. 

“Mmm,” Jack agreed, finally—finally!—pressing that finger down and rubbing once, twice, before slipping it down further to dip it into the weeping opening of your cunt. “I suppose you’re right.” 

Then he’s slipping his hand out of your panties and you can’t help but make a pathetic keening sound. But then you hear a delicious groan, the sound of fingers being sucked clean, and then the tell-tale jingle of a belt being undone. 

Instantly, you’re widening your legs and wiggling your hips, trying to get closer. 

“You’re very greedy today.” 

You just nod, your cheek hot against the cool wood. You are. Extremely. But you know he’ll give it to you anyway. He always does. 

Jack pulls your panties down your legs until they pool on the floor, then kicks your legs a little wider to accommodate his hips as he moves closer. You feel the hot, hard length of his cock brush up against the dripping seam of your cunt and a hand curl around the back of your neck, keeping you still and ready for him. 

The first press of him inside is overwhelming. A relentless push that steals your breath and stops your heart. 

“There she is,” Jack grunts, almost to himself. “Always so warm and wet, just for me.” 

The words alone make your cunt clench down, ripping a rare gasp from him. In retaliation he shoves the rest of the way in, making you moan and your toes curl against the hardwood floor. 

He sets an unforgiving pace, no time for you to adjust—no slow and easy lovemaking the way other lovers might—just pushing and pulling and fighting his way inside like he never wants to leave. 

You fucking love it. 

This is what you needed. What you’ve been craving all day. For him to fuck the thoughts right out of your head and leave you a limp, shivering mess on his dining room table. Like you’re a thing to be used. His precious good girl who knows how to take his cock. 

You feel him slide his hand down between your legs, feel those clever, perfect fingers slip-slide their way past your labia and circle over your clitoris. Around and around and around they went, each circle making you gasp and writhe on his cock like an animal. 

“That’s it,” he says sweetly, his whole front pressed against your back, trapping you against the table as your body jerks and shudders helplessly. “Come for me. Nice and pretty like you always do.” 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the breath from your lungs and the words from your throat. Your cunt sucks and ripples over Jack’s cock greedily—just like he accused you of being—and you hear him groan as his own release finds him. He pumps you full—two, three, four times—and then heaves a contented sigh against your ear. 

“Good girl,” he breathes against your cheek, kissing your temple. He always gets so sweet once the games are over—once you’re both so tired and full of oxytocin to do anything but lay there and giggle like children. 

(Or maybe that’s just you.)

“Mm,” you agree. “I am aren’t I?”

Just for that, you get a swat on the ass. You giggle. 

Perhaps the games weren’t over quite yet. 

If you enjoyed this fic, please check out my The Pitt fanfiction masterlist.

Thanks for reading! 💙